Two years after Gérard A. Besson's passing on 25 July 2023, Caribbean History Archives, a blog that he created for those interested in Trinidad and Tobago history, has crossed the 2 million page view mark.
He would be so pleased about that! Thank you, Jerry, for bringing so much knowledge and entertainment to people from all over the world with the books you wrote, the museums you created, and with this blog.
The book is available in local bookstores and on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
(Not all these photos are in it, we added a couple from our archives).
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| Frederick Street then and now |
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| Red House then and now |
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| Police HQ then and now |
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| King Street (now Independence Square) looking East |
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| Top of Frederick Street then and now |
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| Chacon Street with Trinity Cathedral then and now |
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| Queen's Park Hotel (now an office building) then and now |
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| Government House (now President's House) then and now |
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| Marine Square (now Independence Square) looking South then and now |
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| Globe Theatre then and now |
An Essay by Gérard A. Besson
During the colonial era in Trinidad and Tobago, several forms of indigenous behaviour as demonstrated by the Jamette society (Jamette from the French "diametre", meaning beyond the diameter of polite society) were proscribed against.
From the 1840's the beating of the drum was outlawed within the town limits, and later Cannes Brulées and Hosay were contained and suppressed wherever possible. Severe restrictions were placed on certain religious practices: the Shouters and Spiritual Baptists for example. So too cock-fighting and obeah, and of course the steel band was frowned upon and placed in opprobrium.
Amongst these so-called anti-social behaviours was included a form of gambling called whe-whe. Whe-whe was declared illegal with an Ordinance passed in 1888, the first of several attempts to stop this practice, described in the press as "pernicious ... and an evil."
Over the years, the restrictions on some of the above were to some extent either completely removed or considerably reduced. This has not been the case, however, for whe-whe. Instead, under the auspices of the National Lotteries Act and controlled by the National Lotteries Control Board, "Play Whe" was created as a replica of the original game, and is now accepted and enjoyed by a wide cross-section of the people of Trinidad and Tobago.
Whe-whe came to these islands with the indentured Chinese immigrants, perhaps as early as 1806. Significantly, Chinese immigration really began after Emancipation. Between 1853 and 1866 about 2,500 Chinese, mostly men, arrived to work on the estates as indentured labourers. During the mid-19th century, whe-whe took root and began to be assimilated into the creole culture. This took place as the Chinese gained freedom from their indentures and as Chinese shops began to appear all over the island.
Although at first whe-whe was played only by Chinese, it was soon assimilated into the general Trinidad life-style, among other factors because of the intermarriage of Chinese immigrants with non-Chinese locals. An ancient pastime, it was also known as "Chinapoo"; a numbers game played by intuition, superstition, dreams and caprice. It drew its financial support from the community into which it became implanted. By the 1920s, in formed an important part of the island's underground economy. For example, a Chinese shop-keeper would have had to extend credit to his customers and may have operated a whe-whe bank to offset his cash-flow difficulties by creating another income stream.
Whe-whe then gradually contributed to a sense of community. Through the process of acculturation it gave on the one hand to the society an added distribution of income and the possible access to cash and on the other hand absorbed the customs and belief systems of its host environment, comprised as it was of a wide variety of people from diverse racial origins and backgrounds.
No longer in its original form, it has been creolised, acquiring words (marks) like Jamette (#16: low class man or woman), Crapaud (#13: frog), Corbeau (#11: vulture), Coco Bay (#24: eye infection or leprosy, from the name of a bay at Chacachacare where there was once a leper colony). It has retained one Chinese word, albeit corrupted, Tie Pin, correctly T'ai P'ing (#12: Heavenly Kingdom).
A whe-whe "turf", as the yard or ground where the main activity takes place was called, was usually in a secured place in the high woods or in a clandestine spot. It might have been started by a person well known in the area, like the local shopkeeper, or might have been taken over after the demise of a former ''banker'', as this person was called. It might also have been inherited, staying in the hands of a single family for several years.
