Unconstitutionally Removed

By Gemma Bain-Thomas

After thirty (30) years of public service and having attained the highest office in the Public Service of Grenada, Gemma Bain-Thomas was purportedly transferred by the Head of State, the Governor-General from a constitutionally protected position to one created specifically for her. All this for the purpose of political expediency.

 

But instead of accepting her fate, she fought back.

 

For the first time, Bain-Thomas tells her story.  She catalogues her childhood life in a little-known village in Grenada, a small island in the Caribbean, all the way up to attaining the Office of Secretary to the Cabinet. She provides the details of her removal from Office, in a manner deemed unconstitutional by the High Court of Grenada and the Organisation of Eastern Caribbean States (OECS) Court of Appeal.

 

In Unconstitutionally Removed, Bain-Thomas carefully unpacks her experiences in the court system, supported by the original arguments presented by her Attorney, the State Attorneys, and opinions and judgments which were delivered during that five-year period.

 

Unconstitutionally Removed shines a spotlight on what can happen when public administrators do not adhere to the constitution preferring to abuse power in a most unjust and inhumane manner.

 

Bain-Thomas successfully argues that we must hold public officials and public institutions accountable for actions inconsistent with the constitution and shows that justice can be achieved with enough perseverance; even when the odds are stacked against you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gemma Bain-Thomas
• Release date: Oct 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9789769635517

Book preview

1 Childhood, Upbringing and Education

‘Not Born with a Silver Spoon’

People who have had dealings with the public service and other citizens of Grenada may recognize my name or know me personally. Some may consider that I have accomplished a lot in my lifetime; but I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth.

Born in the mid-1960s in the village of Dehar, in the parish of St. David, Grenada, I had very little when I was young. I credit all my successes to caring and devoted parents, reliance on my God Jehovah, my own hard work, support of family members and a few caring neighbours.

St. David, in the southeastern part of Grenada, is the fourth largest parish on the island. Referred to as ‘the Virgin Parish’, it is the only parish without a town. Ringed by spectacular bays and inlets like Petit Bacaye, Bacolet Bay, La Sagesse and Petit Trou, the parish boasts of a collection of small, secluded beaches. The community is supported by agriculture, especially spice cultivation, fishing and the trades.

Being the tenth child in a family of eleven children, in a relatively underdeveloped community, with widespread poverty, life was not always easy. Even with this large family, my Mom, who has since departed, took into her care the two sons of my aunt, who had moved to Trinidad in search of better days. She also took in my Uncle’ daughters after his death. Along the way, many others resided in our humble home - my nephew, my cousin whose Mom had migrated and the daughter of an unfortunate lady in the village. It was a large extended family with many mouths to feed!!!

My Dad, now deceased, a farmer and carpenter, who advanced to be a builder; and my mother, a housewife and then businesswoman (shopkeeper), struggled daily to satisfy the primary demands of such a large family. Impacted by the crisis of 1974, our parents grappled to place food on the table, keep basic services, purchase school uniforms and textbooks, pay bus fares and provide clothing and entertainment.

Despite the tough economic, financial and social times, our parents insisted that we put our God first, attend school and obtain an education. As children, we cooperated to the best of our capabilities. A devoted missionary couple—The Walkers—befriended and cherished us, ensuring we always had something decent to wear to attend church meetings on a Sunday. The meetings were held in the downstairs of our house.

The village of Dehar was seldom noticed, but the residents were exceptional with their ways of life and tell-tale stories. Amos, whom everybody feared, asserted that he killed a man in Trinidad before coming back to Grenada. He kept what he said was a ‘mounted cock’ [a cock with extraordinary powers], which startled the daylight out of us until a man from a neighbouring village captured, slaughtered, cooked and ate the cock. Joyce, originally from Carriacou, moved into the area and was in the middle of the constant strife and melee.

At the center of Dehar were the Hercules, the Louisons, the Bains, Ma Grace and her family, Ma Julia and her family, Ma Bridget and her family and Cousin Uriel and his family. Mrs. Hercules affectionately called ‘Teree’ and her husband were very supportive of our family especially during our school years and the tough economic times. We could rest assured of a shirt to start the school year, bus fees from time to time and an occasional ride in Mr. Hercules’ car.

‘To To Whom’ was an aged man, whose family lived just behind our house. We lived on lands purchased from him. A slinger mango tree sat on the boundary, but we dared not pick the mangoes. One time, ‘To To Whom’ caught my brother on the mango tree and feigned cutting it down with him on it.

