A vision of Burnham, and the work ahead

Mar 02, 2023 Letters

Dear Editor,

The Georgetown seawall was quiet and the sprawling ocean in all its beauty was tranquil. I liked the spot where I sat. I would always sit there to watch the sunset. The big granite rock was firmly etched in the sand and offered an angular and somewhat uncomfortable seat. I looked to my left at the Pegasus hotel pointing skyward; a tall and imposing structure overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

At the weekend, the area where I was seated would transform into a busy place with sound systems blaring hardcore Jamaican dancehall music. Temporary food stalls, snow cone carts, parched nuts and sweets hustlers and hundreds of people would be milling around having fun. Boys went there to get girls and the far, dark and quiet areas along the seawall would become an open guesthouse.

There I was seated on my uncomfortable granite stool looking at the beautiful sunset. The Atlantic had begun to darken. I thought it was time to leave, but it dawned on me that I was waiting for someone. Who, I could not recall. A tiny insect made its way along the sand at my feet and disappeared under a brownish leaf. My eyes were fixated on the leaf wondering if the insect would emerge. I felt a presence.

I looked up and there he stood; tall and imposing as the Pegasus in the distance. He was looking at the sea. He took a deep pull on what appeared to be an expensive Cuban cigar and the smoke made a cloud around his dome. “Comrade Leader?”, I asked in utter surprise and awe. His face was expressionless, his body language revealing nothing. Then he spoke and even then, I could not fathom his mood. “Why him, comrade Browne?” He lifted the cigar, hesitating to put it to his lips as if he were waiting for a reply.

“I thought he was the reincarnation of you; that which is most needed in our country’s darkest moment.” I responded, feeling like a pigmy in the presence of a giant. He dropped the cigar in the sand and the insect scuttled from under the leaf.

“Comrade, I trust you will undo the mess you made and proceed to place the party in good stead to face the ultimate challenge ahead. Do not waste the moment given to you in life to make a difference because soon you will realise that moment is fleeting and will never return.”

I was in the presence of a royal figure. A towering human being that secured our republic and independence. A Black man, Guyanese and founding father of our nation that was extraordinary in his leadership and time. My eyes searched in guilt for the insect wondering where it had gone. It had disappeared. I was alone in the presence of Guyana’s most remarkable leader.

“Let me handle it, sir.” I said. “Be sure too.” He replied. The seawall had suddenly become very dark. I saw the burning embers, perhaps from a cigar disappearing in the distance. My eyes were struggling to get used to the light coming from my bedroom window in London. I stretched my body and struggled out of bed. Did I oversleep? The clock told me otherwise. I would not be late for work. This time I knew what the job was.

Sincerely yours,

Norman Browne

Social and Political Activist

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Atlantic ocean, dancehall, Georgetown, Jamaican, Norman Browne

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