In the still of the moment, broken only by the surprise that the item requested was not a “chocolate philly”,  the on duty “spranghead” jumped at the sighting of a rare vulnerable moment for the known killer, “Family night, nuh, boss?” teased the ‘spranghead’, clinging the handle of  his pigtail bucket and dirty wash rag.

Proudly, the young father retorted, “Done seh it!” as he collected his tickets and defiantly stared at the protesting line of drivers. This is the new fad. North and Southside, country wide, parents are paying to entertain their kids to become addicted to gambling.

Our social absentmindedness has surely degenerated from the days when we were able to send our children to “di chiney” to fetch us “dalla Independence” and a stout without reservation. Well, none except for the transient thought of having them return with the wrong change or Jack nabbing them before our order is returned.  Now we roll the gambling barrel into our hall and living rooms and huddle together on the linoleum with all the slum dog anxiety of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire”. Giddily we etch a point for family time and get all tingly that our five year old is “only smart eh?”, after all he is learning numbers, and letters! Seriously??!!

Look, my Granny grew me up on Boledo. Mastering the art of lay waiting “rakes” or extracting them from dreams, deaths, oddities and misfortunes has long been an admirable trait. In fact, third world Belizean boledo has succeeded in making many of our poor locals into legends, but has failed without apology to make any one of us rich. If Boledo is the crack of local gambling then Mega bingo must be the child friendly cocaine cousin of it.

It is Lent and somehow this feeling at nine pm  when the gambling demon has already hypnotized my entire family for a potent half an hour, feels different from my temporary disappointment when I used to tear up the piece of shop paper with the green underside  at six minutes after nine.

Mega Bingo is the only local family entertainment TV show in Belize. Imagine that. Wow! And Barrow tried to beef with Channel 5 for not showing that poorly disguised UDP propaganda infomercial? What was its name again, Belmopan Weekly?  Boss man, what he should do is to get his operatives at the Belize Broadcasting Authority to produce some wholesome local family programs.  Nope, he couldn’t care less. In fact his spending habits, luck, and readiness to roll the dice against his odds, seem text book gambler to me. But like any good gambler he is not gambling with his own money, he is gambling with yours.

This whole bingo thing is creepily dysfunctional entertainment or indoctrination. When did gambling become a family virtue and a nationally sought value? Why do we congregate in front of our TV sets with our impressionable children like we are watching the Cosby Show?

Really, the addictions of Belizean society are for the most part main stream but there is a stealthy group of vices that shares space with our addiction to rice, habanero and onion pepper sauce, anything sweet, three dollar fry chicken “inna steak sauce” and buying “numba”. It is as simple as that. It is as Belizean as that.

Gambling ranked as the second most potent addiction after substance dependence. Internationally, the gambling industry has grown tenfold in the past twenty-five years and that stat does not include the informal gambling underground. It is a billion dollar industry for the companies but mostly low income households are hooked.

Just look at the shameless commercials on TV in Belize. In one of them the poor black lady catches the bus thinking about her plywood house. She dreams about winning the lotto. Wins, in her dream of course and imagine, all she gets is a similar size wooden house!!! Not even a cement one, boss. Stop play. Stop tek we pipple mek papishow!

What makes this all worse is echoed by the author of “Turning the Tables on Gambling”. Jantz believes the so-called harmless purchase of lottery tickets can be a source of potential trouble. But Jantz is particularly concerned about the way the gambling industry is targeting young people. “Young people experience problems, or at-risk gambling behaviors at twice the rate of adults.”

Check this out, more good news, gambling among young people is on the increase: 42 percent of 14-year-olds, 49 percent of 15-year-olds, 63 percent of 16-year-olds, 76 percent of 18-year-olds.  Problem gamblers have higher rates of suicide, divorce and criminal activity than non gamblers. And for young people, the increase in lottery play is correlated with increased participation in the use of tobacco, alcohol, and marijuana.

Gambling has become a high profile and socially acceptable activity in the Belize, just check in front of Brads in the Farmers Market.  But I will concede that the human addiction for escape and excitement or to get rich quick can become overwhelming in and of itself.

But who is to monitor these things? I tried to get some decent statistics on gambling in Belize but well, we cannot even get accurate crime stats. And we witness every night as the murder bazaar spits out bodies like a rowdy slot machine which has finally vomited up its jackpot of coins. The clueless culprits, who have folded their hands and surrendered their blind bets to the pot on the issue of gambling in Belize, include the Church, Ministry of Health, Youth, Public Utilities and the National Committee for Families and Children. These organizations need truancy officers for their pathological absenteeism.

I compare this show to the advertisement of cigarettes and like regulation on cigarette smoking, promotion and advertisement when the mascots were cuddly little cartoon characters, this has to be monitored with mad dog eyes.

Imagine the popular children’s cartoon, The Flintstones was sponsored by a cigarette maker and the main characters smoked Winstons at the end of the show. This animated series was a prime-time show, considered adult fare in 1960, so nobody thought any better of it.

In the late 1960s the US Federal Communications Commission cracked down on the subliminal targeting of young people to the addictive lure of cool cigarette smoking. Thereafter a chain of legislation to prevent the public health implications of advertising to children and public campaigns targeting or affecting children was launched.  The 1970 Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act banned the advertising of cigarettes on television and radio. Recently under the newly enacted Family Smoking Prevention and Tobacco Control Act, effective June 22, 2010, the new regulations prohibit tobacco companies from sponsoring sports, music, and other cultural events.

In Belize, family time on tv is centered around the Mega Bingo Pirate, his patch and the Dora study desks that our children cultivate their budding gambling habits around, while we naively cheer on.

In 1994 the American Surgeon General did a study on the correlation between smoking cigarettes, advertisements, and addictions. Smoking, alcohol and gambling are all branches from the same addiction tree. When do you think our Director of Health Services, or whichever other salary motivated government official will do a proper study on the epidemic of gambling in this country?

Bingo is one of the most popular games in the world. In fact the Devil is so clever this is the number one game played by entire church congregations. Bingo is a very simple game so even four year olds can play it but can the adults be parent enough to recognize gambling and its predatory beginnings? Lotto is not our future. Tourism is not our future. “ile” is not even our future. A healthy, young, addiction-free Belize people are our future, put your bets on that.

There is a term in bingo: “Crying Number(s)”. Once a valid bingo has been claimed and the game is officially closed, the numbers that would have been drawn next are known as the crying numbers due to fact that any person who needed the next number would be crying. As a country let us not forever be amongst the crying numbers, at least for once let us hit the jackpot. By the might of truth and the grace of God let us protect our future and child prime minister from gambling.

Elsa Paz, Elsa Paz, Elsa Paz.  Last Wednesday night when I heard her Ladyship the UDP mayor of San Pedro tongue lash the government, I almost dropped the unbuttered piece of bread back that I had clenched over my steaming cup of Milo. Did you hear what I heard? The mayor basically said to Barrow and her own government to go “chuck off on a peg”. Normally, parliamentary responsibility would bridle the moral and political conscience of elected leaders who share the same kalloh bed sheets. But in this case I was told that the rule of parliamentary responsibility should not compromise politicos outside the House of Assembly.

Well as I snapped back in my retort to that much appreciated but confusing cliff note of political education, parliamentary responsibility and Barrow dictatorship are two different things. Barrow’s arrogance and self awarded divinity does not stomach independent thought very well and never, and I mean never, tolerates dissent.

Now, when the Mayor of San Pedro stands up and publicly flips the bird at Dean Barrow’s insistence on offshore oil drilling, it causes the public to twitch impulsively the same way we did at the suicide rant of Mark King or the school girl naivety of the exiled…ammm…ammm…what is his name again? Oh yeah, Marcel Cardona.

