THE SAGE OF BUXTON

 

Sydney King: A Moment in History, an excerpt from my Book. A Century Old, God Bless.

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE APPEAL.

An appeal to the villagers of Buxton.

I first heard the name Buxton in 1952, when I was just seven years old. Most children do not recall the first time they become aware of place names, but Buxton imprinted itself in my memory, standing apart like a landmark in time.

It was an era of political awakening—a time when British Guiana stirred restlessly toward self-rule. The air crackled with the fervor of change as men took to makeshift stages, their voices rising in fiery oratory, pleading for a future beyond colonial rule. At the heart of this movement in Rosignol stood Sydney Madray Kuttain, a tireless activist for the People’s Progressive Party. It was he who orchestrated the political meetings at the Rosignol Society Hall, where crowds gathered in restless anticipation, spilling beyond the wooden walls and onto the public road.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness encroached, the hall came alive under the glow of a Petromax gas lamp. I remember it well—for I was there, a boy carrying a tray laden with sandwiches and beverages, walking beside my childhood friend, the son of S.M. Kuttain, who bore the lamp. Together, we entered the hall, placing our burdens on a table in the corner, just by the stage.

And then, a voice—a commanding, impassioned voice—cut through the room. It exalted, pleaded, demanded action in the approaching 1953 elections. I looked up, transfixed. The voice belonged to a man whose name would never leave me. The murmurs around me spoke of him—Sydney King, from the village of Buxton.

Years passed, and his name transformed, as did the country. I read his letters in the Stabroek News, following his words as he evolved into Eusi Kwayana, a figure unwavering in his convictions. The image of that night at the Rosignol Society Hall never faded—of the young man in white, a beacon in the dimly lit room, his presence etched into my consciousness.

One day, I responded to one of his letters. He warned of troubled times ahead, and I answered with an offering—I would walk the coastlands with him, step by step, to tell the people of the dangers looming over our nation.

Now, decades later, I return to that memory, to that moment when history and destiny intertwined.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7f_4EyI0Qk

 

RESPONSE to DR. VISHNU BISRAM.

 ON THE SACRED RIVERS

The Untold Journey from Indenture to Abolition, 1838–1917

On the Sacred Rivers traces the history of Indian indentureship from its beginnings in the aftermath of the abolition of slavery in the British Empire to the eventual ending of the system of indentured recruitment in 1917.

Beginning in 1838, the book follows the movement of Indian men and women from the villages and towns of India across the oceans to the sugar plantations of British Guiana and other British colonies. It examines how a system presented by colonial authorities as a legitimate labour arrangement developed into a harsh form of bound labour that critics increasingly compared with slavery.

At the heart of the book is the human story. These were not simply statistics or anonymous workers transported across the seas. They were people with families, caste identities, religious traditions, hopes and fears who left the banks of India's sacred rivers for an uncertain future in distant colonies.

On the Sacred Rivers also challenges the simplified version of the abolition story in which the campaign begins and ends with Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi eventually became a powerful voice against indentureship, particularly during the crucial years immediately preceding abolition. In 1917 he described the system as a form of "temporary slavery" and argued that it could not simply be reformed—it had to end.

But the struggle had a much longer history.

The book brings attention to the experiences and resistance of indentured workers themselves, including the courageous story of Kunti, whose experience in Fiji in 1913 became an important symbol in the campaign against the treatment of indentured women. Historical scholarship records how Kunti's ordeal helped galvanize opposition to the system in India.

It also examines the remarkable contribution of Totaram Sanadhya, himself a former indentured labourer in Fiji. His testimony and writings helped expose the reality of indentureship to audiences in India and contributed to the growing campaign for its abolition.

This is important because the abolition of indentureship was not the achievement of one individual. It was the culmination of decades of suffering, testimony, protest, investigation, journalism, political agitation and resistance by indentured people and their advocates.

The book therefore asks a fundamental historical question:

Who should receive recognition for ending Indian indentureship?

Rather than placing the entire story at the feet of one celebrated leader, On the Sacred Rivers reconstructs the long road to abolition—from the first arrivals in 1838, through the development of the plantation system, the experiences of men and women under indenture, the growing resistance to recruitment, the testimony of former labourers, and the campaigns that eventually forced the British and Indian governments to act.

By 1917, the Government of India suspended the recruitment of Indian indentured labour. The remaining contracts in some colonies continued for a period afterward—for example, Fiji's existing indentures were formally cancelled in 1920—so the distinction between the end of recruitment in 1917 and the final ending of existing contracts is historically important.

On the Sacred Rivers is ultimately more than a history of labour migration. It is a history of human dignity.

It connects the villages of India with the plantations of the Caribbean, Africa and the Pacific and shows how the experiences of indentured Indians helped create new communities and identities throughout the Indian diaspora.

