Peace and Blessings! Seasons’ Greetings to one and all and their loved ones.
At this point of my life and especially at this period of the year, I would love to pay homage and thank numerous persons, and/or their immediate relatives for their efforts in accommodating my mother, my brother Colin and me in many ways throughout the years. I must acknowledge that neither mother nor Colin is in the physical realm of existence. Thus, they cannot personally thank those who made contributions to our welfare. I am still breathing. I am armed with a sober mind. I am filled with gratitude - and love for all of the people who made life worthwhile for my mother and her loved ones.
Therefore without much further ado I would like to recall a number of the people who I am sure are all well deserving of note for all they have done to enhance the lives of my mother, Colin and me.
Firstly, I thank numerous relatives, and friends of the community of Golden Grove, Nabaclis and Haslington, and elsewhere. Special mention must be made of the children of Tappin Elliott and Sophia Elliott and their descendants. Also, the kinship of Bristol, most especially Olga Dover and her generations. The people of Sumner, especially the kinship of Adams, the descendants of Baba Sumner, Kreek Sumner and others and their generations . . .
Mrs. Munroe English and her sister Elfreda Henry and their generations . . .
The kinship of Trotman - especially Brandford Trotman, Doreen, Daphne, Dorothy, Rashleigh, Dood, the schoolmasters - and all of his generations . . .
The people of Sarrabo - particularly Leopold Duncan Sarrabo and all of their generations . . .
Donald Adolphus Thomas Jones, the grand old man and the renown District Correspondent for the Daily Chronicle of the Upper East Coast region, from Plantation Enmore to Cane Grove - and his people . . . The kinship of Morrison . . . The kinship of Savory . . . the generations of the people of Benn . . . The people of Sampson . . . The people of Elias and others . . . County Sergeant Major Thompson and all of his generations . . .
SCHOOLMASTERS
James Alfred Trotman and Donald Ashley Bevel Trotman (schoolmasters of Golden Grove Wesleyan/Methodist School) . . .
The Third Batch at Teachers’ Training College, 1932-1934 . . .
Hubert Alfred Thompson and Carlton Paton Browne Melbourne (schoolmasters at St. Andrews’ Episcopal/ Anglican School, Plantation Cove & John) . . .
Paul Branco (schoolmaster at Port Mourant Roman Catholic School) . . .
Mr. Bourne (schoolmaster at Blairmont) . . .
Harold Christopher Scarder (schoolmaster at St. Patrick’s Anglican School, Plantation Rose Hall, Canje) . . .
Henry T. Chin and Winslade Simon (schoolmasters at Cumberland Methodist School, Canje) . . . James Donald Ainsworth and Leslie Redvers Dolphin Ainsworth (schoolmasters of Victoria Wesleyan and Golden Grove Methodist Schools) . . .
Joseph Parkinson . . . Prince Josephus Patterson and Cecil Patterson . . .
Winifred Gaskin . . . Shirley Field-Ridley . . . Joseph Oscar FitzClarence Haynes . . . Fred Wills . . . W. O. R. Kendall
The Savory family and the Tucker family (# 65 Village, Corentyne) . . .
Maharajin and her son and their people . . . the Francis family (# 68 Village, Corentyne) . . .
Joe Dulam and the Dulam people (# 64 Village, Corentyne) . . .
Mrs. Chin-A-Loy and her sister Mrs. Alphonso and their people . . .
Rohan Kanhai, and Raymond Drepaul and the other pupils at Port Mourant Roman Catholic School . . .
Roy Fredericks and the other pupils at Blairmont . . .
Alwyn Trotman, Carl Austin, Benjamin Solomon and the other pupils at Golden Grove Wesleyan/Methodist School . . .
Iris Stephens and Dorothy Trotman, Lambert Adams, George Hinds, Phyllis Sancho and the other pupils at St. Andrews’ Episcopal/ Anglican School . . .
The pupils, teachers, members of the Parent-Teachers Association and the community at No # 68 Government School . . .
The people of the Villages # 64, # 65, # 66, # 67, # 68, # 69, Fyrish, Rose Hall, Port Mourant, Springlands and Long Road on the Corentyne Coast . . . Special mention must be made of the people of # 67 and # 68, who allowed her to enter into their homes while she was the District Census Officer in 1969 . . .
The kinship of Sandy of the Villages # 64, # 65, and # 68, on the Corentyne coast . . .
