How the PPPC is pretending to pass the hat while pocketing the gold

Jul 12, 2025 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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Kaieteur News – I went to a political fundraiser recently—not because I care deeply about politics, but because someone whispered the magic words: “free food.” Now, don’t judge me. In times like these, a man must choose between his principles and a good curry and roti, and I, having consulted with my conscience (and stomach), decided to abandon the revolution for a generous helping of dhal puri.

The fundraiser in question was one of those modest, low-cost, tented affairs hosted by the People’s Progressive Party/Civic (PPPC). There were folding chairs, sweaty microphones, and music loud enough to make your bones rattle like dominoes in a senior citizens’ club. The vibe was festive. The speeches were long, so long in fact that I forget and left without seeing the food. But the illusion was flawless.

Yes, illusion. Because let me say it now before the suspense kills: these fundraisers are not, I repeat not, how the PPPC plans to fill its campaign war chest. The PPPC doesn’t need your $1,000 tickets, your $200 party cards, or your donation of three mangoes and a demijohn of homemade ginger beer. Those events raise less money than the cost of renting the tent and paying the DJ who spins a bizarre mix of music.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: If the PPPC isn’t raising money from these shindigs, then what are they doing?” And to you, dear reader, I say: they are performing. This is theater. Street theater. Political kabuki. Call it whatever you like, but don’t call it fundraising.

These events serve two main purposes. First, they’re designed to create the illusion that the party is being bankrolled by the salt-of-the-earth, humble, hard-working Guyanese voter—the peanut vendor, the mini-bus driver, the grandmother who sells eggballs outside the market. This is the grand delusion: that the campaign is a bottom-up operation financed by the people, for the people.

I hate to disappoint you but it isn’t.

The real money will come—not from the small man, but from the large man. The very, very large man. In fact, some of them are so large they need a 12-foot conference table and an offshore account to sit down properly. These are the local tycoons, the real-estate barons, the industrialists, and let’s not forget, our dear friends from Port of Spain and São Paulo.

Yes, folks, it is the bourgeoisie that owns the PPPC campaign, not the barefoot man clapping in the crowd. If elections were powered by bhajis and bottled water, maybe the PPPC would need your contribution. But they’re not. Elections are powered by business tycoons who see campaign contributions the way most of us see tips at a restaurant: entirely transactional.

Now, the second reason for this carnival of fundraising is psychological, not financial. You see, the PPPC is running scared. Not exactly “hide-in-a-closet-with-a-flashlight” scared, but let’s just say they’ve stopped sleeping with both eyes closed.

And the reason for this newfound nervousness? Three letters: W-I-N.

Yes, WIN, the newcomer on the political block, the wild card in the deck, the unexpected pimple on the face of the political establishment. The PPPC leadership wants to know just how bad the rash is. So, what do they do? They use these grassroots fundraisers to test the temperature of the base—are people still showing up, are they still dancing to the campaign song, are they still willing to wear the red T-shirt without feeling a little embarrassed?

Large crowds mean the AZMO factor (that’s Anxiety Management and Mobilization Operations, if you must know) is not working. Small crowds mean it’s time to panic, or at least schedule another press conference to insist everything is fine.

As for the diaspora supporters in New York and Toronto who are organizing $500-a-plate dinners in hotels with white tablecloths and napkins folded like swans—please sit down. I say this with love: your money is not needed. Your efforts are noble, but redundant. The PPPC will raise more funds in a single afternoon locally than it will in an entire week in Brooklyn. In Guyana, money talks. Overseas, it just takes the subway.

So, what are these fundraisers really? They’re dress rehearsals for the real show. The actors are the people. The script is pre-written. And the applause, my friends, is not for your contribution. It’s for the illusion that you’re actually part of the financing.

But you’re not. You’re just part of the catering.

And let’s be honest—if you thought your five thousand dollars was going to swing an election, you’re probably the same person who thinks a raffle ticket entitles you to beachfront property. Good luck with that.

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.)

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• Azuruddin Mohamed, gold, Peeping Tom, Pocketing, Political fundraiser, PPPC, win

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