Hartley Neita

The journey began with praise and hallelujah. All hail the woman. It was a second Palm Sunday. The crowds lined the streets and filled the halls. Dressed they were in the bright glory of orange, sometimes tinged with red.

The movement was unstoppable. The officers and the troops wore uniforms of orange. The leader, however, stood out often in yellow, her preferred colour. She was different. She was the change. She was the new Jerusalem.

But soon there was the cry. Where did all the flowers go? Where are the roses?

It was not the first time in history that there was a Palm Sunday followed by a crucifixion. Winston Churchill led the British in their brave fight against the Germans. The British won. They hailed him as he stood on the balcony of Buckingham Palace beside the royal family.

Soon, they chased him out of Downing Street.

Michael Manley brought better to many. His rod of correction. There were no more bastards. Women received the same pay as men; for the first time. Workers enjoyed a national minimum wage, and received redundancy pay when their jobs ended. He was chased out of Jamaica House, unceremoniously.

Edward Seaga promised deliverance. From African bush jackets back to the British three-piece tweeds. Everyone was supposed to dance in three-piece suits and thing. And money was to jingle in pockets. And like Manley, when his time came they tossed him from Jamaica House.

Seven in 27

So too it was with the latest incumbent. She was the anointed. In spirit and in flesh. So said the prophets who have currently given her the seven in 27.

She took too long to call the elections to receive her own mantra. Meanwhile, her opponents continued to tear down trees and wave green branches in the hamlets and the nooks and the crannies.

It happens to all incumbent parties. They forget the party. They glory in the titles of Honourables and Mr. Ministers and become full of official pomp. They forget old friends who, like brooms, know the corners. They do not identify themselves as presidents, vice-presidents, chairmen and other title posts of the party until they gather with the faithful at annual conferences.

Leaders of the Opposition parties on the other hand are known by their party titles so that when election campaigns are conducted the party is predominant. Voters do not vote for ministers; they vote for the party of their choice.

The PNP began to lose this year's general election from the time they allowed the JLP to reign supreme and alone on the political parade. They lost the euphoria of the early Portia Factor by delaying the date of the elections. The new insiders of the party did not know there is a segment of their support who look forward to the party's dominance in the advertising programme.

Disappointed

This time they were disappointed. Their anger turned to disinterest. They could not believe their ears when they heard the tagline, "A vote for Portia is a vote for the PNP". This to them was tantamount to sacrilege. Portiawas made bigger than the PNP. No one in the party is that big. Not the Manleys and not Patterson. The only political leader in Jamaica that was ever bigger than his party was Bustamante and he had made the JLP.

I am told that these disgruntled PNPites have formed a loose group known as 'CAP - Comrades Against Portia'. They recruit and communicate by telephone and the Internet. And those who had sought 'family ties' with Mama P and Sister P are doing deed polls to sever the family connection.

Where have all the flowers gone?