Stephen VasciannieSO, MY friend, no electricity for the Queen then? The jovial head porter cast a mischievous glance at me as I went to collect the morning's letters. His assistant, also a pleasant sort, joined in the banter: "That's really shocking," he intoned.
I smiled, but didn't really embrace the planned festivities at my country's expense. "Oh, we were just trying to make the Queen feel at home," I responded rather lamely, meaning to imply that public services in Britain today ain't what they used to be. But, realising immediately that my shot was unfair, I resorted to light interrogation: "How did you hear about the royal power cut?" And, the response from the head porter: "Well, it's all over this morning's paper", he said, pointing to one of the tabloids not known to be afraid of scandal.
The power cut had already come to my attention via the Jamaica Observer Online, but for some reason, I couldn't find reference to it in Jamaica's newspaper of record. (The story was carried on page one of The Gleaner on Wednesday February 20, though not on the online edition. The Editor.)
The matter, though mildly embarrassing, was clearly newsworthy. But embarrassing for whom? The Jamaica Observer Online photograph accompanying the story featured a rather serious-faced Governor-General, the Queen looking a touch interested in developments, and a beaming Prime Minister. Now, this may have been quite a misleading picture, for the Prime Minister's smile may well have been completely unrelated to the lack of electricity at King's House, but that is not the impression that was created.
HUMOROUS EPISODE
For some Jamaicans at home, perhaps the power cut was perceived as another humorous episode concerning life in the tropics. But for some of us overseas, the Governor-General's apparent embarrassment is fully shared.
A fairly prominent headline in the Times of London put us in the spotlight on February 21: "The Queen sparkles as lights fail in Jamaica." According to Alan Hamilton (in Kingston), "the Queen ... took the problem in her stride; harmless mishaps amuse her greatly."
Later in the story, the Queen is quoted: "It's so difficult, getting dressed in the dark.... I was just putting my tiara on when the lights went out." Meanwhile, the Duke of Edinburgh is reported to have "stumbled slightly", and a lady-in-waiting seems full of words. "Lady Susan, who had moments before dashed upstairs with a candle to ensure that the Queen's tiara was on straight, said: "I can honestly say I've never done this before in my life. I don't know where I'm going. Which table am I at?"
But, come to think of it, this should actually be quite embarrassing to many, not so much because the Queen is to be regarded as sacred, but because, objectively speaking, it implies a certain level of incompetence. And, interested non-Jamaicans may not necessarily assume that this level of incompetence is confined to the owners and operators of the island's electricity providers. We are all Jamaicans when Miss Hemmings hurdles to 400 metres hurdles glory, or Ambassador Walsh overpowers the adversary; so, too, we are all Jamaicans when visitors are left in the dark.
The electricity episode, and another matter, also prompted thoughts about blame and responsibility and the way we tend to perceive such matters in the Caribbean. Specifically, when embarrassing things happen, or when problems remain unsolved, many of us are quick to blame others, and only others. As to the matter of electricity, I wondered if anyone would be held responsible, and whether (s)he would find someone on whom to pass the buck. Perhaps this is part of the human condition, but, maybe, there is something about our history and social arrangements that encourage buck-passing.
Which brings me to the other matter. Late last week, V.S. Naipaul, our latest Nobel laureate, attended a literary festival south of New Delhi.
GENDER EXPLOITATION
There, Nayantara Seghal, an author and niece of Jawaharlal Nehru (India's first Prime Minister), had an exchange with another writer, Shashi Desh-pande.
On hearing this exchange, concerning colonialism and gender exploitation, Naipaul, now 69, could not restrain himself.
He said: "Banality irritates me. My life is short. I can't listen to banality. This thing about colonialism, this thing about gender oppression, the very word oppression wearies me. If writers talk about oppression, they don't do much writing... Fifty years have gone by. What colonialism are you talking about?"
Naipaul obviously feels strongly about the issue. Vikram Seth, the well-regarded author of the overlong Indian saga, A Suitable Boy, tried to calm our Nobel prize-winner by patting him on the back. To this gesture, Naipaul reacted with shock: "What are you doing!", he exclaimed, as he dispensed with Seth's hand, the Times reports. Paul Theroux has discovered that Sir Vidya is not to be shadowed; now, Vikram Seth knows he is not to be patted.
Amidst the fury, does Naipaul have a point? Are we so deep in the business of attributing blame for colonialism many years after its passing, that we fail to understand the nature of current realities? Aspects of Naipaul's thesis are reflected in some of his work, but he too, it should be noted, pays a fair degree of attention to history and colonial history at that.
I am not inclined, therefore, to interpret Naipaul's latest pronouncement as a rejection of history. Rather, I read it as a plea for a more analytical approach to our past: one which acknowledges the burden of past oppression, but does not allow that burden to become so all-consuming that it stifles literary creativity or socio-economic progress in the present.
"More light," said the philosopher Goethe on his deathbed. "So that we can see into the future," Naipaul may have replied. "Yes, we do need some light," added the Jamaican onlooker, who wanted her tiara to sparkle.
Stephen Vasciannie, a UWI lecturer, is currently Visiting Fellow at Wolfson College, Cambridge University in Britain.
