So Much Whistling In The Wind

If one were to listen to the call-in programs only or read some of the local blogs only, it would be easy to get the impression that Barbados is seething with discontentment. That may indeed be the prevailing sentiment. In which case, you would have to wonder about the sort of saccharin-like coverage of many topics in the print media; I cannot talk much about TV, as I rarely watch Channel 8. I have yet to read an in-depth analysis of a local subject over an extended period. True, topics get touched upon but that contact is very much in the kiss-and-run variety. I have noted before a tendency to make noise and do little. In keeping with the Greek tradition of never finishing your house, it means that you can always go back to complaining. But I wonder if people never tire of the huffing and puffing.

As a quick example, take the blasted African snails. Bajans seem to hate them and worry about the ravages they are reeking. The standard means of attack, bait pellets, don't seem to have done the trick (seen it, and went to plan B). In part, this is because not everyone has bothered to get bait (I cannot control my neighbours, and snails though slow, can climb); or the bait was not available for those who wanted to try it (been to the office, told to come back after lunch; went back and 'the man' was still not there; went again the next day and was told that I needed to go to Carters (they do it right, right).

Another example, concerns the tragic killing of a Canadian tourist and some late-in-the-day government measures to beef up security on the beaches. What do we see a few days after the news comes out that Ms. Schwarzfeld died? Centre-fold colour pictures of English tourists, imitating lobsters, and lying on the sand and saying "We luv Ba'bados, mate. Is really safe 'ere." Is that as serious as it can get? Wonderful, that the local police will have Segways to troll along some of the walking areas. I can only see them being useful if not on the sand, but I am glad to be corrected.

It may be the inability to arrange a drink-up in a brewery syndrome, as is evident each time there is cricket at Kensington Oval, and the plans that worked so well last time have been eatn by the dog. So, someone tries to remember what was done, but forgets key steps:

"You 'member to fin' de key for de toylet? No? Let's hope dat no one get lock' in, eh." Or,
"Did one of you fix that problem with the tickets? We dont want five people fighting over one seat and them all having the same ticket number." Or,
"I hear dat de English comin' wi' plenty fans. We gine mek a killin' at de concession stan'. Lookee, how dey does all line up in de hot sun trying to buy dey ticket."

Problem is, everyone concerned can duck responsibility because the limit for complaining is usually 48 hours, then move on.

Thankfully, as soon as a real problem of major national importance has to be dealt with and the image of the country saved, there is either the national or West Indies cricket team shaming everybody. Then, Bajans can really let loose, and talk and talk and talk...about creeket. Better still, there may be a Rihanna sighting at the airport. Quick! Let's jump up and hail to our queen: "You all need leev de girl alone fi decide if she gine stey wid Chris. Lovers does have dere fights."

So, I will also bury my head in the sand and see if I can look into the caves underneath. No need to worry that I cannot see any pylons that might stop the house falling through the ground and into the void beneath.