FOLLOWING the publication of my letter – which the you ran under the caption ‘Let the National Healing Begin’, I got a call from someone who recognised I was the writer of that letter (which is of no consequence to me). 

This person threw the following question at me, “Stephenson, why do you as a black, Guyanese man with a Buxtonian ancestry continue to write letters to the Editor of the Chronicle newspaper supporting that East Indian government?”

I responded by asking him three questions, “Can you tell me again why I must hate all East Indian people? Can you explain to me why I must hate all things East Indian? Can you give me one intelligent reason why I must hate all East Indian people?” Of course, this caller was unable to provide answers to my questions, so I proceeded to explain to him that although my father was indeed Buxtonian, hatred of East Indians was not included in his childhood upbringing curriculum.
This conversation caused me to recall an article I had written a few years ago. In that article, I made reference to the fact that the placement of East Indian ‘Indentured Servants’ in British Guiana was not an accidental occurrence. I wrote, “Early in the colonisation process, the British thought it prudent to import East Indian ‘Indentured Servants’ into British Guiana. The motive behind this policy was to ensure that Britain did not have a monolithic disgruntled African ex-slave population to deal with. British policy makers were certain that the African and East Indian races would not co-exist in harmony.

And such future discord could be exploited to the benefit of the colonisers. They were absolutely correct. Though political leaders representing both race groups at one point combined forces to fight against the British for independence, Britain and America were able, craftily, to drive a wedge between the Guiana African and Indian populations while at the same time keeping the country within their ambit and sphere of influence. The result is that, because of these manipulations, sharp racial division still exists in the society today.”

My father was a Station Master with the Transport and Harbours Department (T&HD) and was transferred frequently. My boyhood days were spent at Hague Railway Station on the West Coast of Demerara. There I made friends with East Indian children my age as I interacted with them at the schools I attended. They were from Hague Back Dam, Hague Front, Cornelia Ida, and Windsor Forest.
Of this period, I wrote, “By the time I was in my ninth or tenth year, I realised that as a descendant of African slaves I was expected not to have close association with any East Indian. The unspoken public instruction was, ‘Do not mix with those people!’ I faithfully disobeyed both plainly spoken and implicit encouragement to separate myself from my East Indian friends. From deep within me, unexplainable and uncontrollable urges to treat East Indians as I would any other human being were rising to the surface of my heart. I could not ignore them”.
From my boyhood days to the present day, I do not respond well to people who tell me what I have to do, who I must associate with, which political party I must support; I also do not allow my prejudice or my emotions to do my thinking for me.
There was an incident that has been indelibly etched into my consciousness. These were the days when the railway was the principal mode of transportation. Here is my brutally frank description of the incident and its aftermath.
“I had to be about seven or eight years old at the time. My mother and I were traveling on a train going from one town to another. At one stop during the journey, an East Indian man and his son entered our carriage. The man looked nervous and worried. I soon discovered why. The conductor approached the man and asked him for his ticket. The man stated that not only did he not have a ticket, but he also had no money to neither purchase one nor pay the fare for himself and his son.
“The conductor was of African descent. As I watched him closely, he seemed to welcome this situation. Here was an opportunity for him to unleash the hatred he had for all East Indians on this poor man and his son.
‘If you do not have a ticket when the train stops at the next station,’ roared the conductor, ‘I will put you and your son off the train’. It was dark, and growing darker. The man’s son began to cry. Amidst sobs he asked his father what they would do when they are put off the train. Electrification had not yet reached the country roads of rural British Guiana. I could envision this unfortunate man and his son encountering considerable difficulties and dangers as they try to find their way home. I could bear this no longer.
“I tore away from my mother and walked up to the conductor. I asked the conductor how much the fare was. When he told me, I handed the East Indian man a coin that represented more than the fare for him and his son. The man took the coin I placed in his hand and paid the conductor. The conductor did not have enough money to give the East Indian man his change. The conductor was now confused. He had to ask the East Indian man, whom he was only a few minutes ago threatening to throw off the train, to be patient with him while he tried to muster the necessary change to give him.
“It was only after I had given the Indian man the money to pay the fare that other people –adults – found their hearts and began to offer the man money. He –rightly, in my view – refused their belated help.
“That night, as a child, I pondered man’s inhumanity to man. I reflected on the undisguised glee of the conductor at the opportunity to administer cruel treatment to fellow human beings, one of them a child. I thought of the people who were prepared to do nothing to help that unfortunate man until shamed by my action. This incident changed me forever”.
Evidence in Guyana’s political history confirms the fact there was only one leader who made repeated sincere proposals, offers, and efforts – even making magnanimous compromises – to put together a government comprising all the race groups in Guyana with the principal aim of ending our racial divisions and conflicts: Dr. Cheddi Jagan! And repeatedly he was rebuffed by a power drunk political leadership who were so inebriated by the delusion of the supposed African qualitative superiority over the East Indian that they failed to notice they were mere puppets dangling on the strings of Britain and America.
And so here I stand today, an apologetic unifier who affirm, “There is only one race – the Race of Humanity”!