Village life was sometimes fun and sometimes dreaded. Growing up, we played hide and seek among ourselves at home, went for moonlit walks with our parents, played marbles and sang in the moonlight in Ma Grace’s yard, skipped with a rope called ‘bruiser leg’ obtained from the nearby hedges, played Moral, dodge the ball, pick up, roundups, Chinese skip, hop scotch, cricket with a ball made from melted plastic bags called ‘compo’ and football in the road.

We fished in the nearby river and bathed in ‘Club’ and ‘Karo’ Basins. Daily visits during school break to ‘Club’ aroused the wrath of our parents and would lead to a severe licking. Notwithstanding, the next day, we all went back to ‘Club’ only to receive another flogging at home. One of my sisters actually fell over the bridge about thirty feet high and everybody wondered how she survived. Today, she is a medical doctor practicing in the United States of America.

We hated the frequent confrontations among the villagers. There were fights, conflicts, stealing, intruding in one another’s affairs. A popular activity was the brewing of mountain dew, a declared illegal rum, resulting in high alcohol consumption and its effects. Many of the villagers made regular trips to the Magistrate Court in Central St. David; their constant refrain being ‘courthouse is for who could lie the most’.

My siblings and I attended the nearby St. Dominic’s Roman Catholic School; one of the largest on the island in terms of student population. With the school situated a mile and a half from where we lived, it was fun walking back and forth; climbing John Dick Hill, going around the road to the post office and provoking the post mistress; who, once we arrived, would watch us and say ‘no mail’. Sometimes, we went through Laura, and raided stinking toe and other fruits on Mr. Rush’s estate. On the way we teased ‘Board Gun’ incurring the wrath of his children, and harassed the little, old lady, living alone in a small, wooden house. We also shared stories about loogaroos, largablest and the mermaid in the river.

The road to and from school was the same route my Mom walked on a regular basis to bring our lunch, as occasionally we left home with little for breakfast and no lunch bags. Whilst at the school, she ensured we ate and then gathered all the containers before returning home. Occasionally, we trekked back home, up John Dick Hill, ate our lunches and went back to school, down John Dick Hill and up again after school.

In the late 1950s, our father was baptized as a Jehovah’s Witness. With Catholicism rooted in the community, his acceptance of a different faith aroused the wrath of some of the villagers who were mostly Roman Catholics. Our mother remained a Roman Catholic. As part of their anti-Jehovah’s Witness views many villagers said of my father that his children’s education would be compromised, they would not be able to attend a good school or to find decent jobs.

My dad became an elder in the local congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses and went on to provide dedicated service for forty years until his death in September 1994. He contributed to building up his village; but with his firm beliefs and principles took no part in the politics of the day. He taught us to do the same, advocating that we serve our God, work to the best of our capacities, even if we end up in high governmental positions like Daniel, Joseph and Nehemiah of Bible times; but take no part in the politics. With the exception of our mother, our family never aligned to any political party or voted in the national elections.

Our main asset as children was our natural abilities. In those times the villagers spoke of us as being ‘bright’. We were good readers. As a Jehovah’s Witness, our dad always had books, magazines and other literature available for reading at home. Attendance at meetings was compulsory, and regular reading took place there. That put us one stride ahead in the community and the school.

On account of our level of intelligence, and the fact that we were consistently at the top of our class, some of the villagers became resentful and actually despised us. Our successes at the common entrance exams to attend the Anglican High School in St. George, the parish with the main town, produced more contempt. We formed the impression that some of our neighbors were not happy to see us climb the ladder of success.

At every stage, there were attempts to block or check our educational advancement. In one instance, someone at the primary school we attended, deliberately wrote in the age of one of my sisters on the school register to beyond that prescribed for writing the common entrance exam. In another case, my sister’s name was the only one not announced, when the list of successful common entrance pupils was read out by a schoolteacher. When my twin sisters and I passed the common entrance examination in the same sitting, some of the villagers attributed it to obeah or our family invoking supernatural forces to govern and regulate the results. Thereafter, at every step of our educational progress, there were villagers who expressed devious and absurd reasons for our achievement.

I, along with two others of my sisters, started secondary school in 1976, two years after the national crisis of 1974. Five of us were attending the Anglican High School at the same time, and one had already graduated. The first three of my sisters performed with excellence. The Principal, Mr. H.D. Baptiste, therefore expected much from the three new entrants. According to him, ‘the previous set of Bain was a gain; I hope this set won’t be a pain’. Such high expectations forced us into the spotlight.

Our parents toiled to furnish daily requirements and make ends meet. After the 1974 crisis, the construction boom petered out and my dad could not get employment in his field.