Demokrissy: The Triumph of Gollum in the Land of Shut Up Suicide of the Fellowship of Partnerships Book 11. A Sequel

Futuring the Agenda Forward From The Fiery Forges Of Hope Mountain

'The political climate change, blowing winds of change over the land, whipped up a great fury. Over the ages, it had blown regimes in and out of offices, in the gathering storm of a national sigh, that was meant to breathe life into nationhood,’ the Oracle had written in celebrating the end of one age and the beginning of another in the rebirth after the shattering of the Glass Ceiling. Her predictions over many millennium had won the faith of the people, but the censorship and constant harassment escalated in recent times and who knows what may come of the more recent decree of Chup.

‘Though forged from the One Love of Liberty, in the fires of the forge-smiths of the Mountain of Hopes and Dreams, where the people pounded out their iconic steelpan and tassa and other instruments of enjoyment in the 55^th year, the dreams and aspirations of the people to aspire and achieve together, remained still-born. Dark clouds hung over the land casting a deathly shadow and the winds whipped up to mega hurricanes that quickly approach with sound and fury of the command, ‘attack with full force.’

The Twin Towers

‘The Twin Towers of Powers –The Tower of the Rising Sun and the Tower of the Raging Bull – under the command of the Lady of the Lagoon and the Captain of the Enterprising Corbeau Star Ship, respectively, reigned, with each maintaining an iron grip on their respective side of the One Ring,’ wrote the Oracle on the leaves of the whimpering trees, once filled with joyous life the people had named Leaves of Life.

‘Between the Twin Towers lapped the Ocean of Creative Milk on which had breastfed the several tribes. Each of the Twins were given a chance to lead, in turn, but both had become ensnared by the mesmerizing Power of the Ring, forged in the fires of Mount Doom and Gloom, infused with the mantra of the Mount:

One Ring To Rule Them All, One Ring To Find Them,

One Ring To Bring Them All And In The Darkness Bind Them

‘Enveloped in complicity in the darkness, are they now. The reflection off the waters of the once milky, now murky ocean show a twin likeness. The dark obsessive power has for eternity, bound them, and as their predecessors, they gaze into each other’s eyes with fury and madness, shaking fists and fuming fiery rhethoric that echo across the hollow halls of the Parliament of Owls in their shouts and screams signifying nothing:

“As long as you are there, I will be here!” thunders one, or the other, in turn.

‘From the Tower of the Raging Bull, it has been said, teacups bereft of their partner sauces were hurled out to whizz past and graze the face of the Swami and pollute the already burdened swamplands. Under the grip of the One Ring, in the hunger for power, each had in turn gnashed at and torn to shreds the national dreams and maimed, mutilated and even killed the careers of those who chanted its anthem, forged from the One Love of Liberty, in the fires of the Mount of Hopes and Dreams.’

The Oracle Sounds a Suicidal Note

That was extracted from the archives of the Oracle after she designated her collection of musings as her suicide note, turned on the music of the final soundtract of the Fellowship, May It Be by Enya, (linked here with lyrics below). It was not yet her eleventy-first year as was the retirement date established by Bilbo Baggins, the heroic Hobbit of her ancestral lineage, but she was ready to give up the office and pass it on to her successor in whom she had all confidence, and in any case her thoughts and ideas were already floated in the wind and were being absorbed by the people and were hlping to nourish and sustain and keep their hopes alive. How little the censors understood that they could not kill an idea whose time has come!

As the music played, mouthing her last appeal: Oh! How far you are from home/Darkness has come/Believe and you will find your way/ A promise lives within you now, she calmly and purposefully threw a sheet over the rafters in her bedroom, put her head through the noose and lifted her all-seeing gaze to the awesome wonder of the united universe of musical spheres from which she had been banished when her eyes were gorged out, her heart pierced and she was left to drift into madness. All this is detailed in her eleventy-volumed autobiography including No Country to Die For; Life, Hole Heartedly; Letters to Lizzie; Grain of Sand; Heroes of the People among a long catalogue of illustrious elucidations through filmography, poetry, prosology, documentay and the like that follow on the line of intellectual humanism established by her grandsire Baggins in his book of Hobbit life, There and Back Again.

