A day in the life of Winston Murray

Nov 26, 2010 Letters

Dear Editor,
Early on Wednesday 20th October last, Winston Murray and I met at my house in Courida Park. His mission for the early part of that morning was twofold – to see “Pradoville 2” for himself and to visit Mrs. Edris Chester in Area “G”, Straphsey on the Lower East Coast.
“P2”, the new upper class residential area begins three houses east of my house and Winston, having heard so much about this exclusive housing area, wanted to see it for himself.
We walked swiftly along the seawall in the direction of Sparendaam and arrived at the first major house construction. As we former Londoners (from an education point of view) would say, Winston was ‘gob smacked’.
Not only was he speechless at first, but when sounds eventually began to leave his mouth they were stammered and almost incoherent. I could tell that my friend was deeply hurt. At the margins he also seemed ashamed of his socio-political friends and acquaintances.
In time he settled on the word “hubris” to describe what he saw as an act of wanton arrogance. He then abruptly turned himself around and started heading back to my house as he said “let’s go see how best we can help Mrs. Chester to build her house.”
That morning’s newspaper had carried an article by Freddie Kissoon describing the sad case of Mrs. Chester whose house in Buxton had been burnt to the ground during the difficult years. Winston and I had discussed the article on the phone very early in the morning and had resolved to help the former headmistress, an indigent Guyanese, whose only transgression may have been to take the biblical injunction to be thy brother’s keeper too literally.
By the time we reached Mrs. Chester’s unfinished house in Straphsey, Winston had calmed down and on meeting Mrs. Chester for the first time he was his usual poised, urbane self. Mrs. Chester greeted us and seemed flattered that Winston Murray had taken time out to see her situation.
We were shown around the incomplete construction, while Mrs. Chester told us about the occurrences that drove her from her home in Buxton. Her conversation was ‘headmistressly’ and punctuated by religious references.
Nevertheless she came over not as a bible thumping zealot or religious fundamentalist, but as a lady of immense strength, moral character and immutable Christian values.
Winston promised to speak to a few private sector people in the building materials business and get back to her. She was to send us details of the work and material required to complete the construction. She did so, but I was unable to let Winston know. I shall now try to complete that piece of work my caring friend started in helping someone less fortunate than himself.
F. Hamley Case

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A day in the life of Winston Murray

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