GIANTS PART 1

 INT.  OFFICE –  NOVEMBER – LATE AFTERNOON

The computer screen glows in the dimly lit room.

LIONEL sits motionless at his desk, reflecting on the nation's beginnings. His eyes remain fixed on the words before him.

He pauses.

Slowly, he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

He turns away from the computer screen and looks toward the large picture window.

Outside, two squirrels dart up the trunk of a tall tree. They disappear among the branches, then reappear, searching for food. One pauses, clutching something between its paws before scurrying away.

Lionel watches them.

The November afternoon is fading. The daylight retreats behind a blanket of grey clouds. Darkness comes early this time of year.

He pulls his sweater closer around himself.

A cold wind rattles the bare branches outside.

He remains seated, lost in thought.

LIONEL (V.O.)
November again.

The cold settles in early. The days grow shorter, and before long, winter will be upon us.

He glances toward the computer.

LIONEL (V.O.)
I have spent so many years in this country. Built a life. Raised a family. Worked hard. And yet, as the years pass, I find myself asking a question.

He looks back through the window.

The squirrels are gone.

LIONEL (V.O.)
Why am I still here, enduring another winter?

A faint smile crosses his face.

LIONEL (V.O.)
Perhaps I should be spending my winters somewhere warm. Somewhere the sun does not disappear behind grey skies. Somewhere the air carries the scent of the tropics.

He leans back in his chair.

LIONEL (V.O.)
Guyana.

The word lingers.

He closes his eyes for a moment.

Images begin to form in his mind.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. GUYANA – MEMORY IMAGES – DAY

A brilliant tropical sun rises over the Berbice River.

Trees sway gently in the breeze.

The streets of Georgetown come alive. Vendors arrange their produce in the markets. Minibuses move through the traffic. The voices of people mingle with the sounds of the city.

The coastline stretches beneath a wide blue sky.

BACK TO:

INT.  OFFICE –  LATE AFTERNOON

Lionel opens his eyes.

His expression changes. The thought of Guyana has stirred something deeper than a desire to escape the cold.

LIONEL (V.O.)
But is warmth enough?

He looks down at his hands.

LIONEL (V.O.)
There must be a reason. Some purpose for me to return. Something beyond the comfort of sunshine and familiar surroundings.

He turns slowly toward the computer.

The unfinished words about the nation's beginnings remain on the screen.

He studies them.

LIONEL (V.O.)
I have lived through history. I have witnessed the struggles of a people. I have seen what division has done to a country with so much promise.

A pause.

LIONEL (V.O.)
Perhaps the question is not what Guyana can offer me.

He straightens in his chair.

LIONEL (V.O.)
Perhaps I should be asking what I can still offer Guyana.

He reaches for the keyboard.

His fingers hover above the keys.

Outside, the last traces of daylight disappear.

CUT TO:

INT. LIONEL'S HOME – LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Lionel enters the house.

He removes his jacket and hangs it in the hallway closet. The house is quiet.

He walks into the living room, switches on a lamp, and settles into his favourite chair.

A television plays softly in the background. He watches for a while, but his mind is elsewhere.

He reaches for the remote and switches it off.

Silence.

He glances at the clock.

INT. LIONEL'S HOME – BEDROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT

Lionel prepares for bed.

He brushes his teeth, washes his face, and changes into his nightclothes.

A few minutes later, he slips beneath the covers.

He reaches over and switches off the bedside lamp.

DARKNESS.

A faint glow from the streetlight filters through the curtains.

Lionel lies on his back, staring at the ceiling.

His thoughts return to Guyana.

Why should he return? What would he do there? Surely, there must be something more than escaping the Canadian winters.

He turns onto his side.

A long silence.

Then, a calm, gentle voice breaks through his thoughts.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
You already have a purpose.

Lionel opens his eyes.

He remains perfectly still.

LIONEL
(quietly)
A purpose?

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Yes. You already have one.

Lionel stares into the darkness, trying to make sense of what he has heard.

LIONEL
What purpose?

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Think hard of it.

Lionel closes his eyes.

He searches his memory.

His childhood. His years growing up in Guyana. The opportunities that came his way. The people he encountered. The many turns his life had taken.

Nothing immediately comes to mind.

LIONEL
I don't recall anything.

A brief silence.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
timehritoday.blogspot.com.

Lionel opens his eyes again.

LIONEL
The blog?

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Yes. The articles you have been writing. The thoughts you have put into words. The history you have been uncovering. The questions you have been asking about your country and its people.

Lionel shifts slightly beneath the covers.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
I have guided the words that you have typed on those pages.

Lionel reflects.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Do you remember when you sat down to begin writing? You asked for guidance. You did not know where the words would take you, or what purpose the writing would eventually serve.

A pause.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
You asked. And you were guided.

Lionel looks toward the faint outline of the bedroom window.

LIONEL
But why me?

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
There is a purpose for every person. No life is without meaning.

The voice remains gentle.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Think of the many favours you were given as a young person. The opportunities that came your way. The doors that opened when you least expected them. The experiences that shaped your life.

FLASHES OF MEMORY:

— A young Lionel growing up in Rosignol, British Guiana.

— His early years as a student.

— The training and opportunities at Bookers Training Centre that prepared him for a working life.

— His departure from Guyana and the beginning of a new life in Canada.

— Years of work, experience, and reflection.

— Lionel sitting at his computer, writing about Guyana's history.

BACK TO BEDROOM.

Lionel lies quietly, absorbing the memories.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
You may have thought those were simply events in your life. But each experience prepared you for something.

A pause.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Your purpose began to reveal itself in 2014, when you created the blog.

Lionel slowly turns his head.

LIONEL
2014.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Yes. That was the beginning. You began putting your thoughts into writing. You began examining the history of your country, its struggles, its divisions, and the circumstances that brought its people to where they are today.

The voice grows softer.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
You were not merely writing articles. You were preparing yourself.

Lionel takes a slow breath.

LIONEL
Preparing myself for what?

A moment of silence.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
For the work that still lies ahead.

Lionel looks toward the ceiling.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
You have often wondered why you should return to Guyana. You thought of the sunshine, the warmth, and the familiar surroundings.

A pause.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
But perhaps you should be asking yourself a different question.

LIONEL
What question?

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
What have you been preparing yourself to do?

Lionel falls silent.

The words linger.

He closes his eyes, but his mind is now fully awake.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Your country has given you your beginnings. Your experiences have given you perspective. Your writing has given you a voice.

A final pause.

INNER VOICE (V.O.)
Perhaps it is time to discover what you are meant to do with it.

Silence.

Lionel remains motionless.

The faint streetlight illuminates his face.

For the first time that evening, he no longer thinks about the cold Canadian winter.

His thoughts are in Guyana.

FADE OUT.

GIANTS

 

A POLITICAL-HISTORICAL DRAMA

SCREENPLAY SCENE – GUYANA, OCTOBER 2026

FADE IN:

EXT. GEORGETOWN, GUYANA – DAY

The tropical sun hangs over Georgetown.

The streets are alive with activity. Minibuses weave through traffic. Vendors call out their prices. Pedestrians hurry along Regent Street.