In any event, it required a considerable sum of money to guarantee a whe-whe bank, as bets were sometimes very large. A ''bank" was the money staked to be used to make payments on bets. Bankers usually declared the value of the bank to the markers or punters. Some banks were described as limited, some were unlimited.
The whe-whe banker, having established his turf, employed several markers or punters, sometimes called runners or travelling agents, who were deployed in various areas taking bets. They retained $6.00 on any $1.00 bet that won. Sometimes the bank would ''buss", i.e. it was forced to pay out more than it had taken in, in which case it paid only a percentage of the bets.
A banker may ''buss the mark" several times in the course of a day: at 10:30, 1:30, 4:30, or at 12 midnight.
At the selected time the banker gives a marker a mark: a strip of paper with a number on it, and the marker puts it on a tree or in a match box. The banker must never put the mark in his pocket, as this may be regarded as grounds for suspicion, and it must however remain a secret. Long ago, when the Chinese operated whe-whe, the mark would be suspended on a string from the ceiling of the shop. Preselected, this number may not be repeated or "dambled" more than once in any day, it is considered "dead". At the signal from the banker, a marker busses the mark by opening the paper and displaying the winning number.
When punters or markers collect marks from their clients they are "picking up punts". The commission earned by a marker is known as "waters". Markers who collect bets may be tempted to "cut the mark" by checking his lists to see how many people have played the same mark, and see how much cash has been involved for the day's play. He may decide to take a cut on each person's mark, reducing the bets that he takes to the banker. He, however, always makes sure to pay off the winners.
This "cutting the mark" is a somewhat risky undertaking, as the- banker may not take too kindly to this fraud. To safeguard against this a "list'' is made. A list is a sheet of paper on which marks are listed and the bets are entered. This is totalled and the marker/punter puts his symbol at the bottom (not his name). This list is handed into the banker. Marks are listed on the left side and the amounts on the right. A nominal sum of 4% is added to each bet on the list. This is the commission (“waters”) that markers earn. For example, if the bet is $100, he puts $104.
The game has acquired several terms to describe its various aspects, such as "mark-under'' or "mark-under-mark" or "pull-down". This is a strategy used by a banker to throw the players off. The mark played on Wednesday is played the following Wednesday at the same time. A banker is thought to be under a mark when it is observed that he plays that number on a particular weekday for more than one week.
A banker may try to outwit players by "pulling across a mark": he may play a number, e.g. 8, on Wednesday, and play it again on Tuesday of the following week, playing the mark a day earlier than the day he was under the mark.
A mark is dead when played in the morning, and cannot be played again that day, however it may be played the following day. ''Whappi" is a rare event which takes place when more than one bank in the same area plays the same number on the same day at the same time. To get a whappi is regarded as very good fortune.
The symbol of whe-whe is a drawing of the Chinaman jumbie, or Chinapoo. His anatomy is divided into some 36 segments, each marked with either mark partner or spirit numbers, depending on the chart. Originally Chinese characters were used, but as Chinese is very difficult to learn and pass on, the successors to the established banks or those setting up new ones proceeded to creolise the original Chinese ideograms, leaving only the original numbers.
Long ago this chart would belong to the Chinese banker and would be made available to punters/markers as an aid to divining the meaning of the dreams. These numbers all have names and these names and numbers are the marks. The derivation of the chart may have sprung from the Chinese belief in the currents, electrical, magnetic and psychic as described in the Yin and Yang philosophy. These currents flow through the universe, the human condition being a reflection of all this and echoes it in microcosm.
Whe-whe is drawn from an ancient belief system that seeks to interpret and to anticipate this grand plan. Its methods have to do with numerology, astrology, cabala, divining, nature cults and other systems linked to the Chinese lunar and solar calendars. Dreams and visions may thus be interpreted to dictate which mark should be played at what time.
