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'Hill-an'-Gully' politics
Jean Lowrie-Chin
Monday, July 30, 2007
Meet the naïve "brown man" Patrick O'Connor and the brilliant, black Benjamin Miller - they are politicians on an island that bears a striking similarity to Jamaica.
Jean Lowrie-Chin
It was fun reading George Graham's book, Hill-an'-Gully Rider in this election season, as it is peppered with stories about political manoeuvrings and downright "ginnalship". In fact, I would consider it a must-read for any newcomer to Jamaican politics.
George Graham was my meticulous, temperamental boss on the Features Desk at the Jamaica Daily News, until he wrote a farewell column under the pseudonym of "Pan", frustrated at the game-playing of politicians and others, and declaring that Jamaica would remain "a barefoot country". It is only after reading this book, several decades later, that I clearly see George's vision, his unfulfilled dreams for Jamaica, though I had always appreciated his wry sense of humour.
Patrick O'Connor, like George, is the son of a "Busha" (George spells it "busher") at a banana plantation in the 50s, a recent high-school graduate with good passes and no career plan. The savvy Benjamin Miller, a headman on the same plantation, decides that he will make both a businessman and a politician out of Patrick.
And so the "Rock of Ages Construction Company" is born, winning lucrative road-building contracts. The title of the book comes from Benjamin's insistence that Patrick "must not walk", and gives him a mule to ride among his constituents - I guess the modern equivalent would be the fully loaded SUV.
George explores the wonders of advertising and PR. Benjamin names a new housing scheme after Patrick: "It's called branding, and it will do wonders for him in politics." Patrick's newly furnished home gets written up in an international design magazine and he is off and running.
Patrick's opponent, a man called Peterson, decides to declare "black man time come" on the political platform and he is forced to listen by a group of "concerned citizens". He is actually kidnapped and when he threatens to call the police, a man in the group says, "I am the police." But interestingly, this is what they want to tell Peterson: "You are never to bring up skin colour again. We get along with each other here, black, white, Indian and Chinese, Jew, Arab and everything in between." He gets the message.
George describes several political tricks: "In addition to being available for raids and poll blockades, the city gang leaders ran a rent-a-protest service used unhesitatingly by both parties."
As opponent Peterson's popularity grew annoyingly, they search for a chink in his left-leaning armour: "What about a Cuban invasion?" This was effectively staged and Peterson became history. Hmmm. sounds a lot like, "What about Russian ships?"
Retired journalist George Graham kicks back in Tampa with his pet Maxi.
The prime minister, Sir Charles DeLeon, with his engaging personality, mane of white hair and a secretary called "Miss Waybridge" is an endearing portrait of national hero, Sir Alexander Bustamante.
The women in this book are for the most part, strong and intelligent. A troublesome government minister was notorious for sexually harassing the women in his office, until "he picked the wrong young woman" and George has us cheering along as he is brought to book.
Patrick's lady love, Catherine, is actually brighter than the politician, and ghost-writes his brilliant proposals, coaches him in oratory (shades of Beverley Manley?) and livens up his weekly television show.
Stein, a Jewish PR man out of New York turns their wedding into an international showpiece, scheduling it to coincide with the visit to the island of Emperor Haile Selassie. Stein is well-connected and when the "Cuban invasion" story backfires on Patrick, it is because of a lodge brotherhood that Stein is able to approach the US ambassador about the removal of a US warship brooding over the Kingston shoreline.
As being black became more important to being politically viable, the astute Benjamin, a voracious reader, traces Patrick's bloodline to an Ethiopian named Desta, thus convincing the influential Ras Patrone that he was descended from the Queen of Sheba. The light-skinned Patrick is dressed in red, green and gold and a Chinese "sampata" to promote the new Dung Hill Label (read Dungle) throughout the US.
"Then Benjamin unveiled his secret weapon," wrote George, ".Haile Selassie was designated as the Lion of Judah and Patrick was proclaimed as the Young Lion." He describes the use of broadcast media over print, to reach the masses successfully.
The country's romance with cricket is acknowledged as Patrick's best talent is at bat, and his claim to fame a century at Lord's.
But it is a wistful George Graham who turns back time for our leaders to nix bauxite mining and petroleum refineries, opting instead for environmental development and solar power. His arguments for the legalisation of ganja and prostitution are so persuasive, that the reader becomes as convinced as the Liberal Anglican bishop in the novel. Reggae music transforms "Dung Hill" into a fashionable district, drawing arty folk from all over the world.
These are George Graham's "recollections in tranquility" as well as his recommendations for national stability. He draws us a colourful picture of the Jamaica of the 40s and the 50s, where a rainbow of people see their Jamaican-ness as their distinguishing denominator and progress purposefully from the class-conscious plantation, towards self-determination.
lowriechin@aim.com
Jean Lowrie-Chin
Monday, July 30, 2007
Meet the naïve "brown man" Patrick O'Connor and the brilliant, black Benjamin Miller - they are politicians on an island that bears a striking similarity to Jamaica.