The title itself carries a deeper meaning. The rivers of India—the Ganges, Yamuna and other sacred waterways—represent the civilization, memories and traditions from which these migrants came. They crossed the kala pani, leaving those rivers behind, yet carried their culture, faith, languages and memories with them to new shores.

From 1838 to 1917, On the Sacred Rivers follows that extraordinary journey: from recruitment to resistance, from suffering to political awakening, and ultimately from indentureship to freedom.

It is a story that belongs not only to India, but also to Guyana and the wider Caribbean, Africa, Fiji and the global Indian diaspora.

Most importantly, it restores the indentured labourer—not the colonial administrator, plantation owner or political celebrity—to the centre of the story.

FOR THOSE WHO SPEAK OF DR. C.B. JAGAN.

 IS THERE ANY SHAME IN YOU?

The blood of the Enmore martyrs helped make the People's Progressive Party.

Five working men went to the fields demanding a better life. They did not know that their deaths would become part of the foundation upon which a political movement would rise.

They were ordinary men. They were not political theorists. They were cane cutters—men who knew the weight of a cutlass, the heat of the cane fields and the hunger that came when a family's earnings could not keep pace with the cost of living.

They could not have known the political monster that their sacrifice would help create.

That is the tragedy.

The poor often create the movements that promise to liberate them, only to discover that liberation can become another system of dependence.

In 2026, the question must therefore be asked:

What happened to the people whose blood gave political movements their legitimacy?

Guyana's poorest citizens can still find themselves treated as though political access is a privilege reserved for those with connections. Achievement too often appears dependent not simply upon ability, education or hard work, but upon who you know and which political door will open for you.

This is not an indictment of ordinary Guyanese.

It is an indictment of a system.

History has known societies in which inherited status determined whose voice mattered and whose did not. The lesson of caste in India is not that Bihar or its people are inherently corrupt. The lesson is that a rigid social hierarchy can teach generations of people that some are entitled to power while others are expected to remain beneath them.

Guyana must not reproduce that hierarchy under a different name.

We replaced colonial masters with political masters.

We replaced one form of dependency with another.

And the impoverished still ask:

Where is our voice?

The men who died at Enmore did not die so that their descendants would need a political connection to rise.

They died believing that a working man had a right to dignity.

Their blood demands that we remember the difference.

WISE UP

 

MAKE GUYANESE FEEL HUMAN

An Appeal to the Leadership of the People’s Progressive Party

To the Leadership of the People’s Progressive Party:

Guyana is changing. Our economy is changing. Our cities and villages are changing. Our relationship with the rest of the world is changing.

But there is something that must never be lost in the process of development:

the human being.

Behind every statistic is a Guyanese family.

Behind every new building is a Guyanese worker.

Behind every road, bridge, contract and investment are people who want something very simple: to feel that they matter.

A Guyanese should not have to be politically connected to feel respected.

A young person should not have to know someone in government to believe that there is a place for him or her in the future of Guyana.

An elderly citizen who spent a lifetime contributing to this country should not feel forgotten.

A farmer should feel that his labour is valued.

A teacher should feel that her contribution to the nation is respected.

A cane cutter, miner, fisherman, vendor, construction worker, nurse, mechanic, driver and small business owner should all feel that they are citizens of equal worth.

And the Guyanese in the Diaspora should not feel that their homeland remembers them only when their skills, money or support are needed.

Make Guyanese feel human.

That means listening to them—not merely speaking to them.

It means allowing citizens to disagree with the government without being treated as enemies of the country.

It means creating institutions where people can seek justice, opportunity and public services without feeling that political affiliation determines their treatment.

It means recognizing that development is more than oil revenue, infrastructure and impressive economic figures.

Development must also be measured by how a mother feels when she sends her child to school.

By whether a young man believes he can build a future without political connections.

By whether an elderly person can walk into a government office and feel respected.

By whether a citizen who votes differently can still feel that the government is his government too.

Guyana has carried the wounds of racial division, colonialism, political rivalry and economic inequality for generations. We cannot erase that history by pretending it never happened.

But we can choose what kind of country we build from it.

The People’s Progressive Party has a historic opportunity to demonstrate that government can rise above political competition and speak to the humanity of every Guyanese.

Not only PPP supporters.

Not only those who voted for the government.

Not only those who have access to power.

Every Guyanese.

The measure of leadership is not simply how much a government can build.

It is whether the people for whom those things are built feel that they belong.

Guyana does not need its citizens to be treated as numbers in a political equation.

It needs citizens to feel seen.

It needs citizens to feel heard.

It needs citizens to feel respected.

It needs citizens to feel that their children can dream without asking which political connection will open the door.

And above all, it needs a national leadership willing to say:

You are a Guyanese citizen.
You have dignity.
You have a voice.
You have a place in this country.
And you matter.

That is the appeal.

Make Guyanese feel human.

Because before we are voters, supporters, opponents, races, classes, regions or political constituencies we are human beings, and we are Guyanese.

OW! DOC.

OW! DOC.