The aging pathologist heard the music still playing when he came to take her mortal remains away two millennium later, as the stereo was in repeat mode. Burdened by the scourge of deaths and piles of bodies to work through and the accompanying pressures to manipulate and censure his investigations and conclusions, he left this small detail out of the autopsy report in case there may be a new dictum banning musical sounds that emanate naturally from people’s throats when they were sad. He found the music soothing to his troubled and weary spirit and felt himself lovingly fingering the sheet and nooze, but quickly caught himself. As he finished his task, which was not much because the body was already significantly decayed and only the bones were left to scoop up and feed to the vultures who had hungered after her, he let the music play as he hummed:

May it be an evening star

Shines down upon you

May it be when darkness falls

Your heart will be true

You walk a lonely road

Oh! How far you are from home

Mornie utulie (Darkness has come)

Believe and you will find your way

Mornie alantie (Darkness has fallen)

A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadow's call

Will fly away

May it be you journey on

To light the day

When the night is overcome

You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utulie (Darkness has come)

Believe and you will find your way

Mornie alantie (Darkness has fallen)

A promise lives within you now

They said this Oracle had a bright future as an orator – a lawyer or a parliamentarian – but it was the despairing thought of THAT future that nudged her over the edge to her final act of surrender, a close friend intimated during the long funeral march up the Mounting of Hope and Dreams where she was laid to rest among peers all of whom had endured similar torture, alienation, rejection in the long history of censorship of free thought and speech since time immemmorial.(See banned books).
It seems successive civilisations have never learned that things made free will always escape to be free, and even if they are mutilated or killed, their thoughts still sail, disembodied, with the the freedom of the wind.
Everyone knew that if she was to conduct her own funeral or her defense in a court of law or in a parliamentary debate, or even at the gates of St Peter at the Vatican she would have cited the case of a former Mayoress and a long list of precedents of those who have confronted foxes, rottweilers, hyenas, lions, tigers and beasts of every land and clime of the ancient world and the new, whose bodies lie mauled and mutilated in the Constitutional cemetery, kicked at, scorned, scoffed at, disrespected and spat at only for their desire to serve. It was engraved in the culture of the land ruled by pitbulls, rottweilers, foxes, hyenas, lions and the like, and she knew to her dying day that having nurtured the hounds, they too would suffer the same humiliations from their hungry and bloodthirsty pack in the cycle of eternal returns. She would have, in summation, therefore, declared 'Your Honour or Most DisHonourable OverSpeaker, mine is not suicide but a self-empowering resolution moved to take actions into my own hands, for in the stronghold of the aging and unwise, this is no country for creative youth.'

Her words will be made into song for eons to come, set to the beat ofthe tassa and steelpan, with dholak and bottle and spoon and the refrain, 'No Country for Creative Youth,' long after all the youths have perished before their elders or fled the land to foreign paths.
'Nor is it a place for the elderly,' a postscript to her endnote that would be found many moons later, also reads. 'Instead of creating wise council of elders, they snarl and bite off each others heads, which is why the aged and ailing hold on to offices and positions to their dying breath lest they fade into insignificance. This depth of insecurity ingrained in the social psyche has never been addressed by elders all of whom infuse and pass on suspicion and distrust of each other, jealously guarding territories, offices, and positions, despite the many proposals, treatise, recommendations presented before various Movements and Councls for Change about the enlightened benefits of inclusion, respect, understanding, dialogue and successorship. And so we reap th whirlwind.'

One Love and Perpetual Partnerships

'Much, indeed, had occurred in the millennium since the pledge of One Love in the Piazza of Glowing Crowns that once was the Holiday retreat for many young lovers in the historic North,' her chronicles detail.

'Later too, the hopes and aspirations of nationdom were renewed and reaffirmed by solemn oath over the ancestral bones of Banwari in the accord signed at the juncture of the mythical Rivers Caroni, Oropuche and Nariva, overseered by the hovering spirit of Charlie - the revolutionary leader of free peoples - so called, though not a king by any measure details of his legacy can be found in the treatise on Glass Ceilings. There was boundless faith in a collective destiny to stand side by side, singing We Want To Vote Just How How We Party pledging Fellowship to the Ring of Unity in Perpetual Partnership that was soon mauled by the ravenous Red and Ready rottweiler pack of hounds ravishing and relishing the jamettry. (See https://goo.gl/oCk1PB)

Odious Odes of Yore

The Ode to One Love, a prequel to the Ode to Jurisprudence (See this page), found in her archives, were captured by the Oracle in an incantation whispered in secret silences into the ears of the people of Chup and Shut Up which when said quickly together by the mixed tribes sounded like STEUPS:

In the shadows of the sun, balisier blooms,

One Love ended. Had it ever begun?