A newspaper vendor stands at a busy intersection, holding up the day's headlines.

NEWSPAPER VENDOR
(reading aloud)
Former PNC Leader Robert Corbin dies at seventy-eight!

The camera moves across Georgetown.

Political posters, faded campaign photographs and party symbols adorn walls and buildings.

Two names have dominated Guyana's political landscape for generations:

THE PEOPLE'S PROGRESSIVE PARTY.

THE PEOPLE'S NATIONAL CONGRESS.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Since the middle of the twentieth century, Guyana's political destiny has been profoundly influenced by two major political movements.

The People's Progressive Party and the People's National Congress.

Their rivalry shaped elections, governments, political loyalties and, for generations, the relationship between Guyanese communities.

But the passage of time has brought new generations, new expectations and new political movements.

The question remains: Can a country move beyond the political divisions of its past?

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ARTHUR CHUNG CONFERENCE CENTRE, GEORGETOWN – EVENING

October 14, 2026.

Vehicles arrive at the conference centre.

Political leaders, former parliamentarians, party officials, relatives and members of the public make their way inside.

A memorial gathering is being held in honour of ROBERT HERMAN ORLANDO CORBIN, former leader of the People's National Congress Reform.

He died on October 4, 2026, at the age of seventy-eight.

His death has brought together political figures from opposing sides of Guyana's political divide.

INT. ARTHUR CHUNG CONFERENCE CENTRE – EVENING

A photograph of Robert Corbin stands prominently before the gathering.

Floral arrangements surround it.

Family members sit in the front row.

Across the hall, politicians from different parties exchange greetings. Some shake hands warmly. Others acknowledge one another with restrained nods.

There is an unusual atmosphere.

Political rivals are gathered under one roof, united by the passing of a man who had spent much of his life in politics.

A speaker concludes a tribute.

The audience applauds.

DR. BHARRAT JAGDEO, General Secretary of the People's Progressive Party and Guyana's Vice-President, approaches the microphone.

He pauses.

Looks across the gathering.

JAGDEO
Robert Corbin was a man who defended his party fiercely. He was a strong advocate for the People's National Congress.

But he also understood that the future of Guyana required something more than political confrontation.

He was prepared to engage. He was prepared to take risks.

And sometimes, taking those risks came at a personal political cost.

The audience listens.

JAGDEO
For many years, our politics has been shaped by mistrust, historical grievances and the fear of stepping outside the expectations of our respective parties.

We became prisoners of our own political thinking.

A pause.

JAGDEO
But the younger generation is different.

They do not necessarily see politics in the same way their parents and grandparents did.

They may support one party on one issue and another party on a different issue.

They want answers. They want opportunities. They want a future.

He looks towards the representatives of the PNC.

JAGDEO
Unless our parties, these two parties, change today, the era of binary thinking of old is long gone.

We will face extinction.

A silence settles over the hall.

Some members of the audience exchange glances.

Others remain motionless.

Jagdeo steps back from the microphone.

The applause is measured.

CUT TO:

INT. CONFERENCE CENTRE – AUDIENCE – CONTINUOUS

A YOUNG GUYANESE MAN, perhaps twenty-five, leans towards an older man seated beside him.

YOUNG MAN
What does he mean by extinction?

OLDER MAN
He means the old politics cannot continue forever.

YOUNG MAN
But it has continued all my life.

OLDER MAN
And before you were born.

The young man looks towards the stage.

YOUNG MAN
Then perhaps it is time somebody asked what comes after it.

The older man says nothing.

CUT TO:

INT. CONFERENCE CENTRE – FRONT ROW – CONTINUOUS

A PNC REPRESENTATIVE sits quietly, reflecting on Jagdeo's remarks.

Beside him, another party official leans closer.

PNC OFFICIAL
Do you believe they are serious about changing?

PARTY REPRESENTATIVE
That is the question.

He looks towards the photograph of Robert Corbin.

PARTY REPRESENTATIVE
Corbin understood that political parties could disagree without treating each other as enemies.

CUT TO:

EXT. ARTHUR CHUNG CONFERENCE CENTRE – NIGHT

The gathering continues.

Outside, small groups of people stand beneath the lights, discussing the speech.

Some agree with Jagdeo. Others question his intentions.

A young woman speaks to a friend.

YOUNG WOMAN
We were born into this political divide. We inherited it. But must we pass it on to our children?

Her friend looks towards the illuminated conference centre.

FRIEND
Perhaps the question is not whether the parties will change.

Perhaps it is whether the people will demand something different.

The two women walk towards the parking area.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Robert Corbin's passing brought together people who had spent decades on opposite sides of Guyana's political landscape.

His memorial gathering became more than an occasion to remember a political leader.

It became a moment to confront an uncomfortable question.

For how long can a nation remain divided between two political traditions?

And what happens when a new generation refuses to inherit the political loyalties of the old?

CUT TO BLACK.

SUPER:

GUYANA – A NATION AT THE CROSSROADS.

INT. LIONEL MOHABIR'S OFFICE – NIGHT – OCTOBER 2026

A quiet office.

A computer monitor illuminates the room.

LIONEL MOHABIR sits behind his desk, studying the screen. A half-empty cup of tea rests beside the keyboard.

He moves the mouse.

Clicks on FACEBOOK.

The familiar blue-and-white page appears.

He begins scrolling.

Photographs. Political commentary. News headlines. Advertisements. Short videos.

He scrolls again.

Stops.

An AI-generated video catches his attention.

The caption reads:

"A MEETING BEYOND TIME – FORBES BURNHAM AND CHEDDI JAGAN."

Lionel leans closer.

Clicks PLAY.

CUT TO:

INT. ANOTHER REALM – TIMELESS SPACE

Strange and boundless.

An immense, mysterious expanse stretches into infinity.

There is no visible sky, no ground, no horizon. A soft golden light illuminates the surroundings.

Two figures stand facing each other.

A YOUNG FORBES BURNHAM, dressed in a dark suit and tie, appears confident and composed.

Beside him stands a YOUNG CHEDDI JAGAN, wearing a light-coloured suit, white shirt and bowtie.

Both men appear as they did in their younger political years.

For a moment, neither speaks. FORBES breaks the silence.

FORBES
Cheddi, look at you. You still have that serious face.

CHEDDI
And you, Forbes. You still have that confident smile.

Forbes laughs.

FORBES
Some things never change.

CHEDDI
That depends on what you mean by change.

Forbes walks a few steps, looking into the endless space.

FORBES
Tell me something, Cheddi. Iz wah going on wid yuh people dem in the PPP?

Cheddi looks at him.

CHEDDI
My people? What are you talking about, Forbes?

FORBES
You know exactly what I mean. The party we helped build. The movement that was supposed to bring people together. What has become of it?

Cheddi takes wipes his nose.

CHEDDI
Politics is never as simple as we imagined it would be.

FORBES
We started together, Cheddi. Remember?

CHEDDI
Of course I remember.

FORBES
The meetings. The speeches. The struggle against colonial rule. We stood before the same crowds and spoke about freedom, justice and a better future.

CHEDDI
And then we disagreed about the direction of the movement.

