Guyana produced Clifford Krauss and will produce more like him

Jul 29, 2018 Features / Columnists, Freddie Kissoon

Clifford Krauss has a bigoted mind, one that is contemptuous of Third World people and his bigotry is nurtured by the limitation of his scholarship. No doubt many of his editors at the New York Times are equally limited in their understanding of Third World development. But it is countries like Guyana that produce the Clifford Krausses of the rich world.
We act as if we are a backward, 10th rate banana republic and we do nothing to change that image, and we put no pressure on our leaders to extirpate the anachronisms we live with in Guyana that makes journalists, tourists and foreign visitors laugh at us. And make no mistake; they mock us for things that are so unnecessary – things that we can easily erase.
I have seen images of fistic fury in the parliament of some not so known countries, and I must confess; the thought that went through my mind is “what a hellhole country.” Imagine then what foreigners think of Guyana when they encounter the dystopian stupidities they see here. And one must remember, these are visitors from places like South Korea, Japan, Germany where public toilets are impeccably clean and the grass on the parapets are always manicured. An orderly society and pleasant bureaucracy are all these people are accustomed to.
Krauss has a fictional, biased pen, no doubt a reflection of his mind, but think of the nasty grammar if he had stayed longer and had seen more. Imagine Krauss’s wife had texted him and said; “darling bring back a key-ring that has the map of Guyana” to which Krauss replied, “I won’t be back in the US for another month, but I will immediately post one.”
So off to the craft esplanade outside the central post office, Krauss went. He bought the key-ring, had it neatly boxed by the craft shop and stepped off the pavement into the post office and to the parcel section. “I’d like to post this tiny box to Texas, please.” The attendant looked at Krauss with a pleasant smile and said, “ID please.”
Krauss showed her his American passport. She then said, “Sir, the second requirement for posting a parcel is that you must produce an envelope with your name on it with a post date stamp that came through Guyana’s postal system.” Krauss told the young lady Guyana is a stupid place, threw the key-ring on the ground, and walked away. Now ask yourself – was Krauss justified in doing so?
What happened if Krauss had gone to the Eve Leary offices of the Guyana Police Force? What would he have seen? The façade of most police buildings in Guyana is deplorable. And there is this definite impression, if you are a visitor, that the buildings reflect a really, disheveled, unstable, ravished, banana republic. I have to see the façade of those Eve Leary buildings each morning as I walk my dog on the seawall. One of these days, my dog is going to ask me why the police offices look so terrible.
In the section for parked vehicles at the CID head office there are about a hundred derelict motorbikes that existed long before Brutus betrayed Julius Caesar in the Roman Senate. If those bikes are pieces of evidence in court then I say the accused, the prosecutors, the witnesses and the magistrates in those cases are long gone from this earth. So why are these ugly remnants occupying the front lawn of the head office of the country’s police force? Did Krauss see this monstrosity?
There is a deadly curse in this country that is devouring the psyche of every citizen that lives here. And the nation is helpless to get rid of it. I remember when I was lecturing at UG, there was a room where the cleaners had to take their lunch hour. This was in 2004. I remember well, because it was the age of the violent Buxton drama. There was hardly room to move because hundreds of twisted metal objects in the form of ancient typewriters filled the space. These were items brought from Queen’s College when the university started there in 1963.
When UG moved to Turkeyen in 1972, they brought these useless typewriters. I requested the UG administration to get rid of these ugly relics so the cleaners could have more space. I was told, “No, no, no, those things have to be audited.” One Saturday afternoon, when I was alone, I threw all of them into the swampy jungle next to UG. I did the auditing myself. Nietzsche’s Übermensch has to help Guyana.

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