Elsa gial, you gawn off, but you haad ayz: Mugarrow said clearly and conclusively “… I do not agree with any suggestion that we simply cut and run, that we say that there can never be offshore oil exploration in this country. ..You don’t stop flying because there is a risk that the plane will crash.” (Not one of his better analogies there). He even got condescending when he said – dummies: “You don’t run off half-cocked, and because of what is admittedly a disaster in the States, foreclose on all your options,”

There he goes again with that kind of language; this is the second time Barrow is included in a cock, bull and balls story with a female mayor. But Elsa, she haad ayz, and upstaat, in full kimbo she sucked her teeth and repeated: ““First of all, I would like to say that myself and my council, we are totally against the oil drilling especially like right now we are seeing the problem with Mexico with the spill of oil there…I believe that government should have some kind of consideration before doing any decisions of this type.”

Elsa must have been smelling her political arm or she is taking advice from Dollah because she “paient up inna” Barrow face,  and tell ah cold “ I have always said that [they]don’t have respect for local authorities like myself with my council because we are not informed of what is happening in our island.” This uman no hide and talk.

Well Elsa she give dey wah tongue lashing about the same thing the PUP has been saying on behalf of the Belizean people for the past two years: ” bass unnu no di consult wid we and lone di go ova we head. We no deh wid dat nor unnu” in long form she said “I believe as local authorities we should be informed and there should be public consultation or at least consult with the local authorities to see if we agree with the project before they go ahead and do any approvals…and in a case like this for this approval of oil drilling and any environmental concern there is a lot of times that this private sectors or investors go all the way Belmopan to get these approvals.”

The uman fine out bout all a di drilling from Marleni at six thirty even though she is the only elected female politician for the UDP – memba Z get hib out. But her assault was not only on Mugarrow, she also “step pan” the whole boys club. She fling sohn big raak afta Gapi and Manny: “Well I believe that government should work more closely to us to have a better communication. There are a lot of times that I have been in Belmopan especially with Minister of Natural Resources which is one of the biggest ministries and one of the ministries that has to do a lot with the island when it comes to forestry and all kind of environmental issues that are happening on the island.”

Barrow no shame? The highest ranking UDP elected female politician publicly scolded him when she said” I believe that government should come together with us and try to work together with us…” Barrow’s treatment of women in the UDP and in leadership is a well known and well documented one, so the retaliatory hair pulling of Paz is no surprise.

What is interesting is that this oil scandal is as much a stain on Barrow’s new clothes as the ambassadorship of Shyne, the deportee or Zenaida’s naked confession as to his anatomy. Remember, Barrow seems to be financially benefiting from these oil companies. This man facey, yah? Remember he gawn pan national television and said basically that much – again sake a Julez he.  Barrow had the face of brass to admit that this law partner was the secretary for Princess Petroleum Limited who has one of these rainbow colored concessions.

Then Jules gave him truth serum in one of his “short story questions” reminding him that he is still a beneficial partner in Barrow & Williams and if something benefits Barrow & Williams it would benefit Barrow. Yap, Barrow no fraid fi yuh, he responded annoyed and confused even that it should be otherwise: “Any professional work that Barrow & Williams does will benefit me. Indeed I continue to quite publicly and openly draw a share of the profits.”

Yap! You heard it from the horse’s mouth. So if Barrow is so invested in the oil drilling disaster to be unleashed on us and we know politically, he normally bax down uman weh try breathe up inna he face, then how Elsa could dare come out against the UDP and Barrow? Remember what happen to poa Zenaida?

Well, for the most part Elsa she is the antithesis of Zenaida, she is not flashy, not emotional and surely plain spoken. In fact, most people say that she holds herself out as a blandly inane politician. But the reason she will become no Zenaida is because of the socio-political reality of San Pedro and the economic power that municipality wields in the UDP.

Elsa understands that the political power that San Pedro extorts in front of the UDP and the rest of Belize is directly attributable to its earning potential under tourism. That faction of red financiers gets their money from dressing up in the tourism disguise. The only other local financiers or political dons are the northenos of the UDP. Money runs politics that is why Gapi is DPM when he is a political retard who cannot chew and talk politics at the same time. Elsa she knows this fact and she knows that if that tourism economy is interrupted the social and political power of Belize Rural South will be demoted to a very expensive but barefoot version of Punta Gorda.

Come on, Donavan could see that no tourist will come to Belize to swim under those big leaking iron towers of oil stations or pools of tar. Barrow does not have to worry, he pays no attention to his land locked constituency in Queen Square and he can pay Boots to clean up the soot on his beach front property in Buttonwood Bay if Kim protests too much. But for Elsa’s political survival, drilling is public enemy number one edging out nappy haired Belize City men by a narrow margin.

Elsa is finally speaking the same language the PUP and the people of Belize have been shouting, even if she is lip-syncing for the gods of political expedience and survival.  San Pedranos are against Barrow and have already jumped out of his pot, croaking in protest of being the main course of Barrow’s gluttonous and oily insensitivity.

Proudly accommodating parents who have been tickled to ecstasy by having a child who has not ended up as a statistic on the pink slip of the new Minister of Police or a six thousand dollar employment opportunity for Coye or Leiva let their kids unwind without supervision. The absence of supervision is after all justified because most of these children have held on to some measure of discipline in the academic plantation of secondary school. They got a couple of things right, so it is safe to assume that our luck with their choices will continue – at least on the average.

The suspension of our smothering tendencies as parents is compounded by the fact that the once ankle biting rug rats are only months away from finally taking on their own heartaches, jobs and stresses.  High school, Sixth forms and Universities, to some degree, are spitting out these bright-eyed and uninhibited gangs of youngsters. For the youngsters, it is the bewitching spirit of Prom which overdoses the present after its long struggle with the scholastic rehabilitation of the past so much that it entrances them into total indifference for the fragility of the future.

Yeah, let’s get it started!!!! The defiant swarm of graduates with all the tension of a stretched slingshot and fully armed with the untested ignorance of teenage perspective, infest the shoreline of Belize City. It is a high. Unadulterated bliss!

North side kids confident they will get away with it, hijack their parents SUVs, 9mms and ATM cards. Most times, they are off to score a point with some unconquered love interest or to monopolize the leading role in some drunken misadventure of delinquency.

The sense of freedom and the detachment from responsibility is packed into their movements and choices. Motorcades of fancy vehicles fueled with warm pituitary gland juice, twelve year old scotch, and grey gooses race up and down Marine Parade only to take brief pit stops in front of Battlefield Park to belch out speaker boxes full of Lady Gaga and Justin Bierber. (Yeah trust me on this one. Those are the names of popular teen idols on this side of the kinel.)

But lurking in the concrete jungle of the city are hungry, envious and overworked jaguars which are prowling in the shadows. They growl and boil as they know that the insulting immunity that these spoilt brats wield is more than their pay scale can handle. They know that without a doubt the least prepared of the lot has in their wallet more for this one night than the constable will take home for the month – in honest above the table earnings. And it irks them but that is the law on this side of the kinel.

They stare, casting a slave eye on the masters’ children, and prepare to pounce on any profitable situation which is so far beyond excuse that it can be justified to a superior officer or earn them some “extortable” hush money.

Most of these kids barely scrape dog through the final year of classes despite having bought all their books brand new; paying some speaky spokey tutor for five forty dollar sessions a week; and sleeping in orthopedic beds while covering from the air conditioner. But tonight in plain sight the under-age drinking, reckless driving and public nuisances will be tolerated, even excused – at least on this side of the kinel.

Drinking in public and urinating in public is not punishable on this side of the kinel if the trousers which are unbuckled are two hundred dollar skinny jeans and the drink is not pronounced the way it is spelt.

But downwind of the kinel, the aggravated jaguars want to release steam too. They want to explode. Tired, sticky, frustrated and underpaid.  Downwind from the kinel, only one of the boys who managed to enroll in high school finally will graduate. He will graduate in spite of only having some of the required texts and being “demeritted” for not being able to afford it. He will graduate after being strong willed enough to sit and study amid the loud cursing of his frustrated single mother and inhaling the stale second hand whiffs of his brother’s hydro.

So tonight is the one night where he plans to get on his step-brother’s beach cruiser and take a drink of shake up or two dollars wine from his primary school friends whose sister has graduated from high school too.

