A day in the life of a shambolic country

Oct 07, 2016 Features / Columnists, Freddie Kissoon

Living in Guyana is not for the people with ordinary minds. You have to be made of enormous mass of mental fiber to endure life here. I get these police notices to attend court each time the assault case involving Kwame McCoy is called up. I sit on the bench outside the court and my name is not called. I have already given evidence so I don’t see why I have to be present. But I do adhere to the notices.
Last Wednesday, I had enough. I was instructed to be at court at 9 am. I sat on the bench as I did the last time. When it was 10.30 am, I entered the courtroom. The prosecutor in my case was not in court session. Another trial with another prosecutor was in progress.
I went up to my prosecutor, Vishnu Hunt, to ask him if I am still required to be in court since my matter is not on and what time should I return. Mr. Hunt gave me a perturbed look, and exclaimed; “No, no, no; I can’t talk to you.” I didn’t care what he said. He was not addressing the court, he was staring into space and since he is the prosecutor in my matter, he had to tell me when I was required.
I persisted and again, he said; “No, no, no I can’t talk to you.” I ignored him and continued to ask my question. By this time he was fully annoyed and twisting his face left to right as if he had Saint Vitus Dance. The magistrate, Judy Latchman heard me and told me that the case resumes at 1.30 pm.
I was annoyed with Hunt’s attitude so I waited until 3 pm when he left court. I encountered him in the court yard. I told him I was going to write about his attitude. He was polite and advised me that when I write I must ensure I do the professional thing and quote his explanation.
His explanation was that Magistrate Lutchman has instructed the prosecutors not to speak to any person, no matter who they are, even police and court officials, while she is presiding. But does the magistrate have jurisdiction over the prosecutors? Aren’t the two of them equally important? Why cannot a prosecutor answer a whisper from a State witness in a case?
So if the magistrate did not answer me then I would have waited from 9 am to 1.30. If I know at 9 am that I am not required until 1.30, then I could have spent the interval doing productive things.
I want Latchman and Hunt to know that I am not putting up with that nonsense the next time. If I am not instructed about the specific time that the case will be called up, I will not sit indefinitely on the bench outside. What is annoying is that the prosecutor knows the specific time. I will walk into the court and ask Hunt the very question I inquired of him last Wednesday morning.
If there is a fixed time for the case to be heard then I should be told it. If I am not told, then I will ask.I left the court and went to collect bail money.
A few months ago, the police arrested a member of the AFC’s youth arm. I bailed him. Because of a witness who is a lawyer and who would have testified to police brutality, the police did not charge him. To recover your bail money, the policeman in charge of the station at the time of the incident, has to approve payment by endorsing the bail receipt. Only he or she can do so.
Each time I went to the station, that officer was not there. His deputy told me only he can sign. So once he is not there, your bail money cannot be recouped. I gave up on the effort. The officer was just never there. Then one day, Lady luck appeared. I left the National Park, drove south on Albert Street and when passing Albertown station, I saw him. He signed the bail receipt but told me a bail recovery form has to be filled out by another officer and that officer was not there. That officer was never there.
Weeks after running around, I got a very senior officer to sign the bail recovery form. I was then told that bail money is never uplifted at the police station. You have to go to the finance department at Eve Leary to receive a cheque; not the cash. Guyana is not for the faint-hearted. Guyana is a stupid country.

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A day in the life of a shambolic country

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