In the dark and dangerous undergrowth

Lurk criminals, in forests, Wests, South, East, and North

With broken bottles murderers plunder,

While time closes in on those who blunder

The rising sun on its way down, setting,

Red glow on the balisier grow pale, dimming,

Empty ambition obscures the rainbow

Giant egos, blindness, cloud tomorrow.

The Oracle would append to her suicide note as a parting gift, the Ode to One Love, as the Ode to JurisPrudence and her treatise on Cunstitutional Demokrissy and willed her archives to the future enlightened nation that she knew would be spawned from the wasteland as the seeds were already planted, left drifting in the wind with the wishes and aspirations of the silenced majority.

Snake Infested Lagoons and Balisiers

As the silent majority let the music of May It Be course through their veins, the winds of change whip-lashed through the land again, against the force-ripe Young forked-tongues of macajuels and infant warriors of the al Wari tribes. Though of illustrious roots, their tribes had deviated from the savoury, silken and spiced routes of their ancestors of the Orient and followed those ill-fated dead-end routes, succumbing to the mesmerising power pull in the circle of cabal-leros and sacrificing their souls to become - not the beacon of shining knighthood for which the people had prayed to Sopari Mai, La Divina Pastora - but clones to the Dark Lord, the Captain of the Tower of the Raging Bull. Crawling out from among the balisiers that had buttressed and become rooted and mangled in the land, even creeping into the territories of the Lady of the Lagoon, they had been named as the successors of the fledgling kingdom rendering them but clones to the failures of the past.

The equal place pledged to every creed and race was no longer guaranteed unless every creed and race swore allegiance to the death to the One Ring and to let the darkness bind them, to utter not one bark, nor to break the oath.

The Oath of Silence

The Declaration Maximus, as the oath was called, passed down through the generations from the Winner Takes All to the Loser Gets None Principles of WestMinster long after WestMinster withdrew and abandoned them to their own wotless ways. It contained only two words - whispered at first, but as a collective anthem, it soon became a shout, SHUT UP! The tribes of the lagoon translated it into their own language in one word, Chup! Thus it is passed on for generations to generations by word of mouth only, since it was posthumous to the dearly departed, dead and long forgotten Articles of Association of the Peoples Participatory Civic Movement.

‘It originated with the founding forefathers against whom no man - nor woman, nor child either - dare bark,’ the Twins from the Towers claimed, as if with one voice, in their defense, when one soldier, whipped up the spirt to draw in the last breaths from the waning courage of the wounded and dying civilisations around him to speak with their collective voice out loudly of the letter and the spirit of – Horror of Horrors - Article 18!

At the sound of the banished number 18, a collective shudder rose through the land recorded by the Seismic needles which broke in the frenzy of the tectonics upheavals. The collective breaths held in suspension rippled through the bones of all at this soldier’s daring to violate the sacrilegious oath of Shut Up! The elders quavered and trembled at the thought of his anticipated fate, could only say ‘Chup’ to the young ones with a finger over their lips, as the name of the creed, itself forgotten, had survived in practice of habit only. They had heard of the many more like him who had been relegated to the political cemetery of massa destructionism. Some youngsters versed in the cynicism of the time thought they heard STEUPS.

About Gollum

This habit of Shut Up or Chup or when said quickly in a tumbling together way by the mixed tribes sounded like STEUPS was characterized by the sound made when words and thoughts and ideas are stuck in one’s throat and cannot get past one’s tongue. It emanated in the sound Gollum, Gollum, the only surviving word in what used to be a rich and diversified language and celebrated tongue invented by Tolkien, a renowned linguist and scribe of the last era.

‘Gollum Gollum,’ they collectively utter in horror.
What they were thinking but could not utter in words was ‘He wants our Preciousss! Must have our Preciouss! We must not let him have it. We must guard the Preciouss for our master. My Preciousss.’