It is interesting to note that unlike other forms of gambling, in whe-whe money is paid to develop a person's intuitive faculties by causing them to remember dreams, associate ideas, regard the significance of numbers and attempt to anticipate the coincidental. In the process of creolisation, whe-whe assimilated the folklore of Trinidad and Tobago, itself a syncretised amalgam of African, Spanish, French and Amerindian experiences, beliefs, myths and superstitions. "Rakes", that is observed events and various forms of gossip such as arguments and quarrels, the unfaithfulness of another's spouse or other deriving from the community, are all important to the informing of a choice of mark.
In the process of assimilation some marks have changed in name, for example Scorpion (1) became Centipede, Butterfly (14) became Money, and Carpenter (22) became Rat.
Over the years, markers/punters have become expert diviners and interpreters of dreams and readers of the "astral", the sole purpose being to second-guess the banker and in so doing earn more "waters" for themselves, and a wider circle of clients.
Each mark has a partner, and some, though not all, have spirits. Further, according to the rules of numerology, the value of a mark may be arrived at, by adding together its digits. For example, one may say that two is 2, 11 or 20; or that five is 5, 14, 23 or 32. Therefore, there are three twos and four fives on the chart, and you may decide to play all the twos or the fives, as the case might be.
The mark and its partner may be played together because they have the same meaning or may be interpreted similarly. They are “family", having in common the same association of ideas.
The mark and spirit are only represented in half of the 36 numbers. The intuition or hunch to play a mark may be supported by playing the partner of the mark and be further endorsed by playing the spirit as well. It is here that the subtle association of ideas informs the choice of mark, aided of course by the memory and the correct interpretation of dreams, hence the importance of recording dreams.
Various dreams relate to particular marks. According to one very old chart, if you dreamt of a fowl, you could play 26, 11,13 and 25: 26 being Fowl, 11 Corbeau, 13 Crapaud, 25 Morocoy. As a matter of interest, the partner of 26 is 8, Tiger, and its spirit is 27, Little Snake. Eleven's partner is the un-number 37 or Police, and when that mark buss, clear out the place. The spirit of 11 is 36, Cat Pan, which has sexual overtones. All of this may be perused in greater detail in the attached charts.
That the creation of a legal form of whe-whe in Play-Whe has brought this ancient game in from the cold may be regarded as yet another step in the process of cross-cultural assimilation of the peoples of Trinidad and Tobago. The tremendous interest that today's Play-Whe has generated demonstrates the extent to which the game, in its original form, had found a place in our national consciousness. There is no doubt that Play-Whe exercises the imagination, creating an interest in the process that associates ideas, encourages a regard for the meaning of numbers and the remembering of dreams. It is hoped that this little book will serve to bring a greater understanding of the game and to encourage you to record your dreams and to use them as inspiration to play and win.
May the subtle currents of Air, Earth, Water and Fire be with you.
When the British High Commissioner to Trinidad and Tobago called Gérard Besson in 2015 to find out more about the history of his residence, Jerry wrote "Hillside House" for him—an amusing piece that packages the facts he was able to find out about the property into a fictionalised dialogue. "The MG" referred to really exists—Gérard's green MGA.
“Why the name Maraval?” she wondered out loud, the MG gearing down as we passed the Country Club’s gates to take the turn into the Saddle Road.
“It may be Amerindian, Carib, as we like to say.”
“Really?”
“Perhaps. There is Macqueripe bay and Maracas bay and Mayaro on the east coast.”
“Are those Carib names?”
“Perhaps, no one knows for sure, we have lots of place names that remember a time before we were ‘discovered’.”
“And Maraval is one of those?”
“I think so.”
“And who lived there?” she asked, taking her hair away from her face and looking into the now almost derelict grounds of the club.
“That was once the home of the Valleton de Boissière family, they lived there from the 1820s to well into the 1930s. They owned almost the entire valley, all the way from the house, the clubhouse, which is where they lived, to La Seiva. The boundaries of the estate went up to the ridges, there and there, east and west. How about some doubles? Good for hangovers.”
