For many years, pleas were made from various quarters (Gladstone Holder comes readily to mind) for Barbadians to remain eternally vigilant over the handling of our nation’s affairs. For the most part, these pleas went unheeded. Unfortunately, the brave few who stood up to highlight glaring deficiencies in our governance structure, to point out the repetitive instances of evident corruption, or to make serious suggestions aimed at promoting and enhancing productivity, efficiency, and national development, were all initially and routinely dismissed as radicals and malcontents, and then summarily ostracized and dismissed.
Some of these “pioneering rejects” exhibited extraordinary bravery and love for country by running for political office within fledgling parties and on platforms that conveyed progressive and non-traditional messages. However, their efforts and messages fell on deaf ears as too many members of our populace focused their attention on feasting upon whatever crumbs fell from the lips of the privileged few, or from the hands and promises of visionless politicians bent on selling out the country and its interests.
In reflecting upon the road that we have travelled over the last 51 years as a nation, I found myself remembering a poem which I had read as a 13-year old student at Combermere. The poem, authored by Lewis Carroll, was published in 1871.
As you read the poem, I exhort you to view the Carpenter as politicians and their handpicked cronies. The Walrus represents senior public service administrators and members of the traditional private sector, who have all mastered the very lucrative game of collusion, bribery, and kickbacks.
The Oysters are the gifted, honest, talented, industrious members of our population, our at-risk NIS and its contributions, our sense of decency and fairness, our respect for law and order, the integrity and resources of our central bank, our national bank, our development bank, and our most profitable and productive national assets.
Finally, I ask you to accept that some of our Oysters have already been eaten. The rest of them now seem to await a similar, inescapable fate.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright —
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done —
“”It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun.”
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!’
“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“ I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.”
“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed —
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”
“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“ Do you admire the view?”
“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”’
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I’ve had to ask you twice!”
“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”’
“I weep for you,”’ the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.
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