Sankat, King, Bhagroo, Dhanraj, Henry, and Jattan and a few others of the school masters of the Upper Corentyne, September 1966 - July 1972 . . . Who are I missing? I think head masters of Orealla, and Skeldon Scots and Anglican schools. Will you name them?
Hemraj, # 67 village, a schoolteacher at Skeldon Line Path Government Secondary School . . . Patto Jagan, George Moonsar, Yasmin Ramnarin . . .
If I omitted anyone, it’s not personal. It’s simply the result of the process of aging. Thus, feel free to remind me as soon as possible . . .
Iris Austin and the people of central Wesleyan Methodist Church at Main Street in New Amsterdam . . .Eustace A. V. Wilson, E. A. Chapman, W. O. R. Kendall, Jacob Stanford Ralph, his wife and children and all of their generations . . .
The people of Blairmont, Cumberland, Rose Hall; Canje, Rose Hall; Corentyne, Fyrish Springlands and Long Road . . .
I thank you and/or your descendants on your behalf - on the behalf of my mother, my siblings and myself.
Again I appreciate you for welcoming me with open arms regardless of the unnecessary headaches I caused you. I love you and your descendants without any conditions - whatsoever. I pray that the day will come when the world would be made aware of the people of Sancho - not only as a microcosm of autochthonous people and deeply melaninated people of earth but as people who stand for the greatest good of man - in the human experience . . . Eusi Kwayana, by any name, I simply wish I was your student at County High School. I consider you one of my mentors . . .
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
cowards refuse to think for themselves
We don’t see things as they are; we see them as we are ...Anais Nin
It’s not about me
The vast majority of people who claim to believe in the Bible have never read the Bible from cover to cover.
Politicians, for the most part, exhibit a self-absorbed perspective. They treat the electorate as they simply exist to serve them in their selfish pursuit of personal fulfillment.
Have you ever wondered - why is this happening to me? Why am I having such a difficult time? Is it factual that life is supposed to be difficult? Is it true - that character development and not comfort is the ultimate goal of human life experience here on earth?
At some point prior to my sixteenth birthday, numerous East Indian males, gathered themselves together at the bridge at No. # 66 Creek, on the Corentyne Coast in Guyana. They plotted. They had conspired on the words of Samuel Gopaul of No. #68 village. Those cowards refused to simply think for themselves. They concluded they ought to bring my very physical existence to a very bloody and violent end. Their only problem was their would be victim simply refused to cooperate. Those gullible racists were so ignorant. They perhaps assumed, I only read academic publications which were recommended for usage in the curriculum of the school system in Guyana. However, I also did extensive reading of texts on subjects of military and guerrilla warfare. Their arrogance betrayed their schemes. I refused to be trapped and caught. My representatives were hunted, trapped, caught and shipped across the Middle Passage and enslaved in the Americas. Would allow myself to be caught under the cover of darkness? Besides murder - what was they thinking? All Niggers are stupid -Isn’t that what they say - is not that parts of their racist stereotype rhetoric? Well they did not realize they were attempting to victimize an autochthonous being of earth. As a youngster, I was well aware of the pattern of behaviors of fanatics. I recognized the danger. I made a quick note of their positions on the bridge and on the banks of the creek. I decided on a course of action. I calmly and coolly ran toward the would-be assailants. Then I turned right. I plunged between the metal of the side of the bridge into the creek between two fishing boats. I stayed on the bottom of the creek feeling for nets. I was not certain if they were smart enough to consider placing nets used for catching fishes to try to entangle me beneath the surface of the waters of the creek. Just as I assumed there was none. Thus, it was a cake walk to safety. I was certain a Comanche Dog soldier would have done in a similar situation. I made good my escape. I arrived within three hours of that attempt on my life, amongst my people at Nabaclis. All’s well that ends well - however, I will neither forget nor forgive that experience. It was rather unfortunate and totally unnecessary . . . I never attempted to defrock any East Indian female on the Corentyne Coast. The reports were of gross exaggerations. Chitrani resided at No# 66 village. She was very attractive young female. She was my classmate at No# 68 Government school. We were in common entrance class. Raymond Drepaul was our teacher. I know simply because I was the son of the Head Mistress, most of the pupils were rather friendly with me. However, when I returned to the Corentyne to attend Skeldon Line Path Government Secondary School I noticed most of that attention had disappeared. The simple truth was I never entertained any ideas of trying to be intimate with Indian females. My eyes and heart was fixed upon the possibilities Claudette Francis and Ingrid Savory. They never really were more than polite towards me. I realize that was because of the character of my mother. They simply had no interest in being within an arms length of me. Denise was the only girl friend I ever knew on the Corentyne. She was a from Golden Grove. She was residing at the home of relatives at Leeds. That’s it...The truth of the matter is racists are dangerous people...Their sole purpose is to violate human rights of people whom they conclude has not right to life or property.