Jean Lowrie-Chin It was fun reading George Graham's book, Hill-an'-Gully Rider in this election season, as it is peppered with stories about political manoeuvrings and downright "ginnalship". In fact, I would consider it a must-read for any newcomer to Jamaican politics.
George Graham was my meticulous, temperamental boss on the Features Desk at the Jamaica Daily News, until he wrote a farewell column under the pseudonym of "Pan", frustrated at the game-playing of politicians and others, and declaring that Jamaica would remain "a barefoot country". It is only after reading this book, several decades later, that I clearly see George's vision, his unfulfilled dreams for Jamaica, though I had always appreciated his wry sense of humour.
Patrick O'Connor, like George, is the son of a "Busha" (George spells it "busher") at a banana plantation in the 50s, a recent high-school graduate with good passes and no career plan. The savvy Benjamin Miller, a headman on the same plantation, decides that he will make both a businessman and a politician out of Patrick.
And so the "Rock of Ages Construction Company" is born, winning lucrative road-building contracts. The title of the book comes from Benjamin's insistence that Patrick "must not walk", and gives him a mule to ride among his constituents - I guess the modern equivalent would be the fully loaded SUV.
George explores the wonders of advertising and PR. Benjamin names a new housing scheme after Patrick: "It's called branding, and it will do wonders for him in politics." Patrick's newly furnished home gets written up in an international design magazine and he is off and running.
Patrick's opponent, a man called Peterson, decides to declare "black man time come" on the political platform and he is forced to listen by a group of "concerned citizens". He is actually kidnapped and when he threatens to call the police, a man in the group says, "I am the police." But interestingly, this is what they want to tell Peterson: "You are never to bring up skin colour again. We get along with each other here, black, white, Indian and Chinese, Jew, Arab and everything in between." He gets the message.
George describes several political tricks: "In addition to being available for raids and poll blockades, the city gang leaders ran a rent-a-protest service used unhesitatingly by both parties."
As opponent Peterson's popularity grew annoyingly, they search for a chink in his left-leaning armour: "What about a Cuban invasion?" This was effectively staged and Peterson became history. Hmmm. sounds a lot like, "What about Russian ships?"
Retired journalist George Graham kicks back in Tampa with his pet Maxi. The prime minister, Sir Charles DeLeon, with his engaging personality, mane of white hair and a secretary called "Miss Waybridge" is an endearing portrait of national hero, Sir Alexander Bustamante.
The women in this book are for the most part, strong and intelligent. A troublesome government minister was notorious for sexually harassing the women in his office, until "he picked the wrong young woman" and George has us cheering along as he is brought to book.
Patrick's lady love, Catherine, is actually brighter than the politician, and ghost-writes his brilliant proposals, coaches him in oratory (shades of Beverley Manley?) and livens up his weekly television show.
Stein, a Jewish PR man out of New York turns their wedding into an international showpiece, scheduling it to coincide with the visit to the island of Emperor Haile Selassie. Stein is well-connected and when the "Cuban invasion" story backfires on Patrick, it is because of a lodge brotherhood that Stein is able to approach the US ambassador about the removal of a US warship brooding over the Kingston shoreline.
As being black became more important to being politically viable, the astute Benjamin, a voracious reader, traces Patrick's bloodline to an Ethiopian named Desta, thus convincing the influential Ras Patrone that he was descended from the Queen of Sheba. The light-skinned Patrick is dressed in red, green and gold and a Chinese "sampata" to promote the new Dung Hill Label (read Dungle) throughout the US.
"Then Benjamin unveiled his secret weapon," wrote George, ".Haile Selassie was designated as the Lion of Judah and Patrick was proclaimed as the Young Lion." He describes the use of broadcast media over print, to reach the masses successfully.
The country's romance with cricket is acknowledged as Patrick's best talent is at bat, and his claim to fame a century at Lord's.
But it is a wistful George Graham who turns back time for our leaders to nix bauxite mining and petroleum refineries, opting instead for environmental development and solar power. His arguments for the legalisation of ganja and prostitution are so persuasive, that the reader becomes as convinced as the Liberal Anglican bishop in the novel. Reggae music transforms "Dung Hill" into a fashionable district, drawing arty folk from all over the world.
These are George Graham's "recollections in tranquility" as well as his recommendations for national stability. He draws us a colourful picture of the Jamaica of the 40s and the 50s, where a rainbow of people see their Jamaican-ness as their distinguishing denominator and progress purposefully from the class-conscious plantation, towards self-determination.
lowriechin@aim.com