Of Charisma, Ginalship, and Despotism

Jean-Bertrand Aristide, Percival James Patterson (PJ), Orette Bruce Golding.

Aristide is the charismatic one; PJ is the ginnal; and Bruce is the aspiring despot.

Aristide burst onto the scene as the fiery man of the cloth spewing vitriol at the bourgeoisie, questioning the status quo and presumably speaking for others of his hue that lacked the platform and protection his education and social standing (as a clergyman) allowed. He was the messianic political figure the black peasantry was waiting for when all other brown faces before him were brutal, self-serving, misanthropes.

PJ was the cunning attorney, stealthily weaving his slight ebony frame through the beige and caramel faces of the cartel of politics in Jamaica in the 70s and 80s. He positioned himself as Joshua's disciple, learning the nuances of control over the lumpen proletariat that would see him convincing them that he was one of them, working in their interests, despite not having the charisma of his predecessor.

Bruce was the prodigious child of the plantocracy. The special son whose intellect would determine his destiny. He always held himself in very high esteem and believed he was a cut above the rest because of the gift between his ears: his mind. His ego is the real star for it concocts the fiction his mind believes is real and reassures his mind that the drivel it ejects while feigning sincerity is divine poetry the masses will appreciate as part of his legacy to democracy. He is a despot trapped by a passive, polite society. He is desperately searching for the impetus under which he can reveal his true dictatorial nature, disguised as patriotism.

Three political leaders. Three points along an arc of corruption. A spectrum of immorality.

Anarchic parallels...

Jamaicans and Haitians do not like each other.

Jamaicans think Haitians are voodoo practicing, mud-eating heathens; and Haitians think Jamaicans are gun-toting, drug-pushing vagabonds.

Neither is wrong despite this nonsensical (and ignorant) prejudice.

It was a Jamaican Obeah Man (actually a Houngan-- Voodoo Priest but as far as I'm concerned it's a matter of semantics) by the name of Dutty Bookman that lit the (literal) spark of revolution in Haiti in 1791 in the ceremony of Bois Caiman where he uttered this prayer:

Kréyol version:

Bon Dje ki fè la tè. Ki fè soley ki klere nou enro. Bon Dje ki soulve lanmè. Ki fè gronde loray. Bon Dje nou ki gen zorey pou tande. Ou ki kache nan niaj. Kap gade nou kote ou ye la. Ou we tout sa blan fè nou sibi. Dje blan yo mande krim. Bon Dje ki nan nou an vle byen fè. Bon Dje nou an ki si bon, ki si jis, li ordone vanjans. Se li kap kondui branou pou nou ranpote la viktwa. Se li kap ba nou asistans. Nou tout fet pou nou jete potre dje Blan yo ki swaf dlo lan zye. Koute vwa la libète kap chante lan kè nou.

English Translation:

"The god who created the earth; who created the sun that gives us light.The god who holds up the ocean; who makes the thunder roar. Our God who has ears to hear. You who are hidden in the clouds; who watch us from where you are. You see all that the white has made us suffer. The white man's god asks him to commit crimes. But the god within us wants to do good. Our god, who is so good, so just, He orders us to revenge our wrongs. It's He who will direct our arms and bring us the victory. It's He who will assist us. We all should throw away the image of the white men's god who is so pitiless. Listen to the voice for liberty that sings in all our hearts."

This is the prayer the drunken, bigoted zionist Pat Robertson of the 700 Club announced to the world in the days after the devastating earthquake was a pact with the devil that has resulted in Yahweh cursing the first black republic into infinity.

Having visited Haiti and fallen in love with this magical; albeit dysfunctional land I feel compelled to share the intense spiritual connection I have with this place.

The similarities between Haiti and Jamaica are startling. It's not the first thing you pick up when you land. No, that might be Cholera from the filthy pseudo-post-apocalyptic metropolis that is Port-Au-Prince. But give it a day or two and you will notice the rhythm is the same, the silhouettes are the same, the spirituality is the same. It is Africa, less diluted and much less ashamed than the Jamaican expression.

