My name is ANR Robinson and I was the prime minister of Trinidad & Tobago during the bloody coup attempt of 1990. My clearest memory of 1990 was the manner in which the Red House was invaded by these men. They seemed to me to be gardeners, people who were rather ordinary—but later I saw they had guns. And then I heard them making this cry, “Allah ackbar” or something of the sort.
The worst moment was when one or two of them proceeded to brutalise me, kick me and so on, call my name in a most offensive manner; and tie me up. I tried to get away but the bounds by which I was attached cut deeply into me! And I had to stop. I think some of the marks are still with me, faintly, but they are there.
When they entered, they were brutal in their behaviour, offensive, vicious—calling me, “Robbie!” and threatening to do me all sorts of wicked things—at the end, they were protecting me and calling me, “Mr Prime Minister”. It was memorable, the transformation; and I don’t doubt it was because of my order to “Attack with full force!” which both surprised and amazed them; and also made them full of admiration.
I hadn’t rehearsed my order but I was prepared for it. I had made up my mind that whatever they ordered me to do, I would do the opposite! And I knew it would involve the loss of my life. So I gave my life to God. And when the man with a gun in his hand held the microphone to my mouth and said, “Tell the troops to lay down their arms because the government has fallen!” I had such revulsion in me at this idea that my immediate response was, these are torturers and murderers! “Attack with full force!”
I’m well aware that, for many, I am the personification of the events of 1990, the good, the bad and the ugly, and am not surprised it is so. Some give their lives to the improvement of others; some give their lives to the detraction of others. And country means nothing to them. It is not at all hard to bear. I brush it off. I bear no resentment at all.
Some time after, two or three of the soldiers told me, “We are going to shoot them and say they were running away”. I said, “No, let the law take its course. Next year (1991) is a general election. The people will speak. When the people spoke the way they did, I was crushed! I did not return to Parliament for weeks; and then, from the exalted position of prime minister, I sat way back, almost in a secluded position.
When I heard that one of the then leaders of the opposition had said, “Wake me up when it’s over” and the other, that it was a matter between Robinson and the Muslimeen, I said, “No, this is not a country at all!” I’ve been really disturbed by the lack of even involvement in the memorial at the Red House. How could you forget events which threatened the very root of our existence as a constitutional democracy?
When I became president, I looked forward to being out of the hurly-burly of the politics. I was dead wrong. [When Parliament was hung and the country had no prime minister], I did not want to touch the matter. I asked Mr Panday and Mr Manning to decide between them. They told me, “We want you to decide. Whatever you do, we will accept”. My decision was made against the background of what is stated in our constitution: moral and spiritual values. I wasn’t accusing anybody of not having moral and spiritual values.
Psychologically, spiritually, I am prepared for mortality. I know it will come; when it will come, I don’t know. I have put my life in the hands of God. I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I was not always so strong in my faith. It is only when I ceased from public life.
People have said I didn’t care about the lives of others, only myself. Well, then I didn’t care about my life either. I cared about Trinidad & Tobago. The country, for me, came first. It has always been my motivation in my decision-making throughout my public life: Country comes first!
Read a longer version of this feature at www.BCRaw.com