Dear Editor,
In 2002, I walked into the offices of Stabroek News with a singular, perhaps audacious, conviction: if I could make it here, I had the “chops.” I didn’t realize then that I wasn’t just starting a job; I was enrolling in an education that no university could replicate. As the shutters now close on this institution, I find myself looking back at the ten years that didn’t just teach me how to write, but taught me how to live.
The ghost of my first conversation with Mr. David de Caires still lingers. I remember earnestly explaining my philosophy of reporting, eager to show him I understood the nuances of the craft. He looked at me with that unmistakable clarity and offered a mantra that became my North Star: “Report the truth; everything else will follow.” I carried that directive like a shield. In a country where the political landscape can be as consuming as it is volatile, Stabroek News offered a rare and sacred legacy: the freedom to report without a leash. Never once in ten years did my Editor, Mr. Anand Persaud, ask me to bend a fact or soften a blow. He didn’t just edit my copy; he protected the integrity of my voice.
In Anand Persaud, I found a leader whose caliber is a rarity not just within the borders of Guyana, but in the world at large; he is that uncommon breed of man who understands that true authority is not found in the power one exerts, but in the integrity one defends.
As a young woman fresh out of school, I was navigating a world that wasn’t always kind. I learned the value of a newsroom that acts as a fortress. I remember Mr. Patrick Denny standing as my advocate, upbraiding a senior police official whose disrespect had made me question my place in the media. I remember William Walker, perhaps the finest stylist of the language I’ve known, ruthlessly discarding my mediocre drafts. He wasn’t being cruel; he was being demanding. He saw a future newsroom leader in me and refused to let me settle for “good enough.” I am better for every page he threw away.
There were moments of absurdity that tested my mettle, like the senior welfare official who demanded my firing for a “fabricated” piece, only to retract her venom when she realized the “little girl sitting in the corner” during the meeting was the one with the pen. Then there was the high-ranking health official who bristled at my “audacity” to call his mobile for answers. When he threatened to force an apology out of me, it was Anand Persaud who stood firm. I didn’t apologize. He did.
To the giants like Donald Ramotar, the late Rupert Roopnaraine, and Robert Corbin: thank you. You didn’t just answer a young reporter’s questions; you respected the office I held. You understood that while we might disagree on the “what,” we must never disagree on the “why”, the fundamental duty of the press to question, to probe, and to record.
As Stabroek News closes its doors, I am left with a heavy question: Where will the next generation of truth-seekers go to be nurtured? Where is the alternative for the young reporter who needs to be told to be fearless, respectful, and uncompromising all at once? Thank you, Stabroek News, for the ink in my veins and the education of a lifetime. You gave me the truth, and as promised, everything else followed.