It’s not about me
The vast majority of people who claim to believe in the Bible have never read the Bible from cover to cover.
Politicians, for the most part, exhibit a self-absorbed perspective. They treat the electorate as they simply exist to serve them in their selfish pursuit of personal fulfillment.
Have you ever wondered - why is this happening to me? Why am I having such a difficult time? Is it factual that life is supposed to be difficult? Is it true - that character development and not comfort is the ultimate goal of human life experience here on earth?
At some point prior to my sixteenth birthday, numerous East Indian males, gathered themselves together at the bridge at No. # 66 Creek, on the Corentyne Coast in Guyana. They plotted. They had conspired on the words of Samuel Gopaul of No. #68 village. Those cowards refused to simply think for themselves. They concluded they ought to bring my very physical existence to a very bloody and violent end. Their only problem was their would be victim simply refused to cooperate. Those gullible racists were so ignorant. They perhaps assumed, I only read academic publications which were recommended for usage in the curriculum of the school system in Guyana. However, I also did extensive reading of texts on subjects of military and guerrilla warfare. Their arrogance betrayed their schemes. I refused to be trapped and caught. My representatives were hunted, trapped, caught and shipped across the Middle Passage and enslaved in the Americas. Would allow myself to be caught under the cover of darkness? Besides murder - what was they thinking? All Niggers are stupid -Isn’t that what they say - is not that parts of their racist stereotype rhetoric? Well they did not realize they were attempting to victimize an autochthonous being of earth. As a youngster, I was well aware of the pattern of behaviors of fanatics. I recognized the danger. I made a quick note of their positions on the bridge and on the banks of the creek. I decided on a course of action. I calmly and coolly ran toward the would-be assailants. Then I turned right. I plunged between the metal of the side of the bridge into the creek between two fishing boats. I stayed on the bottom of the creek feeling for nets. I was not certain if they were smart enough to consider placing nets used for catching fishes to try to entangle me beneath the surface of the waters of the creek. Just as I assumed there was none. Thus, it was a cake walk to safety. I was certain a Comanche Dog soldier would have done in a similar situation. I made good my escape. I arrived within three hours of that attempt on my life, amongst my people at Nabaclis. All’s well that ends well - however, I will neither forget nor forgive that experience. It was rather unfortunate and totally unnecessary . . . I never attempted to defrock any East Indian female on the Corentyne Coast. The reports were of gross exaggerations. Chitrani resided at No# 66 village. She was very attractive young female. She was my classmate at No# 68 Government school. We were in common entrance class. Raymond Drepaul was our teacher. I know simply because I was the son of the Head Mistress, most of the pupils were rather friendly with me. However, when I returned to the Corentyne to attend Skeldon Line Path Government Secondary School I noticed most of that attention had disappeared. The simple truth was I never entertained any ideas of trying to be intimate with Indian females. My eyes and heart was fixed upon the possibilities Claudette Francis and Ingrid Savory. They never really were more than polite towards me. I realize that was because of the character of my mother. They simply had no interest in being within an arms length of me. Denise was the only girl friend I ever knew on the Corentyne. She was a from Golden Grove. She was residing at the home of relatives at Leeds. That’s it...The truth of the matter is racists are dangerous people...Their sole purpose is to violate human rights of people whom they conclude has not right to life or property.
