“When do we stop dancing for scraps while Guyana’s oil wealth flows into the pockets of the connected few?”
A troubling reality has taken hold in Guyana. Many citizens continue to pledge undying loyalty to the PPP in exchange for crumbs, contracts barely worth the paper they’re written on, handouts that don’t last a month, and the illusion of progress dressed in red. This is not governance. It’s manipulation. And the price we’re all paying is far higher than we realize.
At a popular cafe, I overheard a relative of a government minister bragging to some Trinidad investors about securing 100 acres of prime land for a duck farm, approved in less than two months. He lives in the diaspora. Another boasted of returning from Canada to run a booming construction business while his family members occupy key posts in three ministries. He’s a cousin of a senior official. These aren’t isolated incidents. This is the new PPP economy, wealth and opportunity consolidated among relatives, friends, and loyalists, while the rest of us fight for scraps.
At the bottom of the ladder are the spiritually broke and expectation-starved. They cheer for the PPP in exchange for a one-time $5 million GY contract, not realizing they may never see another. Some get a $500,000 gutter-cleaning gig and think they’ve made it. Others sell their voices for even less. What’s worse? Many still have to bribe someone to secure these jobs, pay workers, and walk away with maybe 15%, if that. Yet they proudly don red shirts, wave flags, and scream slogans while those at the top toast champagne in air-conditioned rooms.
The truth is, people have not adjusted to just how much money this government is wasting. Look at the First Lady’s galas and her team’s extravagant travel schedules. Look at the endless conferences hosted monthly, fully catered with imported delicacies, staged in luxury venues for no measurable national outcome. Random “development summits” sprout up weekly with high-end décor and low-end impact. Who’s asking what these events cost? Who’s calculating the opportunity cost of this opulence?
The PPP knows exactly what it’s doing. Keep the masses mentally locked in scarcity, offer symbolic access to power, and make sure the real benefits stay in the family. It’s a tried-and-tested model for preserving control. And it’s working.
But the rest of us must ask ourselves, when is enough, enough? When do we stop dancing for scraps while Guyana’s oil wealth flows into the pockets of the connected few? When do we start demanding more than a one-time contract, a T-shirt, or a plate of food?
Guyana is rich now. The money is flowing. But if we don’t shift our mindset and expectations, we will stay exactly where they want us—cheering in poverty while they prosper in silence.