FORBES
Disagreement is one thing. What happened afterwards was something else.

A silence.

CHEDDI
Guyana inherited many divisions. We did not create all of them.

FORBES
But we had a responsibility to prevent them from becoming permanent.

Cheddi looks away.

CHEDDI
You are speaking as though you were not part of the problem.

FORBES
I am not claiming innocence, Cheddi.

He pauses.

FORBES
But perhaps we should stop arguing about who was right and who was wrong.

Forbes moves closer.

FORBES
I want you to visit Guyana.

CHEDDI
Visit Guyana? We are dead, Forbes.

FORBES
(laughing)
And since when has that stopped us from having a conversation?

Cheddi smiles faintly.

Suddenly, a strange vibration fills the space.

A low, resonating sound grows louder.

The golden light begins to ripple.

CHEDDI
What is happening?

Forbes turns towards the disturbance.

In the distance, an enormous elliptical opening begins to appear.

Its edges shimmer like liquid glass.

The opening expands, contracts, then expands again.

FORBES
There it is.

CHEDDI
What?

FORBES
The Time Warp.

Cheddi stares at the phenomenon.

CHEDDI
Time Warp?

FORBES
An opening between the realm in which we exist and the world we left behind.

The opening contracts until it is almost closed.

Then suddenly expands.

Within it, images flash.

Georgetown streets. Sugar estates. Political rallies. Government buildings. Market stalls. Minibuses. Modern skyscrapers.

FORBES
It opens and closes. Expansion and contraction. At the moment of expansion, you can pass through.

CHEDDI
And where will it take me?

FORBES
Home, Cheddi. Back to Guyana.

Cheddi studies the opening.

CHEDDI
What am I supposed to look for?

Forbes looks directly at him.

FORBES
The people.

A pause.

FORBES
Not the politicians. Not the party headquarters. Not the speeches.

The people who work every day to survive.

The people whose hopes we once promised to fulfil.

Cheddi becomes thoughtful.

CHEDDI
And what about you?

FORBES
I will remain here.

Forbes extends his hand.

Cheddi shakes it.

FORBES
Go and see for yourself.

The opening begins to expand.

A powerful wind sweeps through the timeless space.

Cheddi adjusts his jacket.

He walks towards the shimmering opening.

FORBES
Cheddi!

Cheddi turns.

FORBES
When you return, tell me what you saw.

CHEDDI
I will, Forbes.

The opening reaches its maximum expansion.

Cheddi steps forward.

A brilliant flash of light engulfs him.

CUT TO:

EXT. MON REPOS MARKET – EAST COAST DEMERARA – DAY

A burst of light.

Cheddi emerges onto a busy space.

The sounds of modern Guyana surround him.

Minibuses honk. Vendors shout their prices. Customers move between market stalls.

Cheddi steadies himself.

He looks down at his clothing.

His well-tailored suit. White shirt. Bow tie. Polished shoes.

He adjusts his steps.

For a moment, he appears disoriented.

CHEDDI
Mon Repos?

He looks around.

CHEDDI
My goodness. So much has changed.

He walks towards the market.

INT. MON REPOS MARKET – CONTINUOUS

The market is crowded.

Vegetables are arranged on wooden tables. Fishmongers display their catch. Bags of rice, flour and sugar are stacked behind shop counters.

A WOMAN examines a small quantity of provisions.

WOMAN CUSTOMER
How much for the rice?

VENDOR
Four hundred dollars a pound.

WOMAN CUSTOMER
And the flour?

VENDOR
Two hundred and fifty.

The woman looks into her purse.

She counts a few notes.

WOMAN CUSTOMER
Give me half a pound of rice, then.

The vendor measures the rice into a plastic bag.

Cheddi stops.

He watches the exchange.

CHEDDI
Excuse me, madam.

The woman turns.

WOMAN CUSTOMER
Yes, sir?

CHEDDI
Are those the current prices?

WOMAN CUSTOMER
Current? Every day they going up.

Cheddi looks towards the vendor.

CHEDDI
What about sugar, cooking oil and other necessities?

VENDOR
Sir, you want to buy or you just asking questions?

Cheddi gives a faint smile.

CHEDDI
I am trying to understand something.

He moves along the stall.

A handwritten price list catches his attention.

Rice. Flour. Sugar. Cooking oil. Milk. Onions. Potatoes.

He reads the prices carefully.

CHEDDI
And how does an ordinary family manage?

The vendor shrugs.

VENDOR
Some manage. Some don't. People buying less and less.

Nearby, an ELDERLY WOMAN is counting coins.

ELDERLY WOMAN
I can't afford all of them today.

VENDOR
Take what you can, aunty.

ELDERLY WOMAN
I have to make this money last until next week.

She selects a few potatoes and a small quantity of rice.

Cheddi watches her walk away.

His expression changes.

He approaches a young mother holding a child.

CHEDDI
Madam, may I ask you something?

YOUNG MOTHER
Yes, sir.

CHEDDI
Do you find it difficult to provide the necessities for your family?

The young mother looks at him, surprised by the question.

YOUNG MOTHER
Difficult? Sir, every day is a calculation.

She points towards the shopping bag in her hand.

YOUNG MOTHER
I have two children. School expenses, transportation, food, electricity. Everything has to come out of the same salary.

CHEDDI
And your husband?

YOUNG MOTHER
He works too. But two salaries don't always mean two people can live comfortably.

Cheddi nods slowly.

CHEDDI
I understand.

YOUNG MOTHER
Do you, sir?

Cheddi looks at her.

He has no immediate answer.

The young mother adjusts her child and walks away.

Cheddi remains standing.

The noise of the market seems to fade.

He looks again at the price list.

His eyes move from one item to another.

The expression on his face grows increasingly solemn.

CHEDDI
(softly)
Is this what we struggled for?

He removes his bowtie.

His eyes, once bright with political conviction, have lost their gleam.

A deep sadness settles over his face.

CUT TO:

EXT. MON REPOS MARKET – MARKET ENTRANCE – DAY

Cheddi walks slowly towards the entrance.

He stops beside a concrete pillar.

Children pass carrying schoolbags.

An elderly man pushes a heavily loaded cart.

A vendor calls out to passing customers.

Life continues.

Cheddi looks at the people.

CHEDDI
(to himself)
We spoke of freedom.

We spoke of equality.

We spoke of a country where every child would have an opportunity.

He looks down at his hands.

CHEDDI
But what does freedom mean when a mother must choose between food and the other necessities of life?

He looks towards the road.

A minibus passes, its conductor calling out destinations.

Cheddi watches it disappear.

CHEDDI
Forbes was right.

He pauses.

CHEDDI
I must see more.

CUT TO:

INT. TIMELESS REALM – SAME TIME

Forbes stands before the shimmering opening.

The images of Mon Repos Market appear within it.

He watches Cheddi standing alone.

Forbes folds his arms.

FORBES
Well, Cheddi?

He shakes his head.

FORBES
You wanted to change the world. Now look at the world you left behind.

The opening begins to contract.

Forbes steps back.

FORBES
I wonder what you will tell me when you return.

