Dear Editor

I HAVE seen multiple videos on social media, narrated by Mr. Charrandass Persaud, being critical of Mr. Hamilton Green’s pension. This yes, yes, yes man is clearly not a happy bunny. It may just be me, but I tend to look at information objectively and I try to be consistent.

Mr. Charrandass Persaud does not seem to have a problem with Mr. Bharrat Jagdeo’s massive pension. A pension greater than that of Mr. Barack Obama’s. He cares less about Mr. Sam Hinds’ pension. Mr. Donald Ramotar’s pension is not causing him sleepless nights, even though he served for only three years and was arguably the worst President ever. The transformative leader Mr. Desmond Hoyte’s lack of pension, when he was alive, is cool by him. If he had objected to all the aforementioned pensions then I would have understood. It boggles the rational mind as to why only Mr. Hamilton Green’s pension is getting his wrath. I guess only Charrandass Persaud can answer that question.

I think it is important that I highlight a potential ‘conflict of interest’ as it relates to Mr. Green. I’ll be grateful If Charrandass Persaud can do the same as it relates to those whose pensions he has no concerns about. Six months ago I was in my office at work. It was my research and CPD day. My mobile phone rang. I answered. The person on the other end introduced himself as Mr. Hamley Case. I paused. He sensed my confusion. He then said he is the Guyana High Commissioner to the UK. My pause continued. Wondering why a man of such would be calling me. He sensed I needed some clarity. Mr Case continued by saying that Mr. Hamilton Green was trying to contact me. At this stage I was none the wiser. Mr. Case sensed this and said Mr. Hamilton Green had been reading my letters and wanted to meet the person behind the persona. He gave me Mr. Hamilton Green’s number. I said I had wanted to speak to Mr. Hamilton Green about close to 30 years now. I told him why. I will share that with the readers later.

Mr. Hamilton Green wanted to speak to me because of what I wrote on multiple occasions about myself. Met my father at the age of 18 years since he was languishing in prison. Lost my mother at the age of eight. Five orphans left behind in this cruel and unforgiving world to be raised by an unemployed 22-year-old aunt. The days of scavenging the Bourda Market stands for greens, vegetables and fruits left behind by vendors. A past I did not embrace as a child and young adult, but now recognised it was not my fault and I should not be ashamed of it. Mr. Hamilton Green cared less about my political views. I found that out when I spoke with him and his wife.

I spoke to Mr. Hamilton Green two days after I got his number. He shared with me that he just wanted to meet the author of the letters. I told him, “you already did, nearly 30 years ago.” I sensed some mystification in his voice. I continued, “I was an impoverished teenager. I had problems with my eye- sight, struggling to see. My headteacher suggested I visit your office, which I did. On arrival you said that you wished to see the young boy first. I was invited into your office. I was petrified.

You reassuringly held my hands and put me at ease, like a caring father to a son. You said, do not worry we have all day. I told you about my eyes, completely forgetting that I had a note from my headteacher. I saw your concern. You wrote a note and arranged transportation for me. I was taken to an optician in Middle Street, obliquely opposite juice power. I think it was Modern Optical Service. I was greeted at the entrance by a Portuguese-looking middle-aged man, who said that the prime minister had called to inform him about me. He arranged for me to be seen first, so that I can go off to school. I got my spectacles in a few days. Eyesight now perfect.” To further convince Mr. Hamilton Green about my story, I described his office and its location.

“It was in Parliament Buildings. It was not on the ground floor. I think it was either on the top or middle floor. I know this because I had to take the stairs.” I continued, “your office was at the distal end closest to the Stabroek Market. Your table was facing the direction of the court. The table was brown. I sat facing the Stabroek Market. You sat facing the court.” Mr. Green said he couldn’t remember, but the description fittted his office. He switched the conversation, because he said he would rather the conversation not be about him. I am sure he would have preferred if I had not written about it. I continued, “is what I wanted to do nearly 30 years now. To tell you thank you.”

I was eligible to vote for the first time in 1997. I did not vote for his PNC. In 2002, I did not vote for the PNC. Actually, I never voted in Guyana. So clearly what Mr. Hamilton Green did for me as a child, despite me being grateful, was not enough for my vote. I say this to articulate the point that I’m not saying Mr. Green should get a pension for what he did for me. I am saying that Mr. Charrandass Persaud’s objection to his pension should be rooted in objectivity. If Mr. Green should not get a pension, then Mr. Jagdeo, Mr. Hinds and Mr. Ramotar should not get pensions either.