It is the same utter they have stuttered time and time again when the occasional one or the other raised a hand to express a new idea, that may help evolve out of the rotting wasteland that lay around them, before they are relegated to the political cemetery on Calvary Hill. Each time a thought or idea surfaced it got stuck in their throat and chokethem to death even before it could move past their tongues and out emerged instead, gollum. Some thought the Gollum infection was injected into the millimeter of green glob they were made to swallow daily as their liquid ration. The suspicion arose because the chief proponent of Gollum once held the portfolio as the Agent of Anti-Health in the department of infectious diseases although he himself had the Contagion (see image this page). With fear resonating like pools in their hollowed-out macabre eyes, whatever they tried to say came out only as:

‘Gollum Gollum.’ Those in the know, interpret it silently as, ‘He wants our Preciousss! She wants our Preciouss! Must have our Preciouss! We must not let them have it. We must guard the Preciouss for our master. It is ours. My Preciousss.’

The master proponent of Gollum, promoted from the Department of Diseases to spread the scourge through higher channels of Culture, Education, Finance, Energy, Economy, carried the name with what dignity he could muster from his miniscule dwarfish stature.

‘Gollum,’ was his response, when the Chambers of Trade raised a finger to question the new tariffs.

‘Gollum,’ he gloated to the International Mouth Feeders, called in to discipline the overexuberance of the Happiest People Alive, gleefully declaring he makes them sing his anthem Gollum, for their breakfast-es, lunches and suppers to the last, which will have neither bread, nor cake, but excessive doses of heavily taxed toxic and noxious gas.

‘Gollum,’ he goaded the Spin Wheel dancers gathered outside his home, waving their ginormous buttocks and substantive boobs like the Dame Lorraines of the traditional myths of yore. He forgot that he had lured them with the wiggle of his weeny finger to 'come outside.'

‘Gollum, Gollum,’ he hissed at the elfin yoked-folks of the swamps whose emaciated bodies and pained eyes poked at him for attention.

Gollum was the standard bearer of the Dark Lord of the Tower of the Raging Bull, the keeper of the Treasury and Budgets and the Habits of Spending Hobbits who decided who could dip in and who be left bereft.

Article 18 and the DREADED 18-18 DEADLOCK

And so ‘Gollum Gollum Gollum Gollum,’ was the only word that emerged from the people inducted in the principles, practices and habits of Shut Up in the land of Chup as they were petrified in the horror-struct moment when the soldier who had suffered through many of the regimes in silent complicity cited Article 18.

The ancient pastime of intellectual pursuit, along with academic discussions had also been deemed by Gollum as sterile, infertile, null, void and of no consequence and thus outlawed along with cellphones, cited as the cause for sodomy and indiscipline in schools. In secret study circles, however, where the ancient ones recalled the Oracle’s Glass Ceiling Chronicles of the Clash of Political Cultures, that there was precedent too about this Article18 and how certain generations were able to rise above its pitfalls and in the darkness uphold the light of the Rising Sun, but it was now secret knowledge, censored with the punishment listed in the equally ominous Appendix 18 with the fates that befell those who dared violate it.

Those Chronicles along with all other works by the Oracle had since been banned and banished even by the guardians of democracy and from the seats of learning, high and low and in between. The people held their tongues. Those who knew where the remaining copies were vaulted, maintained a stony silence about in which madman’s, or madwoman’s mind was secluded the secret sacred mantra that would unlock the invisible doors to access it. The Oracle had mentored many successors, though that was one act expressly disapproved off in Article 18.

The Unholy Dread of 18, the number sacred to the Yantra Philosophies of fibonacci, pythagoras, PHI and the like had lost its original purity and had acquired the resonance of myth- like a bad nightmare as it conjured up the traumas and turmoil of the dead years of the 18-18 DEADLOCK that had lasted through twice-ten millennium when the ancestral Twins locked horns and Tabanca Gripped the Rings of Power (See image this Page).

Only the discovery of the trident power of the feminine, the power that resided in the rural people and power of cultural diversity that were vested by the elvensmiths in the three lost rings that surfaced among the hobbits of Lagoonshire had broken the mettle of the curse of the dreaded DEADLOCK. But no one knew that and if they knew they would have forgotten had it not been inscribed by the Oracle in the Glass Ceiling Chronicles in the Appendix on the Universal List of the enduring Practices and Practicums of the Illustrious Tribes of Ancient Times.

