ORIN GORDON
Today I pack my Georgie Bundle. I've left the editors's chair at this venerable newspaper, 99 years old this week. I've worked with some great people–the ink men and women, the ad guys, editors, reporters, photographers. Many who help put out a paper don't get bylines or public recognition. I'll miss the subs. Mark T, Mark W, Marvin, Cherill, Roxanne, Ryan, Natasha, Allison, Veda, Tamika, Taye, everyone.
I won't be privy to the intelligent opinionatedness and scandalous laugh of Vidya, the Imaging Technician, and the gait of her colleague Pelham, who glided/sauntered across the newsroom like the most chilled dude on the planet.
One of the most precious qualities in the news business is industry. Shaliza, Abraham, Rhondor and Joel among others ensured that we had plenty of that. The San Fernando team Hazel, Gennifa, Sharlene, Radhica, Sascha, Kevon, Rishi allied small office togetherness with an admirable willingness to learn and grow. Kevon is way too competitive in the north/south cricket matches, and the north needs desperately to regain the bragging rights.
Outside the Guardian, I'm excited by the storytelling nous of Akash Samaroo and the all-round excellence of Jabari Fraser. They're going to have outstanding careers in journalism. HR Departments will surely see past Jabari's overly long tresses.
Overall though, the quality of news reporting across our industry isn't good enough, and we have to forget rivalries and join forces to raise it.
The younger generation already have excellent role models–Sunity Maharaj, Tony Fraser, Wesley Gibbings, Lenny Grant, Anthony Wilson, Judy Raymond, Omatie Lyder, the just-retired Dominic Kalipersad and my good comrade Jones P Madeira, who always had a kind word when the heat was on. How we link the two generations is something I'd be more than willing to help MATT do.
But enough about thoroughbreds–I want to talk a bit about burro behaviour. We're in the age of the professional loudmouth, armed with hot air, dubious professional ethics, too much time and a keyboard. And in the case of Inshan Ishmael, a TV show as well.
It was predictable that he would claim credit for my personal decision, made long ago. Inshan's big achievement was to corral 59 people by one reporter's count in protests on the shoulder of highways two Fridays running. And for all the sound and fury the bother expended, at no time did he mobilise more than a few dozen people, including kids who had no choice in the matter.
He seemed to spend as much time insulting fellow muslims who didn't join him. There was quiet contact from Islamic leaders and muslim friends who despite being angry about Kevin's column, told us that Ishmael did not speak for them.
It's a reflection of our reporting culture that we amplified him. One news outlet even reported the second protest as ongoing an hour before it actually started.
Newsrooms have teams. There's an editor responsible for each section of the paper, including OpEds. If I did not see the offending piece prior to publication, I should have, or should have been presiding over a system that red-flagged it for my attention. I'm ultimately responsible, so the heat was applied appropriately.
The image in my head today is of Keshorn winning a medal, arms raised before the crowd, and Inshan coming out of nowhere, snatching the flag and doing a victory lap.
The man is a hashtag waiting to happen. #isinshandodat.
He'd called on my office line early on. I didn't know who he was, but I was prepared to take my lumps.
We spoke a good 10, maybe 15 minutes. He wasn't interested in what I had to say, just threats. He had called Norman Sabga, he vented, and demanded that I be fired. The conversation ended something like this...
INSHAN: I recorded everything you said, eh? I gon play it on my show
ME (TAKEN ABACK): Ah, okay (or some such startled reaction)
INSHAN: Eh-heh, you just gave me your permission
ME: I did nothing of the sort. You need to indicate that it is an on-the-record journalistic conversation BEFORE it starts, at the beginning
INSHAN: I'm doing an investigative report
ME: Well I wasn't exactly trying to avoid you or hide from you
He gave out my office and mobile numbers on his TV show. What followed was predictable.
In consultation with my editors, I independently made the call on the two apologies issued to the muslim community.
I've not responded to the gentleman until now. Time to expose his unethical behaviour.
I have no idea what Norman Sabga made of the brouhaha, because we never spoke about it. We had maybe 3, maybe 4 conversations in my 18 months there. One was on more analytical business coverage. Another was more robust, and it's going to stay between us. I give him credit for never once interfering editorially. From our limited contact, I found him to be likeable.
So I gone. By choice, having worked my full notice in August. Bittersweet, but overall satisfied that it's time. Hopefully I'll have more balance away from the sometimes 13 hour daily grind of newspaper editing. Lose some pounds. Resume running. Stop eating shrimp roti at my desk while reading emails. Not work every single day over the Christmas period.
Today I'm saying goodbye to the team and to Michelene the cleaning lady, whom I sometimes beat to the office despite her 7 am starts. I'll probably get a bit emotional.
If my sparring partner wants to snatch my flag and do a victory lap, go brave bredrin.