The Audacity of Hope

It is often said that the reason they call it the American Dream is because you have to be asleep in order to believe it. And so it was that as Barack Hussein Obama, son of a black Kenyan father and white American mother, stood on the podium in Chicago having just won the elected vote to be the 44^th President of the United States of America, I found that I was indeed pinching myself to ensure that I wasn’t still in a state of reverie. Forty-five years ago, Martin Luther King Jr stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC and gave what is regarded by many as one of the greatest speeches of all time. He dreamt of an America that would one day honour the true meaning of the creed “all men are created equal.” He dreamt of an America whereby the sons of slaves and the sons of slave owners could sit at the table of brotherhood. He dreamt of an America whereby his children would be judged not by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character. He dreamt of one day black boys and girls holding hands with white boys and girls and walking together as brothers and sisters; even in the darkest and deepest racial corners of American society…He was some dreamer that Martin Luther.

Modern-day America isn’t quite yet King’s utopia and one only has to look at the disproportionate numbers of black men languishing in American jails, or better still, examine the US Government’s response (read: lack of) in the immediate aftermath of Hurricane Katrina to accept this. By the same token however, modern-day America is also almost unrecognisable from the dire place of extreme racial prejudice, segregation and mass civil unrest and disobedience that it had been on that April morning four and a half decades ago. For some blacks however, Barack Obama will forever remain an exception to an otherwise hard and unbending rule. They will state that had he been just another very good black candidate, he wouldn’t have even beaten Hillary Clinton much less clinched the presidential nomination. And so justifiably, they will argue that for black people to succeed and/or gain recognition in traditional white domains, they have to be so exceptionally talented that even the most fervent of racists would be hard-pressed to deny them their rightful accolades. This remains true for now, but I say to them this: Be patient, for Rome wasn’t built in a day! For others still, Barack Obama isn’t black enough. They say that he is as white as he is black. They also say that he was raised and nurtured by his white mother and by his white extended family. I say to them this: Look at the reaction to the Obama victory on the African continent. Many of those Africans dancing on the streets of Nairobi are, to borrow that well-known American phrase, “blacker than a motherfucker!’’ If Barack Obama is black enough for them, then he is black enough for me too!

Obama’s nomination takes us far forward and on towards the culmination of that long march to freedom. His nomination washes away the notion held by many blacks that we can progress only so far and no more. His nomination rubbishes the flawed ideology that poor, black kids from impoverished neighbourhoods growing up in single parenthood are doomed to failure. No longer is the hope of social escapism solely enshrined in becoming the next Tiger Woods or the next 50cent. Some called Obama a terrorist-associating, turban-wearing, hate- sermon loving, non-American. Others still, referred to him as a drug taking, flip-flopping, illegal aunt-having, inexperienced upstart. And that was from those on his own side! In the end it mattered not, because cometh the hour, cometh the man! 

Here in the United Kingdom, we like to pat ourselves on our collective backs and talk about how racially diverse and tolerant we all are. Progress has indeed been made on this side of the Atlantic too but please don’t confuse Aleysha Dixon winning Strictly Come Dancing with genuine racial progress. Have a long hard look within the corridors of influence and power in this country and you will see many a black face. However, they will more likely than not be the ones cooking the food in the canteen, cleaning the office or toiling in the mailroom. I ask myself, where are our Condaleeza Rices, where are our General Colin Powells, where are our Denzil Washingtons, where indeed are our Senator Barack Obamas? It is then that I remind myself that the racial dynamics of the two societies aren’t, if you pardon the pun, so black and white. Black history in America is entrenched in an entire legacy of slavery and spans 400 plus years. For the most part, Black history in Britain can only be traced back to Tantie Merle, dressed to kill in her Sunday best, stepping off the Windrush at Tilbury docks in 1948. It seems that London, much like Rome, wasn’t built in a day either.