Dress up no puss back foot. After pretending to walk out, his discounted jeans are forty nine ninety five from the Turks on Albert Street and his double XL shirt has 2Pac barely peeping out over his hundred and ten pound frame.  Yeah, he has been called a “pussy” not in the feline way, and been told that he is a “soft pops” by the neighborhood hustlers, for as many times as he has been be ridiculed for his high water pants in school. But tonight is going to be a good night because he survived everything.

Now, a drink, then back home, to sleep because as a bag boy on Saturday mornings you have to be sharp.

Turning into Boots Crescent, on his way to the party, Jaguar Paw is all over some of his cousins who were buying Guiness at the Chiney. He smirked and shook his head as “di man dey” bax up the whole set like pickney and throw their bikes into the pan of the pick-up.  Yap, that entire set will lick down “wah faughty eight fi C. P.!!!!

He continues his ride to notice that a girl he had gone to primary school with was on her step without her two year old baby, so he throws down his bike and decides to “halla” at her.  The plywood house is all abuzz because the girl’s brother just “let off” wah pack and so Guiness and weed deh bout. This is not his scene but the girl is. As he takes his seat on the upside down pig tail bucket beside her,  she smiles just before he asks about her baby but there is no time for a response as jaguar paw raids the yard.

The first thing that comes from the officer in full black, after the nozzle of his eager gun of course,  is “weh part di res a di ting deh deh?” He had been properly tipped off and knows full well that for every one pack that reaches the station, two will not.  It is either the right hook or the butt of the soldier’s M16 that sends the boy in one direction and the bucket in the other, revealing the rusty duct-taped thirty eight special.  Everyone in the yard including the half dressed grandmother is off to the piss-house.

At the same time on the other side of the kinel the group of SUVs decides that the stretch of road between the massive SCA construction site and the roundabout is the best place to spark off some rounds of their father’s firearm that they lifted from his safe. After the ratta-ta-ta, they speed off to the parking lot of Princess where despite not even having a license to drive as yet, they will waltz into the discotheque to blow a public servant’s salary.

But this is Operation Restore. Let us not fool wi self, operation restore is a joke. At its most flattering, Operation Restore is only as successful as Operation Jaguar is a failure.  And Operation Jaguar is simply another way to keep the southside slaves in check. Cold like that.  I no wah hope nor I no wa imagine just because things bad.  Operation Restore = Operation Jaguar and Operation Jaguar is designed to criminalize more people on this side of the kinel.

Have you seen the piece of crap that is written and called Operation Restore. If you ask me, in practice Operation Restore is a discriminatory and status quo protecting program.   Operation Restore Belize is Dean Barrow’s house slave response to the have it alls. It is his oreo cookie pretentiousness to the have nots that this “operation” includes them.

The poor in Belize will have to take all the failures and abuses of “operation restore “ on the chin while some UDP crony gets pool table money. For most of us we will be confused by the chaos that the UDP and Barrow are trying to throw around as being every body’s fault.  No it is not, the PUP doesn’t control the police or appointment of Compol or Ministers of Police or budget cuts or discriminatory operations  that target and kill the future of black youths. Only the poor people and their families  are being extorted, shackled beaten and abused by the Police who have been give a full license to act with extreme prejudice. Well at least on this side of the kinel.

Every night and every day now

Never meaning what they say now

Never saying what they mean.”

Lyrics by Joe South

As a child my uncle would sit all his nieces and nephews in a golden circle flickering with only the glow of an experienced kerosene lamp.  Moving hypnotically and speaking in the entrancing whisper of a character from some ladybird book, he would awe our childish stares with magical card tricks.  Even now as I think back, the elaborate Celtic patterns on the red underside of the stiff deck of cards would add to the entertaining deception and sleight of hand which would distract us from the fact that our parents were miles away.

But as the shadows bent and contorted on the exposed wooden studs and we became older, each of the card tricks was exposed. It was almost as if the attention starved crickets busy in the cilantro patch  spitefully celebrated that their encoded chirpings had finally been ciphered, tell-a-tale bastards!!.

But it did become old. As each summer passed, we became more fascinated with the uneven black soot on the rim of the glass chimney of the lamp and the final glimpses of odd shadows it would cast before we fell asleep on our sponges than the tricks.

The last card trick was one where he would shuffle the deck of cards poorly then give one of us the deck of cards to shuffle. This task was done with frantic thoroughness confident that it would disrupt the trickery which was lurking impishly somewhere in the mystical techniques.  Next he would invite another child to pick a card from somewhere in the middle, while convincingly arguing that the end cards were too easy to track.

He would then ask my cousin to replace the card on one of the half decks he held in each hand, sternly warning not to let him see what it was and turning his head while admonishing him to look at his card carefully and protect it.  The card once replaced and confidently tagged in the memory on my cousin would be shuffled by my uncle, after which he would flip over the cards until he miraculously pointed out the very same card my cousin had drawn earlier.

See what it was, was a simple game of misdirection, he knew we desperately wanted the thrill of being tricked and he knew we could be baited into a fixation on protecting the card he instructed us to guard. But that was not his focus, the key in the trick was not the card we had but really it was the card before it, the “duppy card”, which he controlled and which he took note of while he was pressuring us to not be fooled or distracted from the security of the target card.  He would identify the target card easily by singling out the card immediately following the duppy card improperly shuffled before it.

Beautiful misdirection it was, because it sold the trick so well, we were engaged in the process so it had to be foolproof. Yes, subliminally we knew it was a trick and entertainment wise we almost wanted to be tricked but it had to be good somehow.  We needed it to be or boredom would kill us.

But, boss, misdirection and tricks are not games to be played when we have the Medusa of crime tapping our children on the shoulder. Di man di play games. If not cards, then his giveaway references to the newest puppet in the person of Bernard Quinton Augustus Pitts as a “backstop”, means that he di play baseball. You only have backstappa/katcha inna baseball, boss. My question then is, who di pitch?

Man, this whole thing is just bogus. This joker of a Prime Minister, after taking off the Alice in Wonderland panty hose of the Queen of Hearts, where he was saying “off with her head” to Zenaida, tried on the Emperor’s new clothes of a harebrained Cabinet Shuffle and Operation Restore.

I know I had asked for the UDP to wheel and come back with better names for their operations but I did not mean to spend all your time coming up with the balderdash acronym and no time on the substance of the thirteen page document which is the largest pile of juvenilia ever. Stop play boss!

Even Irice Reyes, who was the winner of the ISCR research competition which focused on finding solutions to the crime situation in Belize had a more comprehensive and credible submission. I swear, we need to track down Irice of Ecumenical Junior College because someone plagiarized or freeloaded off her paper and watered it down to that environmental waste of fourteen sheets of paper. Right, Mr. Encalada?

Back to the Barrow card shuffle. What kind of funny business is this to put Doug Singh as Minister of National Security and Pitts as his catcher in an AG costume? No tell me bout how he is just Minister of Police and Public Security, because the BDF only have bout three hundred man and half a dat di hunt jaguars in Belize City. Perdomo perdido everything, and was told that he like it!!

Crime is no carnival you know and Dough is sure to be a pansy on crime.

Deano is just playing games. He is not serious. Look pan di maths. In our constitutional democracy, ideally and as a rule of thumb, elected officials from the House make up the Cabinet. In fact, from my ruffling through the constitution only one ministerial post is specifically named for someone outside the elected members, and that is a qualified lawyer to temporarily fill the post of AG under certain conditions. In all other cases then where the appointment is via the Senate, that appointee must have some exceptional and specialized skill to justify short-circuiting the electoral process to bask on the beach enjoying Ministerial tanning.

Beg you a question boss…what credentials does Dougie have to justify his holding the hot potato portfolio of Police? Is he a known criminologist? A renowned social scientist? Retired Police Commissioner/Commandant? Nope. None of the above. He is just a UDP insider and Barrow “yes sah man”.

Where in his resume did it say ‘suitable to head police force?’ At least Carlito had been the ex-UDP CEO in that ministry and the qualified virtue of being an elected member of the House, he failed; now what does Dougie bring? This is a joke. What we have gotten is the superlative of bad!

