We Are Living the Consequences

Jul 26, 2026 Features / Columnists, News

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By Dr. Karen Abrams, MBA AA

(Kaieteur News) – There is a woman in Guyana who has lost seven children on the ill-fated MV Barima vessel. A family of 17 people began the journey, only 7 survived. I have tried all week to find words large enough for those two sentences. I was unsuccessful. There comes a point when statistics fail us. They cannot capture the silence of an empty home, the unanswered phone calls, the untouched schoolbooks, the birthday that will never be celebrated, or the unbearable task of explaining to a parent why the future they imagined disappeared beneath the water.

A nation is grieving. The survivors are grieving. The families are grieving. The children who survived will carry memories no child should ever have to carry. Thousands who never stepped aboard the MV Barima have also been traumatised because every Guyanese can see themselves, their parents, their children, or their neighbours in this tragedy. This cannot become another news cycle. It cannot become another commission, another report, another promise, followed by a quiet return to business as usual.

For years I have written about children. I have written about literacy, robotics, mathematics, entrepreneurship, technology, innovation, equal access, and the importance of giving every child, regardless of geography or income, the opportunity to reach his or her full potential. I have written about planning, systems, competent leadership, and organisations that function because they are built on preparation rather than improvisation. Rarely have I written about consequences. Today we are living them.

For decades, people travelling to the North West have complained about the conditions under which they travel. The historical record surrounding replacement vessels, delayed contracts, unfinished wharf facilities, and incomplete infrastructure raises serious questions that deserve honest answers. Not because blame is our first responsibility, but because learning is.

Every life lost deserves that respect. I also cannot escape an uncomfortable thought. Had Cabinet ministers, senior public officials, prominent business leaders, and their families depended on that ferry every week, would its replacement have taken so long? Would supporting infrastructure have remained unfinished for years? Would the people of Region One have been expected to accept conditions that no one would tolerate elsewhere? These are difficult questions. But they are fair questions.

The people of Region One deserve transportation that reflects the value of their lives, not the remoteness of their homes. Their children are worth exactly as much as every child in Georgetown. Their parents matter exactly as much. Their futures matter exactly as much.

One of the deepest wounds exposed by this tragedy is the collapse of public trust. In every crisis, governments are forced to make difficult decisions. No administration responds perfectly. Citizens understand that.

What they cannot accept is secrecy. While families continue searching for loved ones, journalists, opposition representatives, and independent voices have found themselves excluded from parts of the response. Yet these are precisely the moments when transparency matters most. Experienced leaders understand that criticism does not disappear when critics are shut out. It simply grows louder.

The strongest leaders do something different. They bring critics to the table. They recognise that a national tragedy belongs to the nation. They co-opt expertise wherever they find it. They invite scrutiny because they understand that transparency builds confidence, even when the news is difficult.

Instead, every unanswered question now creates three more. Every government statement waits for independent verification. That may be the greatest tragedy beyond the loss of life. A government’s reputation is not built during a crisis. It is revealed by one. Trust cannot be demanded. It must be earned, year after year, through competence, consistency, humility, and honesty. Without trust, even truthful explanations struggle to persuade.

As I reflect on this tragedy, I find myself returning to something much larger than a ferry. For years STEMGuyana has quietly tried to build systems that work. We developed structured learning models. We measured outcomes. We invested in teacher support, technology, accountability, and continuous improvement because children deserve excellence, not excuses.

Along the way, our work has been embraced by parents and sponsors who understand the critical importance of investing in children. Like many organisations working in the public interest, we have also experienced moments when politics complicated opportunities for collaboration and slowed initiatives that could have benefited young people. Yet we persisted. Why? Because parents understood something that politics should never forget: children cannot wait.

Every day a child loses is a day that can never be returned. The lesson of the MV Barima is not simply that a vessel sank. The lesson is that no nation can build first-class outcomes on second-class systems. We cannot reward loyalty above competence and expect excellence. We cannot sideline professionals and expect world-class results. We cannot delay maintenance, postpone infrastructure, weaken institutions, and then act surprised when systems fail under pressure.

The consequences eventually arrive. Sometimes they arrive quietly in the form of children who cannot read. Sometimes they arrive in hospitals. Sometimes they arrive in failing schools. And sometimes they arrive in the darkness of the Atlantic Ocean.

This is not the Guyana our children deserve. They deserve a country where preparation matters. Where evidence matters. Where investment in people matters. Where engineers are allowed to engineer. Where educators are allowed to educate. Where emergency managers lead emergencies. Where procurement is transparent. Where public warnings are investigated. Where merit matters more than patronage. Where talent matters more than political loyalty.

Above all, they deserve a government that sees every citizen as equally worthy of safety, dignity, and opportunity, whether they live in Georgetown, Mabaruma, Port Kaituma, or the deepest hinterland community.

Government must change. Not because governments should be perfect. But because the people deserve better. The opposition must also be prepared to govern better. The media must continue asking difficult questions. Citizens must refuse to become numb. And all of us must insist that institutions become stronger than politics.

The greatest tribute we can offer those who perished is not another wreath, another speech, or another day of mourning. It is a solemn commitment that their deaths will force us to become a better country. Some tragedies are too great to explain. But none are too great to learn from. If we simply grieve and move on, then we will have mourned without changing.

If we demand excellence, insist on competent leadership, reward professionalism, and build institutions worthy of our children, then perhaps, through unimaginable sorrow, something enduring can emerge.

I write this column through tears. Not as a political activist. Not as the founder of an educational organisation. Not as a columnist. But as a Guyanese who believes that every child deserves to grow up in a country where effort is rewarded, preparation is respected, institutions are trusted, and government serves with competence, humility, and integrity.

The children of Guyana are watching us. The country we build after the MV Barima tragedy will teach them what we truly value, not by what we say, but by what we choose to change.

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• consequences, Karen Abrams, MV Barima, STEMGuyana

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