It was to break the DEADLOCK that the elaborate ceremony preceded by the feasts of Matikor had its origins. This was when the Lady of the Lagoon sailed along in her garden boots, flanked by Orcs who rowed her canoe, and Dwarfs who held down the flaps of her lifejacket, waving banners of 'We Will Rise' as the waking sun rose and shone its golden light that sap up the waves that had flooded and marooned the riverine people.

For the honour of her presence - as they would do too for the honour of his gracious visit, when the Dark Lord of the Tower of the Raging Bull as Captain of the Enterprising Corbeau Star Ship sailed in five millennium later - they willingly took the oath of Shut Up Or Be Banished that was decreed by a single minority for the silent majority. STEUPS! Uttered the spectre of the dead Oracle, rising up from the lagoon floods and just as quickly submerging herself again.

Each millennium, for the renewal of the vows, the people would gather silently aroundthe Twins who would sit as dulaha and dulahin over the brass plate filled with water, to grab, five times at the One Ring, chanting:

One Ring To Rule Them All, One Ring To Find Them,

One Ring To Bring Them All And In The Darkness Bind Them

The solemn ceremony was presided over by the ageless Gollum, who with each ritual was evidently more and more emaciated and pock-faced mirroring his internal meanness and miserliness, the visual symbol of what the nation of once-plenty, had become (as told in the Oracle’s Chronicles). For the past ten millennium, the results had been the same. They were each left hanging on to one side each and so they continued, bounded in the collective darkness of the 18-18 DEADLOCK. The chant rolls on through one millennia to the next and the next.

One Ring To Rule Them All, One Ring To Find Them,

One Ring To Bring Them All And In The Darkness Bind Them

It was to be her Doom, as it would be his Doom. Just as the janjees cast deepening shadows to eclipse the rising sun, in the darkness, the orgy of snakes kept council in the Balisier too. The Twin Towers, one as fair as the other was dark; as kind as the other was mean, became discoloured as the silhouette of snakes extended the dark tower which, as time passed, lengthen the ominous shadows over the light of the rising and the setting sun, to merge and disappear into the darkness of the skies.

Only as myth chronicled in the Glass Ceiling Treatise does even the oldest and the wisest know in the depth of memory buried in their DNA that The Tower of the Rising Sun had once been a beacon of light, welcoming all who had been cast out by the Tower of the Raging Bull. It had offered food and shelter and comfort and support and was a place for a diversity of tribes with convergent or divergent minds, all teeming with plan and new ideas. Opinions flowed as freely as the locally produced brew, and bashing was liberally dished out even to one another as the babashing was heartily distributed and imbibed with burps of contentment. Those were the light years, full of fun and laughter. But those emotions too had been banished to the underworld whisperers with the Age of Glum and Gloom that descended when Article 18 was desecrated. It was claimed that it was done in the darkness by the secret council, on the instructions of He, or She, Who Would Not Be Named.

Now still, this many millennium later, the Twin Towers that were hoisted in a ceremony of such national chest-thumping declaration of the Commonness of Wealth of All stand still in darkness and have become strangers, enemies and alien to the inalienable rights of the peoples. More and more are thrown out and shut out and sent to build their own kutiyas, on stilts, if they wished, in the wastelands beyond the lagoonshire. The land united by one people with a common destiny is now dotted with bois-wielding moko jumbies, dodging the descending deluge of garbage and sewerage pouring out from what was once the Mountain of Hope.

The Ocean of Milk that flowed betwixt and between the Two Towers is turned into a sluggish tar pit. There, strangled dead and dying fish whisper ghost tales of a mysterious OilGate spilling corruption from the Enterprising Corbeau Star Ship allegedly owned by the Captain in the Tower of the Raging Bull.

The horror intensifies when shredded documents surface among the discarded wastes and plastics and laptops - that had been given to schoolchildren but had fallen into disuse when the schools closed - comes cascading down the hills, through the rivers, diverted to protect the private property of the Gollum tribe, and hence broke their banks to flood the Plains enroute to the sea which too, has lost its illustrious lustre, black and blue from such abuse since the Massacre of Arenales.