When I read this passage in The West on Trial, I had to stop.

“Ow! Doc.”

These are Cheddi Jagan's own words, written in his account of the political struggles of British Guiana. He describes people in the opposition who, in his view, “flirted with the PPP” but were not prepared for the discipline and commitment demanded by a grassroots political movement.

Then comes the line that really catches me:

“Concerned more with positions than policies and programmes…”

Ow, Doc!

That sounds like a political argument that goes far beyond the personalities of 1950s British Guiana. Jagan was drawing a distinction between people seeking positions and people committed to policies and programmes.

And then he names Debidin.

That makes me want to know more.

What exactly had taken place between Cheddi Jagan and Daniel Debidin? What political circumstances caused Jagan to place Debidin among those he considered opportunistic? Was this simply Jagan's political interpretation of his opponents, or was there a deeper struggle over leadership, political organization and the future direction of British Guiana?

These are questions that history should not bury.

I am particularly struck by Jagan's description of the grassroots party—a party demanding “loyalty, hard work and convictions.” Those words tell us something about the political organization Jagan believed he was building.

But they also raise another question:

What happens to a grassroots movement when the struggle for political positions becomes more important than the principles that created the movement in the first place?

That question is not merely about Cheddi Jagan, Debidin, or the politics of British Guiana.

It is a question about political movements everywhere.

So, once again, when I came across this passage on page 109, my reaction was simple:

Ow! Doc.

You said it yourself.

"In the ranks of the opposition were many opportunist elements who, like Debidin, flirted with the PPP. They were not particularly anxious to have a grassroot party such as ours which demanded loyalty, hard work and convictions.Concerned more with positions than policies and programmes, they wanted a grouping like the defunct Labour Party with positions allocated by arrangement at the top."

Ow! Doc.

FILM PROJECTS

 

Honourable Minister,

RE: GUYANA HERITAGE MEDIA & CREATIVE INDUSTRIES INITIATIVE

Proposal for a Three-Year Orange Economy Pilot Programme

I respectfully submit for your consideration the enclosed Guyana Heritage Media & Creative Industries Initiative, a proposal designed to contribute to the Government of Guyana's emerging Orange Economy programme.

Guyana is experiencing an extraordinary period of economic transformation. While the country's natural resources are providing unprecedented opportunities, I believe that Guyana should simultaneously invest in another resource that is uniquely its own—the creativity, history, culture and stories of its people.

Our history contains remarkable stories of Indigenous heritage, African heritage, Indian indentureship, emancipation, colonialism, migration, political development, independence and the continuing evolution of Guyanese society.

These stories have value far beyond their historical importance. Properly developed, they can become books, films, documentaries, digital media, educational products, cultural tourism experiences and internationally marketable intellectual property.

The central idea behind this proposal is therefore:

Guyana should not only preserve its stories. Guyana should develop, own and export them.

The proposed initiative would establish a three-year pilot programme focused on five areas:

• Film and documentary development;
• Publishing and intellectual property;
• Heritage and cultural tourism;
• Youth training and employment; and
• International marketing and distribution.

An indicative Government-supported investment of G$250 million over three years is proposed, subject to the appropriate Government assessment and approval processes. The intention is for this investment to act as a catalyst for substantially greater private-sector, diaspora and international investment.

The proposal also includes several projects that could provide an immediate demonstration of the concept, including On the Sacred Rivers, a historical work dealing with Indian indentureship, and The Reformer President and its proposed screen adaptation, The Quiet Revolution.

I believe these projects can demonstrate how a Guyanese story can move through the creative economy:

Research → Story → Intellectual Property → Film/Book → Tourism/Education → International Market → Revenue and Employment.

The initiative also recognizes that a developing film and creative industry can create opportunities well beyond writers and filmmakers. Productions require manufacturers, machinists, welders, carpenters, electricians, transportation companies, hotels, restaurants, graphic designers and many other businesses.

Most importantly, the programme could provide young Guyanese with a pathway from training to employment and entrepreneurship in an emerging industry.

I respectfully request an opportunity to present this proposal to you, the National Multistakeholder Orange Economy Taskforce and the relevant Government agencies.

I would welcome the opportunity to work with Government representatives to refine the proposal, establish appropriate governance and accountability mechanisms, identify suitable financing arrangements and develop a practical pilot implementation plan.

My intention is not simply to seek Government funding for individual creative projects. The larger objective is to help establish a commercially sustainable Guyanese creative industry capable of creating jobs, attracting investment, developing tourism and generating international exports.

I respectfully submit the enclosed:

1. Ministerial Briefing Note – Guyana Heritage Media & Creative Industries Initiative; and
2. Detailed Government Submission – Three-Year Orange Economy Pilot Programme.

Thank you for considering this proposal. I would be honoured to have the opportunity to discuss it with you and your officials.

Respectfully,

Mohabir Persaud
Author | Entrepreneur | Creative Industry Advocate
Canada / Guyana