Two Diwalis: It is hard to forgive our Hindu leaders

Oct 22, 2017 News

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The Story within the Story

By Leonard Gildarie
Ten years ago I joined Kaieteur News. I was bored and Glenn Lall asked me what I was doing at home.

I was in media business before and had some experience. So I gladly grabbed my gears and went along for the ride. What a ride it was! It was my love and it was back in the game.
Those 10 years have made me lose a lot of my hair and see another side of Guyana that made me fall in love with her. I travelled to all parts of Guyana and saw good people…people who welcomed us with open arms. People wanted to talk, and talk they did. I made so many friends that I can’t even remember some of them. It is embarrassing sometimes having people coming up and asking how are things and you stare at them with a blank look.
I am now way tougher, my shell hardened by the things I have seen and heard, and experienced. I have suffered and paid the price.
I learnt of two Guyanas…a mythical one that the politicians had us believing existed and the other…the real one where single moms battled it out. I saw rice farmers lose everything after gambling it on one crop. I also saw how a few chosen ones lived in luxury.
In Kwakwani, Berbice River, the people wanted better roads. It is a cry that still echoes today. At Black Bush Polder, East Berbice, it was all about drainage and irrigation. People fought over a little, black drainage tube that took water into another field. It is how farm life is.
Kaieteur News was doing well. I saw its online readership reach a peak over 300,000-plus persons in 2011 and 2015 during the elections. Daily sales were high.
In 2014, amidst a number of hard-hitting stories, Kaieteur News came under threat. Lall told staffers of tax files being pulled and accountants being sent in to check the books. There were little things being done to frustrate us – like politicians slamming down phones. We could not be bothered. We had our jobs and Lall is an unrelenting person. I battled with him many times and lost quite a few of those bruising encounters.
Two vehicles were even seized from the newspaper. The battle was on.
Kaieteur News understood all too well that it came with the territory.
It came to a head after that now infamous phone call involving myself and a senior government official in late 2014. I hate to discuss it and have never listened to the tape which has been posted on YouTube. There is more in the mortar than the pestle and I guess the story will come out eventually.
Strangely, I made thousands of new friends, with thousands of requests for adds on Facebook. I declined lots of them. There were a few, who not knowing the truth, that stopped talking altogether.
I was arrested after a team of police descended on my home one morning and escorted me to Ruimveldt and then to the Brickdam police station. One of my close police pals, embarrassed, said he had his job to do. He was driving the police car, escorting me. I was driving mine. I refused to drive the car into the Brickdam compound. They told me it was to avoid unwanted attention. I told them to drive it themselves.
I understood. I told my police friend things have not changed between us.
The police wanted to charge me and had piles of law books on the Telecoms Act on their desks when I arrived. I refused to sign the statements they were offering me. I waited on Adam Harris and my lawyer, Chris Ram. I was, of course, nervous.
Even from upstairs of Brickdam, the nauseous smell of the lockups below was highly evident. It was hard not to think of it.
For me, it was a turning point. The incident allowed me a new perspective on things.
Fast-forward to three years later, albeit under a different government, I can no longer stay quiet, as there are a few machinations now that have torn our traditions apart and are threatening our very way of life. My DNA had changed.
You see, I grew up in Enmore, East Coast Demerara, and at Grove, East Bank Demerara.
In Third Street, Grove, Diwali was the biggest crowd-puller. I boast up to now, other than Alexander Village, there are few places where people jostle for space like Third Street.
Lights and decorations were strung from house to house. Gates were wide open. The tables and chairs came out.
I recall with joy, my friends stopping by. The sharing of sweetmeats all added to the occasion.
People from all races participated. The squibs heralded Diwali night. The dogs would go into hiding. We were not well off, but we made do with the little we had.
Our little street was filled with Hindus who were devout.
Starting in 2015, and for the following two years, the pandits of Guyana could not agree on a date.
I sat in my office this week and heard that two Hindu groups have an ongoing battle that is over three decades old.
Today, those high up in the Hindu organisations, are continuing the fight. The politicians have either been dragged in or are being used. So we have politics in our Mandirs now.
Whatever the reasons, this year Guyana saw two days of Diwali yet again.
Guess what? It is my estimate that about 40 percent of the persons did not light the traditional diyas on either Wednesday or Thursday. A number of them lit both days in frustration.
How do we know? Our reporters were up and about. The findings were alarming.
The Government announced Wednesday, October 18th, as Diwali. It was published in the Official Gazette. Heralding Diwali, the night before has always been the tradition of the motorcade that is spearheaded by the Guyana Hindu Dharmic Sabha.
That motorcade was held on the same night as the Government-announced Diwali. Thousands turned up and watched. That should be a lesson. That same day, Trinidad and the US celebrated Diwali. Nearer to home, Suriname celebrated on Thursday.
So clearly, there is a dispute in dates across the world. In India, Diwali’s celebrations last for several days.
Here is my problem. Have we gone so far that as a nation there can be no consensus on one date? We have for three years in a row split our people, damaging something that was innocent and beautiful.
I grew up attending the Catholic Church. My wife is a devout Hindu. I love traditions. I respect traditions. I dress in Indian clothes on occasions. I love it.
My wife is upset. So too are thousands of Guyanese.
I suggest our Hindu leaders and politicians take a walk on the streets and listen to the little man and his anger. The little housewife too would have her say.
I lay the blame squarely at the doorsteps of our Hindu leaders. Please don’t let us have a replay next year. You have been judged and found guilty. We have allowed politics to enter into this holy arena. As our people would say, please ‘don’t mek play with dis ting’.

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