WILBERT M. STEPHENSON

FOLLOWING the publication of my letter – which the you ran under the caption ‘Let the National Healing Begin’, I got a call from someone who recognised I was the writer of that letter (which is of no consequence to me). 

This person threw the following question at me, “Stephenson, why do you as a black, Guyanese man with a Buxtonian ancestry continue to write letters to the Editor of the Chronicle newspaper supporting that East Indian government?”

I responded by asking him three questions, “Can you tell me again why I must hate all East Indian people? Can you explain to me why I must hate all things East Indian? Can you give me one intelligent reason why I must hate all East Indian people?” Of course, this caller was unable to provide answers to my questions, so I proceeded to explain to him that although my father was indeed Buxtonian, hatred of East Indians was not included in his childhood upbringing curriculum.
This conversation caused me to recall an article I had written a few years ago. In that article, I made reference to the fact that the placement of East Indian ‘Indentured Servants’ in British Guiana was not an accidental occurrence. I wrote, “Early in the colonisation process, the British thought it prudent to import East Indian ‘Indentured Servants’ into British Guiana. The motive behind this policy was to ensure that Britain did not have a monolithic disgruntled African ex-slave population to deal with. British policy makers were certain that the African and East Indian races would not co-exist in harmony.

And such future discord could be exploited to the benefit of the colonisers. They were absolutely correct. Though political leaders representing both race groups at one point combined forces to fight against the British for independence, Britain and America were able, craftily, to drive a wedge between the Guiana African and Indian populations while at the same time keeping the country within their ambit and sphere of influence. The result is that, because of these manipulations, sharp racial division still exists in the society today.”

My father was a Station Master with the Transport and Harbours Department (T&HD) and was transferred frequently. My boyhood days were spent at Hague Railway Station on the West Coast of Demerara. There I made friends with East Indian children my age as I interacted with them at the schools I attended. They were from Hague Back Dam, Hague Front, Cornelia Ida, and Windsor Forest.
Of this period, I wrote, “By the time I was in my ninth or tenth year, I realised that as a descendant of African slaves I was expected not to have close association with any East Indian. The unspoken public instruction was, ‘Do not mix with those people!’ I faithfully disobeyed both plainly spoken and implicit encouragement to separate myself from my East Indian friends. From deep within me, unexplainable and uncontrollable urges to treat East Indians as I would any other human being were rising to the surface of my heart. I could not ignore them”.
From my boyhood days to the present day, I do not respond well to people who tell me what I have to do, who I must associate with, which political party I must support; I also do not allow my prejudice or my emotions to do my thinking for me.
There was an incident that has been indelibly etched into my consciousness. These were the days when the railway was the principal mode of transportation. Here is my brutally frank description of the incident and its aftermath.
“I had to be about seven or eight years old at the time. My mother and I were traveling on a train going from one town to another. At one stop during the journey, an East Indian man and his son entered our carriage. The man looked nervous and worried. I soon discovered why. The conductor approached the man and asked him for his ticket. The man stated that not only did he not have a ticket, but he also had no money to neither purchase one nor pay the fare for himself and his son.
“The conductor was of African descent. As I watched him closely, he seemed to welcome this situation. Here was an opportunity for him to unleash the hatred he had for all East Indians on this poor man and his son.
‘If you do not have a ticket when the train stops at the next station,’ roared the conductor, ‘I will put you and your son off the train’. It was dark, and growing darker. The man’s son began to cry. Amidst sobs he asked his father what they would do when they are put off the train. Electrification had not yet reached the country roads of rural British Guiana. I could envision this unfortunate man and his son encountering considerable difficulties and dangers as they try to find their way home. I could bear this no longer.
“I tore away from my mother and walked up to the conductor. I asked the conductor how much the fare was. When he told me, I handed the East Indian man a coin that represented more than the fare for him and his son. The man took the coin I placed in his hand and paid the conductor. The conductor did not have enough money to give the East Indian man his change. The conductor was now confused. He had to ask the East Indian man, whom he was only a few minutes ago threatening to throw off the train, to be patient with him while he tried to muster the necessary change to give him.
“It was only after I had given the Indian man the money to pay the fare that other people –adults – found their hearts and began to offer the man money. He –rightly, in my view – refused their belated help.
“That night, as a child, I pondered man’s inhumanity to man. I reflected on the undisguised glee of the conductor at the opportunity to administer cruel treatment to fellow human beings, one of them a child. I thought of the people who were prepared to do nothing to help that unfortunate man until shamed by my action. This incident changed me forever”.
Evidence in Guyana’s political history confirms the fact there was only one leader who made repeated sincere proposals, offers, and efforts – even making magnanimous compromises – to put together a government comprising all the race groups in Guyana with the principal aim of ending our racial divisions and conflicts: Dr. Cheddi Jagan! And repeatedly he was rebuffed by a power drunk political leadership who were so inebriated by the delusion of the supposed African qualitative superiority over the East Indian that they failed to notice they were mere puppets dangling on the strings of Britain and America.
And so here I stand today, an apologetic unifier who affirm, “There is only one race – the Race of Humanity”!

WILBERT M. STEPHENSON