In the gathering mist over the setting sun, scattered bones, streaks of suicidal blood trails linger over the Whore Houses at the WaterFront - the WHARF, reputed as the Houses of Inequity despite an old etched engraving on a nearby boulder that reads, Houses of Parliament. They are mere derelicts and wrecks of those who tried to forge a bridge over the troubled waters between the Twin Towers; who even brave swimming with the sharks, which - though already sated by the spills seeping through the OilGate - greedily snapped and swallowed up the materials for the troubled bridge even before they had time to touch the ground.

The dreams for a national wholesomeness powered by governance through engagement and inclusion of the increasingly dissatisfied elements have been thrown to the wind. Loud celebratory laughter and triumphant chest thumping carry across the waters as the minority Twins faded focus stay fixated only on consolidating the power of their increasingly diminishing fractioned tribal one-percenters, and all the rest and the remainders, and the rest of the remainders are left denuded and disenfranchised with no place to call home.

Shivering in fear, scarred and scared they would be sent packing into the howling rains and raging floods, without employ or food or healthy supplies for their undernourished children, many adopt the creed of Chup, and just simply Shut Up!

The silence creep and spread like poison ivy, coiling and twisting and looping and strangling all the once-spaces for discussion or reasoning or advancement of new ideas. The Twins, clutching their ends of the rings, grow old and increasingly deaf. Their once-intellects that exist only in the chronicles have withered and whittled. Their eyes intensely gaze on nothingness for they could see no future, having created a path to none. Before them the silence hang like a great big void of the legacy of their reign.
The One Ring, sensing their declining power, gets ready to claim its new owner. It laughs diabolically at their ignorant illusion of power, for while they think they can manipulate its intent, they have no powers of selection but are selected. The One Ring knows that it is only a matter of time before the Twins would themselves be mauled and mutilated by their pack of well-fed bloodhounds, and sneered at and scoffed at and they will be pushed into the eternal burning flame of shamedom and disrespect that have been part of the morality of the political culture they fostered and upheld. The One ring shone brightly at this thought of imminent anarchy.

In the vast and bigly ensuing silence, with the regularity of breathing, only the One Word is heard emanating from either side of the Twin Towers, rippling outwards with the waves, whirling with the wind and echoing off the stones: ‘Preciousss Preciousss Preciousss MyPreciousss Preciousss. Must have my Preciousss’.

To those listening below, in the echoing and reverberating silence, this had a familiar RING.

(This Epic Saga To Be Continued...stay tuned)

See Prequel: Book 1: See: Tabanca Grips the Rings of Power Image, This page.

Seem More: From the Archives of the Oracle: See images this Page: Colm’s Contagious Cankers.

Exploring a World Through MultiCultural Lenses https://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/2017/07/dr-kris-rampersad-exploring-world.html

Power Failure Media Blackout Brets Muffled Threats and Ransoming Father: https://goo.gl/YjbBgx

Jurisprudence-rip-obituary-walcott.html

my-date-with-narendra-modi-dat-merkel affair

Of-diasporas-migrations-arrivals.

Elixirs-of-entrepreneurship-The Emperor and I

Ah-drinking-babash-in-this-fo-rum

Nobel-tears-of-and-for-nobel-bard

Things-that-make-me-go-steups-stars http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/2016/12/things-that-make-me-go-steups-stars.html