But while we are unamused at Deano’s game of fifty-two card pick up, we realize that something is fishy. Why have a big ceremony to take the AG ministry from Sedi? After all the new AG is his roommate!  Come to think of it, really, is it not the case that Sedi ballsed up Foreign Affairs and Foreign Trade more so than he did AG? Remember the Compromis, the Artificial border and the sleepovers with Israelis. What did he do in AG wrong?

Now if Deano mi serious, di bally mi wah appoint a well qualified foreign affairs specialist like  Ambassador Alfredo Martinez or the current advisor to the Ministry of  Foreign Affairs, Ambassador David Gibson to be the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Tek your pick, bald eagle!  Had he done so he could have left Sedi, who, is only for argument and comparative purposes better suited for the AG portfolio. Nope not Deano.

Look yah! Straight out of extreme left field, or rather from the pits comes a verbose geriatric to be AG.  Why? Why? Why? I read the transcript of the evening news over and over and then it hit me like the final scene of the 1995 blockbuster thriller “The Usual Suspects”.

This is what Deano says of BBQ: ”I think he will drive the process that will see us end up with a dedicated court for dealing with the violent crimes. I think he will drive the process that will see us get a more effective prosecution. I think he will drive …the judiciary about sentencing policies, I think he will drive the process… that will produce the legislative reform that is necessary to back stop what we want to do with the police department in particular.”

But what is more important, like the old card game trick is what he did not say. Now we all know that old boy Pitts is no legal luminary. Truth is no one has ever seen him go to the Court of Appeal or the Privy Council in all his donkey years as a lawyer. Come to think of it his appearances in the Supreme Court are as frequent as Citco fixing the streets.  One reporter noted that the last time this man did a civil case, his daughter could not even lift an egg to throw it.

Eureka. This is all about a woman. Do the maths… if you get an attorney who is virtually clueless in civil litigation and who is primarily a criminal attorney then you still have full control and full  justification to continue to leach off to Lice, fat government retainers.  The Pits is just the duppy card. The target card is Lice, by appointing the Pitts, Deano can continue to skim off million dollar cases to his ex-wife.

Put dat in your pipe and smoke it Belize!!!!  As Deano spoke I remembered a monologue of Alice as she gazed through the looking glass:  “If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn’t be, and what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?”

We might simple but wi no fool.

But even as the mid-day sultriness disapprovingly stared at the pack of school aged boys, who were blocking the adult flow of traffic on the pedestrian walkway of the rust resilient Swing Bridge, the tallest boy of the lot requisitioned “Unu wah si wich paat di blood deh fahn di man weh get dead?” His tone was sparkling with all the anxiety and rouse appropriate for the intense adventure of an Easter egg hunt.  Off they raced weaving through the canal of handbags and purses clenched by the office workers and frantic housewives who were late to prepare afternoon lunches.

I just could not shake from my mind the thought that Belize had become a sweat factory, an economic sauna, and a social presha pat.  The images of our children gamboling through the streets while bullets, guns and bombs shout their names just feet away from their classrooms and Dora schoolbags,  is just infuriating. Cold like that!

It was only when the sales pitch of the newspaper boy and the inescapable mustiness of that homeless-sprang head odor which is the trademark of downtown Belize City hit me that I looked down at the front page of the Guardian newspaper.  The bare feet newspaper boy peddled in serious jest, “Times, Guardian, Reportah,…get it while e hat…if yuh kiyah read den buy it and watch di pitcha!”

The Bredrin was right! The truth in the high resolution picture on the front page was worth a thousand words.   The picture was the poster child for the “un-caging” of operation Jaguar. (On a side note though people, seriously, who comes up with these names for these UDP failed experiments? 360 degree Plan on Crime, which is a full circle back to the original position; Preventative detention which is oxymoronic at best,  and now “operation jaguar” who would release a ferocious wild killer into a civilian population?  I don’t know if it is Bert Tucker, Yellowman, DJ Dolla, Ramon Dim Witz or some other UDP genius but mi bally unu haffu do better wid dey name.)

Yeah but this photo was excessively daring and provoking.  It knee jerked with all the things the desperate public wanted to shout at the Minister of National Security. Yeah, it did. I mean look at it, there was an intimidating Hispanic descent police officer, with the peak of his hat masking his eyes and half his face, while he confidently taunted an armory of assault weapons which had never been pointed at a Guatemalan intruder.

In the background, not too far from a prospering hamans tree and a wooden house which obviously saw no benefit from the Venezuelan grant money for home improvement, was another bullet proof officer, who had just nabbed an obvious bad man. The guy had to be a miscreant! Come on look at him. He was black, riding a beach cruiser bicycle, baggy gang clothes and a rusty high afro. Gat im!!!!

We all are fed up and unified, even the “Passin” deh come out of their slumber and are in full on exorcism mode against crime.

In terms of  shameless futility, of all the  elected and unelected UDPs, closeted  or flamboyantly out the political closet UDPs, main stream UDP’s or underground ACB –UDP’s, it took a politically disgraced mayor who is an alleged criminal to “cast the first stone” against crime. But, but, but…. Operation Jaguar? Operation Jaguar? Come on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Boots, what kind of rock is this government smoking?

Belize is an interesting country; we are the only place where it is popular to have fire lit barbeques at a gas station and no one even blinks. No!! On the contrary we wait patiently in long lines more concerned that when we get to the front of the line all the breast wah done. That fear is more real to us than the fact that we are standing inches away from a smoking barbeque pit which is no more than spitting distance away from an explosive gas pump!!!!!! We are the same people who will sit back, cross its fingers, close its eyes and hope that this incompetent UDP government is successful at releasing wild man eating Jaguars into our streets.  Operation Jaguar!!???!!!

I waited a while before I became critical of this pussyfooting operation. The way I see it, like most other things in Belize, we are what my grandmother used to call “fuss bruk”. When something is new, no different from a child with a puppy we rush to it but after the novelty of it wears off and we have to clean up the indiscriminant spirals of mushy pooh, no one cares.

Well the dung has been here long before the puppy!!! Come on, family, how can we be in support of this Operation? Some people will take the popular and ear pleasing position of saying that crime is every one’s business but to me this UDP administration is bankrupt and bird brained in everything, much more in solving crime. Operation Jaguar, are you kidding me????!!!??

Yeah I can be harsh. I can be brutal even!  I could memba that it is this same UDP government who just weeks aback slashed/hacked/robbed the Ministry of National Security budget, despite all the pointed and constructive queries from the Opposition in the House. Dey no serious, big man!

Who could forget that long before Dean he mi want turn Belize City into the Cockscomb Basin, we the Opposition mi di tell that haad ears one he dat he should have quitared Carlito’s job as Minister over our national  insecurities. No, he did not want that.

Boss, imagine that man di drap like fly bout yah and that breda too busy playing “lass lick” with a UDP shoplifter who ran the National Campaign for the Government.  Crime???

The UDP is not concerned about crime, they are far too busy shoplifting and casting people out of their party or killing their own. Look, Howell Longsworth, now Pastor, get dash weh. Zenaida get dash weh. Marcel Cardona get hib weh. Mark King get chow eh. Michael Peryfitte get fling weh.  Dey shave Kenny Morgan head and put he inna the attic. Karim Berges get used like wa eight miles patron and then get pitch weh. Trust me, big man the list is much longer.

Crime??!! This government is a crime which needs to be fed to lions and jaguars.  Their idea of governance is to make people suffer and try to jail their own people.  See Deano and the UDP are so obsessed with petty side shows that they barely took their head out of the commotion of in fighting and inbreeding to give us the hollow afterthought of Operation Jaguar. You no serious!!!!

My youth, this is the same government who paroled an ex-convict to the ranks of Ambassador in homage to his royal blood and  who signed another extension for the head of the Police Force, whose head most Belizeans would prefer to see roll.

