How Delma Thomas accepted a pay cut to join the cabinet

 

IT was February 21, 2013 - two days after the general election that swept the New National Party back into office, having won all 15 seats.

Among them was first time winner Delma Thomas, who after losing at her first attempt in 2008, became the MP for At Andrew's North West.

 

I was in the Happy Hill neighborhood and dropped in by the newly re-elected Prime Minister to query when he will be making his first return to the Botanic Gardens office to ensure that cameras were there to capture the moment.

 

He shared with me -- a then not-for-reporting purpose -- the cabinet line up that he would  unveil on the weekend.

 

I noted that Thomas was not included.

 

I made no direct comment then -  and was not totally surprised, since even before the elections there was a suggestion that should Thomas win her seat, she will be advised to stay in her job at the St George's University, since she was then earning more than she will make as a Minister.

 

But that night, I called her and said - I noted that you have not been included in the cabinet -- and asked if that was something she was comfortable with -- because I had assumed by then she was aware.

 

Thomas intimated that was the first time she was being made aware -- but said she would have preferred to be nominated for a posting.

 

Then I raised the issue of pay -- and that maybe it is a good thing she was not being included in the Cabinet -- because leaving her job to do so will effectively mean taking a pay cut.

And her reply was that is fine with her.

 

I initially protested  to her, agreeing with the view that it was the right thing to stay in her current job.

 

She objected on two counts --(a) she was elected to serve her people, and felt their needs will be best served by being a member of cabinet and (b) her naysayers during the campaign were saying she cannot be made a minister because she is not capable -- explaining that a non-appointment will feed into that narrative, and ultimately hurt her politically.

 

I listened to her argument but did not make any counter comments.

 

The next morning I called the newly re-elected Prime Minister and said - I had slept on that list he had shared with me, and the more I thought about it, I felt it was a mistake not to appoint Thomas to the cabinet.

 

I argued that (a) I am confident she will turn out to be one of your biggest allies in cabinet and (b) unlike what some people feel, she has a type of passion and some useful ideas about governance and accountability that potentially will make her a good minister; and predicted she will pleasantly surprise some of the people who cast doubt on her ability.

 

His only retort was that she had a young family and she needed to keep her current job to be able to meet her obligations.

 

Without spilling the beans that I had spoken to her, I said - I get the feeling she won't mind, because she really wants to be in a position to make a difference to the people who rallied with her, even if that means taking a personal pay cut.

 

The conversion ended. I did not press further. He did not make any declaration or commitment -- though I left with the sense that he was reconsidering his earlier decision.

 

About 24 hours later, Thomas called to report that the Prime Minister had offered her the position of Minister of Social Services and Housing.

 

I joked: " Don't go there now and mamaguy yourself."

Dreams never die! (In memory of Odette)

 IT has taken me a few days to start beginning to come to terms with the passing of Odette Campbell (Bessy, I called her all these years).

 

I was going through my phone and realized that we had our last conversation on April 28.

 

It started with me whatsapping her, bitching about something I heard they had on GBN in the news – though at the time I had not seen it myself. She gave me a couple of cheeky responses – sent me the report -- and then she called.

 

We chatted about it – and then other things – and I also went on to inquire about the health of Stephenson Worme, while complaining that I could not get him on the phone.

 

All this time I did not know that she was herself sick.

She told me she was home – but I just assumed maybe on vacation or something.

 

One of the things I always asked whenever we spoke was: “So you good?” and her standard answer was, “Yeah man!”

 

She told me she was good, like she always did for the best part of almost 40 years. And like all the other times, I did not assume otherwise.

It was just after 3 AM a few days ago I got the text from a mutual friend – “boy Odette gone”. My response: “She resigned?” Then the statement: “No, she is dead”. Well, my follow up response was: “Well who Odette you talking about?”

 

It is because up to that point I did not wrap my mind to thinking it was “Bessy,”

 

We have been friends since she was in Form 3 at Anglican High School – for she used to visit Munich to spend some days of summer with her paternal grandmother.

 

We started bonding because I was already in the media, and she indicated at the time that is what she wanted to do.

 

When Odette graduated from High School – I was her photographer.  She could not afford to pay the official photographers and asked if I could come along with her.

These were not the days – like now – when everyone had a device that could take some type of shot.

 

So, I had to asked Mr Pierre’s permission to borrow the Grenadian Voice’s camera to go do the “assignment.”

 

All these years, there have been photos of Odette’s graduation at our house in Munich.

 

I donated her first book on journalism – my only copy of “Handbook for Caribbean Journalists.”

