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The HoseHold Chronicles CXXV1 
Jamaica's first woman prime minister the overwhelming choice of the hungry masses
BY DESMOND ALLEN Executive Editor — Special Assignment allend@jamaicaobserver.com
Wednesday, February 05, 2014
PATTERSON… defeated Simpson Miller in PNP presidency race in 1992
THIS interview must, of earnest duty, begin with a solemn warning. Those who don't wish, or can't afford to be completely mesmerised, would do well to avoid being in the prolonged presence of Portia Simpson Miller.
Like all those tapped by fate for greatness in this life, she is possessed of endless charisma, an enchanting personality and a bewitching aura that have been enriched by 40 years of tramping back and forth across Jamaica's gruelling political campaign trail.
The unmistakable lesson taught by the wisdom of the ages is that history never errs in appointing human beings to their special place in life. Why, for example, let us ask, was Portia Lucretia Simpson chosen to become Jamaica's first woman prime minister? She was not to the manor born. Nor was she the most educated Jamaican woman. Her special gift was not the power of articulation attributed to her predecessors Norman Manley, Michael Manley or P J Patterson.
But Portia Simpson Miller became prime minister of Jamaica for the right reason. She was the overwhelming choice of the hungry masses, the poor and indigent, the voiceless and forgotten, the far descendants of beaten slaves, whose only power was to elect themselves a political saviour and rest in her their impatient hope for even temporary relief. History, indeed, does not err.
In the bowels of Trench Town
The Portia Simpson Miller story is compelling and awe-inspiring. It is not for the fast-food reader. It is for the hungry soul grasping at every last detail of the heroism gifted to the Jamaican woman, and with which this daughter of destiny is so richly endowed. But they know it can't all be told in the finite pages of a 21-year-old newspaper, happy though it is to be just the chosen vessel. Once again, the interviewer is sorely challenged to rise to magnum opus status, but feels... infuriatingly... deficient.
Jamaica's first woman prime minister the overwhelming choice of the hungry masses
BY DESMOND ALLEN Executive Editor — Special Assignment allend@jamaicaobserver.com
Wednesday, February 05, 2014
PATTERSON… defeated Simpson Miller in PNP presidency race in 1992
THIS interview must, of earnest duty, begin with a solemn warning. Those who don't wish, or can't afford to be completely mesmerised, would do well to avoid being in the prolonged presence of Portia Simpson Miller.
Like all those tapped by fate for greatness in this life, she is possessed of endless charisma, an enchanting personality and a bewitching aura that have been enriched by 40 years of tramping back and forth across Jamaica's gruelling political campaign trail.
The unmistakable lesson taught by the wisdom of the ages is that history never errs in appointing human beings to their special place in life. Why, for example, let us ask, was Portia Lucretia Simpson chosen to become Jamaica's first woman prime minister? She was not to the manor born. Nor was she the most educated Jamaican woman. Her special gift was not the power of articulation attributed to her predecessors Norman Manley, Michael Manley or P J Patterson.
But Portia Simpson Miller became prime minister of Jamaica for the right reason. She was the overwhelming choice of the hungry masses, the poor and indigent, the voiceless and forgotten, the far descendants of beaten slaves, whose only power was to elect themselves a political saviour and rest in her their impatient hope for even temporary relief. History, indeed, does not err.
In the bowels of Trench Town
The Portia Simpson Miller story is compelling and awe-inspiring. It is not for the fast-food reader. It is for the hungry soul grasping at every last detail of the heroism gifted to the Jamaican woman, and with which this daughter of destiny is so richly endowed. But they know it can't all be told in the finite pages of a 21-year-old newspaper, happy though it is to be just the chosen vessel. Once again, the interviewer is sorely challenged to rise to magnum opus status, but feels... infuriatingly... deficient.
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