But the operation itself is foolhardy, for a couple of reasons. The first is that the operation is nothing more than a souped up police vigilante program with stressed out, over- worked, under paid, low morale officers speeding around town with guns like chickens without heads.  It is the worst timed operation in Belize’s history. This must be on the acumen of UDP advisor Easy Glen, because more police officers will hit the streets on the wake of an epidemic of police abuse and corruption.

Think about the back drop here: Police officers in ski masks, suspicions of police death squads, the shoot to kill top brass directive, police assassinations of another police inside the police station, three police killing of civilians in two months, the arrest of CIB officers who are accused of masterminding a criminal rink, the crippling of Stephen Buckley and Elvin Torres, who was featured in our rice bun version of the Rodney King affair. And it is this same police force that you want to unleash? Stap play boss!!!!

Secondly, in the past few months the most heinous crimes have really been happening out district, not Belize City, mi bally!!! We had the murder of the security guard in Spanish Lookout and the robbing of the Bank there. We had the be-heading of two people in Bella Vista, which remains unsolved despite its having similar criminal fingerprints as another murder in that area, and recently we had a Chinese business woman who had her baby strapped to her who was slaughtered at her work, again in San Ignacio. But, no!!! Release the jaguars in Belize City. Why? Boss, easy question. Jules, Jose Sanchez and all the cameras are here. This operation lacks both glitter and substance.

But I guess Dean forgot to throw his penny in the wishing well of Dr. Gayle, locking down the city alone with nothing else will only do two things: the first is that it will push criminal elements into the trans-district and out of district criminal activity. And as we noticed that done mi di happen!

But, secondly, as I heard one defiant gang member say, “we haffu eat, boss”.  These youths have no job, no skill and no direction. After they are on lock down for two or three weeks which is the maximum time for this “Operation act like something di happen” to die off,  our delinquent juvenile population will be three weeks “more broke” and three week out of committing crime to feed their drug dependent habits, demanding girlfriends or pampers wearing children. Three weeks without hustling money and three weeks more desperate, do you think that they will by divine intervention put on long sleeves and ties and become entrepreneurs? Where do you think they will get the money from to pay for three weeks of debt? You think that they will go get an application form from the loans officers on Albert Street?

After they finish roughing up and shooting the pants sagging black boys in the streets of Belize City what is the next phase in the skinning the crime cat? I mean after they force ripe a former UDP Minister’s son to Commissioner, of course.  My guess is…this is all that there is and all that there will be.

And as we think back to the news cast of that date, we try hard not to remember what happened to the clan of urban terrorists who were caught red-handed with the hot bag of smoking nine millimeter pistols. But pssst!!!! Psssttt!!!!! Just to keep it one hundred, I am gonna inform you that they all got away. Yap scotch free!!!! It is almost as if they were rewarded for being bold enough to foreshadow the current era of criminal lawlessness and murder under Barrow’s UDP watch.

The truth is that night club shootings, politics and Barrows’ have more common denominators. In fact, on December 27, 1999, what is described as a fracas broke out at a Manhattan nightclub where Jamal “Shyne” Barrow, together with his gang of friends used their “ninas” to shot up the club. In that fiasco, a woman was also shot in the face, tenk God she neva dead. But this felon has also been rewarded.

Jamal Barrow was forced to come back to Belize, less we all forget, this is the last place the boy wanted to be. One hip hop magazine exposed the fact that this was only the second time that he has returned to this little mosquito filled “kinel” side country. Lately he was trying to abscond to the UK and was snubbed in that escape attempt.

Back in the Big Apple, the convict’s attorneys argued long and hard to get Barrow special treatment. Barrow tried every trick in the book including the Torah, fully accessorized with a school boy hair cut, a freshly launched brand name and paid hands from Harvard (or at least the fashion). If I memba right el Gobierno de Belice went so far burning diplomatic favors and sending letters to the Governor of the State of New York, to get around the deportation laws.

So here we are. After full consultation with Yellowman and Hutchy, Barrow appoints his son Jamal Barrow, musical ambassador. Pump the brakes there, boss. Hold up, wait a minute. “Ambasa” what? Stop play, big man. Did you know that an ambassador is the highest-ranking diplomatic representative of one government to another or to an international organization?

This is no 1.5 million in untendered legal contracts for Lice, or the one shot big-payoff case for Deany, or the apparently biased Court of Appeal Judge appointment, or the jacking of BTL for “lotto And War” to play with. We talking here, as the new dancehall artists say “to the world” ambassador.

Look yah, an ambassador is a formally defined and recognized status under the Congress of Vienna (1815). They are regarded as personal representatives of their whole country. Before the development of modern communications, ambassadors were entrusted with extensive powers and even today they retain the honorable power of being spokespeople for their foreign offices. Long and short, ambassadors are the equivalent of ministers, but not just any minister, a minister of the highest rank with plenipotentiary authority to represent their head of state. Wow!!!

Now, I am as catholic as everyone else believing in the redeemable nature of the human soul but I don’t understand how come under section 58 of the Constitution, a person is disqualified from being a minister if they are convicted of a “sentence of imprisonment exceeding twelve months”. But Barrow makes Barrow an ambassadorial minister?

Excuse me but didn’t Barrow recently lick down ten years!!!!! Amabassador????

Tell me one more time, this boy has a post that comes with all the trimmings of an ambassador, including a diffran kahlah passport and immigration courtesies like security clearances and paid travels? He is an ex-con, people. Still thinking like one too. In fact the boy is still singing about running gangs and moving “ki’s” and shooting “gats”.

In a recent song this man, who is representing you is saying: “I’m rocking sideways, motherf@#$#r crime pays I need it, I get it, I got it, I chop it, I double the profit and bubble the pockets. I’m living to die. Niggas talk fly till I walk by And pop something. you mother@#$#rs forgot something I’m not fronting. This ain’t rap. music. This ain’t that.” Yeah, that is the way all our Belizean Ambassadors talk!

My grandmother likes to say “more deh out dan weh deh een.” On the latest track that the self proclaimed gangster for life released on DJ Khalid’s album entitled “All my life”, he appears with notorious foul mouthed rappers like Akon “the illegal alien” and Movado whose visa has just been revoked by Uncle Sam for reasons that we all know. In that song there are still references to “running with the b’s and the c’s”, (Crips and Bloods gangs?) Boasting in a hard bunk toilet voice about “ducking police”; running streets; living slowly to let us “read in the F.E.D.S.” and no fear “to put a bullet in his skully cap”, wow!!!!!  I can see why America is trying to keep these kinds of men out of their country but then there is Belize, here we bless them as ambassadors??? Hmnnnn? Cho, my boy!!!!!

Don’t tell me that he is just the musical ambassador because that is expletively oxymoronic on so many levels. The birthing of cultural ambassadors which has been toxically mutated into Jamal Barrow’s commissioning, is the vision of NICH whose maiden idea has been soiled. In the post Independence period, Belize has had cultural ambassadors to the quality of Joan Duran, Andy Palacio and even Poots “the Titiman” Flores.

Now I am told that Flores who was appointed after the recent change of government did not hold back on Two Cents Cam to verbally flip the bird on the new appointment. In fact Flores, the outgoing ambassador was informed of removal the same way NICH was, which is courtesy of the UDP press office, the Channel 7 Department.

Imagine! A convicted felon is our musical ambassador. Jamal Barrow is no Bob Marley or Bono and not even a shadow of Andy Palacio. In fact, it would be easy to argue that Barrow is the antithesis of a Belize Music Ambassador. Reading a few of the old blogs and interviews from the expelled rapper reminded me that he has strong convictions about two things. One is that he has utter contempt for Daddy Barrow who he condemns as a cold hearted sperm donor. And secondly: in various magazines including XXL the boy emphatically views himself as a “Brooklyn artist”, in none of his interviews did I find any reference to Belize. Nope, none!! Hip-hop is as culturally representative of Belize as blue grass is to the China.

Who is Jamal Barrow in Belizean Music? In American music he is a “godfather” sort of, and that is independent of what rap lord Mr. Fifty Cents says but, on the Belizean music scene no one would use him as an example in the game of Taboo to describe Belizean cultural music. If you ask Tony Wright, he never thought of inviting Jamal Barrow to “Belizean Artists past and present”, real talk.

