There is a poison that has seeped into the marrow of our national psyche. It is not a new poison. It has been administered in small doses for decades, and we have learned — God help us — we have learned to live with it.
We have learned to live with abuse.
We have learned to live with the casual cruelty of those who believe they are above us. We have learned to swallow our outrage, to temper our tongues, to whisper our grievances in the safety of our homes while nodding in public. We have become experts at accommodation. We have become masters of silence. And that silence is killing us.
The Barima Tragedy and the Search for Scapegoats
Seventy-two souls. More than thirty still missing. The MV Barima disaster is more than a maritime tragedy, it is a mirror held up to a nation that has forgotten how to demand accountability from those who wield power over us.
Now, the government has charged Captain Kevin Price, Chief Mate Rondell Dwayne Roberts, and Goods Superintendent Delon Granderson with murder. Murder. Not negligence. Not recklessness. Murder. The kind of charge reserved for those who deliberately and intentionally take human life.
Are we to believe that these three men conspired to kill 72 passengers? That they boarded that 87-year-old vessel, and set sail with the express intention of sending souls to a watery grave, even as they are credible reports that the very captain complained about the vessel not being seaworthy just days before? Attorney General Anil Nandlall wants us to believe what we know to believe these ludicrous assertions. But first let us speak of ironies, they are bitter and they are many. While Nandlall has been among the loudest voices insisting that these crew members should face murder charges. He speaks with the moral authority of a prosecutor, with the righteous indignation of a man who believes he stands on the side of justice.
But here is the irony that should make every Guyanese pause: The Attorney General himself operates under a cloud of suspicion for the murder of Guyanese activist Courtney Crum-Ewing; a man gunned down in 2015 while campaigning against the very government Nandlall now serves. The case remains unresolved. The questions remain unanswered. The family of Courtney Crum-Ewing still waits for justice. And yet, the Attorney General lectures us about murder charges.
The irony is not lost on those of us who have been paying attention. But here is the tragedy, it has become so commonplace, so expected, that we barely flinch anymore. We have learned to live with the contradictions. We have learned to live with the hypocrisy. We have learned to live with abuse.
Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely
What happens when those in power believe they will be in power forever? They stop listening. They stop caring. They stop answering. They ascribe to themselves absolute authority and operate with impunity, accountable to no one, answerable to nothing.
From the highest office to the smallest bureaucratic post, from Bharrat Jagdeo to Irfaan Ali, the message is clear; We do as we like. We owe you no explanation. We answer to no one. And we the people have learned to live with it. Small abuses first. A pothole that never gets fixed. A permit that takes years to process. A government contract awarded to a friend of a friend. The erosion of public institutions. The dismantling of independent oversight. The slow, steady corrosion of the rule of law.
Then the larger abuses. A journalist hounded. An activist silenced. A tragedy covered up. Lives lost, and no one held to account. And through it all, we have been silent. Not because we do not care. Not because we do not see. But because we have been conditioned; systematically, deliberately, generationally, to accept that this is simply how things are. We have learned to live with abuse.
The Apologists and Their Silence
And then there are the defenders. The apologists. The ones who rush forward to defend the indefensible, to explain away the inexcusable, to justify the unjustifiable. From James Bond to Don Singh to Ruel Johnson and all the others who populate the fever swamps of PPP advocacy — none of them have the moral courage to appeal to their masters’ humanity. None of them dare say, “Stop. This is wrong. This is evil. This is not who we are supposed to be.” Instead, they go along. They defend. They rationalize. They deflect.
Why? Because they, too, have learned to live with abuse. Because they have convinced themselves that the ends justify the means. Because they are afraid; afraid of losing access, afraid of losing favor, afraid of becoming the targets of the same system they defend. And in their silence, they become complicit. In their defense, they become enablers. In their rationalizations, they become co-conspirators.
We are all harboring secrets. Secrets of the injustice we have witnessed and said nothing about. Secrets of the abuse we have endured and said nothing about. Secrets of the times we have looked the other way. Secrets of the times we have chosen comfort over courage, silence over speaking truth to power.
The PPP government has been in power; with one brief interruption, for most of my life. They have grown comfortable. They have grown arrogant. They have convinced themselves that they will never lose power again. Their memories are short. They have forgotten 2015. But we must not forget. We must not forget that they lost once, and they can lose again. We must not forget that absolute power is not permanent. We must not forget that we, the people, are the true source of authority in this nation.
We must stop living with abuse. We must find our voices again. We must speak the truth; not in whispers, not in private, but loudly and publicly and without fear. We must hold our leaders accountable; not just at election time, but every single day. We must demand that the same laws that apply to the least among us apply to the most powerful among us.
We must demand justice for the 72 souls lost on the MV Barima. Not scapegoats. Justice. Not distractions. Accountability. Not cover-ups. Truth.
We must demand answers from the Attorney General about Courtney Crum-Ewing. We must demand accountability from the government for the decisions that sent an 87-year-old, unseaworthy vessel onto the open water with 179 souls on board.
And we must demand that our leaders remember who they serve. They do not serve themselves. They do not serve their party. They do not serve their ethnic cabal. They serve us — the people of Guyana.
I am not naive. I know that speaking out comes with risks. I know that those in power do not welcome dissent. I know that the apologists will rush to defend, to deflect, to attack. But I also know this: Silence has a cost. And the cost is already too high. Seventy-two lives. More than thirty missing. A nation in mourning. And instead of accountability, we get scapegoats. Instead of truth, we get deflection. Instead of justice, we get silence.
We have learned to live with abuse for too long. We have harbored secrets for too long. We have been silent for too long. It is time to speak. It is time to demand. It is time to hold them accountable. Because if we do not, who will? And if not now, when? We are all harboring secrets. It is time to set them free.
