Dear Editor,
In the year 2026 — in a country boasting record oil revenues, glittering expositions, and lavish government projects — an Amerindian village leader, Deputy Toshao Elvis Francis, carried an ailing pensioner on his back through river and mountain to reach medical help. Hours of struggle, one canoe, one narrow footpath, and one man’s moral strength against the state’s monumental indifference.
This single act of compassion stands as a damning indictment of what Guyana has become: a land overflowing with petro-dollars but starved of basic decency in governance.
While the nation’s political elite flaunt mansions worth hundreds of millions, its first peoples — the same custodians whose stewardship of the forests generates carbon credit wealth — remain stranded by neglect. The irony is cruel. The Minister of Amerindian Affairs, often draped in cultural self-congratulation, presides over communities still without a passable trail to reach a health post. When pressed about these lived realities, she retreats behind heritage and sentiment, as if nostalgia were infrastructure.
And as this human drama played out in Paruima, the capital stage dazzled with the Oil and Gas Expo. There, foreign investors in crisp suits spoke of Guyana “lifting the world out of poverty,” echoing Exxon’s Dan Ammann’s grand declaration. But what cruel contradiction lies in those words. Even as global oil executives praise Guyana for its world-saving potential, our own citizens cannot access a boat, a road, or a reliable medical team.
If we cannot lift our own, how can we lift the world?
If a Deputy Toshao must bear a human life on his back, what exactly is the government carrying — besides the burden of hypocrisy?
The President boasts of billions from carbon credits while diverting a mere 15 percent to the very people who keep the forests alive. He speaks of inclusion from air-conditioned podiums, yet an elderly woman’s survival still depends on the back and bravery of one man in the hinterland.
These are not isolated failings — they are systemic, moral, and deliberate. The government has mastered the art of selling glitter to the outside world while dimming the light at home. This is political gaslighting at its most refined: a state peddling illusions of progress to investors, even as its citizens endure colonial-era hardships masked by modern slogans. The spectacle sells, the suffering remains unseen.
Elvis Francis’s journey should haunt every policymaker who sleeps comfortably tonight. His story exposes what no oil or gas summit can hide — that genuine leadership still exists, but it lives among the people, not the powerful.
Until our leaders value human endurance as much as they celebrate economic expansion, Guyana will remain rich in oil and poor in soul — a nation led by snake‑oil salesmen selling prosperity while their people walk, crawl, and carry each other toward survival