Haiti attracts megalomaniac dictators for some strange reason. Perhaps it is the devotion of the peasant class and the quiet manipulative nature of the bourgeoisie but for whatever reason political figures have been or have become self-interested totalitarian egomaniacs with a penchant for brutality upon their ascent. Each is probably still pictured beside the definition for despotism.

Former Jamaican Prime Minister PJ Patterson has a special affinity for Haiti. He housed the ousted Aristide and was particularly close to the Desulmé family as well. Haitians in the know tend to spit on these names (with good reason), but Jamaicans who don't know any better never really bothered to ask why PJ was so close to the Desulmés for example.

I believe that PJ and Aristide were kindred spirits on the same side of the moral pendulum, one constrained by a slightly more mature political culture, the other by the meddling of the metropole.

The anarchic parallels of these two island neighbours continue to fascinate me.

I think there is a lot to be proud of in Haiti and also a lot to be ashamed of. But the shame andpride in Haiti is the same shame and pride I have for my homeland of Jamaica for we are siblings separated at birth.

Please see this Short Documentary on Haiti entitled: "Voodoo Land"

Is the AIDS response a genuine fight or a staged wrestling match?

HIV and AIDS were discovered almost 30 years ago.

Let that sink in for a second or two.

3 decades have passed since the first observed cases (and deaths) of this immuno-deficiency virus and resultant syndrome of complete immune system compromise.

The response has ranged from complete blame being placed on gay men for the creation of this virus and the portrayal of them as infectious disease vectors (see GRIDS); to the denial of conservative Governments of the unique vulnerabilities of men who have sex with men (MSMs) and the refusal to implement population-specific interventions because of the homophobia they have institutionalized and are now slaves to.

I for one am almost completely disenchanted with the HIV response as I see it in Jamaica and specifically with the response to the needs of the most vulnerable, namely sexual minorities.

In this hyper-sexual, uber-conservative, oxymoronic soup of hegemony we still are not able to have mature discussions on human sexuality and speak specifically to the unique risks faced by gay men. It is so sad to watch grown men and women at the helm of HIV and AIDS policy in Jamaica stutter to say the word GAY, or conversely, it is even more disconcerting to watch them talk the talk when heaven knows they are not in favour of any relaxation of any law making same-sex activities criminal and neither are they interested in meaningful, sustainable, targeted interventions with this group as they believe them to be sexual deviants of reprobate minds and 'their blood shall surely be upon them' like any good evangelical should believe.

None of them is willing to walk up to Jamaica House and defiantly say "I am a Gay man living with HIV, I am not alone, and refuse to be ignored!"

If those that have usurped or been entrusted with power hesitate to use it to improve the lives of the people they represent then what can result but misery?

Let me not beat around the bush: The IAS Conference in Vienna has left me pensive.

Having participated in the Mexico City instalment of the conference in 2008 I am aware of the immeasurable value in this monumental gathering of stakeholders in the pandemic. The experience was truly life-altering both in terms of its scale as well as the wealth of information I received to last a lifetime.

However, in hindsight I am only now fully coming to terms with my discomfort with the very things that made it such a positive experience for me 2 years ago.

The scale of the conference is mind boggling, and accordingly the budget must be astronomical. How can this (vulgar) expenditure for a fancy conference in spite of the ever-growing pandemic be justified? Given the statistics, especially in the developing world, the organizers should be ashamed that they could spend on this scale while children in the third world die daily because of lack of access to food and medication.

The only word that comes to mind: Avarice.

I cannot get this word out of my mind the more I reflect on my experience. I believe that AIDS is an industry and whereas profit is the key for the pharmaceutical companies, the sustainability of the pandemic is of the utmost importance to the clandestine enclave of power at the helm of 'civil society' within this industry of suffering and exploitation. There is big money in AIDS and also the very trends and fads that exist in the world of capitalism which can drive income potential skyward. Except in this case those trends and fads are people and not commodities.

I sincerely hope that my disillusionment will fade. I am beginning to subscribe to the notion that man is inherently selfish, defeatist, and programmed for self-destruction. I am beginning to lose faith in mankind and hope that it is renewed soon.