The enigmatic Albert Gomes

Take the late Albert Maria Gomes, born March 25, 1911, died January 13, 1978, in London, one day after returning from Trinidad.

The things you read about him tell you he was not only a 300-pound man of many parts, but like most charismatic types — half loved him and half hated him. Not much different from some other “larger-than-life” figures — Dr Rudranath Capildeo, Bhadase Sagan Maraj, Uriah “Buzz” Butler and even Andrew Cipriani.

Of course, there are dozens of other men and women in this country who gave public service, significantly and passionately, but remain unheralded. Perhaps they preferred it so. After all, let us not forget that the late Dr. Eric Williams himself firmly expressed his desire that no monument be created for remembrance. Recently, a number of letters to the editor have called for recognition for Albert Gomes. Last Tuesday, one by “Clarke Peters” stated: “I agree totally with letters written to the newspapers suggesting that special recognition be given to Albert ‘Bertie’ Gomes for his contribution to the steelband fraternity, the Baptist community and the trade union movement.”

Aided by historian Dr Brinsley Samaroo, the “Portuguese creole” Gomes, in his book, A Maze of Colour (1974), documented his rise and fall from Trinidad politics, his journalism, the labour movement, race, art and culture. Way back in 1988, then reporter George Harvey, following Raoul Pantin’s complimentary piece in the Caribbean Contact (February 1975), wrote an article on Gomes. Hear Harvey: “There was never a more fervent champion for the rights and freedom of the persecuted and prosecuted than the late Albert Gomes. He had been in their subjugated corner since the early 1930’s, long before prohibitive laws prescribing their worshipping rites and operations were repealed on March 30, 1951.”

Gomes also lent his political support to the steelband movement — then spurned by the rich and powerful. He crossed the barriers of political correctness. So you may well ask now, why haven’t the Baptists established some monument to mark the well known support of Gomes in their days of trial and tribulation? Why hasn’t the steelband movement, Pan Trinbago in particular, created some appropriate mark of appreciation for Gomes?

After all, Gomes did not say that he wanted no monument after his death. I am the government, he once declared. In fact, his ego was as big as his 300-pound size, if you believe what senior PNM Minister Dr Patrick Solomon wrote in his 1981 autobiography. Solomon wrote: “I have never been able to take Gomes seriously as he appeared to take himself. I have always regarded him as a charlatan and a mountebank – and above all a supreme egoist.” (p.61)

Solomon added with sizzling derision: “I remember Grantley Adams (Federation PM) saying that the greatest trick ever played on the West Indian world was that Albert Gomes had got the people to take him seriously.” He continued: “He would make the most atrocious statement with profound conviction with a few recently gleaned facts and, the following week, say just the opposite with equal conviction.” But as editor of the Beacon, and other cultural publications, enigmatic Gomes was a shaper of political opinion – until, of course, the political narrative on nationalism and race relations got changed by the “new politics” of the PNM and Dr Williams. And calypsonians started calling him “big belly Gomes”. As Cipriani slipped from working class grace, so too did Gomes.

Harvey noted: “Gomes has been a prime victim of PNM-instigated historical genocide and political distortions that could only be a discredit to scholarship.” One week after Harvey’s seemingly harsh assessment, Marilyn Johnson from Woodbrook wrote a letter to the newspaper stating: “Gomes, like all men and particularly politicians, was only human and made mistakes but there can be no denying the great contribution he made to this country in the field of literature, journalism, culture and politics.”

She added, “When he was defeated in 1956 by the arrival of the PNM, Dr Williams and his willing followers saw to it that Gomes and his family were hounded out of this country.” Again, strong language and quite unpleasant to recall. Looking back, some may well ask what about the eventful political lives of Chanka Maharaj, Roy Joseph, Ruth Seukeran, Ajodhasingh, Victor Bryan, even Ranjit Singh.

Now, apart from all this, we must develop a culture of remembrance in this country, making the lobbying and the “who you know” syndrome less necessary but without diluting the principle of due recognition. After all, in a land where everybody is somebody, nobody is anybody. Gomes was somebody, a big somebody.