Speaking of that, this is not like the law where the UDP tell Belizeans unu incompetent so they want to bring foreigners to be Ministers. No, there is a host of faithful, rabid UDP and royal creoles who could do the job. What about high wasted, Jason Guerrero, Bro. David Obe, Lord Rhaburn or Gina Scott? But the biggest loser is Berne. If I were him, I would be vex vex vex!!!!!! Sorry bro, you no name Barrow!!!!

On second thought let me take back all my opposition to Jamal Barrow’s appointment as musical ambassador. Look at it this way, an ambassador is a reflection of the country they represent. Right now, Belize is in a gang like dictatorship and a nepotistic rule of Barrow. Belize has become a violent place under Dean, so lyrics of Shyne Barrow in the one hit wonder “Bad boys” like: “ashes to ashes dust to dust, I bang and let your f@#$king brains hang” pretty much sums up the evening news. I take it all back, Jamal Shyne Barrow is the perfect ambassador of music for Belize under the UDP and I am glad that we could have squandered an ambassadorial appointment just so that he could sort out his immigration problems with the UK.  In fact let’s make the gang members who killed Deandra ambassadors too. After all we had Vat man knighted and Morgan “the Bombman” was O.B.Ed. So why not? God Save the Queen!!!!!!!!

I had to clean out my ears. What is next? Truly, what is next? Imagine that on March 30, 2010, the senator who is supposed to be representing the religious voice of this nation voted to support an oppressive and profane bill. A budget and tax law which even he himself confessed (afterwards and when it did not matter of course) was “a big blunder”. Save it Pharisee!

I crouched over my am/fm radio squeezing the foil paper on the antenna and listening to this confused savior. He was either on a sadistic frolic all his own or the Forrest Gump style top button of his shirt was cutting off circulation to his brain. Man, at one point I had to pinch myself wondering if he was singing for his supper by scolding the private sector senator like a good house slave. I personally was waiting for him to eventually burst out like the stock character of blackface minstrels saying “and unnu know masa ain gone like dis, me no wah get inna trouble. Slave revolt? Whu-rah? Nuh me!!”

Normally he has a partner in crime, but the Chamber and Business sector must have violently threatened the immaculately conceived Senator from the private sector, because his body language and conviction was like a street rogue who was caught by policemen going up-stop and told to come off his bike; let out the air in his wheels and walk his bike in the right direction.

Gordy did put in work against his holiness Mr. Hulse, though, by scoffing: “The same business people want infrastructure in place for them to perform, and that costs money…You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Tek dat Father Hulse!

Gordy’s sinfully fallacious argument is that “the Senate really has no constitutional power to stop the implementation of a budget…once the House approves the Revenue Appropriation Bill…” Hmnnn… Inna small change, what he is saying is that it makes no sense for him to vote “no” because no matter how bad the law is, the Senate has no remedy for resistance. Look yah. Principal, moral high ground and righteous stances are the most powerful political tools. The voice of the people is the voice of God. All Power is to and of the people. Know that.

The reality is that the Senate is a rubber stamp. No two ways around it. I know this. You know this.  Mr. UDP Cabinet Sect. knows this but the votes in the senate then are conscience votes. It is a barometer for the government to know if each of the represented sectors supports a policy decision of the Upper house. It is called democracy, stupid! If you vote yes “mi bally”, the Government will think that the Church agrees with its decision.

Watch ya,  Stap talk stewpidness, Gordy. The truth is that based on your crippled line of “mi bally” quality argument, you will be voting  “yes” for all bills because the Senate can’t really “stop” any bill. What are you doing there? Leave!!! If you don’t section 64 of the Constitution tells us how to remove you. We do not need a church version of Bertie Chimilio.

What makes this such a grossly ironic infraction is that of all the social partners, the church should be the moral leader against unchristian and immoral bills. You heard the Unions begging for a delay, using such words as “unconscionable” and “untenable” to refer to the tax noose. The Opposition stood and demanded that in the name of God, the bill be condemned. Even Father Hulse made his shotgun-wedding style vote with a forced “no”.

But to throw undiluted vinegar into our wounds, Gordy had the unrepentant gall to backtalk and say that even if he had voted no, the president would have had the casting vote. Boss, that was exactly the same reasoning that allowed  Pontius Pilate to  wash his hands and turn over Jesus of Nazareth to be crucified by blood hungry heathens whipped into a frenzy by politically insecure religious leaders who preferred to see murderers like Barabas continue their terror.

And Barabas surely has been set free. This is a budget that is choking a justice and public security system that is completely under siege. The less money the justice system gets to fight crime the more murderers walk the street. So, voting for a bill which hacks the budget for the Police is caving in to the frenzied chants for Barabas, the murderer.

In the past few weeks, the religious community has taken some bitter assassinations: one being a Deacon of the Adventist Church and the other a devout Muslim who attended Friday service the day before he was slaughtered. Hey, Gordy, it is the very people you should be representing from the Belize Council of Churches and the Evangelical Association of Churches who are being murdered by the Barabas that you voted to keep on the streets of Belize City.

After church on Sunday, I overheard a group of middle aged sisters checking amongst themselves as to whether they had been consulted in Gordon’s “yes” vote. They were devoutly in search of the truth. Let me save you ladies the hassle, we were not consulted.

Interestingly and in a snappy response to another church sister’s weak defense of Gordy, we were reminded of the story of Zacchaeus in the Gospel of Luke 19:1-10. I realized afterwards that this is a most telling symbolism of what should have been done.

In that scripture Jesus was passing through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem when he looked up into a sycamore fig tree and saw a man called Zacchaeus. Now, Z was a big shot publicanus which is the bible day equivalent of a superintendent of customs or Tax Commissioner. The story goes that Jesus called to the youth by name and invited himself to Z’s house. Taken aback by the audacity and measure of Jesus’ address to him, Z repented of acts of corruption and vowed to make restitution for them.

Now the sycamore tree, climbed by Zacchaeus, in the culture of that time, was considered “unclean” because the fruit it produced was fed to pigs. The theological translation is that the calling out of the tree was an alter call for contrition. Jesus’ bellowing moral authority guaranteed conversion. The Christian thing for Gordy to have done was to call “Zacchaeus” out the unclean sycamore tree of this tax budget and by the force of the spiritual prerogative to cast out the demons scratching inside the chambers of the bill.

Gordy’s “aye” vote is a reminder that political crushes and alliances may go deeper than religious moorings. The prohibition against the overlap of these two institutions – church and politics – would otherwise have begotten a just objective in the Senatorial appointment on behalf of the Church but without supervision, Gordy is what we get.

The fact that ethical convictions are rooted in religious faith does not disqualify them from the political realm. Therefore the converse is equally true, as they do not have secular validity merely because they roll off the tongues of recovering UDPs screaming religiously authority. This is an unconscionable bill and all Belizeans including the Church were to have been standing on the same righteous side, instead the Pharisees continue to plot to crucify the Belizean body of Christ. So we pray, forgive him Father although he knows of what he has done…

I mean I felt tricked. It felt exactly the same way, I felt on the morning of Friday, February 8, 2008. Yap, the garland is gone, this time in the same foot beaten path where xateros, menacingly wave over-worked machetes in front of toothless smiles. As the Guatemalan champion rolled over the finish line, he won our contempt by mockingly performing “handless capers” just seconds before descending into a volatile Belizean crowd. I realized then that Perez was really saying: “this was like taking candy from a baby”. I was livid.

I was absolutely furious despite the heavy doses of positive-perspective pills being shoveled down our throats by the forward thinking radio commentators who did their best impression of nation counseling. Some were preaching  the gospel of next year retribution with empty conviction while some unconvincingly glorified preventable mediocrity. Don’t get me wrong, brethren, it was an exciting race and the coverage has gotten better, but as many disappointed Belizeans kicking the Memorial Park dirt said: “dis dah lone simpilniss”.  In fact, Quinton Hamilton gave the “baddis” quote of the 2010 Cross Country Cycling Classic when he said dryly: “I think I did better during the race but nobody wants to hear about during the race, people want to hear about the finish.” Done seh it, big man!