FLASHBACK 

THE BIRTH OF THE PEOPLE'S PROGRESSIVE PARTY.

EXT. GEORGETOWN, BRITISH GUIANA – DAY – 1950

BLACK AND WHITE.

Archival-style images of colonial Georgetown.

The imposing colonial buildings along Main Street. Horse-drawn carts move through narrow streets. Bicycles weave between pedestrians. Vendors display their goods beneath wooden awnings.

Sugar workers return from the estates, their clothes marked by a day's labour.

Indian and African labourers walk together through the busy streets.

A train whistle sounds in the distance.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
The modern political history of Guyana entered a new chapter with the formation of the People's Progressive Party on January 1, 1950.

It was a movement that brought together people of African and Indian ancestry under one political banner.

Dr. Cheddi Jagan. Forbes Burnham. Janet Jagan.

They shared a common political ambition: to challenge colonial rule and establish a government responsive to the people.

CUT TO:

EXT. GEORGETOWN STREET – DAY

A newspaper vendor stands outside a crowded street corner.

He holds up a freshly printed newspaper.

NEWSPAPER VENDOR
(reading aloud)
New political party formed! People's Progressive Party!

Pedestrians stop to listen.

A young Indian labourer takes a newspaper from the vendor.

An African shop assistant standing nearby leans over to read the headline.

AFRICAN SHOP ASSISTANT
So, what is this new party about?

INDIAN LABOURER
They say it is for the working people. For everybody.

AFRICAN SHOP ASSISTANT
Everybody?

INDIAN LABOURER
That's what they say.

The two men exchange a cautious smile.

CUT TO:

INT. PPP HEADQUARTERS – GEORGETOWN – DAY

A modest room.

Wooden chairs surround a long table. Papers, notebooks and newspapers are scattered across its surface.

DR. CHEDDI JAGAN sits with JANET JAGAN, SYDNEY KING and FORBES BURNHAM.

Several founding members are present.

The atmosphere is purposeful.

Cheddi examines a document.

CHEDDI
We cannot continue to accept a political system in which decisions affecting the lives of ordinary people are made without their participation.

FORBES
And we must make certain that the party represents the entire country.

He looks around the table.

FORBES
African workers, Indian workers, teachers, farmers, clerks, shopkeepers. This movement cannot belong to one community.

JANET
Then we must take that message beyond Georgetown.

She places a map of British Guiana on the table.

JANET
The sugar estates, the villages, the mining districts, the rural communities. People must know that this party belongs to them.

Cheddi nods.

CHEDDI
Our struggle is against colonial domination and economic injustice.

FORBES
And we must organise. A political movement without organisation cannot become a government.

The men exchange glances.

CHEDDI
Then let us begin.

CUT TO:

EXT. SUGAR ESTATE VILLAGE – BRITISH GUIANA – DAY

A gathering beneath a large tree.

Sugar workers assemble after their day's labour.

Some sit on wooden benches. Others stand with their bicycles.

Cheddi Jagan addresses the crowd.

CHEDDI
You work in the fields. You produce the sugar that brings wealth to this colony.

But what do you receive in return?

The crowd murmurs.

CHEDDI
Your children deserve education. Your families deserve decent housing. Workers deserve fair treatment.

A man raises his hand.

SUGAR WORKER
Doctor, we hear plenty speeches. What will this new party do for us?

Cheddi looks directly at him.

CHEDDI
It will give you a voice. But that voice must come from you. You must participate in deciding your future.

The workers applaud.

CUT TO:

EXT. GEORGETOWN PUBLIC MEETING – EVENING

A large crowd gathers around a wooden platform.

Forbes Burnham stands before the audience.

FORBES
We cannot build a country by keeping its people apart.

He gestures towards the crowd.

FORBES
The future of British Guiana belongs to all its people.

African and Indian. Rural and urban. Workers and professionals.

No community should believe that the country belongs exclusively to another.

The crowd applauds.

Cheddi stands nearby, listening.

For a moment, the two men exchange a look of understanding.

CUT TO:

INT. PPP HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT

The meeting has ended.

Only Cheddi, Forbes and Janet remain.

An oil lamp illuminates the room.

Cheddi gathers the papers from the table.

CHEDDI
We have much work ahead of us.

FORBES
More than we can imagine.

Janet closes her notebook.

JANET
Then we had better begin.

Forbes looks at Cheddi.

FORBES
One thing, Cheddi. We must remember why we started this.

CHEDDI
I won't forget.

FORBES
Neither must the party.

They shake hands.

The camera holds on their joined hands.

1950 – A MOVEMENT UNITED.

FLASHBACK – 1952

AGE: 7 years old

Location: ROSIGNOL VILLAGE

SCENE 1 – THE FIRST CUP

EXT. ROSIGNOL PUBLIC ROAD – EARLY MORNING (1952)

Low mist hanging over the road. Chickens scattering. A few early cane workers passing by with cutlasses on their shoulders.

Young SYDNEY GORDON KUTTAIN (7) crouches at the side of the road like a miniature general plotting a battlefield. He has a piece of chalk almost as long as his forearm. Beside him stand YOUNG WALTER ARTHUR and YOUNG LIONEL MOHABIR — tiny, barefoot, eager.

YOUNG GORDON
(whispering like a commander)
Okay… Walter, you watch for police. Lionel, you hold the bag. If you see Constable Ramnath, whistle.

YOUNG LIONEL
I can’t whistle.

YOUNG WALTER
Then… cough. Cough twice.

Lionel nods solemnly, as if entrusted with a sacred mission.

Gordon stretches and draws the PPP CUP symbol on the lamp pole — carefully, deliberately.

YOUNG GORDON
Perfect. That gon’ show them we serious, me father said we have to act serious.

YOUNG WALTER
What “serious” mean?

YOUNG GORDON
It mean… it mean people gon’ know PPP running this place.

The boys exchange looks. They don’t understand politics, but they understand pride.

SCENE 2 – THUNDER RUN

EXT.  SYDNEY  MADRAY KUTTAIN’S FRONT DOOR – AFTERNOON (1952)

Piles of the PPP newspaper THUNDER sit stacked near the door. Young Gordon’s father, SYDNEY MADRAY KUTTAIN, sorts them with practiced hands.

FATHER KUTTAIN
(firm)
Gordon, Walter, Lionel — carry these to Teacher Persaud. And don’t let them drop in mud like last time.

The boys nod enthusiastically.

FATHER KUTTAIN hands each a bundle tied with string. The papers are heavy for their tiny arms.

YOUNG WALTER
(arms shaking)
Uncle, this heavy!

FATHER KUTTAIN
Dem stories heavy too — full of truth. Hold them strong.

The boys stagger off, bumping into each other, determined.

SCENE 3 – THE ERRAND TO NEIGHBORING VILLAGES

EXT. RICE FIELDS / DAM ROAD – DUSK (1952)

Golden light over the rice fields. The boys walk single-file along a narrow dam, balancing the bundles. Lionel keeps falling behind.

YOUNG LIONEL
(small voice)
My leg hurting…

YOUNG WALTER
Come nah, man! We close.

Gordon stops, looks back, and hands Lionel a piece of sugar cake.