Traumatized
Recently, I have again been traumatized. An author purported to be a relative has attempted to label my mother a liar for prosperity. I am not aware that any of her loved ones have stepped forward to insist that there be accountability and a measure of redress. And that is really unacceptable…
Recently, I have again been traumatized. I really don’t have any idea whether I would ever fully recover from this assault. It is my understanding, that quite frankly the integrity of the character of my nearest and dearest relative of them all, my most beloved ancestor, my mother Muriel Sancho (1914-1990), has not only been questioned but the attempt was made to denigrate her for posterity. I will say this now. It does not matter as much to me, what the insincere, in sensitive, and hostile capitalistic mind has done and/or attempted to achieve. I fully expect the relevant response from those who benefitted from being exposed to one of the finest of the personalities amongst the people of Sancho. I rather expect six of seven who were nourished by the contents of her breasts to be utterly furious. I expect them to make every effort to ensure this affront is addressed by the relevant authority. I will urge them to seek the proper redress. I also expect those nurtured by her love for the members of the kinship of Sancho and those who benefitted from her experiences and/or qualities to denounce the product of a narrow and hollow mind set. Obviously, the only exception is her son, Colin. He is not in the physical realm of existence. There is no excuse for this baseless attack. It was totally unnecessary. In fact, it would bring a sense of community to my sorrowful heart and mind when I am made aware that all of her descendants express their disappointment at the ludicrous statements the author attributed to our ancestor.
I would love to say to the author that’s ludicrous you are referring to Muriel Sancho a most revered personality not some unknown human being - no apologies would be accepted - for you made those statements of your own validation - they were not forced at all.
I am taken aback. I remember that my mother despised liars. She would punish me if she was confident I told her lies. She repeatedly stated, “a liar is a thief and a murderer.” They violate others. They deny others of their humanity, human and civil rights.
I don’t feel the warmth of this fire period of the year. I had heard it said before that the nights are long and the days are cold - now I am calling on the ancestors to come to my aid, to restore my reverence for them - am I not one of the very reason they existed in the first place?
I also read it somewhere and I do believe I used the quotation on several occasions. It matters not what sort of ancestors you have but what descendants our ancestors have. However, I cannot fathom deceit I cannot begin to imagine that my great great-grandfather, Bentick Sancho would hide his identity from his wife (or wives) quite possibly Mary Sumner and Sarah Giles, and his children, Lammy Tuckness Sancho, and Mary Sancho Sandy with Mrs. Mary Sancho and Charles Sancho and Sarah Sancho with Sarah Sancho, and his grand children, particularly Allick Sancho (1873-1945). If Bentick Sancho and Fothergill are names of the same human being - he had ample opportunity to ensure there would be no misinformation concerning his legacy and his heritage. I must admit I don’t know what the truth is - I was not present in the physical realm. I was not an eye witness. I can assure you. Were I there in this realm - then certainly I would ask questions respecting the knowledge of self, and other questions relevant to my interests. I don’t believe the statements I had heard from the author - now that I have seen a number of ridiculous statements that appeared online. I am not entirely sure what I am going to do about them but I say this I will attempt to obtain a measure of redress. I am not amused. That’s for sure . . .
Recently, I have again been traumatized. I really don’t have any idea whether I would ever fully recover from this assault. It is my understanding, that quite frankly the integrity of the character of my nearest and dearest relative of them all, my most beloved ancestor, my mother Muriel Sancho (1914-1990), has not only been questioned but the attempt was made to denigrate her for posterity. I will say this now. It does not matter as much to me, what the insincere, in sensitive, and hostile capitalistic mind has done and/or attempted to achieve. I fully expect the relevant response from those who benefitted from being exposed to one of the finest of the personalities amongst the people of Sancho. I rather expect six of seven who were nourished by the contents of her breasts to be utterly furious. I expect them to make every effort to ensure this affront is addressed by the relevant authority. I will urge them to seek the proper redress. I also expect those nurtured by her love for the members of the kinship of Sancho and those who benefitted from her experiences and/or qualities to denounce the product of a narrow and hollow mind set. Obviously, the only exception is her son, Colin. He is not in the physical realm of existence. There is no excuse for this baseless attack. It was totally unnecessary. In fact, it would bring a sense of community to my sorrowful heart and mind when I am made aware that all of her descendants express their disappointment at the ludicrous statements the author attributed to our ancestor.
I would love to say to the author that’s ludicrous you are referring to Muriel Sancho a most revered personality not some unknown human being - no apologies would be accepted - for you made those statements of your own validation - they were not forced at all.
I am taken aback. I remember that my mother despised liars. She would punish me if she was confident I told her lies. She repeatedly stated, “a liar is a thief and a murderer.” They violate others. They deny others of their humanity, human and civil rights.