Oh, the trauma of it! Imagine the average Belizean who woke up early on a holiday morning.  This surely is no small feat, save for the performance enhancing inspiration of finally being able to shake off the drug-less goma of Good Friday with an ice cold Belikin.

All our hopes were up. It was propped up higher by the contagious enthusiasm of the commentators; the natural high that the Cross Country induces on our patriotic consciousness; a four year drought and the alien composition of the lead bunch as they plunged into city limits.

Picture perfect: a mouth watering fifteen thousand dollar purse, Belize’s number one and number three ranked riders, the twenty mile pampering of a local boy and a three minute lead on the main peloton. The only other thing missing was a partridge in a pear tree. But as “Bolve” likes to say, it is not reality, it is actuality and in the rabbit hole of actuality a Guatemalan trespasses on what should be the exclusive pride of Belizean heritage, spoils and toil.

No one will dispute that the Annual Cross Country Cycling Classic is the evaporating watering hole for patriotism and national pride. Because of this race, one can argue that cycling is the undisputed national sport. But the race cuts deeper than just a high-spirited Easter conversation topic and entertainment spectacle. No, it is the esteemed extension of Belize’s riding culture.  Truly, like other countries with bicycle cultures such as Denmark, the Netherlands, Germany, China, Bangladesh and Japan, more than thirty seven per cent of our population ride bicycles daily.

For many in Belize riding bikes is equally a compliment to our small geographic size and a burden of our third world restraints. A car is still an expensive luxury in Belize; like it or not. All Belizeans can identify with the challenges of the riders on Holy Saturday. Why? Truth is, most of us still ride, greasing up our pants foot while peddling but cycling is given a noble edge by the Annual Cross Country Cycling Classic.

My fondest childhood memories are connected to bikes,  I would “teck chance” and push off on my Grandfather’s black English Roadster, knowing full well that the old drum brakes would screech so hard, I would be discovered and tambran whipped. But the ride was always worth it because we had no high definition tv’s and Playstation 3s. So the race and its glory are as personal and meaningful as the nostalgia of bugle blowing and shaved ice.

As I listened and watched on Saturday, my bright-eyed childhood expectations, became doused with actuality. I realized we have a huge “truck back posse”. What do I mean? Brandon Cattouse said something that I verified to be the norm with Belizean riders in the Cross Country, even for the over praised Marlon Castillo. Brandon said: “I am not disappointed because this is the fourth Cross Country I’ve ridden and the first I’ve finished..” Huh???? At that rate I understand why we only have a Belizean winning every five or so years. Now I am no Press Cadogan but that percentage is not a good one. What false hope we have when from a total of ninety five riders who started the race only twenty nine Belizeans finish it.

In actuality the true ratio of foreigners to local riders is twenty nine to seventeen.  Yap, only two of the foreigners did not finish the race and if you want to know how they placed, last I checked there were only two Belizeans in the top ten. Now dat dah just shame!!!

There is enough substance, or lack of substance, to have three parts to this discourse but in Belize constructive criticism of athletes has to be sugar coated to diabetic levels of “pet and powdering”. So I will end by asking for three things.

One, will this ditsy government put together a national team. Hey Penny boy, all you need to do is pick up the phone, call Uncle Fidel, ask him to train and host nine riders in Cuba for eight months, and let the Belize Government pay a stipend to the families of these national riders. Look at it this way Penny boy, just don’t buy two of those fancy new trucks that you guys mash up every year.

Two, we need to pressure this moronic government to not build million dollar fences around the Marion Jones Stadium but instead to fix the darn track and bleachers. It is flat out unsafe to have riders sprinting into a crowded street of excited or annoyed spectators. Additionally, finishing the race in the stadium makes it more spectator friendly. Finally on that point, finishing “da Track” allows the Association to generate revenue by charging an admittance fee at the gate.

And three, to my Belizeans, unu stap fight up and mek di farinah dehn win nuh. Belizeans deh wid Belizeans outside of the race, why you guys cannot be united in the race? Belizeans are so passionate about your superstardom and your entitlement to the garland that the private sector, put up over thirty thousand dollars in sponsorship and prizes, unu do a ting no, please? I say this and I say it loudly, no team is bigger than the country. As we patch our wheels and egos for next year remember: Que viva Belize!!!

We heard the Minister of Tourism defending “deportation” of Belizeans within Belize, particularly the black one dehn. Wat???? Now, the Peoples United Party has condemned this obviously insensitive remark, and the entire country sings the same pitch of “we shall overcome”. To support the deep seated racial foulness in this remark by attacking the messenger castigating it, is to adapt the statement yourself. It is offensive to all Belizeans. Plain and simple. Agents of this neo-apartheid movement must be driven out as tyrants and be made to run alongside the despots as they flee.

But this is Belize and we, as a stubbornly Christian nation, believe in the redeeming quality of the human soul. So, well, we tapped our collective feet and held our chins in the palms of our hands waiting for an apology or explanation. But what we got on March 23,2010 from “Junie” was no apology, not even of “sorts”, it was a declaration of regret that he is prevented by such trivial menaces as human rights and dehn kinna ting deh, from implementing draconian measures in his unholy campaign.  Big and serious! The man, in a very nice way of course,  said ““Well definitely I have to be very honest. Like what I said in San Pedro, it is indeed a fact. Probably I offended somebody but it did have a very positive effect.“

What in Hades did he say? A fact? What fact? The fact that San Pedro needs to purge itself of black strays?  Sound like he was standing behind his buffoonery, while boasting, politely of course, that this is a racial “fact”.

Are we living in 1950 South Africa? South Africa,  like Belize,  is a country blessed with an abundance of natural resources including fertile farmlands and unique mineral resources. This country was colonized by the English and Dutch in the seventeenth century. Sometime in the 60’s, a plan of “Grand Apartheid” was executed, emphasizing territorial separation and police repression.

In 1951, the Bantu Authorities Act established a basis for  African reserves, known as “homelands.” These homelands were independent states to which each African was assigned by the government according to their record of origin. Africans living in the homelands needed passports to enter South Africa. The law branded them with the absurdity of being aliens in their own country.

It appears as though the Minister’s frustration of not having the mechanism to enforce his segregation policy could be relaxed if he requested that the legal draftsmen up in Belmopan assist him by reformulating and updating the very effective apartheid laws which formalized racial insularity and racial hatred in South Africa.

Maybe what he might be looking for is something like the Population Registration Act, Act No 30 of 1950 which led to the creation of a national register in which every person’s race was recorded. A Race Classification Board under the Department of Home Affairs (a government bureau) took the final decision on what a person’s race was in disputed cases. This law required that all South Africans be racially classified into one of three categories: white, black (African), or colored (of mixed decent). Classification into these categories was based on appearance, social acceptance, and descent.

Hey, friendly Manny, what about the Natives Laws Amendment Act of 1952 which narrowed the definition of the category of blacks who had the “privilege”, as you put it, of permanent residence in towns. Rewrite section 10 of that law which would restrict “desirables” to those who are born in San Pedro Town and live here continuously for not less than 15 years. For good measure, maybe-  in a genteel way of course – seeing you are nice; you could even throw in a law that says that a “creole” who has been employed out here continuously for at least 15 years, may be considered for residence in the new special enclave of San Pedro.

I know! I know!  How about reformatting the Natives (Abolition of Passes and Co-ordination of Documents) Act of 1952, otherwise known as the Pass Laws Act. This paradox of an act forced black people to carry slavery inspired identification documents which required black South Africans over the age of 16 to carry a pass book, known as a dompas, everywhere and at all times. You like that?

The dompas was more like a revocable “permit”. This “pass” included a photograph, details of place of origin, employment record, tax payments, and encounters with the police. It was a criminal offence to be unable to produce a pass when required to do so by the police. No black person could leave a rural area for an urban one without a permit from the local authorities.