SCENE 4 – ADDRESSING THE WORKERS

EXT. NEIGHBORING VILLAGE – WORKERS’ SHED – EVENING (1952)

A group of cane cutters rest after work. Sweat-stained shirts. Feet caked in mud. They laugh as they see the three tiny boys struggling toward them.

CANE CUTTER
Ay! Look Kuttain lil’ brigade coming again!

The boys dump the papers on a bench with dramatic exhaustion.

YOUNG WALTER
We bring… Thunder!

YOUNG LIONEL
(holding up a paper proudly)
This one got picture of the cup!

The men grin and distribute the papers among themselves.

CANE CUTTER #2
(tousling Gordon’s hair)
One day, you boys gon’ run this country.

The boys beam.

SCENE 5 – THE NEAR ESCAPE

EXT. ROSIGNOL BACKDAM – NIGHTFALL (1952)

The boys continue drawing PPP cups on old buildings near the market. Suddenly a bicycle bell rings sharply.

CONSTABLE RAMNATH (O.S.)
Eh eh! Who deh there? Who making graffiti pon government property?

Panic.

YOUNG WALTER
Lionel, cough! COUGH!

YOUNG LIONEL
(freezes)
I forget how to cough!

YOUNG GORDON
Run! RUN!

They scatter in three directions, barefoot slapping on the earth. Gordon dives behind a drum, Walter under a cart, Lionel behind a chicken coop — feathers explode everywhere.

Constable Ramnath passes grumbling, flashlight swinging.

After a tense silence…

The boys emerge from hiding, covered in dust and feathers, and burst into helpless laughter.

SCENE 6 – SUNSET PLEDGE

EXT. STELLING – SUNSET (1952)

The boys sit on the wooden stelling, legs dangling above the river. The sky glows orange.

YOUNG GORDON
One day we gon’ see Guiana free.

YOUNG WALTER
Like… nobody ruling we?

YOUNG LIONEL
And everybody happy?

Gordon nods, chest swelling with childish conviction.

YOUNG GORDON
Yes. And we gon’ be part of it. All three of we.

They tap their fists together — a childhood oath made in innocence, but with the full weight of the future.

MONTAGE: WALTER & LIONEL

— Drawing the CUP on a shop shutter.
— Demonstrating the ballot X to a group of fishermen.
— Sneaking onto a back fence with Gordon to add “VOTE PPP”.

EXT. STREET CORNER – ONE YEAR LATER

GORDON, now eight years old, clever and restless, receives orders from Kuttain.

KUTTAIN

You’ll add the words “VOTE PPP” beside the CUP symbol.

Everywhere you mark it — chalk, paint, charcoal — make it clean. Recognizable.
But that’s not all.

GORDON

(smiles)
I know. Teach them how to put the X on the CUP on the ballot.

KUTTAIN

Exactly. Household by household. Field to field. Don’t skip a single door.

Gordon nods seriously as he pockets a tin stencil of the CUP.

MONTAGE: — GORDON AT WORK

— Showing a family how to fold a ballot.
— Drawing an X on a chalkboard CUP symbol.
— Handing a pamphlet to an elderly woman.
— Kids chasing after him as he paints “VOTE PPP” on a picket fence.

END OF FLASHBACK.

TO BE CONTINUED.

THE GATHERING OF PARLIAMENTARIANS

 

THE GATHERING OF PARLIAMENTARIANS

Ours is a society increasingly defined by lists. There is the Life List, where we record our dreams and ambitions; the Bucket List, which reminds us of the experiences we hope to embrace before time runs out; and then there is the Candidates List—the gateway to the hallowed chambers of Guyana's Parliament.

But what of the names appearing on that final list? Do they represent fresh minds, unburdened by the prejudices and political divisions of the past? Do they bring new ideas, integrity, and a genuine commitment to national progress? Or are we simply recycling the same political loyalties, inherited grievances, and familiar faces?

There was a time when Parliament was regarded as an institution of dignity and integrity, where reasoned debate and the collective wisdom of elected representatives shaped the destiny of a nation. Today, too often, its proceedings are overshadowed by confrontation, political expediency, and broken promises.

If we are serious about rewriting Guyana's future, perhaps we must begin by reconsidering who we send to represent us.

On Monday, October 11, 1834, at the stroke of noon, Damon was hanged before the public buildings in Georgetown. The execution was a grim public spectacle, intended to demonstrate the authority of British colonial justice and warn the population of the consequences of defiance.

The building and grounds represented the emerging centre of colonial administration in British Guiana, a seat of imperial authority from which decisions affecting the lives of enslaved Africans and, later, indentured Indians would be made. It was a symbol of a political order in which the interests of the colonial establishment took precedence over the dignity and aspirations of the people.

Today, as we listen to the rhetoric echoing through these parliamentary chambers, we should remember the sacrifices of Damon and Quamina. Their struggles were different, but both were rooted in the fundamental human desire for justice, dignity, and freedom.

They could scarcely have imagined that generations later, in a Parliament established to represent the people, the ideals for which they struggled would still be threatened by political division and partisan hostility.

The Speaker of the House occupies a position of considerable constitutional importance. That office must stand above political allegiance, safeguarding parliamentary procedure, fairness, and the rights of every elected representative. When impartiality is questioned, the authority of the entire institution suffers.

Such conduct does not go unnoticed by the people. It breeds frustration, deepens mistrust, and diminishes respect for the very institution entrusted with protecting democratic principles.

Africans and Indians, together with our Indigenous brothers and sisters, have inherited a shared history of struggle. Our ancestors endured slavery, indentureship, dispossession, and colonial exploitation. Their sacrifices should have taught us that national unity is not a political slogan but a responsibility.

Yet, we continue to allow partisan interests to divide us.

The Timehri Action Party proposes a different course.

We represent a new generation of political thinking—one founded on competence, integrity, opportunity, and national inclusion. We seek representatives from all 65 electoral districts who understand that Parliament is not a prize to be won, but a public trust to be honoured.

We are not entering politics merely to occupy seats or acquire power. We are entering to restore confidence in government, create opportunities for our people, and build a Guyana in which every citizen has a meaningful stake.

The future of Guyana must belong to all Guyanese.

B.G. Bhagi

 

SEARCH FOR NATIONAL UNITY

 

The Search for National Unity, Justice, and a People's Movement

The Guyanese diaspora emerged, in large measure, from communities shaped by persecution, political instability, and ethnic conflict. Scattered across the globe, Guyanese have established themselves in distinct communities, carrying with them the memories of their homeland. They follow its political developments closely, often with a nationalism that remains strong despite the distance separating them from the country of their birth.

In September 1967, I immigrated to Ontario, Canada. Guyana had gained independence on May 26, 1966, with Forbes Burnham as Prime Minister. Yet independence did not automatically deliver the national unity, political freedom, or collective purpose that so many Guyanese had hoped to achieve.

Our decolonisation unfolded against the ideological struggle of the Cold War. Within the corridors of Whitehall, the Oval Office, and the Kremlin, Guyana's people became pawns in a contest between competing political interests. British and American interventions, alongside domestic political rivalries, contributed to an environment in which ethnic tensions between the descendants of Africans and Indians became increasingly destructive.

