Last Updated on Sunday, 11 October 2026, 15:30 by Written By Denis Chabrol
By GHK Lall
The day had to come. An exceptional one it is, for such is reaching the landmark figure of 101 in this life. By itself, it speaks of a passage in life that made the extraordinary look ordinary. But when Eusi Kwayana traveled those 101 years, they took on a gleam that was simply more than human. For the Sage of Guyana was not just a man of his time, but of one beyond his time. Am I up to this task? This task of honouring a truly great Guyanese, one that I would dare to number among this nation’s Founding Fathers.
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them” is from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (Act 2, Scene 5). I can’t say anything about Eusi Kwayana and his being born great. But with all the strength and skill that I am capable of, the man achieved greatness, and he had the call of greatness thrust upon him. From his journey in the crags and moors, the dark places and highlights, of Guyana, those are all a tribute to his greatness. Nothing that I can pen adds to that homespun truth.
A man of the village was Eusi Kwayana. He spoke the language of the common man. Yet, he could make powers and plenipotentiaries rock back on their heels, take another look at him. A man to take seriously, a man for the seasons, a man for the ages of Guyana. There was a time when he had a lot to say, a time when he offered this country more. He knew when to speak, when to hold his peace. Unlike the Young Turks, for whom words are a commodity (like peddled flesh), Kwayana made every word count. No frills. No frivolousness. And certainly, no fooling of the people who trusted at his knee, hung on to his every word.
I came of age when the years of his vigorous youthfulness were taking its first steps away from the crucible of struggle in Guyana. When he assumed the role of an elder statesman in a place that time forgot, and no one wanted to know. In the grey years, his voice still could be heard. The people. the people. the people. Guyana. Guyana united. Guyana together. Guyana going places, despite its self-inflicted handicaps that kept it going on its knees. Who listens to such a man? Who has any interest in sharing power, spreading around the spoils? It is why that even when Guyana is on top of the world, it still does not have roots, lacks foundations, and cheats itself of the strengths that rightly belong to it. It has been the Guyana story. The story that Kwayana and a small company took as their mandate to change, to upend what has always made this country less than it is, should ever be.
A figure like Kwayana attracts slings and arrows. The poisoned variety. He was a racist. He was a divider. He was an African supremacist. Great God in heaven! Savagery does stalk this land, and it has never been at less than full strength. He outlived all those assaults and insults on his dignity, his striving for the people. Indeed, a prophet is not loved in his hometown. Kwayana was the living embodiment of that truth. He knew what it was to be vilified, damned, and condemned. He knew what it was to be written off; yet he always came back, lingered, left a greater impression than before. The man was a marvel and a miracle. The irony is that so many Guyanese have so little use for him. The simple people adored him.
In a time when cyberspace creatures rule the roost in Guyana, the Sage of Buxton still had the grassroots about him. He smelled of grass. The scent of honest sweat from hard labour. So was his. For the people, for a better Guyana. The willingness still to keep trying when the odds are so long and so against. Yet, there was no give in him. How much can Guyana and Guyanese be better, if only there were a half dozen more like Eusi Kwayana. It is one part of the many tragedies in this country that is so rich with so many other fruits. The nonhuman. The servant-leaders that should abound, but never around. The loudmouths that haven’t a clue of how vulgar and vacuous they sound. But I, too, just erred. There should be no tainting of this homage to a man who has served this country as well as Eusi Kwayana, as humbly, and as continuously.
Now, he returns to the village and the folks from whence he came. Now he makes that one last journey to be in the bosom of his ancestors. Farewell, great son of Guyana. Farewell, Eusi Kwayana, for a life well lived, for all the gifts left for others, including me. May his spirit soar with the ancestors, may he find peace in this continent, all others.
