Somebody is lying! - TnT Mirror.com

Achong, I am told though, responded in his usual manner in the tea room, if you know what I mean, and Joseph, although he gave what might have been a straight story (by whose standards?), looked his usual frightened self.

It must be something about his face.

As usual, Manning has maintained a story silence on the issue, which is probably good for his government because the whole town already knows what comes out of his mouth when he opens it.

But what is it about Paul, this ex-everything fellow from an almost unknown place called Oropouche that made it important for politicians from the three sides of the divide -- PNM, UNC and Muslimeen -- to know and have had contacts with him?

Oropouche is about the deadest place in Trinidad.

Nothing happens in sleepy Oropouche; no real development has taken place in Oropouche for donkey years, old-stagers will tell you.

The benches I sat on when I attended the South Oropouche R.C. School must be still there, such is the neglect of that village which, according to legend, was cursed by a Catholic priest many, many moons ago.

One of the reasons, sceptics say, why the national football team lost to USA in the World Cup play-off finals on November 19, 1989 was because the then Fyzabad MP Arthur Sanderson made the players stop off in Oropouche on their way to the game on that fateful day from their camp in Forest Reserve, and the Catholic priest there at the time came out and touched (blessed?) them.

I don’t believe in mumbo jumbo, but if you ever get the opportunity to read up on the history of Oropouche, you may well believe all those stories.

So when I heard that a man from Oropouche was “the big man in the business”, to steal Iwer’s newest sobriquet, I knew that something had to be wrong somewhere.

So far, I am being proven correct.

Everything about Vernon Paul seems to be wrong, if you ask me.

Meanwhile, I have never received so many calls about a story for quite a while.

Everybody calling since Sunday morning to tell me that Guardian printed an old story on their front page dressed up in new clothes and also to inform me that Mirror was way ahead of the pack … as if I don’t already know that.

One man linked a Fyzabad gun story with Paul, another called Venezuela’s President Hugo Chavez’s name.

Bank accounts, outside girlfriends were thrown into the brew.

Columbian gunrunners and Latin American guerrillas also passed in the rush.

Who’s who in the cocaine trade and which politician deals in drugs became part of some of the conversations about Paul, to which I was privy.

If Special Branch wants to know the real story about Paul, they should replay the tape from my phone and they will hear everything.

Me?

I just listened.

I learnt a long time ago that when elephants are fighting, ants must stand aside, lest they get trampled.

But I also learnt that many an issue might not be so complicated after all, especially if you are catching your tail to come up with the answer.

So, after all was said, even though I admit we have not yet heard the last of Paul, not by a wide margin, I stood in my shoes and wondered.

Who or what really is this Paul fellow, I asked myself.

What really is his story?

See me trying to unravel all these complicated stories and theories that I was fed.

Ah bus’ me brains, ah bus’ me brains; ah get up and take a walk and did other things.

Ah take ah break …

Then I got back to the matter at hand.

And you know what: the answer was so simple.

When you look at this entire Vernon Paul affair, one thing sticks out like a sore thumb.

What is it?

Forget all the fancy theories and conspiracies that everybody is trying to paint about Paul and his stories.

The answer is as simple as kissing hands: Somebody’s lying.

Yes, believe me when I tell you it as simply as that: Somebody’s lying.