There were something over twenty thousand people in the vast hall. The crowd chanted his name. The crowd wordlessly roared. The crowd would not stop roaring, though there were some people who just stood and wept, their faces contorted in a damp rapture. The senator, hunched and rumpled, walked to the podium and raised his fist in the air. Twenty-three times he said ‘thank you’ and raised his arms and tried to start to speak but the crowd would not let him speak – they howled their love.
I was at the back but not at the very back. Everybody leaned forward, focused on the senator, except for the one man behind me. He leaned against the wall. He had no notable characteristics – ‘bland’ one would almost say. He showed no enthusiasm but no antagonism either, he seemed detached, uninvolved, insouciant, a sardonic smile on his face – like a Somerset Maugham character in a white suit, smoking a cigarette and sipping a highball.
‘…Together, my friends, we have begun a political revolution to transform this country, and that revolution – our revolution – continues. Election days come and go but the struggle of the people to create a government which represents all of us, a government based on the principles of economic, social, racial and environmental justice – that struggle continues …’
The man leaning on the back wall turned to me.
‘You know his annual income?’
‘Less than most?’
‘$205,000 between him and his wife.’
There was a pause.
‘You’re saying he’s not part of “the club”?’
He smiled.
‘You’re saying he’s not going to win?’
‘I’m saying we are not going to win. Remember the lyrics of the song that Ryuichi Sakamoto released in 1987?’
I paused – ‘”Born in a corporate dungeon where people are cheated of life”?’
He smiled – ‘Me too.’
Barnaby McBryde
I was at the back but not at the very back. Everybody leaned forward, focused on the senator, except for the one man behind me. He leaned against the wall. He had no notable characteristics – ‘bland’ one would almost say. He showed no enthusiasm but no antagonism either, he seemed detached, uninvolved, insouciant, a sardonic smile on his face – like a Somerset Maugham character in a white suit, smoking a cigarette and sipping a highball.
‘…Together, my friends, we have begun a political revolution to transform this country, and that revolution – our revolution – continues. Election days come and go but the struggle of the people to create a government which represents all of us, a government based on the principles of economic, social, racial and environmental justice – that struggle continues …’
The man leaning on the back wall turned to me.
‘You know his annual income?’
‘Less than most?’
‘$205,000 between him and his wife.’
There was a pause.
‘You’re saying he’s not part of “the club”?’
He smiled.
‘You’re saying he’s not going to win?’
‘I’m saying we are not going to win. Remember the lyrics of the song that Ryuichi Sakamoto released in 1987?’
I paused – ‘”Born in a corporate dungeon where people are cheated of life”?’
He smiled – ‘Me too.’
Barnaby McBryde
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