The bloodying of Guyana…Solution anyone?

Aug 10, 2014 News

Countryman – Stories about life, in and out of Guyana, from a Guyanese perspective

By Dennis A. Nichols
“Woman hold her head and cry” lamented Bob Marley as he pondered the plight of Jamaican youths, mothers, and street

Dennis Nichols

violence, in his poignant hit ‘Johnny Was’. Substitute ‘Guyanese’ for Jamaican and, more to the point, alter the first six words of the sentence to read ‘Guyana hold your head and bawl’. Then let the lament be carried on a wave of despair, anger and incredulity by those lost and confused souls at whose benumbed minds are hurled daily the abuses of lawlessness, crime, and (hopefully) temporary insanity.
Guyana may not be the most criminally insane country on Earth, but you and I live here, and that’s the way it seems much of the time. And to make matters worse, we tend to have a kind of perverse compulsion to wallow in the mire of sensational ‘news’ stories of crime and bloody mayhem that wax and wane, then are repeated with nauseating frequency. Some of us leave this golden Eldorado for greener climes. A few return. Some prosper. Many stay and burn, and worry if, or when, Guyana will implode. So, does anyone feel optimistic about our future?
In the annals of criminal activity and lawless government, it may seem as if our country must rank near the top of the heap. Not necessarily. Read about the atrocities that happened (and may still happen) in places like Russia, China, South Africa, Somalia, Syria, Cambodia, Mexico and the good old U.S of A., and be thankful that despite our own horror stories, we’re yet to experience the kind of anarchy, genocide, and natural disasters that other countries have suffered, and survived. Yet, little of this may matter to those of us who feel marginalized and powerless.
Back in the early seventies I was part of a group of young men who hung out by our front gate in South Road, and discussed world affairs, politics, and social ills as only guys can. Our ‘leader’ was a relatively young teacher and radical scholar who initiated discourse on the merits of socialism and the pitfalls of capitalism. He took us to meetings of a group called the Movement Against Oppression (MAO), in Tiger Bay where, among other things, we got the idea that we had to take a stand against criminal acts perceived to be committed by government authorities and/or the police. Still a teenager, I held and cherished an idealistic streak.
Sometime in 1971 or ’72, the police shot and killed an allegedly unarmed Tiger Bay teenager named Keith Caesar. Outrage erupted over the shooting, and a few days later, after his funeral service, I hesitantly participated in my first demonstration-march, from St. George’s Cathedral to Le Repentir Cemetery, as part of the MAO crew. Caesar’s coffin was hoisted shoulder-high throughout the march, taunts were thrown at law enforcers along the way, and I was introduced to the phrase ‘extra-judicial killing’ for the first time.

A now commonplace scene in Guyana

Despite ongoing allegations of police misconduct, I still had a great deal of respect, (perhaps tinged with a little fear) for our local police and military. In 1972, the exploits of police officers like Hannibal, Fordyce, Chester, Sue and Crime Chief David Rose in the late 1950s were still relatively fresh in the minds of Guyanese, and even though I was a mere child then, I had heard of them. Even more recent were the heroics of some policemen on Black Friday in 1962, and the 1969 Lethem unrest in which Inspector Whittington Braithwaite and four other police officers were killed in the line of duty.
After the Keith Caesar incident, deadly confrontations between the police and civilians continued sporadically, but what little militancy I possessed was waning, although I continued to be shocked and saddened whenever a life was lost in these engagements, especially if it seemed unjust or arbitrary. Belated studies, teacher-training, marriage, family and bare survival occupied much of my time and energies over the next 25 years or so. But when Linden ‘Blackie’ London was killed in 2000, it left a sordid stench in the nostrils of many Guyanese, including me.
‘Blackie, an allegedly notorious criminal, former soldier and a wanted man, was shot and killed by members of the feared ‘Black Clothes’ police and/or the G.D.F. after an 11-hour standoff and a conditional surrender in Eccles. It was felt by many persons that the killing-after-surrender was a deliberate act to silence the bandit who may have implicated some ‘big ones’ including a U.S Embassy officer, in his nefarious acts. By then also many persons were throwing allegations of police brutality left and right against the Black Clothes; the names of whom could elicit instant apprehension and fear in some circles.
Then came 2002 and the atrocious Mash’ Day jailbreak, followed by a crime caper the likes of which had not been witnessed here before, even in the ‘60s. Starting with the death of prison officer, Troy Williams, and the maiming of prison guard, Roxanne Winfield, during the getaway, dozens of Guyanese, including 12 police officers, lost their lives in violent confrontations precipitated by the prison escape over the next 10 months. Bloody corpses stained the landscape, and their images reddened the front pages of this newspaper.
Some of the 2002 names that, for better or worse, Guyanese will probably never forget – Dale Moore, Shawn Browne, Andrew Douglas, Troy Dick, Mark Fraser (the prison escapees) Leon Fraser, Errol ‘Taps’ Butcher, Harry Kooseram, Shaka Blair, Vibert Inniss, Feroze Bashir, Gavin Naraine, Andy Atwell, Leyland October, Premkumar Sukraj, and the Phantom squad. These were the good, the bad and the unlucky, and the few only that I recall, having left Guyana for The Bahamas in August of that year. (A thought: Did the crime wave play any part in hastening the death of former president Desmond Hoyte in December of that year?)
A death, whether by design or accident, means that somebody’s child, parent, relative or friend is no longer with him or her. And the sudden, brutal killing of a loved one, whether a criminal, a hero, or an everyday ‘Joe’ is usually a devastatingly psychological and enervating trauma for someone else – sometimes for an entire society or nation. And since the beginning of this year scarcely a day has passed without a report of at least one horrific killing or accident. Some are even starting to compare 2014 to 2002.
Like the woman in the Bob Marley dirge, we continue to hold our heads and cry. We continue to wallow in despair and seethe in anger. Those actions in themselves won’t achieve much in changing the bloody status quo in Guyana. But other actions may.
Next week I’ll tell you about a week I spent in South Africa, and how the actions of some ordinary South Africans have contributed to the evolving transformation of that country.