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Oct 21, 2013 Ain't Trini politics d BEST! Nobody fighting because they lose. All parties claiming victory, all voting citizens won! That's what make we Carnival d best street party in the world. Everyone are winners because we all like ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age - Demokrissy
Jan 09, 2012 New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age | The Communication Initiative Network. New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age | The Communication Initiative Network. Posted by Kris Rampersad ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: T&T politics: A new direction? - Caribbean360 Oct 01, 2010 http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Oct 20, 2013 Choosing the Emperor's New Troops. The dilemma of choice. Voting is supposed to be an exercise in thoughtful, studied choice. Local government is the foundation for good governance so even if one wants to reform the ... http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 - Demokrissy - Blogger
Apr 07, 2013 Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 - Towards Constitutional Reform in T&T. So we've had the rounds of consultations on Constitutional Reform? Are we any wiser? Do we have a sense of direction that will drive ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Valuing Carnival The Emperor's New Tools#2
Apr 30, 2013 Valuing Carnival The Emperor's New Tools#2....http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
See Also:
Demokrissy: Winds of Political Change - Dawn of T&T's Arab Spring
Jul 30, 2013 Wherever these breezes have passed, they have left in their wake wide ranging social and political changes: one the one hand toppling long time leaders with rising decibels from previously suppressed peoples demanding a ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Reform, Conform, Perform or None of the Above cross ...
Oct 25, 2013 Some 50 percent did not vote. The local government elections results lends further proof of the discussion began in Clash of Political Cultures: Cultural Diversity and Minority Politics in Trinidad and Tobago in Through The ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Sounds of a party - a political party
Oct 14, 2013 They are announcing some political meeting or the other; and begging for my vote, and meh road still aint fix though I hear all parts getting box drains and thing, so I vex. So peeps, you know I am a sceptic so help me decide. http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: T&T Constitution the culprit | The Trinidad Guardian
Jun 15, 2010 T&T Constitution the culprit | The Trinidad Guardian · T&T Constitution the culprit | The Trinidad Guardian. Posted by Kris Rampersad at 8:20 AM · Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Related:
Demokrissy: To vote, just how we party … Towards culturally ...
Apr 30, 2010 'How we vote is not how we party.' At 'all inclusive' fetes and other forums, we nod in inebriated wisdom to calypsonian David Rudder's elucidation of the paradoxical political vs. social realities of Trinidad and Tobago. http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: DEADLOCK: Sign of things to come
Oct 29, 2013 An indication that unless we devise innovative ways to address representation of our diversity, we will find ourselves in various forms of deadlock at the polls that throw us into a spiral of political tug of war albeit with not just ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: The human face of constitutional reform
Oct 16, 2013 Sheilah was clearly and sharply articulating the deficiencies in governmesaw her: a tinymite elderly woman, gracefully wrinkled, deeply over with concerns about political and institutional stagnation but brimming over with ... http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Trini politics is d best
Oct 21, 2013 Ain't Trini politics d BEST! Nobody fighting because they lose. All parties claiming victory, all voting citizens won! That's what make we Carnival d best street party in the world. Everyone are winners because we all like ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age - Demokrissy
Jan 09, 2012 New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age | The Communication Initiative Network. New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age | The Communication Initiative Network. Posted by Kris Rampersad ...http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: T&T politics: A new direction? - Caribbean360 Oct 01, 2010 http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Others: Demokrissy: Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 ...
Apr 07, 2013
Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 - Towards Constitutional Reform in T&T. So we've had the rounds of consultations on Constitutional Reform? Are we any wiser? Do we have a sense of direction that will drive ...
http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Valuing Carnival The Emperor's New Tools#2
Apr 30, 2013
Valuing Carnival The Emperor's New Tools#2.
http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Wave a flag for a party rag...Choosing the Emperor's New ...
Oct 20, 2013
Choosing the Emperor's New Troops. The dilemma of choice. Voting is supposed to be an ... Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 - Towards Constitutional Reform in T&T. Posted by Kris Rampersad at 10:36 AM ...
http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Carnivalising the Constitution People Power ...
Feb 26, 2014
This Demokrissy series, The Emperor's New Tools, continues and builds on the analysis of evolution in our governance, begun in the introduction to my book, Through the Political Glass Ceiling (2010): The Clash of Political ...
http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Envisioning outside-the-island-box ... - Demokrissy - Blogger
Feb 10, 2014
This Demokrissy series, The Emperor's New Tools, continues and builds on the analysis of evolution in our governance, begun in the introduction to my book, Through the Political Glass Ceiling (2010): The Clash of Political ...
http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Futuring the Post-2015 UNESCO Agenda
Apr 22, 2014
It is placing increasing pressure for erasure of barriers of geography, age, ethnicity, gender, cultures and other sectoral interests, and in utilising the tools placed at our disposal to access our accumulate knowledge and technologies towards eroding these superficial barriers. In this context, we believe that the work of UNESCO remains significant and relevant and that UNESCO is indeed the institution best positioned to consolidate the ..... The Emperor's New Tools ...
http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/
Demokrissy: Cutting edge journalism
Jun 15, 2010
The Emperor's New Tools. Loading... AddThis. Bookmark and Share. Loading... Follow by Email. About Me. My Photo · Kris Rampersad. Media, Cultural and Literary Consultant, Facilitator, Educator and Practitioner. View my ...
http://kris-rampersad.blogspot.com/

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