Letters & Opinion

Our Guy

By David Prescod

Time will not stand still. It marches on, carrying with it in its current many of those things which we hold dear. And sometimes, it is only with the passage of time that we come to the recognition of some of those things which are dear to us.

It is with a profound sense of loss that I learnt of the passing of Guy Ellis, distinguished author, editor, and social commentator. I expect that there will be many offerings paying tribute to his literary accomplishments, and so it should be,  as we have lost an icon.

And while the wealth of those tributes will provide some consolation to his family and close friends, they will not fill the void in our cultural landscape which his passing has created. And so, I  too offer my heartfelt condolences to his family, in the hope that this may help to soothe the pain.

You could not have called us “friends” in the traditional sense, and I suppose that I would have had a closer connection to his brother Rupert who taught me at secondary school more than a few years ago. But in our context, although he was some years my senior, ”we knew each other”. A smile, a wave, a brief exchange of pleasantries was enough to confirm our acknowledgement of each other as we each went along our way.

First silent, now gone, his writings will serve as testimony to the giant of a man which this soil has spawned, although with little recognition afforded to him by those of us whom he wrote for.

An ordinary man, simple, and not given to pretence, no national awards, no literary honors burdened his shoulders, and so he spoke the truth to us, in a voice that we could hear, even if we chose not to listen.

I leave it to others of competence to dissect his writings and to offer glimpses into the depth of his contributions, but for me, this was, and is not necessary. For me, it was enough that Guy had said it.

Trust. Trust established between persons with no personal connection, who barely knew each other, and spoke across what must surely have been at least a half-generational divide. Trust, that he embodied the values that had been imbued in me, and in most of us, so that when he proffered professional advice I was able to accept it unconditionally.

Then – Trust. And now Fear; and Anxiety as we struggle to accept that his guidance will be no more.  And Disconsolation, as we confront the notion that the values which he embodied seem now to be challenged on a daily basis, by the young, and by the mature members of our society.

And maybe Despair, as we wonder whether or not our country will acknowledge the contribution of one of its own without having to be prodded to do so by others.

May his family find comfort in the certain knowledge that his life and passing have not gone un-noticed.

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