And finally, would you consider pleasantly and in a hospitable way – of course – consider, giving those pesky “creoles” the gift of  The Native (Black) Urban Areas Act of 1923 which divided South Africa into ‘prescribed’ (urban) and ‘non-prescribed’ (rural) areas, and strictly controlled the movement of Black males between the two. Each local authority was made responsible for the Blacks in its area and ‘Native advisory boards’ were set up to regulate the inflow of Black workers and to order the removal of ’surplus’ Blacks i.e. those not  employed.

Don’t be lazy though Manny, there are 317 erotic templates of these systematic and institutionalized racist laws. Check em out. It may give you more ideas as to how to swat the konkas of creoles pitching on San Pedro.  Boy! Stop play, is it that black Belizeans will need a visa to go to La Isla Bonita?

Manny must be right though, in fact he has inspiration from the healthiest democracy in this hemisphere. No other than the mighty Uncle Sam, had state vagrancy statutes up until the 1970’s. Dixie States after the U.S. Civil War enacted Black Codes. These were a set of laws that sought to maintain white control over the movement of newly freed slaves between plantations.

And here I was thinking that there was something absurd in Manny’s suggestion of racial profiling and restriction of free movement of Belizeans within Belize. No, this is nothing new. We should not let that silly thing called human rights or Belizean patrimony get in the way. After all, he is saying that we, San Pedranos, support these kinds of policies, and that is why the UDP are so successful in the municipal and general elections. Is he saying that this is somewhere in the fine print of the UDP manifesto? It must be because the UDP Government is yet to distance itself from the natural implications of that bitterly racist slur.

Dean Barrow is no “Honest Abe” despite his “ugly step-sister” fixation to force onto his “big pete” that glass slipper; nor is he even a shadow of one who is fit to tie Barack Obama’s laces.  But my contention is not where in the ward for moral lepers the big D is.  In that particular sickbay, Deano has his private bed. His severe and clinical moral favus is a tale full of sound and fury which will forever be told.

No. The issue really is with the insults and curses that this polysyllabic obscurantist hurls in the chambers of the House of Representatives every opportunity he gets while cowering under the frock tail of parliamentary privilege.  Now most Belizeans are peeved about his impish use of the word “jackass” but there was an even more obscene and profane word which he spat in our faces.

In outlining the mirage of his Poverty Reduction programs, Deano was openly foul-mouthed.  Yes, the man had the gall (not balls), to speak of “single mothers”.  Shame!  Bloody shame!  He was talking about his disproportionate alms he was preparing to fling before those whom he called the “deprived and disadvantaged” particularly youth and “single mothers”.  Disproportionate because he says he is allocating a meager four million to these unfortunate “single mothers” while he has already paid a hefty percentage of that figure, $1.5 Million, to just one single and fortunate single mother, Loisy.

Maybe, just maybe, Mr. Artificial Dictionary PM, you may be “ignorant” that the reason the “flippin” people are “deprived and disadvantaged” is because of the “collateral damage” by way of political victimization and ‘quitar’ policy of your “chancey” administration.  It is about the “bukut” you have dished out in the Jewel to all but those on your glittering court!

Look yah, “mi bally” to speak of “single mothers” is the most inexcusable stuttering of irreverent language by this prime minister.

Now I am not being spurious or fanciful but, coming from the mouth of Barrow, “single mothers” is an insult – dah wah big fat “bad wud”.  It is synonymous to Ike Turner decrying domestic abuse.  We cruffy all know that what makes a cuss word a cuss word is not necessarily its recognition as an inductee into the English lexicon.

The words “yo ma” are surely not defined in your Webster’s or Kriol-Inglish Dikshineri dictionary as being contemptible.  But I dare this loose-tongued government to make the mistake of recklessly throwing that word across the Parliamentary floor.

Family, did you know that the “F bomb”, and “retarded” are both words in the Oxford?  But I don’t think we will see a sixty second sermon from Dr. Bob Roberts with those words anytime soon, “mi Bally”.

On the other hand a judge once ruled that the “F bomb” used against a police officer was not an insulting word but simply a colorfully descriptive adjective.  Memba dat?

So the profanity ascribed to a word is more contextual than literal. Right….

The Prime Minister use the words, “single mother” just days after his case against a publicly victimized single mother was hush hushed by the pack of salivating UDP lawyers he had earlier this year commanded to “sickem” is just vile.  Back in September 2007 the UDP and Barrow Administration fired Sharole Saldivar – while this single mother was on sick leave.  Remember that they came on national television admitting that she was sacked for the crime of talking to the wrong people politically. Well, that single mother marched them up to court and “tenk” God, the Chief Justice condemned the vindictive and illegal actions of the UDP government.

Undaunted, this same Dean Barrow government sent a private UDP law firm in the person of Darrell Bradley, to try to “bax” up this poor lady some more by dragging her through the Court of Appeal on a point which he knows is wrong.  This is the way he treats single mothers.

Despite being wrong, Barrow’s Government has refused to honor the Chief Justice’s order and give the single mother the monies that are lawfully due to her.  Instead they wasted monies with Bradley to delay her rights by sending the matter to the Court of Appeal only to withdraw the appeal in the dark of political night.  Ah guess what?  Dehn still no pay the lady yet!

What makes this beyond bad to ‘aggravated’ is that Sharole Saldivar, who by all accounts is a soft spoken and reliable professional functionary has been tortured with the cruel and inhumane disruption of her life for three long years.  Boss, three years is a lifetime for a single mother.  Shame!!  This lady has three young daughters.

She has had to struggle to cradle over her daughters to absorb all of Barrow’s legal slaps, punches, “bax” and kicks.  Respect to Ms. Saldivar.  This is women’s month, unnu pay the uman!!!!! In fact is the UDP administration should give her a bonus as a courageous whistleblower because long before the criminal charges against Zenaida, she was pointing to the stench coming from the closet. Cho, no dis yah set.

Where is Deano’s real respect for women, let alone single mothers? Ask Ms. Emma, Marissa, Hirian Good, even Anne Marie, Zenaida and even Loisy herself – if those last three want to be honest.

Belizeans are a bit trusting. To be fair, Sharole Saldivar’s lawsuit was the first noted case of the political victimization of single mothers by this abusive Barrow Government.  I mean, at that time, we had not yet had the benefit of piecing together the victimization of all the single mothers who were school wardens or the tragedy of now single mother Hirian Good.  Nope.  Sharole Saldivar was out there by herself.

The very same zeal with which the UDP have publicly tried to humiliate and persecute this single mother of three, should be the same  zeal  with which they should publicly make amends to her and her three daughters.  In the words of Richie Spice “The world is a cycle”.  God no sleep.  Your retribution for what you have done to these ladies is not visited upon you and your government yet.

How dare he cuss we, and then go on justify his hypocrisy by referring to “relief” for “single mothers”?

If you still want to go back to the use of un-parliamentary language, of “jackass”, I remember this Sunday’s homily, taken from the book of James 3:1-12. The scripture teaches from verse ten onward: “From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. These things should not be so, my brothers and sisters.  A spring does not pour out fresh water and bitter water from the same opening, does it? Can a fig tree produce olives, my brothers and sisters, or a vine produce figs? Neither can a salt water spring produce fresh water.”

Now the spring of bitter water from the mouth of this UDP government has a well known and sordid history.  They are consistent at least. Recall Patrick cussing the teachers as ‘ignorant’.  Who can forget when Mr. Potty-Mouth, Finnegan, referred to the female speaker of the house using the word “bitch”.  Ah but, by the way, those words are in the dictionary too. So I guess that was ok.

At mass last Sunday, we were told to pray for our leaders.  I did pray.  I prayed that our present government leave office soon and that the damage that they have done to our Jewel will be fixable.

I end by remembering the Sister who is a chairlady, and verse six of the Apostle James’s passage: “The tongue represents the world of wrongdoing among the parts of our bodies. It pollutes the entire body and sets fire to the course of human existence – and is set on fire by hell.”