The wicked attack on the Father of the Nation, Sir Lynden Pindling today in the ‘Toilet Paper’ on the eve of the ascension of the First Black African-American to the Presidency, Mr. Barack Obama, and on the birthday of Civil Rights Leader Martin Luther King, spoke volumes of the minds running media in the Bahamas today.
What we saw in the ‘Toilet Paper’ today was another attack on the people of this country. And yes, YET AGAIN, the PLP has lost their voice to defend the Father of this Nation, or the people for that matter. The ‘VICKED’ assault came as no surprise to Bahamas Press however.
The poeple on Shirley Street are mad because the white community in the Bahamas never accepted them as Bahamians, and the black community never TRUSTED them because of their constant WICKED ATTACK AGAINST their leaders.
Eileen Carron the publisher of the ‘Toilet Paper’ should be ashame of her WICKED attack on the Nation’s Father, particularly at this time in world history. But you know, when some people could find their bedridden parent burned to a crisp in her own bed, the people of this country should be asking, how can anyone TRUST THAT WICKED DAUGHTER?
Bahamas Press reponds to the ‘Toilet Paper’ today, as we found a fitting response for the attack on the Father of the Nation. And since he cannot speak for himself today, we who carry the SPIRIT OF SIR LYNDEN PINDLING respond to EILEEN CARRON in the words of writer MAYA ANGELOU, the great Afro-American poet, ‘STILL I RISE’ !
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
© Maya Angelou, 1978.