 

After school she was interested in coming to work at the Voice, but when I spoke to Mr. Pierre, he could not have accommodated it just yet. So, I convinced her to go start at Informer – which she was not too keen on initially. But I took her to see Errol Maitland. My word to her at the time: “just get your feet in the door” and then anything can happen after that.

 

As luck and history will have – many years later she became Manager of GBN – a position I held before. She is the one who broke the news to me – and called me to discuss what to expect.

 

There was a time when we used to spend hours on the phone – but that became less and less as we all became older and busier.

 

In later years when I ran into her and complained “man you give me up” her usual retort, “boy I don’t know which part of the world you living.”

 

Sometimes when major regional stories broke, she will call seeking some contacts; and I will complain: “you only know now know my number?”

 

She can be cheeky, “Boy keep your backside quiet,” she will sometimes say.

 

I remember during the election campaign of 2008; she came under fire from the then opposition NDC – and she was particularly down after one of the senior candidates – who was incidentally running in her area – called her out by name on one of the platforms.

 

She called me after midnight that day – seeking advice and counsel – and asked me what it was she was doing wrong – knowing I was close to that campaign.

 

I said “nothing” – you just being a journalist – and that’s your job – give us hell. Keep us on our toes.

 

I know she felt better when I told her – I will never sit out of the newsroom and second guess her news decisions.

Through the years she will always seek me out in moments of challenge: especially a few controversial interviews -- and she counted on me to give my genuine unvarnished opinion.

 

When she would have had some tough times as Manager at GBN – and some of the stuff had become public in a very toxic way – I would give her a call every now and then – starting with the giveaway caveat – “I don’t want to interfere in your all business, but….”

 

Sometimes we forcefully disagreed in some of these debates, but it never affected how we rolled. It still ended up with some “old talk” as a way of easing the tension.

 

When I get her laughing, she will always retort: “Boy you ah real ass.”

 

We did not always agree on professional issues – and we knew when to give each other distance – so we can both cool off. She had her business to run, and I had to let her; and I had my own gigs.

But what always bonded us, I feel -- were the days of dreaming and plotting during those Munich summers -- on how to conquer the world of media.

 

I remember one time I was particularly mad with her, and a couple of weeks passed – and she called me one late afternoon out of the blue.

 

How many of you are there in your office?

 

I answered: Why?

 

“I just want to know,” she said.

 

I said:  Three of us here. Why?

 

Don’t bother – she said.

 

Whey the hell, you a mad woman? – was both my question and an exclamation.

 

To my surprise about half an hour later – Odette showed up with food and drink for everyone – and did that for everyone in the office for about four consecutive afternoons.

 

I think in retrospect that was a way of saying: “Boy we good.”

 

Just before the COVID time when she realized I was in Grenada – she would drop by a couple of lunchtimes -- with food and my favorite coke – saying I was in the area, so I said let me check up on you.

 

Between 2013 and 2018 I had technically returned to the GBN fold as a member of the Board of Directors.

 

I knew before every meeting; she would call me to give me an early sight of any reports she is taking to the board and sometimes to lobby me early about something.

 

I still have the plaque on my desk – she sent it to me in appreciation – (a GBN plaque at WPG lol) – that says thank you for all your support to the station.

 

I have that – and more importantly those memories forged over almost 40 years.

 

I have left to reflect on those Munich days; those days of dreaming – of looking forward to what this life can bring.

 

We never thought we would die.

Well, we are (not were) right!

 

We shall never die. Dreams get reincarnated. Legacies get defined.

 

Arguments, debates, disagreements never tainted a friendship – borne through stories about family and community; and weaved through this shared belief – never mind where we came from – we can be darn good – and the world shall notice us!

Bessy you good? Yeah man!

WAKING UP AFTER TAKING MORE THAN ONE FOR THE ROAD!

 

Having taken more than one for the road (quite a few drinks too many perhaps), I have been, to invoke Pink Floyd, Comfortably Numb for 100 days.

But I can assure you that my work is not over.

  When a few weeks ago, a very dear comrade close to the ruling National Democratic Congress in-boxed to say he has not heard any public commentary from me, I said to him: I don’t have the luxury to do a running commentary on day-to-day Grenadian politics.

   I added facetiously; I have resigned from making enemies. I am busy making a living.

  And anyhow my constituency, that runs from Bermuda to Guyana, is bigger than his anyway.

   Inspite of popular beliefs, I don’t get up every morning thinking of politics; nor do I interpret everything in political terms.

   Sometimes I just don’t have enough information or research time to comment properly on some issues; and sometimes at other times, unlike what I did not do enough of during my limited cricket days, I choose to leave some balls outside the off stump.

