I WONDER HOW many people take a little time out to consider whether what they are doing is a true and honest reflect of themselves or whether they are living to please their friends, work colleagues and society.
Some years ago when the Rastafarian movement first came to Barbados, its devotees would cry shame on those who they deemed as being in Babylon and living false lives. While I do not support the Rastafarian philosophy, I must admit there is a lot of merit in some of what they espouse. There are many of us in Barbados who are very false and totally paper people.
I write about this situation because I must say up front that I was one of the false people, a man who certainly played to the gallery, until events and circumstances brought me to my senses. I started climbing the ladder and I felt that the material things in life, the ability to eat at fine restaurants and to travel were all the passwords to success. My new-found friends, the things money could afford and by extension it would have allowed, new people shouting me out and the places and things to which I was invited meant that I did not have to look back on and or deal with those whom I grew up with. Our worlds became very separate and distinct.
What we often deem as success can bring some strange habits and behaviours into our lives. So the type of vehicle I drove, the one my wife drove, the ability to give my children their own vehicles while in sixth form at secondary school and the other at the Barbados Community College was something I felt proud defending.
It eased my pressure of having to take them here and there; it gave them a sense of independence and self-confidence. I have no doubt that it did do those things and, on reflection, I am glad they had the opportunity from a young age to experience certain things in life; travel, eating out and having their own transportation. I hoped that later on in life they were not tempted by any such things.
But, my climb up the ladder was a real lesson in exposing the monkey’s tail. I was never satisfied. I got a house. But that was too small and in the wrong location. I was able to move to a better and bigger one in a desired location. It made little sense having neighbours too close to disturb me or, for that matter, my disturbing them.
There it was, the lovely hillside house on a sprawling lot with four vehicles in the carport. A swimming pool meant that I did not have to go to the beach when the sea is rough but I could get a swim after working out with my personal trainer or going into my gym. I abhorred travelling economy since it was a total inconvenience, especially with these early check-in times. Being in first class allowed me access to certain benefits.
Fortunately, I joined the right associations which did not attract the riff-raff and allowed me to build on my contacts and connections. I went to meetings every Thursday and dutifully paid my subscriptions and various dues. I held office and travelled to a number of conventions. I knew how to raise the toast. My world expanded. I soon got elected to a number of boards. I was blessed.
Today, I still think I’m blessed. But I am also grateful that my eyes have been opened. I have reconnected with my roots. My friends and family whom I had bypassed and forgotten on the highway to glory, I have come to realise it is no sense ignoring them.
If I get a puncture or two on that highway there may be no auto rescue for me, but to them I must turn. Two things made me very conscious of knowing how I really am and why I must be humble and sincere.
On my march to the mountain top, I took a fall because of illness. It was a protracted illness which was very costly. I went overseas and during my hospitalisation shared a room with three others. One man was poor but a war veteran who had strong beliefs. He upheld certain morals, and even though not a Rasta, behaved very much like one, a white one. He was ready to meet his maker at any time, he felt proud that he had done his country and his community proud by his service in the military and more so in the community on his return from the frontlines.
He had a small house which he wished his grandchildren to inherit. It was because of his kindness that the community had raised money for his treatment in hospital. One of the surgeons reached out to help because of his kindness to the said surgeon and his family when the chips were down for them. He had served as an executive in a company but after a decade gave it up to serve his community. He was extremely proud of his family, folks of humble descent who worked average jobs, but who also contributed to the upliftment of their communities.
People came by bus and train and however they could to wish him well and pray for his recovery. They were black and white, young and old.
It was there that I realised the big house, the fancy cars or the big job were not the be all and end all. It was about family, friends, people you grew up with, and people you work with regardless of what station in the company they occupy. It meant being sincere at church by not frowning on those less fortunate, by not giving to those who were in need; by seeing and not seeing. I also realise that within my trappings many people who smiled with me would otherwise not do so.
It is all about being truly honest, sincere and remaining humble. It is not about exploitation for whatever cause or means which is what a lot of us do in our time of need.
