A naked, woman prisoner on the shores of the Georgetown Atlantic

Jul 03, 2011 Features / Columnists, Freddie Kissoon

Another day of dictatorship passes in the life of Guyana. What tomorrow brings we can anticipate and expect.
Will it be a terrifyingly wrongful arrest by the police; a brutal, physical attack on a critic or independent journalist; the sale into private hands of parts of the National Park; the mass arrest of peaceful picketers; the elevation of a party scavenger into a top class state job; the sickening forceful seduction of an underage girl by a powerful member of the untouchable class; a traffic death caused by a powerful politician that will shamelessly go uninvestigated; a secret billon-dollar contract to a friend of the Leviathan; the indefinite postponement of the national elections?
Guyanese can’t predict the next repugnant, semi-civilized move of elected fascism but they know it is coming. When it does, we will talk about it at the workplace, the bar, in the restaurant, at home, then, we move onto to the next round. And the cycle goes on.
The citizens talk, the dictators press on, and another day leaves the calendar. This is life in Guyana under elected fascism. Moments of optimism show its ephemeral face only to be replaced by a rising crescendo of pessimism.
A piercing angst smothered our soul when we heard the amount the “torture boy” was awarded by a High Court judge. Surely, 30,000 American dollars can be interpreted by human rights activists as an insult to international morality. This little fellow was brutally tortured by the police. His reproductive parts and their surrounding areas were burnt. That is fascist torture.
This is an unspeakable atrocity, the kind we read about in European and South American fascist regimes. The state was made to pay compensation. But surely not 30,000 American dollars! Guyanese fascism is predictable – the state will appeal.
Through a third party that is extremely trustworthy, I made contact with the IT technician who recently secured refugee status in Canada when he described attempts to terrorize his family by Minister Clement Rohee over a refusal to hack into the computers of a number of opposition officials, including this columnist. He also named a senior official at the Guyoil company and a very highly placed police officer.
For the record, the Minister has denied the allegations. The Canadian Immigration and Refugee Board believed the claimant. It is up to each individual to believe either the technician or the Minister. My right to my opinion should protect me when I write that I believe the applicant.
What I was told has convinced me that elected fascism must be confronted by the Guyanese people. In outlining his ordeal to the Canadian immigration judge, the victim’s written submission contained information that refers to a particular incident at Celina Atlantic Resort.
The victim’s wife was taken there and told to remove her dress. I have now learnt that to save the family from embarrassment the description of this particular episode was only partially stated. The woman’s clothing right down to her panties, were removed. In other words, she was stripped naked.
The saga of the refugee applicant has gone into the dustbin of footnotes. The Guyanese people read about it, and like the other political pathologies in the life of elected fascism, they have consigned it to an obscure section of their collective memory.
Where are the voices of our women rights’ activists? No one is asking them to blame Minister Rohee. He has denied the allegation. But what about the incident itself? A Canadian judge believed him. Why shouldn’t his fellow Guyanese? I believe him, and by stating this here, I have gone on record.
So what or who is next? Will it be me or you? The undeniable logic of dictatorship is that as its stretches its tentacles over a nation, and as the nation recoils in silence, the hand gets larger. More victims are devoured. More venalities are practised. More immoralities are born.
Dictatorship is a thing that grows and grows and as the silence and fear deepen, dictatorship becomes invulnerable. Maybe we have reached that point in this land. I will answer my own question as to who or what is next.
My guess is that the election will be postponed. Don’t ask me how. There are a million ways to kill sheep. There is going to be a long delay in the holding of the next general election. We will talk about it at the workplace, bar, in the restaurant, at home. Then the fear and reticence will dictate that we get on with our lives.

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