“People who have achieved the trappings of power for no reason they can see are afraid of losing these trappings. They are insecure because they see too many like themselves. Out of shabbiness, then, we created drama.”

The Mimic Men, VS Naipaul

I had big dreams when I was young. I wanted to fly big planes and have a big dog. I wanted to see the big world, swallow it whole and make it mine. I wanted to make a big difference. And university was the place I thought that would happen.

Then I came to UWI.

University is, after all, where the march starts. It is where the greatest minds interlace, where eyes open up to the real and the historical and the theoretical worlds, all in one. It is where activism is at its most acute, where the boiling blood of fiery youth transposes into action.

This is where the future really begins. I was having coffee in a certain—well, you know where I was—and met up with the tiniest of the former Naps girls. But, good Lord, the girl was reading a Bible.

I say, “Holy moly! You is the only chick in the whole campus go come in Rituals to read your Bible!”

She watch me hard. I get scared and shut up. She had something much more important to discuss.

“What is politics on campus like?” she asked. I say, “Oh lawdy, Miss Maudy! Is that what you go look to ask me? Look at bachanaal!”

Again, the look. She wanted answers. It seems she also had big dreams. She, too, wanted to shape the world, to make a difference. She, too, wanted big things out of this big place. (And apparently she also wanted to be Guild president.)

“Campus politics, girl?” I said. “That is drama, girl. Real drama.”

“Disorder was drama, and drama was discovered to be a necessary human nutriment.”

Every year around the same time the people of T&T can expect the same thing of our sacrosanct university. There's the feting and the wining and the jooking (partying is the opiate of these masses). And, afterwards, Guild elections will be shut down, and students will wear red and chant and wine down the joint again.

If the incumbent Guild is black, the brown ones will cry, “Discrimination! Conflict of interest! Irregularity! Corruption!” If the incumbent Guild is brown, the black ones will cry, “Corruption! Irregularity! Conflict of interest! Discrimination!”

Look at the newspapers: photos of some big-mouthed UWI student mouthing off at someone, his mouth agape, and some unflattering mug shot of a Guild official looking annoyed. Read the headlines making allegations, and the headlines denying allegations.

Listen to the TV: “Chaos and confrontation erupted at the UWI campus today...” “UWI guild elections were shut down again this year...” See some pugnacious brown girl pointing she finger all up in some bewildered white boy face. See some little Guild queen jumping up and down, flailing his arms in the air, and expecting to be reelected.

See it happen again, and again...

“From playacting to disorder: it is the pattern”

The thing about it is that this must happen. Campus would be boring without it. Reporters would walk away disappointed. UWI would continue to be a far-away place for Trinis at large. Dr Tewarie would be wondering how come things quiet, quiet so, and Mr Richardson would be wondering why he was even hired.

This must happen because we allow it to happen. Millions of our dollars and not a single audited report. A Guild running hemispherical summits and in talks with this minister and that official, and yet no visibility. The occasional public meeting, and the same tired faces show up (not including most of the Guild members, themselves).

Talk of constitutional reform, promises of police posts, and nothing. Assurances of transparency and visibility and availability and every other kind of ility—and nothing. Not a single, damn thing.

We don't see the Guild and the Guild don't see we. We don't care about the Guild and the Guild don't care about we.

Less than a quarter of the campus population votes. A few big mouths bawl on TV, and the UWI campus plunges into “chaos and confusion” (methinks a bit of a hyperbole, Shelly?).

This must happen because we are mockers. We are playacting in our own little country, following the national players in every way. We know we are playacting because big daddy has to “interfere” and get things back in order. (Bhoe, boy, like go you have more “interfering” yet to do.)

But we play games that are too big, that are beyond our little minds' comprehension: politics, government, democratic representation. And the result is nothing short of laughable, scornful, embarrassing and abysmal. We are shaping the world in the pattern of disorder, wildly and wilfully.

On Thursday, a few people will trickle into the JFK auditorium to vote, and a council will be elected. Many of the same faces will be around for another year. You can be sure of another hot story this time next year.