OPINION: Gen Z Must Not Let Up on the Noise Over the MV Barima Tragedy

Last Updated on Monday, 24 August 2026, 15:50 by Denis Chabrol

By Gwen Mc Intyre

August 18 marked a month since the sinking of the state-owned passenger ferry the MV Barima — the worst maritime disaster in Guyana’s history. It claimed the lives of over 70 mostly Indigenous people and left dozens of others missing. Reportedly, many of those passengers were Indigenous children. In the immediate aftermath the tragedy gripped the headlines, not least because of the profound wave of societal grief and outrage that permeated our nation.

Efforts to Redirect Focus from State Weakness in Guyana
The MV Barima tragedy is indicative of weak institutional frameworks, which disproportionately have a deleterious effect on marginalized and vulnerable groups in Guyana — inclusive of Amerindian communities in many hinterland regions.

Within days of the ferry’s capsizing, amid a flurry of developments in the national political milieu, the Irfaan Ali-led government declared three days of mourning. Yet on a very solemn occasion like this some quarters in Guyana seemingly had already begun to move on — leaving many others aghast at such a turn of events. For example, the third edition of the ExxonMobil Guyana Global Super League took place as previously scheduled — starting on July 23. Of note, the period of national mourning was observed from July 22 through July 24.

In the period since, one gets the impression that in certain quarters in Guyana the political narrative and focus have shifted — though not to the beat of public sentiment. And yet there are families for whom time seems to have stopped on that fateful day. The fact is that there are families who are still grieving, still traumatised, still angry, still asking questions, and some are still waiting for loved ones who have not come home.

A Window Has Opened for Keeping Attention on Institutional Reform
Against a backdrop where the MV Barima still remains beneath the ocean, with so many unanswered questions looming large, for these families this tragedy is not old news. It is still happening.

And this is the reason I find myself reaching out to Guyanese Gen Z once again, following the publication of my initial missive on the tragedy titled “If asking for safe ferries is called noise … then make noise Gen Z.” Almost one month ago, I asked Gen Z to make noise in a context where the government equated societal expressions of outrage in response to the circumstances surrounding this maritime tragedy with “noise.”

Today, I make yet another appeal directed to Guyanese Gen Z: Do not move on.

Because if those families most directly affected by this tragedy cannot move forward, neither should our collective Guyanese conscience.

There is something deeply unsettling about how quickly our country can seemingly return to business as usual after such a tragedy. Indeed, almost without noticing, we perhaps begin behaving as though the passage of time itself has answered the many questions that came fast and furious in the immediate aftermath of the capsizing of the MV Barima. It hasn’t.

One month should not mark the end of our attention span on the matter. Rather, it should strenghten our resolve to seek answers to several questions. Where are those still missing? One month later, why is the MV Barima still beneath the water? When will it be brought up? What have we learned about how and why this happened? What has changed systemically to make the ferries carrying Guyanese today safer than they were on July 18? If it is that the Commission of Inquiry into the MV Barima tragedy will likely begin hearings next month, when can families expect answers? (This Commission of Inquiry was appointed late last month.) And why, in spite of calls for transparency in this moment, is the public still in the dark about how things are to proceed in respect of this Inquiry?

And perhaps the most human question of all: Who is walking with these families now? Because some of them are still protesting for answers. Think about that. People who have already endured what most of us cannot imagine — losing children, parents, spouses, siblings, other relatives and friends — are having to summon the strength to stand publicly and demand answers. They should not have to fight to keep our attention.

They have already paid too high a price.

And while they wait, Guyana continues to move forward.

Can the Impact of Amerindian Heritage Month Reach Beyond a Cultural Showcase?
And now September approaches. September 1 marks the start of Amerindian Heritage Month — a time when Guyana celebrates the culture, traditions, achievements and contributions of our First Peoples.

Ordinarily, there is joy in that month-long showcase. Amerindian villages celebrate and are celebrated. There are sports-related happenings that make this possible. The food and culinary traditions of our First Peoples are also on display, along with so many other aspects of their culture — from music to dance, and more.

On this occasion, leaning in on a celebratory note, government officials will undoubtedly speak about the importance of our Indigenous people and their various contributions to Guyana.

With this in mind, I keep coming back to one uncomfortable question: How? How do we dance when families are still mourning? How do we make merry when some families are still waiting for loved ones who have not been recovered? How do we celebrate Indigenous heritage while Indigenous families remain traumatised, angry and still searching for answers?

How do we do that?

I am not calling for Amerindian Heritage Month to be cancelled. Absolutely not.

Rather, I am asking for something far more meaningful. Perhaps this year, associated celebrations should also make room for memorialisation and deep reflection.

But such a step should go further still: Amerindian Heritage Month — established over 30 years ago with a view to advancing core cultural, educational and developmental goals — should especially lean into the latter two goal-related prongs through empowerment-themed workshops, seminars, youth forums and the like. To this end, even at this eleventh hour and at the urging of civil society, the Ministry of Amerindian Affairs and other authorities also with oversight responsibility for this Heritage Month ought to pivot accordingly. Should it come to pass, such a broadly education qua upliftment-based initiative could be launched on a pilot basis with a view to being mainstreamed in future iterations of Amerindian Heritage Month.

It certainly would be well received across the board, at a time when the MV Barima tragedy has thrust the country’s political culture and inequities into the spotlight — along with the growing gap between development-related rhetoric and actual implementation.

It is also worth noting that the late Nelson Mandela famously remarked, “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” He viewed learning as a key tool to overcoming injustice, healing divided societies and lifting disadvantaged people out of poverty.

To the degree that within days of the MV Barima tragedy Guyanese Gen Z admirably rallied both literally and figuratively to call for system-level change, I make a direct appeal to them to support this call for an Amerindian Heritage Month in 2026 that is more befitting the moment.

Because heritage isn’t only craft. It isn’t only food. It isn’t only traditional clothing. It isn’t only music and dancing.

Heritage is people.

And this is where I struggle.

Are our First Peoples easiest for us to see when they are dressed in traditional clothing, performing dances, displaying their craft and culture and standing beside officials for photographs?

Do we see them just as clearly when they are grieving? Do we hear them when they are angry? Do we listen when they demand answers? Do their lives command the same urgency as their culture commands celebration?

Those questions are uncomfortable. And they should be.

Ultimately, this moment is about who we are as a people.

And it is about what kind of country your generation — Gen Z — is prepared to inherit.

Gen Z, in the early aftermath of the MV Barima tragedy, making noise was only the beginning. Now comes the hard part. Stay on task. I have called attention to just one approach that could be taken to continue to call for change.

There are many other angles that one could also pursue. Pursue them, and do so with conviction.

In this way, Gen Z can stay the course and not let time dampen the noise we make over the MV Barima tragedy … at least not until there are meaningful answers to our plethora of questions.