I don’t feel the warmth of this fire period of the year. I had heard it said before that the nights are long and the days are cold - now I am calling on the ancestors to come to my aid, to restore my reverence for them - am I not one of the very reason they existed in the first place?
I also read it somewhere and I do believe I used the quotation on several occasions. It matters not what sort of ancestors you have but what descendants our ancestors have. However, I cannot fathom deceit I cannot begin to imagine that my great great-grandfather, Bentick Sancho would hide his identity from his wife (or wives) quite possibly Mary Sumner and Sarah Giles, and his children, Lammy Tuckness Sancho, and Mary Sancho Sandy with Mrs. Mary Sancho and Charles Sancho and Sarah Sancho with Sarah Sancho, and his grand children, particularly Allick Sancho (1873-1945). If Bentick Sancho and Fothergill are names of the same human being - he had ample opportunity to ensure there would be no misinformation concerning his legacy and his heritage. I must admit I don’t know what the truth is - I was not present in the physical realm. I was not an eye witness. I can assure you. Were I there in this realm - then certainly I would ask questions respecting the knowledge of self, and other questions relevant to my interests. I don’t believe the statements I had heard from the author - now that I have seen a number of ridiculous statements that appeared online. I am not entirely sure what I am going to do about them but I say this I will attempt to obtain a measure of redress. I am not amused. That’s for sure . . .
batsmen of the last thirty-three years are all softies
Shoaib Akhtar was a man among boys. He was rather fortunate by virtue of his date of birth. He did not have the opportunity to come up against the really great West Indian test match batsmen. He did not hurl the ball at demon speed to Fredericks, Kanhai, Kallicharran, Butcher, Lloyd, Weeks, Walcott, Worrell, Hunte, Gary Sobers, Seymour Nurse, George Headley, Lawrence Rowe Collie Smith and Viv Richards and others of similar abilities and talent. I have never seen great West Indian batsmen so completely victimized by ineptitude, and lying on the pitching and writhing in pain as Brian Lara from a delivery by Shoaib Akhtar.
I think the batsmen of the last thirty-three years are all softies. They are all prima donnas. This era of the one bouncer per over and helmets and other protective equipment have not reproduced one cricketer of real merit, of comparison to those of 1948 - 1977. I believe the greatest cricketers all appeared between 1948 and 1977 on the international arena. They are too many steps below the ability and the talent of the players, 1948-1977. I subscribe most test match teams, in that era had three, four and occasionally more top class match winning bowlers. In the 1950s England had Jim Laker, Tony Lock, Fred Truman, Alec Bedser, and Statham. They are as fine a five some that has ever appeared in a test side. In the period 1975-1976, Australia had a bowling attack comprising of Dennis Lillee, Jeff Thomson, Max Walker, Gary Gilmour and Ashley Mallett. In the 1970s, India had four outstanding world class spinners; Prasanna, Bedi, Venkataraghavan, and Chandrasekhar. West Indies briefly, 1960-1966, had Hall, Griffith, Sobers and Gibbs bowling near the top of their game at the same period. There is obviously no doubt about that fact in my thought process.
I think the batsmen of the last thirty-three years are all softies. They are all prima donnas. This era of the one bouncer per over and helmets and other protective equipment have not reproduced one cricketer of real merit, of comparison to those of 1948 - 1977. I believe the greatest cricketers all appeared between 1948 and 1977 on the international arena. They are too many steps below the ability and the talent of the players, 1948-1977. I subscribe most test match teams, in that era had three, four and occasionally more top class match winning bowlers. In the 1950s England had Jim Laker, Tony Lock, Fred Truman, Alec Bedser, and Statham. They are as fine a five some that has ever appeared in a test side. In the period 1975-1976, Australia had a bowling attack comprising of Dennis Lillee, Jeff Thomson, Max Walker, Gary Gilmour and Ashley Mallett. In the 1970s, India had four outstanding world class spinners; Prasanna, Bedi, Venkataraghavan, and Chandrasekhar. West Indies briefly, 1960-1966, had Hall, Griffith, Sobers and Gibbs bowling near the top of their game at the same period. There is obviously no doubt about that fact in my thought process.
Love and hate could never be friends
“Love and hate could never be friends”...Dennis Emanuel Brown (1956-1999)
Live up Sancho children
Peace and Blessings!
It’s Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s prerogative to print whatever he feels like so doing. He is a grown man. He must be prepared to deal with the consequences of his actions.