Also, I write about my relationship with Mr. Hamilton Green to place on record of my great experience with him, as an impoverished child without a party card, but most importantly to highlight any conflict of interest. I also think I should make it pellucid that my encounter with him as a child did not make me vote for his party in 1997 or 2002 and clearly has not influenced my decision to defend his right for a pension. The reason I did not vote in any of the aforementioned elections was for the simple reason that I saw poor people religiously voting but always remained poor. I now regret not voting. Twenty-three devastating years of the PPP.

I know many may be feeling disappointed with the present government. I myself am disappointed. Minimum wage increased. Toll at the Berbice Bridge decreased. VAT decrease. An independent judiciary. No extra-judicial or political killings among other positives. But that’s not enough. The electorate expected more. I expected more, but I think the electorate needs to look at the alternative. A corrupt, murderous and racist PPP.

Many may doubt my story about Mr. Green. That’s their right. Many may say I was coaxed to make it up. I have no reason to. I can write on many other experiences of angels who looked out for me as a child. I will share some of these experiences with the readers. I will begin with my former headteacher who wrote the letter to Mr. Hamilton Green for financial support for my spectacles. That very headteacher also arranged daily lunches for me. At lunch break I would walk to a food van outside NBIC in Water Street.

A very friendly bespectacled woman would fill my box with delicious food and a large cup of drink. Not sure why she gave me special treatment. I would go to the Promenade Gardens in Middle Street, where I would enjoy my lunch before returning to school. I hope this wonderful lady read this letter. To her I wish to give a massive thank you. Many days that meal was my first and only meal. I never knew why my former headteacher was looking out for me. Probably the patches on my trousers told a story. I still remain a close friend with her daughter. On many occasions I said to her how grateful I was for what her mother did for me. I do not think she understood what I meant, since I never elaborated.

My former literature teacher was another angel. Her husband was the deputy secretary-general of CARICOM. She treated me like her son. Got me my school clothes. Always giving me and quite frankly all the students motherly support. I never spoke about my difficulties when I was a child. I was ashamed of it. Not sure how these wonderful angelic teachers picked it up.

Then my former English teacher. She also reached out to me. Her husband who is now deceased was the second in command in the army. Every Sunday she would invite me over for lunch. If she cannot make it, her husband, her husband’s driver or her daughter would pick me up from my dilapidated house. Her husband was a very humble man. He would hug me like his son. I got more hugs from him than I got from my own father. Frankly, my father never hugged me. I can count on my one hand the number of times I met my father. Anyway, when I was at their house, my former English teacher and her husband would make me feel at home. She would have her children serve me lunch. I never understood why she did that. Now I do.

She was teaching her kids a valuable lesson. First she was teaching them a lesson on humility and serving the less fortunate. Secondly, she was teaching them the lesson that even though they may enjoy certain privileges, by virtue of their parents’ status, they are not better than the kid who lived in a collapsed house, no potable water or electricity. Respect the less fortunate. One Christmas she invited me to spend the day with her mother and children. Her mother had a school below her house. I think it was in Albert Street. That was one of my better Christmases. Her children, her husband or her never made me felt like an outsider. My experiences with them influence many of my actions today and the great respect I have for the poor.

What my former English teacher taught her children I would wish to share with the present government. If re-elected, go out and meet the poor masses. Genuinely serve them. Do it regularly. Whether in Babu-Jaan or Linden. Forget about the cameras. Be humble. Forget about status. The adults may forget your visits and how much you care. The kids will not, as evident by my only contact with Mr. Hamilton Green as a child; as evident by my experiences with my angelic teachers. Those visits and support will go a long way in helping many impoverished orphans and kids to take the route I took. Hence avoiding a few less occupants at the Camp Street Prison.

Thanks to all those who were my voice when I was voiceless. Who were my support when I lacked the strength in my legs. Now that I can stand I will continue the cycle of speaking for the voiceless and supporting the powerless.

Regards
Dr. Mark Devonish MBBS MSc MRCP(UK) FRCP(Edin)
Consultant, Acute Medicine
Nottingham University Hospital
UK