Dear Editor,
A Tale of Two Guyanas. This is what Cheddi Jagan had to say about what motivated the birth of the PPP party: “We believe that the working class deserves a say, and the State must do what’s necessary to protect the poor. The rich can take care of themselves. The poor are the ones that need protection, and this is what the PPP was created for “Pres. Jagan would have also urged fellow CARICOM leaders, while cautioning them to avoid living “high on the hog” at the expense of the people. Yet, the greatest tragedy lies in the betrayal of this legacy, as successors within his own party now tread upon his ideals with impunity, transforming a movement built on principled service into a bastion of unchecked excess and elite enrichment.
Editor, in the dust-choked streets of a nation promised “prosperity for all,” a curious and jarring spectacle has emerged. It is the sight of our Head of State, President Mohamed Irfaan Ali, parading through the capital not in the humble service of the people, but in the polished chrome and leather of a bygone colonial elite. First, it was the 1913 Morris Oxford—a relic of British high society—rolling into a luxury hotel launch. More recently, it was the Hillman, a brand born in 1907, cruising north along Main Street. While the average Guyanese worker stands under the blistering sun waiting for a bus that may never come, or calculates how to stretch a stagnant wage against 2026’s rising food prices, the President moves in a curated bubble of vintage extravagance. This is not merely a hobby; it is a statement. In every “Third World” tragedy, the script remains the same: a leadership that adopts the aesthetic of the 1% while the “99%” wallow in the structural decay of the 19th century:
• The Security Theatre: As the Hillman inches toward the Plaza Court Hotel, it is flanked by a phalanx of security—men on foot, men riding shotgun, men dedicated to protecting the “Antique in Chief.”
• The Hospitality Hustle: These appearances are almost always staged at the grand openings of multimillion-dollar hotels—monuments of glass and steel that the average citizen can look at, but never enter.
• The Affordability Paradox: We are told to celebrate the “New Guyana,” yet the mathematics of this lifestyle remain a mystery. A presidential salary, while comfortable, does not naturally manifest a fleet of high-maintenance British antiques and the lifestyle of a Mediterranean socialite.
While the President enjoys the cool breeze of Main Street from the back of a luxury classic, the reality for the masses is a different kind of “vintage”:
The Cost of Living: As of January 2026, while the President “rolls old,” the people are paying “new” prices for basic dignity—electricity, rent, and the very fuel that powers those vintage engines are reaching record highs.
The Infrastructure Gap: The smooth asphalt of Main Street, reserved for presidential parades, stands in stark contrast to the cratered roads of the interior and the working-class schemes.
The Culture of the Elite: This “Loud Extravagance” demands more than just a passing glance; it demands a mirror. A leader who dresses in the symbols of the old colonial masters while claiming to represent the “working man” is a leader disconnected from the soil.
The President may deserve a life of comfort, but when that comfort is per-formed with such rhythmic defiance of the nation’s economic reality, it ceases to be “earned” and begins to look like “extor-tion of the spirit.” Guyana is not a museum for the elite; it is a home for the people. It is time the leadership stepped out of the 1913 Morris Oxford and into the 2026 reality of the Guyanese street.