The published reports found in the Daily Chronicle 1881-1897 revealed the names of some thirty unknown persons surnamed Sancho. A number of them hailed from the communities of Golden Grove, Nabaclis, Victoria, Friendship and Buxton and elsewhere on the East Coast of Demerara, Corentyne and Canje. I have a primary Sancho Family Tree showing 1383 names. I also have several showing as many as 250 names. I do not have those thirty persons listed upon any family tree. I believe our kinship is likely to show some five thousand souls. That figure was thrown out at me by Cousin Phyllis Kendall
I was initially excited. I was about to offer a few words of congratulations, after reading a note from Kenneth Joyce Robertson. I wanted to watch Spike Lee’s movie, Jungle Fever. Therefore I concluded I will read the preview later. However, several nagging images entered my thought process in rapid successions. There were images of deceased members of the kinship of Sancho. I am positive. I imagined Muriel and her siblings, Sheila Sharper, Bouya Sharper, Muriel Sancho (1912-2004), Gwendolyn Ralph and Brenda Abrams in tears. Also, bits of conversations I had with Leebert Sancho, Joe Hughes, Felix Bastiani, and Olive Fraser and the note Cicely Abrams sent to me were amongst the identifiable images.
I decided. I would view Jungle fever, at a later period. I hesitantly accessed the web site and the relevant links. I was utterly shocked. I was dismayed. Low and behold, I could not believe the text I am seeing and reading. I thought I misconstrued the word play. I read what Kenneth Joyce Robertson published respecting my recollections of indoctrination I received from my mother. I read the smearing of my mother. It is inconceivable that any man regardless of sex, and much less a member of the kinship of Sancho would allow them to think about my mother in such fashion. I can assure you. Be it fact or be it bizarrely plausible I am not with whatever their names are. I do not know what the other descendants of Muriel Sancho think about your astonishing assault upon the character of my mother. Quite frankly I do not care what they think. I long charge them with neglecting to the preservation of the accounts of her life and times. Mother always insisted I read what others write. Thereby form my own opinions. She insisted. You must always count your change. Do not be naivete. Everyone is not of your best interests regardless whether I am a teacher and Sancho. It was all about Sancho - every waking minute – that’s the reason I am all about Sancho. Mother concluded the folk’s songs ridicule every Sancho male. She disliked them immensely. She forbade me to sing them.
I would dearly love to witness a publication on the life and times of Muriel Sancho. However, I have great difficulties accessing oral sources of data - most of her colleagues are dead – and those who are alive are having great difficulty with their memory. Also I do not have the cooperation of my siblings and that fact is simply too nauseating for my stomach. There when I noticed my mother’s name I was overjoyed. Then as I read the commentary; I became perplexed. The question is why, why, Kenneth Joyce Robertson made the effort to belittle my mother’s integrity? What wrong has she done to Kenneth Joyce Robertson? I dare to conclude and state my beloved Cousin Tee Joyce would be appalled. He would repudiate such expressions.
I am taken aback at Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s tone and interferences respecting my most beloved ancestor Muriel Sancho. Why the attack upon the integrity of my mother? Why didn’t Kenneth Joyce Robertson consult with me respecting his take upon what I wrote respecting my mother’s account of her heritage? Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s wordplay is reminiscent of Thomas Anson Sancho’s butchery upon his grand father, our common ancestor, Limy Tuckness Sancho in his publication Pages of Life. T. Anson Sancho did not even have the decency to spell our common ancestor’s name correctly.
Why the attempt at denigration of my mother for posterity? Why the smear campaign? What has she done to Kenneth Joyce Robertson? It is regrettable that Sancho continues to be derogatory to another in print and/or public. It is one thing to lambaste me. It’s quite another to attempt to do so to my mother. I cannot begin to fathom why Carmen Sancho did not insist Kenneth Joyce Robertson alter such remarks concerning her aunt. I am told she read the manuscript. I do not know what I will say or do whenever if ever I met Kenneth Joyce Robertson and/or Carmen Sancho, again. I am sure. It would not be polite. How could it be? I am likely to make grand Aunt Edith Sancho sound like a church girl
I am perhaps more versed in foul language than I am with English grammar.
Now Kenneth Joyce Robertson has heaped scorn and ridicule upon my mother and me and Alexander Sancho, and Tuckness Sancho and members of generations of my mothers’ and prior ones.
