Dear Editor,
Everyone knows that the people of Region 10 boast a reputation for resoluteness, for standing in resistance and not being steamrolled, and as fighters in protests and struggles. They do not relent in a face-off with any ruling authority; not in the past, and not now!
Thus the people who have had their baptism in Mackenzie/Linden struggles and once lived in the community and worked the bauxite industry migrating thereafter, will, whenever on holiday back home always make it their duty, as a matter of respect to make a trip to the old mining town for a day or days – it all depends.
And so it was with a former bauxite worker who worked in the MU stores department – a fighter for the working class, union activist, treasurer of the Guyana Mine Workers’ Union, Rodneyite and faithful member of the now defunct radical Organisation of the Working People (OWP), Malcolm Thompson.
Typical of Malcolm the brothers are always uppermost on his agenda whenever he is planning his holiday visit. Immediately upon his arrival he would make every effort to touch base with as many as he could, telling whosoever he makes contact with to inform the others and to arrange a rendezvous. The term ‘brother’ refers to all former bauxite workers: strugglers, union activists and those who were always in the vanguard for positive change on the labour, political and social front; conscious brothers who have kept the faith and are still around. And you can bet pennies to pins everyone will receive a token; that is Malcolm Thompson. Even a stranger may end up depriving a brother of his token since Malcolm to this day hasn’t learnt the art of simply saying no!
Well it was somewhat disappointing that all the brothers whom he contacted couldn’t make it on the day he arranged for our rendezvous to have lunch, however the few of us who did had a good time – a delicious meal and a real good gaff! The renewal of contact with old trusted friends is not easy to beat; it’s always refreshing, like being born anew, and we felt encouraged and reassured by each other after all those long, rough challenging years. However, looking back, in spite of all that took place we thought they were wonderful as compared to what is the case today. Today there is nothing save the rush for material grabbing and the unrelenting horrible and frightening crime spree; there are hardly any serious, objective in-depth conversations, instead there is often too much piffle and poppycock which leaves you more drained, sick and hopeless which can be so defeating.
As said above we reassured each other that what we were doing had merit, was righteous, and a moral and civil responsibility; we stood as young men on a question of principle, for bread and butter issues to bring about a better standard of living. Ours was the task of trying to understand society and give some direction as we felt – making our contribution. Looking back today, though we were wrong, we don’t feel wrong about ourselves and we harbour no lingering sense of guilt, shame or regret as if we had been in the wrong. We reminisced and felt good, though some brothers today don’t even enjoy a modicum of luxury to show for the stance they took, and the battering they endured for the sake of moral uprightness, better working conditions, stronger unions and by extension a more decent and uplifting society. Still, we aren’t in the least bitter for so doing, for such is sometimes the fate and nature of struggle. I thoughtfully took along with me some vintage photographs, evidence of the times, of demonstrations, marches and meetings which they were part of. Those pictures were a treat; you could have seen the excitement, the focus. They were looking at themselves, all so youthful, and those pictures triggered memories and thoughts that though a shared common experience, were unique to each individual. For a moment they were lost in concentration: “if only” we had, “look now,” “I tell yuh what ah exchange.” Well indeed there was much catching up to do rolling back the years of that hectic period of relentless social/political workers’ activism of the mid ’70s into the ’80s. Those were crucial and troubling times, with of course the two main protagonists being Forbes Burnham and Walter Rodney. Rodney commanded centre stage as we preferred it, but then with the inquiry currently in process, how else could it have been?
While in our reflections there were some sad moments in recounting some terrible events, we were still able to counter-balance them with rocking bellyfuls of laughter as we recalled the guile and ruses we often employed to out-fox and derail state and party police and security men – “watch-dogs” who kept tag of us even at private gatherings of brothers. There was this particular detective whom we used to call ‘Wally’, short for Walter. He was so named because whenever Rodney came to Linden, no matter what the occasion, he would show up without fail and keep watch from a distance, but he took our teasing in stride, and some of us eventually became friendly with him. He once said to us, “I ga fuh live yuh know”; he even told us he admired Rodney, and who can doubt him. I doubt if he ever did anything to harm us.
Now back to our reunion. One of the brothers during our discussion became a bit emotional in remembering Rodney, like some of us who spent quality time with him can sometimes become. In a state of reverie, kind of sailing back he said suddenly, “Walter was the best, I ain’t see nobody to match he, nobody! nobody! this country ain’t gat none!” You could have seen it in his eyes, the expression on his face, the force with which he spoke. He further employed forceful gesticulations to give more meaning and weight to what he was saying, and what he said came from his very soul; it was the experience and expression of someone he was touched by. It couldn’t get any better.
As for me no one has to preach to me, I know! And I have to say again: Rodney’s life was a good message, an example that gives people hope; it was like I heard a pastor say once, “People can’t see God, they see us.” Walter Rodney made people feel a kind of force, a power unlike the arrogance of frauds and the lilliputians who walk around blowing their trumpets and massaging their egos. He was a light that was sent into the darkness of peoples’ lives, a light that shone before men and gave them hope; he practised what he preached – not that he was perfect or infallible, no! but he was a compassionate leader who genuinely could have empathised with ordinary folks, and through him they saw on the horizon a change. That is why I was so upset when one defence lawyer at the inquiry referred to him as a murderer walking around the place; talk about eye-pass! Look, people don’t care one hoot about what some people think about themselves or claim to be, or even what they have. It is what you do that counts and not hubris. Anyway the meeting with us brothers from the bauxite mining town and Malcolm was exhilarating; good old times, it reminded me of the motto of our defunct OWP – “Togetherness” which Guyana today needs plenty of. 28 + 22 completes 50.
Yours faithfully,
Frank Fyffe
