Dear Editor,
Within the last few days, I mulled whether to pen my thoughts on Walter Rodney, whom I first learnt about in 1974. At the time, I was pursuing doctoral studies at Kent State University, Ohio, where, one Friday afternoon, my friend Subash handed me a copy of Rodney’s book “How Europe Underdeveloped Africa”. Subash knew Rodney briefly while both taught in Tanzania. While reading the book, I gradually developed a profound respect and admiration for the author, who eloquently presented the dynamics of development and underdevelopment and did so with commanding analytical scrutiny and persuasiveness that left a reader in awe.
In 1977, as fate would have it, while employed as a lecturer at the University of Guyana, I was fortunate to have Patricia Rodney as a student in my Research Methods course. From her, I requested an introduction to her husband. Reluctantly, Pat agreed, but only after I persisted. This then led to a brief meeting one day when Rodney drove Pat to the UG campus for her classes. After this initial meeting, I met Rodney almost every week as he went to pick up his son Shaka, and I, my nephew Andrew, both of whom were students at Queens College at the time.
As we became increasingly acquainted, Rodney told me that the Burnham government was monitoring his whereabouts twenty-four hours a day and that I needed to be careful of being seen with him. Since I had recently returned home upon my recruitment by UG, I was dismissive of his caution and continued to engage him in discourse in full public view near Queens College.
While lecturing at UG, Cheddi Jagan and I met frequently at his request to discuss Burnham’s nationalisation and authoritarian policies. Prior to that, I had met Cheddi a few times through my brother-in-law, the late Diah Singh, who was a PYO organiser in the 1960s and who, along with C.V. Nunes and others, was incarcerated in Sibley Hall for almost three years. Since I had written a few articles published by the Mirror under a pseudonym, Cheddi asked if I would tackle the issue of National Front Government – power sharing – because of his interest in this issue. Upon agreeing, I mentioned the request to Rodney, who, without hesitation, said Burnham would reject any form of power sharing. Rodney reiterated his respect for Cheddi, whom he said was an “honest politician who cared for the wellbeing of all Guyanese.” Burnham’s “ego” and lust for “absolute political power” would not acquiesce to any form of power sharing. Rodney assured me. Despite my disagreement with Cheddi on the composition of such a government, I wrote the article “National Government is Essential”. After publication in the Mirror, Rodney cautioned me, “Be careful, Burnham’s spies are everywhere.” He also forewarned me about the scheduled anti-Burnham meeting at Bourda Market, which he said his reliable sources informed him of as having pre-planned violence. As reported afterwards, Father Bernard Darke was stabbed and killed at this event.
Hurriedly leaving Guyana, I took up an appointment with the University of the Virgin Islands in St Thomas. While there, the university’s student body invited Rodney to give a lecture on the history of Blacks in the Caribbean. During his speech, the room suddenly turned into utter darkness. Without a moment’s pause, Rodney continued to deliver his address while integrating the darkness with the frequent electrical blackouts in Guyana. At the end of his speech, the students stood up in what seemed like five minutes of thunderous ovation.
The day after the speech, aware that the university had not prepared for Rodney’s extended stay, Dennis – an electrical engineer of Guyanese background – and I agreed for him to lodge with us. During the day, Rodney spent time with my family and me, and at night he slept at Dennis’s, who was alone in a two-bedroom apartment across the parking lot from us. During his week’s stay, before dinner, Rodney regularly played with my two sons, Shashi and Shiv, who at the time were two and four years old, respectively. One evening, on hands and knees on the floor, he had Shashi on his back chasing after Shiv, telling them he was the “horsie”. Whenever he stopped and pretended to kick, Shiv and Shashi burst out laughing uncontrollably.
Throughout his stay, Rodney, my wife and I engaged in after-dinner conversations late into the nights. Struck by his humility and grace, my wife and I spent much time talking about him after he left our apartment to go over to Dennis to sleep. On a few occasions during our conversations, I probed him on assassination, knowing that Father Bernard Darke was stabbed to death, Josh Ramsammy was shot and nearly died, and Vincent Teekah died mysteriously from a bullet wound. Without trepidation, Rodney acknowledged such possibility, almost always saying, “If dat happens, wah can you do?”
Rodney and I spoke that day I drove him to the airport for his trip to the U.S., where he travelled to deliver a speech at a university and arrange for the publication of his book, “A History of the Guyanese Working People”. Awaiting the announcement for his flight, we chatted about the future of Guyana. “The unity of Afro- and Indo-Guyanese is critical to the country’s development,” he said with conviction. And, as he stood to leave, I asked him when I would see him again. He stared out into the ocean as if in deep thought and softly said, “I am not sure, brother.”
Regards,
Narayan Persaud, PhD