I have no knowledge of Sancho folklore. I can assure you. I resided for the better portion of the first twenty-six years of my sojourn in New Amsterdam, Corentyne Coast and in the Golden Grove-Nabaclis Village District. It is obvious. The oral traditions of the kinship of Sancho are microcosms of the effects of the adverse conditions of life the survivors of the Middle Passage faced on the plantations in the Americas. It is also factual that when migrations occur, fragmentation takes place amongst the people and ultimately the oral traditions reflect this fragmentation. Let’s examine a family group - shall we? I will choose the descendants of Alexander Sancho and Rachael Campbell to display the point I am attempting to make. If you approach the majority of the grand children, they would be hard pressed to accurately name the siblings of their Sancho parent. It is understandable when they fail to mention the tenth child of this union of Sancho and Campbell. Fragmentation begins to take place amongst siblings when they marry migrate and begin to raise their own families. I can assure you. That, even the family gatherings at the residence of Aunt Elsa at Nabaclis until April 1966 could not withstand fragmentation in the oral traditions. There are great differences amongst the First-Cousins. Every sensible person would expect a generation possessing some seventy-three persons and spanning forty-four years would reflect differences in their understanding of their Sancho family history.
In the scenario of the children of Muriel Sancho, I can assure you, I can only recall hearing my elder sister seeking knowledge of her past. On the last occasion, my mother, my sister, my nephew David and I reclined in St. Hubert’s. I am quite positive my sister made notes. I heard she lost those notes in the mail to our relative in Toledo, Ohio. I am saying people ask different questions to different people regardless of their age. Therefore, siblings often exhibit difference in their understanding.
Kenneth Joyce Robertson has revealed himself. He is simply another cultural pirate. He has told me. He is not only rude but he is also ridiculous. He is a blatant and malicious liar. I state he is physically disadvantaged he has revealed a propensity of a brain malfunction. I had been warned but I must admit I was completely shocked by his verbal attack upon the integrity of my most beloved ancestor, Muriel Sancho (1914-1990). I find it even more atrocious that he has attempted to indicate my mother as a whimsical being by purporting to invoke the names of her relatives whom I regard as my mothers in his absurd take as evidence against her. If it were not, my relatives were being mentioned, I would have assumed that portion of the text was simply some sort of comic fictional take the workings of a diabolical mind.
Now please allow me to exhibit the points of contention.
Kenneth Joyce Robertson chooses of his own validation to use information which did not originate in his thought process. He did so without extending any courtesy whatsoever to the writer of the account referred to as originating from Muriel Sancho. Please remember that six of her children are still alive. But, however, only her last child researches and documents his findings. Please remember only eight years separate her oldest and youngest in USA - yet they have different takes on the lives of their parents.
I find it absurd that Kenneth Joyce Robertson in a single sentence - Our dear cousin Muriel Sancho Ross has left us with the proposition that there was three brothers Sancho, grandsons of the African "man of letters" Charles Ignatius Sancho of England - chooses to begin the sentence with a phrase suggesting endearment. Yet he continued and concluded the sentence with three absolutely false statements. I have to question how upon earth could he refer to my mother as, our dear cousin Muriel Sancho Ross and then continue to ascribe malicious lies as originating from her.
I can assure you. Muriel Sancho (1914-1990) never mentioned the name Charles Ignatius Sancho to me. I concluded she never heard that name. I also offer. It was Sydney Marious and I who began to examine the possibility that Ignatius Sancho is our ancestor. My mother was only aware of one Charles Sancho - and that’s her brother. Yet research has turned up a Charles Sancho, son of Bentick Sancho and Sarah Sancho born about 1861. I believe Bentick Sancho and Sarah Sancho also has a daughter also named Sarah Sancho. I believe “Dear Aunt” Teacher Sarah Matilda Sandy was named in the honor of her mother’s sister.
I began to seek out researchers. I was trying to locate anyone who may have knowledge of the kinship of Sancho beyond the boundaries of Guyana. I also attempted to communicate with academics in the effort to ascertain whether they have knowledge of the descendants of Ignatius Sancho. Thus, it was probably I who allowed this narrow-minded asinine being to conclude Sancho of Guyana are descendants of Ignatius Sancho. What good is a western university accrediat6ation to a Negro if he cannot distinguish an enquiry from scientific evaluation to conclude what is and/or what’s not genealogical fact?