“No, no, couldn’t stand it. Looks like rain, don’t you want to put the top up?”
“Naw, if it rains, it rains, we will get wet, and Maracas is wetter, don’t worry.”
“Ok, so tell me about them, the de Boissière’s, who were they?”
“French people who came to Trinidad in the late 18th century.”
“Were they what you call French Creoles?”
“Oh yes, very much so, especially so in their case.”
“Why especially?”
“Well, it’s a long story.”
“We have all day and I am all ears.”
“No you’re not, you have other charms. Let’s see. . .”
“You behave. What’s that house, up there?”
“Where?”
“The one with the tower, up there on the ridge.”
“Oh, that’s a house called Hillside, it’s where the British High Commissioner lives. It’s on Beaumont Road.”
“Was it a part of the estate?”
“Yes, the land was bought by Arthur Wight, all 26,000 square feet of it, in 1942, when Arnold de Boissière was selling off the estate.”
“Did he build the house?”
“Arthur Wight did. There were once two towers, they were meant to act as ventilators. It was said that there was an elaborate system of ducting that took hot air up and out. I think it may just have been a folly to make the house look like a castle on a mountainside.”
“It’s a charming house, it must have a spectacular view of the valley. Why Beaumont?”
“Jesuit school in Berkshire, the de Boissières boys were sent there. Valleton Avenue is named for the family, and Bergerac Road is for whence they come. Bergerac in the Perigord.”
“Oh yes, Perigord Road. You are a mine of information.”
“I try.”
“When did the Brits move into Hillside?”
“With Independence, I think, in 1962. The British government bought the house from the Inglefields. Harry Inglefield, called Jingles by his friends, had come out with the firm of auditors, Hunter, Smith and Earl. He bought it off Sir Gerald after his father died.”
“Sir Gerald?”
“He was Arthur Wight’s son, made knight bachelor for his contribution to industry and commerce.”
“It’s going to rain.”
“No, it will not. Arthur Wight was an interesting guy.”
“How so?”
“Well, he was the senior partner in a firm called Alstons, George Alston and Co. They were the biggest trading house in the period before Independence. It was started by George Alston in the 1880s.”
“And?”
“You sense a story there?”
“Yes, I do. I have come to know you Trinis, there is always some scandal, a little bacchanal, as you call it, in everything. Come on, spill the beans.”
“Well, it is said that old George had a touch of the tar brush, as they say.”
“Tar brush?”
“Well, a coloured mum and a Scottish father. Anyway, they were well off and he set up a cocoa store, an import-export business. But in those days it was difficult for a man like George Alston to do business here, institutionalized racial prejudice and all that, life in the colonies, you know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Well I am.”
“You’re so English.”
“How can I help that. Go on, what happened?”
“He went to London to handle his business there, where nobody cared about his cuticle, and hired Arthur Wight to look after his affairs here, where everybody cared.”
“You mean Arthur Wight was his front-man?”
“Oh much more than that, he was the main man.”
“The company did well, then.”
“Very. They became very powerful in local affairs.”
“It’s raining. Is that the way to the golf course?”
“Just a drizzle, it will pass. Yes, it’s called Moka. That was the other great estate in the Maraval valley.”
“What was the de Boissière estate called?”
“Champs-Élysées.”
“Why that name?”
“The original owner, the first Châtelaine, Rosa de Gannes de la Chancellerie, Marquise de Charras, received the original Spanish grant in 1784. She fancied it as a place for those chosen by the gods, where they would remain after death, to live a blessed and happy life. To indulge themselves in whatever employment they had enjoyed in life.”
“And was that the case?”
“For them, no. They lost it to the de Boissière’s by the opening decades of the 19th century.”
“Was there a second Châtelaine of Champs-Élysées?”
“Oh yes, Poleska de Boissière, she was the Grand Dame of Champs-Élysées, the last Grand Dame of Trinidad’s colonial society. It was at the height of the colonial era.”