   I say these pieces now only because of this so called 100-day observation – which is frankly an American inspired non-sense, since you cannot judge any government properly in that time.

   After all, this government has just been turning on the lights and changing the carpets; and the new furniture has just arrived.

  And cabinet only had time to do one collective silly facebook live on a bus tour to the Trade Center. Additionally, Andy Williams has not had enough time to even think about posing in the Prime Minister’s car, nonetheless.

  We fired a few cooks and caregivers in that time too, but what the heck. By this time in the very first New National Party administration we had gotten rid of Richard Duncan already anyhow.

    So, what is Daisy* fussing about?

    The NDC talkshow host has called for ‘ethnic cleansing’ and its online editor says we are not moving fast enough to clean-up house (pun and all intended).

    Like an efficient sou-sou hand – they say – we’ve passed the time for swapping one set for another set.

   But I don’t want to get cynical, so I have turned off my radio. For anytime I listen I begin to feel that Grenada is not a country – just a bad idea.

   As we mark 100 days since Prime Minister Dickon Mitchell has been sworn in – unlike some of the self-designated leaders of his party’s mob front, I am not worried about him.

  We are gratefully moving forward in his safer hands.

   Additionally, he is a kind of Munich man who first learnt to blow his bubbles at Teacher Bridget’s school. So, I know his foundation is strong.

   My worry is about the rest of us.

   PM Mitchell (D) has spoken well about change – but I am not sure he understood us. I am not sure we understand him.

   The PM might be about setting up the future. But the rest of us are about settling scores.

   We never wanted change. Just give us exchange.

   Listen to the daily irreverent vileness financed by overseas party donations, and you’d understand.

  We don’t have a problem with sons-of-bitches, once they are ours.

   We want all the senior people the police force to be moved; and every little cook we saw in a campaign rally, be put to pasture.

  We want the trade unions to shut up, because Keith Mitchell used to demand that too.

   We now want the opportunity to cuss Daisy and Grimes, because Keith Mitchell used to cuss them too.

   And anybody who complain about that, we simply ask: “Wey dey the day” when Keith Mitchell used to do the same thing.

    Let’s turn Calistra Farrier and Kellon Bubb into enemies because Keith Mitchell did that too.

   Some of the yellow people say Farrier and Bubb never said anything when Keith Mitchell was in power; well Amazing Grace!, because these deaf people can now hear.

   The “Whataboutism” that permeates is stronger than River Antoine rum. It’s not yet even the after party, and people who have none, are already drunk on power.

   So Mr Prime Minister I am sorry. We are making extremely harder for you. It's unfair that you have to watch the chickens and make the omelet at the same time.

   I once told a previous Mitchell that Grenada can’t be fixed. And I am darn serious. So just manage as good as you can, and the Spirit of Tan Do-Do in Bamboo in Munich will be well pleased.

   It’s unfair to ask you to fix this broken house, when 30 thousand people are walking around with broken-hearts, eternally damaged by the “gimme de thing” era.

   You've been speaking about change – but that’s small change.

   How about the big dollar wine? Replace one set of large paying cronies, with just a new set. No sweat. Keith Mitchell did the crony thing for donkey years. He has a doctorate in it.

Learn from Papa.

But seriously, don’t bother with change. Just give us exchange.

The green people had their Mitchell; now yellow people have theirs.

 Mr Prime Minister, let the people get the government they deserve. Not the one you will like us to have.

    Wey you de dey all these years? Don’t you know that our governance is synonymous with pettiness, vendettas, rumour and victimization?

    Your folks are calling for blood. Give the people what they want. George Worme says if you don’t, you’re sure to get one term.

   One proviso though: Listening to Worme is hazardous to a long-term career. Ask Tillman Thomas how this turned out.

    A few years ago – in a jurisdiction I would not name – we had just finished a successful campaign and earned an unlikely victory for a first-time leader, with an almost new slate of candidates and winners.

   After a grand swearing in a few days later of the cabinet, I went up to that leader again – offered another congratulation – and reminded him that I am leaving “tomorrow” but we will be in touch.

    His retort: You leaving tomorrow? So, you think you’d bring me in this thing, and then your turn your back and go?

    We had a good chuckle.

    But beyond the laughter, there was a serious point.

    Opposition is easy. Campaigning is fun. But governing? That’s where the stuff gets serious.

    Sorry Prime Minister Mitchell, the people brought you into this thing. And unfortunately for them, the carnival is over.

     I once told a new political entrant the easiest thing you will do in politics is oppose. You don’t have to be brilliant; you just must sound like you’re brilliant.

   So over to you now Norland Cox!

    PS: I might have something more to say in another 100 days – because I never get weary yet!