Nationalism was never allowed to become the common road on which all Guyanese could travel together.

Instead, our politics became dominated by the rivalry between two men: Forbes Burnham, the Afro-Guyanese leader of the People's National Congress (PNC), and Dr. Cheddi Jagan, the Indo-Guyanese leader of the People's Progressive Party (PPP). Their political contest, amplified by propaganda and ethnic loyalties, left deep wounds in the communities they represented.

The consequences were borne not by the leaders alone, but by ordinary people. Indians turned against Blacks, and Blacks turned against Indians. Suspicion replaced trust, and political allegiance increasingly followed ethnic identity.

Both men are now dead. One has returned to the dust of the earth; the other rests in a crypt. Yet their political legacies remain alive in generations of Guyanese, both at home and abroad.

We continue to encounter those legacies in village disturbances, urban riots, massacres, the tragedy of Wismar, the Son Chapman explosion, displacement, and migration. These events are not merely entries in our history books. They are wounds carried by families and communities, passed from one generation to the next.

The stories told within the diaspora are often incomplete, partisan, or distorted. But denying the diaspora the right to speak about its experiences would be to repeat the very politics that drove many Guyanese to seek refuge and opportunity in foreign lands.

Even abroad, the shadow of political persecution has not entirely disappeared. Concerns about surveillance and intimidation, reminiscent of the Burnham-Jagan era, have resurfaced in discussions within Guyanese communities in Brooklyn, New York. I have written about these developments on my blog, Timehri Today, and included my observations in these pages.

Many diasporas are formed when people flee persecution or seek a better life elsewhere. Yet the Guyanese diaspora has another enduring characteristic: a desire to give something back to the homeland. Again and again, Guyanese abroad express their disappointment when promises of inclusion, development, and national progress remain unfulfilled.

Their disappointment should not be dismissed. It should be understood as evidence that the bond between the diaspora and Guyana remains alive.

Brooklyn: A Community Divided

In Brooklyn, concerns about persecution and discrimination have become part of the discussion surrounding Guyanese political life.

Businesses were reportedly singled out and placed on boycott lists. When I watched a video of the President's visit, however, I saw a cordial gathering of Guyanese welcoming a fellow countryman. The scene reminded me of the respectful interactions between Afro-Guyanese people that I remember from the 1950s.

Black activists themselves have often spoken fondly of an earlier period when mutual respect was more evident in their communities.

What I saw was a thriving community, one that appeared to share a desire for a progressive Guyana.

A boycott, in my view, was unnecessary. Political disagreements should not become instruments of collective punishment against businesses or individuals because of their perceived political or ethnic associations. Discrimination at home should not be exported to Brooklyn, nor should the diaspora become another battleground for Guyana's unresolved divisions.

We must learn our history thoroughly enough to distinguish fact from propaganda and legitimate criticism from prejudice.

Our history has too often been divided into separate accounts of Black history, Indian history, and Portuguese history. These histories are important, but they must also be understood as parts of a larger national story.

We need a history of Guyana—a history that recognises the experiences, contributions, suffering, and aspirations of all its peoples.

The Diaspora and the Crisis of Political Leadership

The recent congress of the People's Progressive Party, and the results of its Central Committee elections, raise troubling questions about the future of political leadership in Guyana.

The internal selection of party leaders has consequences far beyond the party itself. It affects the choices available to voters and the country's prospects for democratic renewal.

The PPP's process of democratic centralism, as I understand it, leaves substantial questions about the extent to which competing political aspirations within the party can influence the eventual presidential choice. If members feel unable to express their views without fear of exclusion or retaliation, the democratic character of the process is weakened.

The public deserves greater transparency and meaningful participation in decisions that will shape the country's future.

Opposition supporters may already distrust the ruling party. But the more troubling question concerns ordinary PPP supporters themselves. Do they have a meaningful voice in determining the direction of their party, or are they expected simply to follow decisions made by those at the top?

When an election is over, citizens should not be forgotten until the next campaign begins.

How can party members accept a process in which their political aspirations appear to carry so little weight? Where is the respect for their judgement? And if ordinary party members are denied a meaningful voice, what hope is there for the ordinary citizen?

Such developments could create an opportunity for the People's National Congress to present itself as a credible alternative. But that opportunity will be wasted unless the PNC is prepared to change, embrace progressive ideas, and demonstrate that it can earn the confidence of voters beyond its traditional support base.

The party must be creative, inclusive, and willing to engage Indo-Guyanese voters on policies rather than ethnic loyalties.

The diaspora, particularly those who remain engaged in Guyana's political future, can encourage that transformation.

The Six Thousand Votes and the Lost Opportunity

The 2015 general election demonstrated that a relatively small number of voters could determine the balance of political power in Guyana. The APNU-AFC coalition secured a one-seat parliamentary majority, with the support of voters who crossed traditional political and ethnic boundaries.

In a country where Afro-Guyanese voters have often supported the PNC and Indo-Guyanese voters have often supported the PPP, those voters represented something important: the possibility of choosing a government according to conscience rather than inherited political allegiance.

Their votes carried the promise of a different political culture.

Yet the coalition government failed, in my assessment, to fulfil that promise. Instead of demonstrating the humility and inclusiveness expected of a government elected by such a narrow margin, it became embroiled in confrontational politics and displayed contempt towards the parliamentary opposition.

The government also attempted to remain in office following the passage of a no-confidence motion, leading to a prolonged constitutional and political crisis.

The lesson is clear. Winning an election is not the same as earning the lasting trust of a nation.

The events surrounding the 2020 election deepened those concerns. I recall an incident at the main gate of the Guyana Elections Commission (GECOM) compound after the polls had closed.

Three elderly women and an elderly man, all Afro-Guyanese, approached the gate carrying a basket. A younger Afro-Guyanese man accepted it from them over the gate, despite objections from an Indo-Guyanese man standing nearby.

The Indo-Guyanese man protested that the action was not permitted and insisted that it was illegal. The others replied that the basket contained dinner for the staff. They continued despite his objections, and when they realised that he was filming the incident, the elderly man moved towards him and sprayed a liquid substance in his direction. The man avoided it and was chased away.

I recount this incident because it reflected the atmosphere of mistrust that surrounded the electoral process. The circumstances raised questions about impartiality, accountability, and the conduct of those involved.

When political opponents cannot trust one another, even ordinary actions become grounds for suspicion. When citizens lose confidence in the institutions responsible for safeguarding their votes, the entire democratic process is endangered.

The narrow electoral margins of 2015 and the events of 2020 should have compelled our political leaders to reconsider their approach to governance.

Instead, the country remains caught in a cycle of fear and mistrust.

An Independent Voice for the Diaspora

Both the PPP and the PNC have spoken about the importance of the diaspora. A government department has even been established to address diaspora affairs. Yet a department bearing that name is not enough if Guyanese abroad have little influence over national policy or no effective means of presenting their collective concerns.

The diaspora needs an independent organisation, supported by a permanent secretariat in Georgetown, to gather public opinion, facilitate constructive dialogue, and promote policies that serve the national interest.

