Dark Days of Summer

I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but there hovers in the eastern skies a fearful pitch black cloud rather reluctant to let the sun take a peek even for a split second. It was an unusually dark day with headlights still turned on as late as 9 that morning.

Earlier, I was ready to leave it as just another overcast day when the rain takes a steady drizzle from dawn to dusk. But a silent voice kept saying there’s something rather eerie about this day. But, I wasn’t sure what to make of it as yet.

The next day, the same cloud was still hugging the eastern skies accompanied by a lazy drizzle that must have been dripping all night too. I dismissed it as just another tropical drizzle that hits these isles every uneven year.

As I sip my first cup of coffee, the newscaster announced the release of more private and public sector employees. Nearly half of government employees were laid-off as of the close of business the previous day. I recalled the black clouds in the east and the steady drizzle that brought bad tidings of the hard times that finally descended in these isles.

The tourism industry contracted even further, half of its employees terminated and sent home. The dozens of cruise boats that once littered their way through our lagoon have also stopped making their rounds. The strange noise that exit the exhaust pipes of jetskis have also been turned eerie quiet by a substantial drop in tourism.

The most maligned apparel industry that now supports the local treasury has downsized considerably. Only five of the 25-plus factories remained behind. The rest have left the island headed to friendlier investment venues. The ripple effects of the closure of a majority of apparel factories included the shut down of support businesses such as shipping and the return of privately leased land to the owners. The factories that once was humming with activities have also turned into ghost towns.

Government budget analysts revisiting spread sheets predictably were discouraged to know that revenue generation declined substantially. Daily collections can’t even support the $600,000 per hour in government salaries for more than 4,000 employees. It had to resort to reduction in force. Subsequently, many redundant public sector employees had to be released from their jobs. Though released from work, most would get up in the morning, prepare to go to work ending up in coffee shops where a rainbow of hopeful rumors are exchanged and regurgitated, each new day.

The substantial contraction in tourism and apparel production also changed an entire lifestyle or livelihood of the indigenous people. Most had to return to a communal lifestyle where the family clan walks the extra mile to provide for EVERYONE however small such share may be. Former government employees without the basic skills can’t possibly use their well-earned trophy of redundancy to start a small business. Thus, the need to start all over again, including a return to subsistence lifestyle of farming and fishing.

If anything, the dark days of summer that I saw in my dream is a tale of our collective failure to learn to live in both good and bad times. It also rendered a crystal clear picture that we must say adios to our bureaucratic culture and begin anew with the more promising and lasting investment in entrepreneurship. Si Yuus Maase`!