At the time of writing, one prime minister, one president, the Caricom Secretariat, and dozens of journalists, public officials, politicians, and development experts have paid tribute to Caribbean journalist Rickey Singh.
He will be laid to rest in Barbados a week
from now, but his 65 years in journalism have cemented his place in the
Caribbean public space.
His daughter Wendy has led the effort to
organise and lodge his extensive archives at UWI Cave Hill - a task that
reveals the magnitude of Rickey’s remarkable accomplishments. He was born on
Monday February 1, 1937 in rural Canal 2 Polder, to a young couple who bore no
surnames.
His father, Pharsadie, died when Rickey was
just two months old. His mother, Dudhia (known as Jessie), passed when he was
about eight or nine. Rickey’s birth certificate simply listed him as “Ramotar.”
Jessie is remembered as a youthful agitator
for fair pay and transport for women farmers, since only men were transported
to the fields. She died young but appeared to have left Rickey with the
conviction that effective advocacy could bring about meaningful change.
He entered journalism at 17, and his early
promise was such that the publishers of the Graphic newspaper, the Thompson
Fleet, sent him to the University of Indiana to hone his skills. During
political unrest in in Guyana in 1974, they relocated him to England, but he
felt strongly that his family could not thrive in a society that viewed them as
“less than what they are” and he returned to the Caribbean.
Fast forward to the late 1970s. My grand
uncle, Rev. Roy Neehall - my grandmother’s youngest brother - would frequently
mention “Rickey” during our talks about a possible writing career. Uncle Roy
eventually made the connection, and Caribbean Contact, then edited by Rickey,
became one of my first freelance platforms.
Uncle Roy also played a pivotal role in
introducing me to the late, great Hans Hanoomansingh, who, like Rickey, passed
away last Saturday. Three men - Rickey, Hans, and Roy - different in many ways,
but united by an unwavering pursuit of what they believed to be just and right.
Uncle Roy, a so-called “left-wing”
Presbyterian Moderator and later General Secretary of the Caribbean Conference
of Churches who died suddenly in 1996, was deemed a troublemaker by some.
Hans, who was not a radical by any means
but an effective change agent, often spoke of his admiration for Uncle Roy, and
some claimed their voices were almost indistinguishable. Our conversations
invariably circled back to visits to the Neehall home in Trinidad and Canada.
When we worked together at Radio 610, I
asked both Hans and management why his brand of East Indian musical content
wasn’t more present in “mainstream” programming. That dream materialised at
103.1 FM, which he helped pioneer with media visionary Dik Henderson years
later. It was the country’s first 100% East Indian radio station. Hans later
launched Heritage Radio with a broader programming range.
Rickey’s name would come up now and then in
our conversations, but my own professional journey eventually brought me closer
to the Guyanese journalist. I’ve often described him as a “journalistic
father,” shaped by a rugged work ethic and prolific output.
When I was offered the post of PRO at the
Caricom Secretariat, I was told that Rickey’s endorsement had helped seal the
deal - such was his influence. He had already carved a reputation as leader of
a formidable corps of Caricom Summit regulars: Canute James and Hugh Croskill
from Jamaica, Peter Richards from Radio Antilles/CANA/CMC, Bert Wilkinson of
Guyana, and Andy Johnson, Clevon Raphael, and Sharon Pitt from T&T.
We all marvelled at his command of the
issues and the passion with which he engaged contemporary regional issues in
every field of endeavour.
One of these days I will recount the
heartbreak of 2021-2023, when Rickey, gravely ill, tried to resettle in T&T.
I have the receipts. It was a sobering chapter that reinforced my belief that his
deep love for the Caribbean was not always reciprocated. Experiences in his
homeland, Guyana, together with Barbados, and T&T feature in a complicated
tale supportive of this view.
But his voice endures - etched into the
region’s memory as a relentless chronicler of Caribbean life and politics,
shaped by hardship, and sustained by purpose.
If a common resting place for those who
have served well does indeed exist (as all three believed), there is most
likely now an interesting confab comprising Roy, Hans, Rickey and others
reflecting on how the place we occupy can be made better.