Its purpose should not be to become an extension of either political party. It should provide an independent platform through which Guyanese abroad and at home can contribute to national development.

Such an organisation could help bring together professionals, businesspeople, workers, community leaders, academics, and ordinary citizens. It could identify common priorities, encourage evidence-based policy discussions, and hold successive governments accountable for their commitments.

The upcoming PNC congress should also confront an unavoidable political reality: no party can build a durable national future by relying exclusively on its traditional ethnic constituency.

If the PNC hopes to form a government that represents Guyana as a whole, it must develop a credible approach to winning the confidence of Indo-Guyanese voters. That approach should be discussed openly among delegates and should be grounded in policies, representation, and guarantees of equal treatment.

Diaspora participants should encourage the party to recognise that political inclusion is not a concession to another ethnic group. It is a requirement of democratic government.

The APNU-AFC coalition once had an opportunity to demonstrate this principle. Its electoral arrangement offered the prospect of a government committed to accommodating the aspirations of citizens across the political divide. Many voters placed their trust in that possibility.

That trust was not adequately rewarded.

In Guyana, the contributions of ordinary citizens are too often forgotten once politicians acquire power. Citizens who cast their votes in the hope of a more inclusive society find themselves excluded from the decisions that affect their lives.

Before an election, politicians seek the people. After an election, too many behave as though they have risen above them.

The ordinary citizen becomes an extraordinary citizen only for the brief moment when a vote is needed. Once elected, those entrusted with power begin to behave like rulers looking down from the clouds upon mere mortals.

This is a betrayal of democratic responsibility.

Beyond the Politics of Race

We remain too deeply entrenched in racial politics to recognise the harm we inflict upon our own progress.

The early years of PNC rule saw programmes and policies that, in some respects, reflected ideas also associated with the PPP. Yet the benefits of political favour were not shared equally. Those connected to the ruling establishment often prospered, while many ordinary citizens struggled.

Today, critics of the PPP similarly argue that political favouritism benefits a relatively small circle of families and associates. Such allegations deserve scrutiny, transparency, and evidence rather than unquestioning acceptance.

The underlying problem, however, extends beyond either party.

Whether under a PNC-led or PPP-led government, citizens continue to complain of unequal treatment, inadequate justice, corruption, and a lack of accountability. For many, the experience of government is not one of security and fairness but of uncertainty about whether the law will protect them equally.

In 1992, when Cheddi Jagan returned to office following the first widely recognised free and fair general election since independence, Guyana had an opportunity to begin a new chapter.

One might reasonably have expected the new administration to pursue a broad national arrangement, bringing political opponents into a government committed to overcoming racial divisions. Jagan had spoken about national cooperation, and the country desperately needed a framework that could move it away from the politics of ethnic confrontation.

Yet a national front government did not emerge.

The PPP/C assumed office, and the opportunity to build a broader arrangement across political lines was lost.

The 1992 election nevertheless remains a landmark. It restored the possibility that citizens could choose their government through a credible electoral process. That achievement should have been treated as a foundation for national reconciliation.

Even if the PPP secured power primarily through the support of Indo-Guyanese voters, the government had a responsibility to serve every citizen and reward the public's trust through fair and inclusive governance.

The failure to establish a durable culture of national cooperation continues to haunt us.

But the possibility of a different future has not disappeared.

Citizens must engage one another, organise around common interests, and insist that political leaders answer for their decisions. Power must be treated as a public trust, not a private possession.

We have seen both the PPP and the PNC exercise power. Neither party should be beyond criticism, and neither should be permitted to claim exclusive ownership of Guyana.

Indo-Guyanese citizens must recognise that the ordinary Afro-Guyanese citizen is not responsible for every discriminatory policy implemented by a PNC government. The PNC regime introduced policies that harmed citizens, including restrictions affecting access to certain food items. Responsibility for those policies must be distinguished from the identity of ordinary people who may have opposed them or suffered under them.

Likewise, Afro-Guyanese citizens must recognise that the ordinary Indo-Guyanese citizen is not responsible for every act of discrimination or political favouritism attributed to a PPP government.

Political parties and their leaders must be held accountable for their actions. Entire communities must not be condemned for the conduct of those who claim to represent them.

This distinction is essential if we are to escape the cycle of collective blame.

Afro-Guyanese and Indo-Guyanese must also work together to support the development and empowerment of Amerindian communities, alongside the Portuguese, Chinese, and other groups that form part of Guyana's diverse society.

National development cannot be built by one community at the expense of another. Our future depends upon recognising that the welfare of each group is connected to the welfare of the whole nation.

The Voices That Keep Us Divided

The angry outbursts of politicians and activists reveal how deeply racial suspicion continues to shape our political discourse.

From within the PPP has come the lament, expressed in ethnic terms, that others do not like Indo-Guyanese people. From the opposition side, accusations of murder and questions about why Indians should vote for a particular party have similarly exposed the bitterness that colours political debate.

These statements do more than express anger. They reinforce the belief that political choices are determined by ethnicity rather than by policies, competence, integrity, or a government's record.

The question we should ask is not which ethnic group dislikes another. It is why our political system continues to reward those who exploit such divisions.

Why should a citizen be expected to vote for a party simply because its leaders share that citizen's ethnic background? Why should a voter be treated as a traitor for supporting a candidate from another community?

Democracy requires freedom of judgement. It requires the right to disagree, to change one's mind, and to demand better government.

The future looks bleak when political identity becomes more important than justice. Yet despair cannot be our final answer.

Honesty has become an irritant in a political culture where inconvenient truths are often unwelcome. Nevertheless, I intend to speak without prejudice, even when the subject is uncomfortable.

Race and culture continue to stand as barriers before the development of a common Guyanese nationalism.

At times, prominent political voices suggest that governing the country is the rightful inheritance of a particular community, regardless of the diversity of the population. Such thinking has persisted for generations, taking new forms while retaining its underlying assumptions.

Many of the people who once promoted these ideas have passed away. Their arguments, however, continue to echo through the words of those who have inherited their political loyalties.

History has taught us too little.

After decades of political struggle, we remain prisoners of lessons we have repeatedly refused to learn.

There are still influential voices that encourage confrontation, urge political supporters to disregard constitutional limits, or suggest that a party should remain in power without a legitimate mandate. Such rhetoric is dangerous because it undermines the very institutions that protect every citizen, regardless of ethnicity or political allegiance.

No political objective can justify the abandonment of constitutional government.

Have we forgotten Wismar and the suffering associated with its violence? Have we forgotten the Son Chapman explosion and the lasting pain surrounding that tragedy? The memories of such events should remind us of the consequences of political extremism, not become weapons to be used against present-day communities.

We must remember the victims without turning their suffering into a licence for new hatred.

And we must ask an important question: do the loudest voices among Afro-Guyanese people truly represent the views of the entire community?

I find it difficult to believe that they do. Nor should the loudest voices within any community be allowed to define its character. Those who call for division should be challenged by reasoned argument and the courage of fellow citizens to speak out.

Silence can be mistaken for consent. It is therefore the responsibility of moderate, thoughtful Guyanese to make their voices heard.

