Phyllis Carter was the bright light in Lamaha Street

I am a Johnnie come lately to the Phyllis Carter phenomenon. I have known her properly for only three or four years, but already her death has left a hole in my life. I will miss her. Guyana will miss her.

It was the sheer spirit of the woman that got to you. The joie de vivre, the zest for life. Your cellphone would ring and you’d get those unmistakable tones, “You going to this thing tonight, can you give me a lift?” and that was the sign for a good night out at some posh or not so posh do at the Pegasus or Castellani or wherever.

She never wavered in that desire to enjoy and involve herself.
It was also her sheer kindness that got to you. If she liked you, she adopted you like a son, an honoured member of her family. My wife Susan became her friend. My sister Jane, who had not been to Guyana for twenty-seven years came back last year with us. It was her birthday. Phyllis had never met Jane, but blind she laid on a birthday lunch of metemgee for her and for us. Delicious too. Simple human generosity above and way beyond.

Phyllis was the bright light in Lamaha Street that so many of us looked forward to when we got to Georgetown. That beacon has now been snuffed out. I bet she and Martin are having a good laugh wherever it is they have now met. Her many  friends will be laughing with them.

Yours faithfully,
John Mair