“Were they very wealthy and powerful?”
“Powerful, yes, wealthy, not at all. Quite the contrary.”
“What do you mean?”
“The de Boissière’s had made their money in the slave trade and in money lending, mortgages and such like. When the slave trade came to an end in 1807 and all outstanding debts collected, what was left was the land. It had never really been planted up as a sugarcane estate. It passed to a young man who had other ideas. He went off to Edinburgh where he studied medicine. Upon graduating he joined the British army and was commissioned Surgeon Major. He saw action in the Crimean War, was at Balaclava, then at Calcutta, in time for the mutiny.”
“No, really?”
“Absolutely. Returning, he married his cousin, Poleska. She had been given the job, by the family, to find him a rich bride.”
“But, she. . .”
“Exactly. She knew that there was no money, but that did not bother her. He became a member of the local Legislature and practiced medicine for free while she went to work to make the estate pay.”
“What did she do? You said that it had never really functioned as a plantation.”
“Oh she sold the boulders from the river to the government to build various government buildings, amongst them the lunatic asylum at Sainte Anne. She also created several villages on the estate where she rented allotments, land, to the Indians who had served their five year indentureships on the nearby plantations. She had sons and daughters to educate. Not for her was the idle life of the other French Creole ladies. In fact, she never sought the company of the local French people.”
“No, whose company did she seek?”
“Why, the English, of course. She understood what colonialism was all about.”
“Which was?”
“Nepotism, of course. She would only entertain the governor and his immediate circle.”
“She was very exclusive.”
“Very. She even excluded her own family.”
“No. Really?”
“Yes, after the first governor every other one that followed came to her on Sunday evening for cocktails and dinner, it became a custom, maintained for some fifty years. She was seen as the most powerful, the most influential person in the colony.”
“Was she really?”
“I have no idea, but she educated her children in England, the boys at public schools, the girls at convents, then gave them a year on the continent to polish them, and eased her sons into positions in the civil service all over empire. She married the girls off to rich merchants and lived long enough to do much the same with her grandchildren.”
“What a woman. This is a lovely view. What a beautiful mountain road this is.”
“It was built by the Americans during the last war.”
“We are now in the clouds.”
“I think there will be a little rain.”
“I told you, what is that, is it an island?”
“Yes, that’s Saut d’Eau island, it is said that a terrible soukuant once lived there.”
“That sounds interesting. What is a soukuant?”
“It’s a spirit that sucks your energy, I’ll tell you about that another time.”
“Ok, so, tell me more about Madame Poleska.”
“She lived to a great age, well into her 90s, entertained visiting members of the royal household as well as their relatives, German princesses with unpronounceable names, Charles Kingsley, other travel writers, famous people like Colonel Lindbergh.”
“And her descendents?”
“One or two became famous. Not a few infamous. Her son Arnold became a Major, then acting Colonel. He was the highest-ranking West Indian officer serving on the Western Front. He was gassed, mentioned in dispatches. One grandson married an American heiress, it was said that he had the grace to die as his wife’s money ran out. Another, Sir Frank Messervy, received the surrender of a Japanese army in Burma. Another grandson married the daughter of a governor.”
“No, really.”
“These Trini boys are not easy, you know. Messervy served as Commander-in-Chief of the Pakistan Army.”
“And other members of the de Boissière family?”
“There is one very famous one. His story has a connection with that house that you admired just now, the one on the hill.”
“You mean where the British High Commissioner lives, the one that Arthur Wight built.”
“Yes. Oh, oh, here comes the rain.”
“I don’t mind it.”
“You will become transparent.”
“Just keep your eyes on the road. Tell me about that one.”
“He became our first Prime Minister.”
“No, really.”
“Yes. He was a relative of Dr. de Boissière, Poleska’s husband, he was a person much like George Alston.”
“What ever do you mean?”
