Stephen Vasciannie OLD-TIMERS OFTEN assume that the Bruce's patties of yesteryear have no equal in modern-day Jamaica. Yes, they will grudgingly concede that some of today's more popular brands are palatable; but, the new products patties post circa 1970 are assumed to be only a reflection of the real thing.
If you listen to the old-timers carefully, as they describe the original location of the former Bruce's in Cross Roads, as they reminisce about the greasy brown paper bags, and as they recall that 'thruppence' could get you a drink and a patty, you have to concede that the romance has gradually been drained out of patty consumption.
And, no one (not even our most insightful pattyologist) has really ever explained the patty paradox: how comes Bruce's patties never retained its taste when the establishment moved from Cross Roads to newer, New Kingston, ovens. The secrets of the subtle, but succulent, sliver have vanished, never to be revived, for the old Bruce's is now a car park, and the new Bruce's has evaporated. Progress, some people will assume.
MEDICAL LITERATURE
Old-timers may also assume that medical literature is not what it used to be. No, not the literature in Gray's Anatomy; rather, the literature in medical waiting rooms. The femininisation of the literature in medical waiting rooms has been noted by HBO in America, but it's also true for Jamaica: another example of cultural imperialism, one assumes.
Consider the reality: your doctor's office will have Cosmopolitan, Redbook, and other literature of that genre, with stories such as 'Nine Ways To Comb Your Hair Without Offending Your Boyfriend!' and 'Six Effective Ways To Fake Organ-Playing', or something like that. As is traditionally the case, these magazines are a decade old; but that's not my complaint, for history has its place. My grouse is just that those who organise doctor's offices seem to assume all doctors are obstetricians or gynaecologists. All right, not all doctors: you may assume that I am overgeneralising for effect, today.
Old-timers also used to assume that 'bad company' abounds, rather akin to bad weeds in the garden. So, as you stepped through the door, on your way to school on the JOS bus, or otherwise, your grandmother could always be expected to warn you to min' bad company. Bad company was the precursor of what Edward Said and other fancy writers would eventually come to classify as 'the other': you know the person whom we assume is not really 'one of us', as Margaret Thatcher was reportedly fond of saying.
GSAT EUPHEMISMS
But, of course, assumptions are not the preserve of old-timers only. Eleven-year-olds who took the GSAT last week may have assumed, reasonably, that they were about to have a frightening encounter with destiny. Never mind that GSAT is euphemistically called a 'test', implying that it is just like any other old class test and not an 'examination'.
And, never mind that some teachers kindly provide ice cream and cake on the day before the GSAT. And, never mind that many students are encouraged to 'just do your best'. Today's students assume that they are about to do battle. This assumption is probably even more pronounced today than it was in the earlier Common Entrance Examination (CEE) period.
You see, in the earlier CEE period, the pool of good schools was wider, and the results were perceived more clearly as an indicator of 'pass' or 'fail'. So, your child could 'pass' the CEE for any one of say, 20 schools, and this would be regarded as a praiseworthy achievement.
Today, with good reason, there is no express conception of 'pass/fail', but parents assume that 'pass/fail' can be discovered by looking at school placement. Indeed, in some circles, if your child has not been placed at one of the three top schools in Kingston, the child has failed. No wonder children assume GSAT is a battle, with no prisoners to be taken.
OLYMPIAD!
But on to some other assumers. Both experts at both TVJ and CVM assume that the next Olympiad will be held later this year in Greece. This is greasy English Language: in the old days, the Schools' Challenge Quiz people would always ask for the definition of Olympiad, and the correct answer was taken as the 'period of four years between celebrations of Olympic Games, used by ancient Greeks in dating events' (Oxford Concise English Dictionary, fifth edition, p. 842).
If the Olympiad is the period between the Olympic Games, how can TVJ and CVM be showing the Olympiad on television this summer, inquiring minds would like to know.
Speaking of quiz, here is another point about assumers. The Guinness Book of Records, a source of no minor authority, has apparently assumed that the British University Challenge is the longest running quiz programme, at 33 years. TVJ, after correcting the Olympiad error, should write to the Guinness Book of Records: for, it is safe to assume that the 35-year-old Schools' Challenge Quiz has the edge over the 33-year-old British counterpart.
My editor assumes, finally, that readers don't like long-winded columnists (except on Sundays, I assume). So, I will go now.
Stephen Vasciannie is Professor of International Law and Head, Department of Government, UWI. He is also a consultant in the Attorney-General's chambers.
