My bedroom window looks down onto a pimper’s paradise

Aug 21, 2011 Features / Columnists, Freddie Kissoon

I wouldn’t know where to start if I was asked to name some of the songs I think are phenomenally lovely. And I guess that goes for all the folks in the world. But I know five songs come immediately to mind. I will definitely put the Eagles’ “Hotel California” right up there. I will never understand why Sarah Brightman’s “Winter in July” was not made a colossal hit around the world. It is a deep philosophical song that contains several genres of music in its arrangement. I think it is one of the best arranged tunes ever.
Elton John’s ‘Lion King’ theme, “Circle of Life” must go down as one of music’s most philosophical reflections. A majority of music lovers would put Nat King Cole’s version of the Charlie Chaplin classic, “Smile” as the best rendition. Michael Jackson did a handsome cover of it. My favourite version of “Smile” is one of my fondest songs, done by the Greek-French singer of the seventies, Demise Roussos. This is a magical tune infused with Mediterranean strings and Mediterranean culture.
I was thrilled when I first heard Bob Marley’s, “Pimper’s Paradise.” I first came upon the song in the house of one of my political heroes, Brian Rodway of the WPA, and was crazy about it. I still am. No one will rate it in the first five of Marley’s phenomenal hits. For me, it is his best song in terms of a message he wanted to get out. The music and rhythm of “Pimper’s Paradise” were captivating though it had a straightforward reggae genre. I wasn’t sure of the lyrics. After listening and listening, eventually I knew what Marley meant.
Before I come to my main topic, I need to say for the record that Marley will remain, for me, one of music’s geniuses. Leonardo Da Vinci, Shakespeare, Gandhi, Mandela, Obama, Shane Warne, Brian Lara, Pele, Jack Nicholson, Martina Navratilova, the Williams sisters, Mother Theresa may be hard acts to follow and Marley must be in that category of humans that only come once a lifetime.
My bedroom window looks down on the International Convention Centre and it was both a spectacle and a tragedy at what I saw last week as I gazed at the scene. I sat on my bed and watched the spectacle. The Jagdeo Government is obsessed with and overwhelmed by spectacle. It is one pyrotechnical escapade after another.
We are now into the zone of Jamzone, having already been through several high profile events, including a cricket carnival, where West Indian stars Chris Gayle, Kieron Pollard and Dwayne Bravo picked up some whopping American dollars, compliments of Guyana Government listed as ruling over one of the poorest countries in the world and a country, according to a recent edition of the Jamaica Gleaner, the Jamaican PM, Bruce Golding called an international beggar.
When I wrote about Golding’s aspersions on Jagdeo, the Guyanese president called me a fool at one of his press conferences. He is still to use the same word to describe the Jamaica Gleaner.
Last week, the International Convention Centre was overrun by hundreds of youths (not thousands; from my window I could see all who entered). They bussed and flew them from all parts of Guyana. They were given per diem of $5000 and a chance to get a free laptop. Then the depravity of serenade took over. Powerful people with no democratic instincts played with their minds, luring them into a pimper’s paradise.
They were told how bad a President who died twenty-six years ago was. So barren is their politics, so meagre are their accomplishments, that they had to go back into history – twenty-six years ago. And when they did, they lied to those young people with the deliberate intention of steering them into a labyrinth of deception. A gloomy picture was painted of life under President Forbes Burnham. But no mention was made of life under the present elected fascists.
These little children at the Convention Centre were told of shortage of food under Burnham. They were not told of what happens to young girls today in Guyana when they are deceived by powerful politicians in the pay of narcotics barons and wealthy businessmen.
Guyana’s top drug baron used to hold his parties after midnight at a certain hotel in downtown Georgetown. It was life in a pimper’s paradise. All the powerful fascists were there. Sadly, one of these girls never made it. She was raped and Canada saved her life by giving her asylum. Girls are never safe in a pimper’s paradise.

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