Down at the south end of the beautiful little South Pacific island of Rarotonga stood a lone horse in a lushly verdant field that swept down from the jungly hills above. Nice place to be a horse. No predators on the island, and no competition for the grass growing in abundance.
And, the horse (as shown) had access to a lovely and exclusive resort hostelry – not. The horse had access indeed but, alas, the ghostly relic of a Hilton holiday dream getaway was never to be. That was sad. Islanders had their hopes up. Since they now had international air access from anywhere in the world, this venture would surely bolster their fortunes in a big way.
As I understand it the project was to be a joint-venture with Hilton lending its name and the lion’s share of the capital costs to be raised by the country of the Cook Islands (of which Raro has the largest population and also is the home of the capital, Avarua). Yes as sparsely-populated as the Cooks are and scattered as they are over a gazillion square miles of the tropical Pacific, the Cooks are an independent country, complete with a parliament and a prime minister.
So (and again as I understand it) the PM of the day went to some funding sources and secured, he thought, funds sufficient to bankroll the thing. Well, (and don’t you just hate it when that happens?) it turned out that the money he raised was dirty. It was Italian Mafia money. Mucho scandal and what with all the eggs having been put in that one basket, the venture went down the toilet, the PM was ousted posthaste and today all that remains is a stark reminder of what might have been and what this teeny country was hoping would be. It has a sole occupant today, that sweet old horse.
But to me this situation is also a metaphor for the kinds of things that transpire in the outer world. Even within the confines of our own country. Here in Canada we are putting hopes for economic well-being on our dirty and anti-environmental oilpatch in hopes of flogging the stuff to (notorious global polluter) China. We just have to find a way to get it to the coast for that to happen and meanwhile hope that the bottom doesn’t fall completely out of the global petroleum market.
And here in BC dear Premier Christy has staked her political future (and our economic future) on Liquid Natural Gas in the belief that one those odd looking ships start plying our waters we will all be so rolling in the bucks that some of us might even be solvent enough to ride the ferry fleet – though that last point may be wishful thinking.
Anyway, it’s maybe wise to not count on any one thing to save us all. Just ask the old horse about that. He knows how it works.