Guide Stars Lessons: Massa day done!
Ever notice how the people who half-ass their way through life always seem surprised when no one takes them seriously? It’s almost comical; watching them scramble, trying to demand the respect they never earned. Because that’s the thing about effort: it keeps receipts. People may not always clap for you, but they’re always watching, always measuring. And the brutal truth? The standard you set today becomes the yardstick you’ll be measured by for the rest of your life.
You don’t have to be the most charming, the most liked, or even the easiest person to deal with. But if you’re undeniably good at what you do, if you show up, do the work, and leave nothing undone, people will respect you, whether they admit it or not. Even your worst critics, the ones who can’t stand the sight of you, will have to pause and say, “Yeah… but they deliver.” That’s the power of doing things the right way. It creates a legacy that outlives opinions, outlasts noise, and makes sure your name carries weight long after you’ve left the room.
Imagine you’re trapped in a burning house. Flames crawl up the walls, smoke chokes the air, and every breath is a gamble. The heat is unbearable, the ceiling cracks, and just as you think it’s over, someone kicks down the door. A firefighter. But something is off. He looks sluggish, unfocused. His gear is barely strapped on, his boots flopping about. He scans the room, then shrugs. “I’ll do what I can,” he mutters. No urgency. No precision. Just effort. Enough effort to say he tried. And in that moment, you realize you’re going to die because someone chose to be average.
Step back from the flames, because this is exactly how some people operate in life every day. Half-hearted attempts. Just enough to keep the lights on, just enough to avoid failure, just enough to say they did something. But here’s the brutal truth: no one respects “just enough.” No one admires the person who coasts, who delivers mediocrity wrapped in excuses. Psychologists call it illusory superiority, the tendency for people to believe they are better than they truly are. We convince ourselves that our half-baked work is good enough, that people will overlook the corners we cut. But the human mind doesn’t work like that. The subconscious keeps score. People remember lapses in effort the same way they remember betrayal. You may not realize it now, but every time you show up as a diluted version of yourself, you are writing your own eulogy in the language of insignificance. Because in the end, you won’t be judged by what you almost did, what you meant to do, or what you could have done. Only by what you actually delivered.
If you have read this far and haven’t felt the weight of these words press against your chest, then we both know where you stand. Maybe you have convinced yourself that none of this applies to you. Maybe you think effort is just a show to put on when someone is watching, that standards are flexible, that excellence is optional. If that is the case, then I hope you have the decency to step aside and make room for someone with a conscience. Someone who understands that mediocrity is not a harmless personal choice but a corrosive force that eats away at progress, trust, and the future. This is not just about you. This is about the mark we leave behind, about whether we build or decay, whether we contribute to greatness or drag everything into the muck of complacency.
If no one understands this, if people shrug and continue to take their obligations lightly, then God help us all. And may the so-called “third world” designation of our Caribbean civilization find some alternative path to greatness in this brutal, competitive world. I do not say this to be morbid, nor do I mean to sound like a pessimist, but I am deeply disturbed by the casualness with which some people approach their responsibilities. Those who know me will tell you that I am not the kind to sit back and let the wheat and tares grow together until some distant harvest. I believe in pulling the tares before they spread, in confronting the rot before it consumes everything. But there is redemption in this message. There is an appeal here for those who recognize that their way of thinking has been a chain around their own potential. If this has disturbed you, good. That means something inside you still wants to be better. That means there is still hope.
The late Dr. Eric Williams (Former T&T Prime Minister) stood before his people in Woodford Square (1961) and delivered a message that should still burn in the minds of every Caribbean citizen today. Massa Day Done. He was not just declaring the end of colonial rule. He was tearing down every last excuse, ripping the crutch from those who believed they could blame the foreign oppressor forever. No longer could we point fingers. From that moment forward, our success or failure would be our own doing.
Yet, even in his time, there were those who resisted this truth. He called them out directly, saying, “When they ask me to withdraw my banner, Massa Day Done, they are in fact telling the people of the West Indies that they want Massa to continue in social control, monopolising political power, stultifying economic development, disciplining the workers.” He saw through their game. He knew there would always be those who wished to keep the masses stagnant, to maintain the illusion that someone else was to blame for our lack of progress. His answer to them was clear. The era of Massa was finished, and with it, every excuse for mediocrity.
Williams did not just call for political independence. He called for a revolution of thought, a refusal to be bound by old limitations. “Massa Day Done connotes a political awakening and a social revolution.” This was never just about breaking free from British rule. It was about whether we, as a people, would rise to the challenge of governing ourselves with competence, discipline, and vision. It was about whether we would continue to make excuses or finally take responsibility for our place in the world.
He made it clear that freedom without responsibility is meaningless. “Democracy means responsibility,” he warned. Casting votes and celebrating self-rule were only the beginning. The true test lay in the weight of governance, the responsibility of self-determination, and the duty to ensure that independence did not dissolve into incompetence and complacency.
So let this be clear. If you believe you can coast through life, if you believe the bare minimum is enough, you are not just failing yourself. You are dragging your country down with you. If our nation is stagnant, it is not because of Massa. Massa is long buried. What remains is our own refusal to rise.
There is no easy way. There is no shortcut. History will not be kind to those who waste their potential.
Massa Day Done. What excuse do you have left?