“He was a black French Creole, his mother was a de Boissière.”
“Oh.”
“It was the way it was. The thing is, it was Poleska who adjudicated over the will that might have left him a small fortune.”
“A fortune that they never received, I see. Go on.”
“His name was Eric Williams, Dr. Eric Williams, a graduate of Oxford, an historian, the quintessential politician of the period of decolonisation. The 50s. He formed a political party, The People’s National Movement.”
“Oh yes. And?”
“Well, his principal opponent was Sir Gerald Wight, and the party that he was affiliated to, led, at one time. It was called the POPPG.”
“What was that?”
“I forget what the letters stood for, but it represented big business, big agriculture and thousands cane farmers.”
“And?”
“Well, they lost the key election. But the historical irony was that the General Secretary of the POPPG was one of Poleska’s grandsons, Michael Pocock.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. The historical irony was that Williams was a black man and Pocock and Gerald Wight were white. It was a conflict between the old order and the new and, the new order won, naturally.”
“Naturally.”
“I think that it is also ironic that the house that Sir Gerald’s father built should become the residence of the British High Commissioner for an independent Trinidad and Tobago, don’t you think?”
“Quite so. Look the sun is out, and there is Maracas. How about a bake and shark?”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“I’m sure you’ll love it, let’s park in the shade.”
“You’re not going to put the top up?”
“No, the MG is a tough old bird.”
To mark the occasion of his achievement, we are reproducing here his very funny and philosophical speech to his fellow graduands, which is on the one hand "pure Jers" to all who knew him, and on the other speaks about the difference of truth and reality that was an important theme in his life.
***
To be recognized and honored by the University of the West Indies is to be the recipient of an extraordinary accolade. Extraordinary, because in this time of institutional decline, some would say failure, this university has maintained the standards of excellence on which it was founded. I am humbled by this honour, I am grateful to those who thought me deserving of it and, in my heart, I remember all those who have guided me to where I stand before you all today.
In one way or the other they were all teachers. Three stand out; the first was Randolph Alan Young who ran a school for children with learning disabilities. Another was Prof. Bridget Brereton, who encouraged critical thinking and the third was historian Olga Mavrogordato. She too ran a school, an unorthodox one, very strict and very inspirational, as she taught love of country. Though an unorthodox person in many ways, Olga touched the lives of several people, who have, over the years, been honoured by this university for their historical work. Of the seven or eight who in one way or another were inspired, enlightened or even irritated by Olga, three of them have stood here, and received honorary degrees. They are, Adrian Camps-Campins, Fr Anthony de Verteuil and Michael Anthony. Historians, all, and as such, preservers of our National Heritage.
Fellow graduands, I have been allowed a mere 10 minutes to address you. This is rather like one of those little pies you get at cocktail parties– the first bite you take you have not reached the meat– the second bite you’ve passed it.
That being the case, I thought that as a storyteller, I should tell you some stories. Stories that come from the great storytelling tradition of the world: the stories told on the caravan routes from Timbuktu across the Sahara to Cairo thence to take the old Silk Road to the furthest east. Tales recounted around campfires, in sand-blown caravanserai, in places with names like Alexandria, Bukhara, Katmandu, and Bactria, narrated by merchants, pilgrims, monks, soldiers, nomads and happy wonderers. These were told as teaching stories or wisdom tales. From this tradition huge epics emerged, such as the Mahabharata, the Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Old Testament— they are all founded in this oral tradition.
Often these stories were related as parables; this is because we are story telling and story-hearing creatures. We love stories and learn much better from them than from cold facts. Advertisers, Politicians and Prophets know this and often use story-tellers and stories to sell their products, their promises or, their gods.
One of the great storytellers of the old Silk Road was the Sufi master, the amazing Mullah, Nasreddin.
He told this story.