Independence Without National Unity

On May 26, 2024, Guyana marked fifty-eight years since the Union Jack was lowered and the Golden Arrowhead was raised in its place.

I could not help asking myself: where is the pride that should accompany such an anniversary? Where is the collective joy of a people looking towards the future beneath their national flag? Why does our national anthem so often seem unable to stir a shared sense of belonging?

I remember the Independence Movement and the speeches that filled the Rosignol Society Hall with conviction and purpose. Those were days of expectation. We had dreams, plans, and a belief that we could shape our own destiny.

Independence represented more than the transfer of political authority. It was supposed to mark the beginning of a national project in which the people of Guyana would determine their future together.

Yet the promise remains unfulfilled.

Fifty-eight years of independence have brought enormous changes, but they have also exposed squandered opportunities, political instability, and persistent suffering.

What have we become as a nation?

Twenty-eight years of PNC government. Twenty-three years of PPP government. Five years of APNU-AFC coalition government. And now, the PPP once again holds office.

These periods represent different political experiences, but they have not resolved the central problem that confronts us: Guyana has yet to establish a durable political culture in which national interest takes precedence over ethnic loyalty and partisan advantage.

It is time for a People's Movement.

The People's Movement: An Alternative for Guyana

The People's Movement I envision must be rooted in the popular will—the collective voice of citizens who want a country that is peaceful, prosperous, fair, and inclusive.

It must belong to the people, not to a single political leader, ethnic community, or established party.

It begins with you and me.

Guyana needs an independent civic force, one that can rise above the confrontational politics of the established parties and encourage citizens to work towards common objectives.

Our leadership is in crisis. For too long, the country has been trapped in cycles of political hostility, as though peace and cooperation were beyond our reach.

Extremist rhetoric has brought us to a troubling crossroads. Yet elected politicians do not control every aspect of our lives. The greater part of our national future depends upon what citizens do in their workplaces, villages, neighbourhoods, businesses, schools, and communities.

If we dream of better days, we must learn to dream together.

We need a citizen-driven response to the decisions of elected officials and the influence of powerful interests that operate beyond ordinary public scrutiny.

Citizens must be organised, informed, and prepared to participate. They must be willing to challenge injustice while rejecting the temptation to replace one form of intolerance with another.

Do you not deserve a place in this world?

Many Guyanese have immigrated abroad in search of security, opportunity, and dignity. They have worked hard to establish themselves in new countries, often overcoming considerable obstacles.

But why should leaving Guyana be the only way to achieve a better life?

The dream of a secure and prosperous future should be possible in the country of our birth. Guyana has the resources, the people, and the potential to provide meaningful opportunities for its citizens. What remains necessary is the political will to ensure that those opportunities are shared fairly.

Pause for a moment. Listen to the people around you. Observe the anxieties of a divided nation. Consider the frustration of young people who question whether they have a future at home.

Something essential has been lost when those entrusted with public power appear disconnected from the hopes and concerns of the people they govern.

Why the anger? Why the suspicion? Why must every political disagreement become another contest between ethnic groups?

There is an alternative.

It is a calmer path, one that values dialogue over confrontation and progress over resentment. It requires the courage to reject the politics of inherited hatred and the wisdom to recognise the humanity of those with whom we disagree.

Imagine a society in which young people are guided by purpose, education, skills, and opportunity. Imagine a generation that inherits a country built on cooperation rather than division.

Guyana, the land of many waters, possesses extraordinary potential. Our agricultural lands can flourish. Our industries can expand. Our natural wealth can support education, infrastructure, healthcare, and productive employment. Our people can improve their lives while contributing to the welfare of others beyond our borders.

But prosperity must be measured by more than national revenue or the wealth of a fortunate few. It must also be measured by whether ordinary citizens can live with dignity, whether young people can build meaningful careers, and whether every community has a fair opportunity to progress.

This is the responsibility we must pass on to our youth. The future belongs to them, but we must help create the conditions in which they can succeed.

A leap of faith is necessary—not blind faith in politicians, but faith in our collective capacity to change the direction of our country.

Hatred leads nowhere. Hatred produces more hatred, and each generation inherits the burden of the previous generation's bitterness.

Yet the distance between a society consumed by division and one guided by compassion may not be as great as we imagine. The first step is to recognise that change begins with our own choices.

Finding one's place in the world is a beautiful thing. So is building a country in which others can find theirs.

Time sometimes returns to us the wisdom we have forgotten. Every generation is presented with moments when it can choose a different path. We must not allow ours to pass without acting.

Speak the truth, even when it is unwelcome. Let our words reflect conscience, fairness, and a desire for justice. But words alone are insufficient. We must translate our convictions into action.

We all want a peaceful, progressive, and tolerant nation. There is sufficient potential in Guyana for its people to prosper and for the country to contribute meaningfully to the well-being of those in need beyond its borders.

Our objectives should be clear:

• Unite across ethnic and political divisions.
• Embrace cultural differences without allowing them to become political weapons.
• Establish safety, security, and equal justice under the law.
• Demand transparency and accountability from every government.
• Create opportunities for employment, education, entrepreneurship, and skills development.
• Balance individual freedom with mutual respect and responsibility.
• Give young people a meaningful voice in shaping the country's future.
• Make national development a shared undertaking rather than the privilege of a favoured few.

We must awaken the better angels of our nature.

The past continues to walk in the footsteps of the present. Unless we understand that connection, we will remain trapped in the same arguments, repeating the same mistakes while expecting different results.

The true power of Guyana does not rest exclusively in the hands of political elites. It rests in the collective strength of its people, particularly those whose struggles are often overlooked: the workers, farmers, small business owners, unemployed citizens, and impoverished families who sustain the country through their daily efforts.

Yet too many ordinary citizens underestimate their influence. They may believe that one vote cannot make a difference. But when thousands of citizens make their choices according to conscience, their combined power can reshape the political landscape.

For decades, Guyanese have faced the same dilemma. At every election, political parties promise solutions, prosperity, and a better future. Once in office, too many become absorbed in retaining power rather than fulfilling their obligations to the people.

This time, we must demand something different.

We must move beyond the assumption that our future depends entirely upon which established party wins the next election. Elections are essential, but democracy must continue between elections through public participation, independent civic organisations, informed debate, and sustained accountability.

A People's Movement should not be another instrument for replacing one political elite with another. It should be a means of empowering citizens to influence the national agenda, insist on constitutional government, and demand policies that serve all Guyanese.

Its success must be judged not by the fortunes of a particular leader, but by whether it helps build a country in which people of every background can live, work, and prosper together.

This is the challenge before the diaspora and the people at home. Those who live abroad can contribute their knowledge, experience, resources, and independent perspectives. Those who remain in Guyana must be central to the movement, because it is they who experience the consequences of government decisions every day.

Neither group should claim to speak for the other. They must work in partnership, united by a common commitment to Guyana's future.

The choice before us is not between one ethnic group and another, nor simply between the PPP and the PNC. It is between continuing along the familiar road of division and creating a new political culture grounded in justice, unity, and responsibility.

This time, the answer cannot be left to politicians alone.

This time, the answer is YOU.

God bless Guyana.