The presidency of Barack Obama will mean many things to many people and in the end, history alone will be the final arbiter as to whether this was indeed such a landmark achievement. Until then however, we too can have the audacity of Obama’s hope and the dreams of Martin Luther King. We too can dream of a world where the rule of international law applies the same on Capitol Hill as it does in Kigali. We too can dream of a world where the rich and powerful are not always allowed to ride roughshod over the poor and downtrodden. We too can dream of a world whereby those held in detention at least know what crimes they have committed. We too can dream of a world whereby wars are not fought on the basis of lies and whim. We can but dream…

prophet

Dearest Patrick

Dearest Patrick,

I hope that this finds you well, though I must admit that I am very upset by what I have been hearing. The ancient Greek playwright Euripides once opined that ‘‘those whom the Gods wish to destroy, they first make mad” so only time will tell whether this latest incident does indeed mark the beginning of the end for you. But surely Patrick, even you must admit that the antics of a democratically elected Prime Minister complete with an entire cavalcade of motorcycle outriders and protective detail, storming or otherwise, into a radio station to complain about an apparently errant broadcast, speak of a man seemingly starting to misplace his marbles. The jesters among us joke that this is the fastest that they have seen you move in some time; with some even suggesting that you should give Usain Bolt a run for his money in 2012.

But this is no laughing matter Patrick, and what is even more perplexing is the fact that you cannot seem to grasp that what you did was wrong; not illegal in any way, but just plain wrong. You are not Mano Manolal from LP#45, Swamp Trace, Caroni. You cannot stumble out of Smokey and Bunty’s at five in the morning and then vomit on the pavement, nor can you be seen to be ‘doing the donkey’ at Flour Mills fete with some scantily clad female wining in your face- what is good enough for the pastor’s daughter isn’t necessarily good enough for you. You are Patrick Augustus Mervyn Manning, Prime Minister of the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago, the second largest English speaking entity in the region and a major regional player! Is it really too much to ask that you conduct yourself with a standard of decorum befitting your status? Patrick, I know that this Prime Minister thing isn’t all that it’s cranked up to be, and must indeed get a bit difficult and lonely sometimes; especially with you and Keith not pulling so good these days and Martin not really pulling his weight . You don’t have to tell me Patrick, I know– they reel you in with the talk of the big house, the big car, the big motorcade, the endless travel etc. They never mention anything about leadership, hard-work, constant criticism- alas, not even one word about good governance. It’s only when they have you hooked- line and sinker, that they throw in all that bullshit and expect you to be able to deal with it. 

Don’t get me wrong Patrick because I will be one of the first to agree that the general standard of journalism in our country leaves a lot to be desired. Just yesterday I was listening to 96.1FM online and was dismayed by the utter garbage that was supposedly passing for news and entertainment. But you know what I did Patrick, as seemingly strange and far-fetched as the idea might be to you? I switched over and found another station to listen to. I know, I know, a little drastic but hey, sometimes needs must. There are also times when I get fed up with reading the Guardian…so I buy the Express, or the Newsday, or vice versa, or other times, I read none! This concept may seem a bit alien to you at first but I promise that once you get the hang of it, it will soon become second nature. I must also tell you Patrick that pot must be very careful before he starts calling kettle’s bottom black. While this may come as a great surprise to you Patrick, there are many out there who are fed up with the way that you are doing your job. And just as you pine for a more professional media, we too also long for a more accountable government. Just as you pine for more balanced journalism, we too long for a country in which we can live for the most part, free from crime and free from the fear of crime. But Patrick, do you see me standing outside your gate? 

Patrick, the man on the street couldn’t care less about what the media says about you, or anybody else for that matter. People aren’t worried about their finances because of something they heard on 94.1; they are worried because the same chicken that cost $40.00 in Hilo last month is now $50.00 this month. People don’t feel unsafe simply because of something they read in the papers; they feel unsafe because the relatively innocuous task of getting out of the car and opening the gate is now fraught with danger. People aren’t cussing the government because of something they saw on the news; they cuss because they have to drive on some of the worst roads in the entire planet in a country that has an endless supply of asphalt. 

Anyways Patrick, I think I have said enough for now but I promise that I will write to you again soon. Wishing you God’s grace until we speak again- take care and give my love and regards to Hazel.

Yours ever

Kito