“Truth entered a village naked as the day he was born. The villagers had one look at the naked truth and were afraid of the stark harshness and drove him out in anger and malice. Dejected, the Truth wandered in the desert. Without food and nourishment, he weakened and would have soon died of loneliness. One day he got to the home of the Parable. She took him in, nursed him back to life. Soon the Truth was feeling well again. This time he returned to the same village clothed in a parable and was welcome and accepted with ease.”
As social scientists, you are, to be, in your professional lives, concerned with society and the relationships among individuals within a society, and, as such, you must always be very mindful about recognizing Truth, even when disguised as a parable.
I will tell you a Sufi story.
“Nasreddin dreamt that he had Satan’s beard in his hand. Tugging the hair, he cried: ‘The pain you feel is nothing compared to that which you inflict on the mortals you lead astray.’ And he gave the beard such a tug that he woke up yelling in agony. Only then did he realise that the beard he held in his hand was his own.”
Now, as social scientists, it is vital, that you recognize the difference between truth and reality. The reality he experienced in his dream, so real, was like any reality that is experienced –– and like all realities it passes away, while the truth of his realization endures. Never accept reality, until it is proven, by truth.
Truth is a universal constant, it is like the Newtonian constant of gravitation, or Pi, the mathematical constant, and it is different from reality, because realty changes, alters, ends, and begins again.
Now you understand that with Sufi stories you must pay close attention, otherwise you may miss the meat of the matter. Sufi stories urge you to develop the faculty to tell the difference between reality and truth. And, in so doing, to thy own self be true. –
––––––––– This was a pause, all story tellers must know how to use the art of pause.
As you enter your professional lives understand that honesty is an aspect of moral character and connotes positive and virtuous attributes such as integrity, truthfulness and straightforwardness.
Professional integrity. Integrity is the quality of being honest and having strong moral principals and moral uprightness. You must be honest in your professional life, not because honesty is the best policy, but because it is shrewd, clever, to be honest. Being honest shows that you are possessed of sharp powers of judgment, and that you are astute.
I will tell you one more Sufi story.
Mullah Nasreddin once became a university professor. One day he arrived at the weekly university talk open to all the public. Typically these talks were given by visiting professors and attended by the university staff and their spouses, as well as a few students and general public.
As Nasreddin entered the huge lecture theater the university the Principle took him to the side and said, ‘You are giving the talk.’
The Mullah replied, ‘I’m not ready for a lecture. What happened to the guy who was supposed to give the talk?’
The Principle informed him that the visiting professor had been delayed because of a hurricane and he had to give the talk.
Nasreddin asked, ‘Why me and what’s the topic?’
The Principle told him, ‘You talk on the subject of sex, because you are the only one whose wife is not here,’ and before he could complain he pulled Nasreddin with him to the podium and there announced that professor Nasreddin was going to give a talk on sex and marital bliss.
So, Nasreddin started to wing it and soon he was quite enjoying himself and got into a stride. Everyone really enjoyed the talk. Forty-five minutes later he finished and received a standing ovation.
That evening when Nasreddin got home his wife asked how the day had gone. The Mullah said that he had given a talk.
‘Really,’ asked his wife, ‘What was the talk about?’
Now Nasruddin did not wish to tell his wife that he had been talking about sex and marital bliss and perhaps revealed some information about their sex life and bedroom happening. So he replied, ‘I talked about sailing.’
His wife was incredulous. She said, ‘But you don’t know anything about sailing?’
‘I know that, but they didn’t,’ and that was the end of the conversation.
The next day Nasreddin’s wife bumped into a couple of faculty ladies who had heard the talk. One of them told her, ‘I didn’t know your husband was such an expert in the subject.’ Nasreddin’s wife said, ‘He! Oh, no he really isn’t such an expert. In fact he’s only done it twice, and the first time he lost his hat and the second time he fell over the side.’”
This, above all fellow graduands as you enter your professional life: to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, that you cannot then, be false to anyone. Seek out and speak the truth, and you will enjoy the meat of the matter.
Thank you.
***
Gérard Besson died in 2023.
