The Bahamas, at the dawning of 1967, was once the hope of and envy of the Caribbean. This raises the essential question: What kind of hope?
This hope, more than the hope of material prosperity, although that was part of it; and more than the promise of equality and liberty, although that, too, was an important part of it. And more than safety and security, precious as these things are. The deeper hope of The Bahamas at the dawning of 1967, was its vision of what humanity was and would it could have become–individually and as a nation.
It was through that vision that all the material and social promise of The Bahamas took its fire and light and its voice that called to men and women within its own borders and those Bahamians who lived in other climes throughout the world.
The Bahamas, at the dawning of 1967 was a great idea, which was rich and pregnant with promise and it is such ideas that move the brave new world, that was supposed to give birth to the open the possibility of meaning in the lives of Bahamians.
It would appear that the ideas that were alive, rich, and pregnant with promise became somewhat like the dream that was the subject of Langston Hughes’ poem, that asks the questions,
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
What has happened to the Bahamian hopes and dreams?