Dear Editor,
A simple, quiet, humble man died the other day. He was a medical practitioner. His wake and funeral tell the story of his life.
For five straight days the arrivals came at Timehri. There were siblings, nephews, nieces, cousins, and many more. For four straight nights, the wakes were a compact mass of people.
And here was the most arresting thing about those wakes: to a great extent, the congregated mourners reflected the demographics of this society. In the heavily Indian area of Grove, East Bank Demerara, where he lived and practised, that was part of the revealing story. It was the same heartwarming story in the grey mists and the soft earth of Enmore, East Coast Demerara, where he was laid to rest.
Men and women from all walks of life, from the different ethnicities spoke of a man, a doctor, a servant, who was available at all hours to strangers; who took what was offered; and who, countless times, treated patients without a penny for his efforts or medicine. It is why they came out, black and brown and Amerindian and Chinese, and still some others.
It was to honour this quiet giant, to remember and treasure his inherent goodness. A man who was there for his community.
His family has lost a husband and father. I have lost a friend, brother, sounding board, and then some. This country has lost more than a doctor.
It has lost a true son who truly served, and served magnificently its citizens. They don’t make them like this any more. He was special. He shall be missed. Rest easy brother. Rest easy, Dr Mohan (Harry) Persaud.
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall
