Dear Editor,
As we approach Mashramani 2025, I find myself reflecting less on celebration and more on preservation—on the urgent need to defend and safeguard what remains of our national identity. Mashramani, a festival born out of the Republic movement, is meant to be a time of joy, cultural expression, and national unity. Yet, year after year, it faces a slow but deliberate erosion, replaced by imported festivals and rebranded under state-controlled narratives that distort its true meaning.
The president’s Republic Day message was a glaring example of this. Nowhere in his speech was there a true acknowledgment of Mashramani’s historical and cultural significance. Instead, Mashramani—the celebration of our Republic—was reduced to a political and economic talking point, while our nation’s rich traditions continue to be sidelined.
This is not an accident. For decades, certain political figures have sought to detach Mashramani from its Afro-Guyanese origins. We cannot ignore the historical context. In the 1990s, there were active discussions about shifting Mash from February 23rd to May, away from the birthdate of Forbes Burnham and the significance of Cuffy’s 1763 Revolution. The stated reason? To “move away from political symbolism.” Yet today, we see those same voices using “One Guyana” as a branding tool for everything, turning national events into political spectacles while gutting Mashramani of its historical and cultural significance.
Why is Mashramani the only celebration where history is considered an inconvenience? Why does Carnival get full support, but Mash struggles to get the same level of investment? Even a new found global super league is on the front burner before our own. If we are to celebrate our diversity, why does Afro-Guyanese culture get diluted and pushed aside under the guise of inclusivity?
We cannot discuss this issue without acknowledging the active role some Afro-Guyanese leaders and promoters play in this erasure. As Walter Rodney warned, the system “will give you a nice house, a front lawn, a car, a reasonable bank balance. They will say, ‘Sell your black soul.’” And many have done just that—pushing Cricket Carnival, Global Super Leagues, and other externally driven events, all while Mashramani fades into an afterthought.
Even now, we see it in Linden, the birthplace of Mashramani where there has been little to no national-level celebration of the event. Instead, the Soca Monarch was held there under the “One Guyana” banner, as if to rebrand Mash into something politically convenient while stripping it of its roots. The people of Linden must ask themselves: Are we going to sit quietly while our history is erased before our eyes?
This is not about opposing Carnival, nor is it about division. This is about equity. This is about ensuring that our indigenous cultural celebrations are not sidelined in favor of imported ones. This is about standing up for the generations of Afro-Guyanese people who built this nation, fought for our Republic, and whose contributions are being systematically erased under new banners and rebranded narratives.
For a government that prides itself on inclusivity, where is the $100M allocated for the Year of People of African Descent? Why was it easier to find millions for foreign artists for Cricket Carnival than to elevate our own? If inclusivity is the goal, then why does our history and our culture continue to be erased in the name of “national unity”?
Tomorrow, when Mashramani comes, I urge every Guyanese to celebrate—not just with music and revelry, but with awareness. Let us not be blind to what is happening before us. If we do not fight for our culture now, we may wake up one day to find that Mashramani exists in name only, gutted of its essence, buried under banners that have nothing to do with us.
We must resist this erasure. Mashramani belongs to the people. Our culture belongs to us. And no amount of rebranding can change that.
Yours truly,
Natisha Allen
