I still think of the evening of May 24th, 2016 at Moray House Trust. Only two days before our country’s 50th Independence Anniversary, I spoke about my vision for Guyana in 2066 and expressed my belief that change, the kind we want, was inevitable.
After my talk, you more or less asked me why we should continue to hope. I tried my best to answer you in that moment and I ended by giving you a hug because I wasn’t sure then what else I could say. I’ve been thinking of your question since.
Towards the end of 2014 and until the beginning of this year, I felt that there was nothing to hope for and that there was no reason to continue fighting. It was like being thrown into a dark, bottomless pit where you didn’t even have the escape of an end.
It’s part of why I haven’t been writing. My words, they come from a deep and pure place, a place that preserves my belief in the good of this world. While I agree that a significant part of being human is being able to think, I believe that it is our ability to feel that defines our humanity in a more profound way.
When I allowed myself to be infected with hopelessness, it was as if all the joy had been sucked from my soul. And it was impossible to write then. How could I when all I had to share was pain and disillusionment and hopelessness? Can you imagine how many more of us feel like this?
When people like you and I – who share our love for country and people despite the vulnerability such sharing brings – lose hope, it can have disastrous consequences. You see, when we are infected with hopelessness, we don’t just lose hope for ourselves but for all those whose lives we touch in a meaningful way.
I believe that one day Guyana will cease to be a place where a privileged group continues to control our country’s wealth by manipulating our people with black and brown politics. Because I believe this, I have hope for a better future, if not for all of us, for our children and their children.
Over the coming weeks, I’ll share 100 reasons to continue hoping for a better Guyana with you. But this isn’t really about you or me, this is about the thousands of people who feel the same things we do and who, like us, struggle to live life in this country one day at a time. This is for our people, Dave.
We’re alive, we think and most importantly we feel. This means we can still fight for what we want. There’s really no limit to what we can do. No limit at all. Just believe and keep the hope alive.
With love and without wax,