Who am I?

Satiricus enjoyed the letters column of the dailies. Even the concocted ones in the MuckrakerKN and the Stabber News from the stable of opposition scribblers. They were always good for a laugh. But every now and then, one came from a name that was recognisable. Like the one that the Naga Man scripted to the Stabber News. It revealed a man who had some serious issues about his identity. But even to naive Satiricus, the letter didn’t sound right. Naga Man’s pose as an ‘everyman’ who would appeal to every Guyanese was so palpably concocted that Satiricus wondered who the heck this fellow was.
Luckily, his wife’s niece, maid to the opposition benches, had filched the Naga Man’s diary for the night. Satiricus plunged in to see if his question would be answered. He was in luck.
Dear Diary,
Ah just send off a letter to the press to saltsoap dem people who gon vote in the next elections. Ah got to be careful. When ah was wid PPPEE, ah play de Coolie card. It wasn’t difficult. I like fuh drink rum; ah like fuh cuss; and ah like fuh beat me wife. Ah is a real Coolie man. Ah used fuh sing me song and beat table in rum shop all over Guyana – but especially in Berbice.
But when ah didn’t get fuh be president because Jagdesh seh ah was a fool who just talk, ah walk out. Me friend Rum Jhaat tell me if ah join he KFC party I gon turn vice president. But he tell me I got to stop playing de Coolie card. Now ah look at de Jhaat and nearly drop dead.
If anybody in Guyana was Coolie, was de Jhaat. De man could drink mo’ than me, cuss mo’ than me, and God knows he does beat he wife mo’ than me. So ah ask he how de arse ah gon stop being a Coolie.
(Sorry Dear Diary, ah had to tek a drink. Ah still feel pi55ed when ah remember how he tell me ah got to stop being a Coolie. Ah love me daaru too bad.)
So he tell me ah got fuh play de game. “Tell dem you ‘Guyanese’,” he tell me. “We could still drink we rum, cuss all de time and beat we wife,” the Jhaat tell me. “You gonna have to talk the talk; not walk the walk.” The Jhaat had started fuh talk like that ever since he start fuh carry news to the U.S. embassy. Was always, “gonna this” and “gonna that”.
So Dear Diary, ah write de letter. Ah tell everybody ah is not really Indian. Well dat was not a lie, you know. Ah is ah Coolie and not Indian. Indian is dem people who does go to Mandir and Masjid and suh on. Ah ain’t got time fuh dat stupidness.
So ah hope ah gon get some vote in Linden next time, since ah change me tune.
(Later Dear Diary. Ah got fuh tek a drink. Once you a Coolie, yuh always a Coolie. When ah done, ah gon cuss me grandson and beat me wife if she na cook kakabelly.)