Despite the stellar scholastic achievements of Cousin Muriel and her love for this family, her pronouncements have left us with more questions than answers. Neither her sibling, dear Aunt Inez, nor Cousin Gwen Valentine, nor our relative Ms. Riley could shed light upon, or had any knowledge of, the Ignatius Sancho fatherhood. Remember now. They are from that age group. If the above statements do not wreck both arrogance and ignorance I really do know what does and/or what gives with that imbecile Kenneth Joyce Robertson. It is my understanding. Muriel Sancho (1912-2006) said the Name Change was from Sanchez or Sankey to Sancho. The fact remains it seems there was some mention of name change in the Sancho heritage. However, my mother never mentioned such a scenario to me. Cousin Gwen is believed to state the names of the three brothers are Bentick John and Robert Christopher Sancho. Again only an irresponsible person would take the wordings of ninety years old as totally accurate. What all they did in their lives was to reminiscence on the people of Sancho and/or what they had been told? How absurd. Any way I have not found a Robert Christopher Sancho. I have turned up Robert Johnstone Sancho...I am sure there were at least two persons with such a name.
I expected facts. I expected sources of data. To be quite frank except for seeking data and/or sources of data and also information respecting the people of Samuels I would be careless about the publication. I must also admit a man must know what evil thoughts to lurk in the minds of others. Muriel Sancho was far from whimsical. I can attest to a number of things she told me; I have not found proof that Sarah Denbow is my relative. I have not found concrete proof of three Sancho brothers came from England.
Further more. Muriel Sancho’s take is echoed by Cicely Abrams, her first cousin with more beef. Our Cousin stated Lambert Tuckness Bentick Sancho came to the colony of Demerara in 1815 or 1817. He was 31 years old. He came with several sons. He married. He raised up another family. Bentick Sancho is quite possibly one of his sons. She stated that this is her recollection as told to her by Eileen Esme Sancho as told to Aunt Eileen by Tuckness Sancho, her father. She also said Tuckness wrote several articles on the history of Golden Grove.
I believe her for I noticed two letters written by Tuckness Sancho in the early 1880s. Cicely’s take gives me great hope that the five unknown members of the kinship of Sancho buried in the vault at the cemetery in Golden Grove will be one day is revealed. I hope in the not too distant future. Also many persons have stated that Sancho migrated from Golden Grove / Buxton to Canje and the Corentyne and Suriname and French Guiana. Felix Bastiani, Olive Fraser and others have the same story as told to them by their ancestors. Boatswain, and Fraser, and others have Sancho DNA
Yes it’s true many slaves had the one name; Sancho. What occurred after the abolition of slavery on August 1, 1838? Many slaves took the slave masters’ names or some other European names for their surnames. The consensus is clear the people of Sancho today have no concrete data disclosing where our ancestors came from.
Also, I am with the Sumner ancestry. I am not with the porter take. I am with a great great-grandmother Mary Sancho being a descendant of that brutal overseer Thomas Sumner. I believe Mary Sumner is the maiden name of the grandmother of Alexander Sancho. Unless I see birth certificates of her children; Mary Sancho and Lammy Tuckness Sancho stating otherwise that’s what I will use as my thesis. I need to ascertain whether there were two persons named Bentick Sancho, alive in 1861. Could it be Bentick Sancho simply had several children’s mothers?
Are there more attacks upon the people of Sancho in the publication? Heavens forbid it. I really hope not. I am sick of reading Sancho attacking Sancho in print and in the judicial system in Guyana. Perhaps Kenneth Joyce Robertson would deem it fit to reedit that publication whenever there’s a second publishing.Kenneth Joyce Robertson needs to change or remove the commentary upon my mother. It is not accurate. He knows it is false. That would likely be the end of that. I will look up the sources of data. Kenneth Joyce Robertson could have saved me the time by sending me extractsthen again. It’s Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s prerogative....
There is no doubt that I am Sancho for I possess the DNA of Muriel Sancho, of Alexander Sancho, of Limy Tuckness Sancho, of Bentick Sancho, and others before them. The question which begs to be answered does Kenneth Joyce Robertson? DNA test could solve some questions - but it does not do so absolutely...It cannot - replace the human touch - the bonding amongst people who understood them to be closely related. Now is the time of decision - time to separate the wolves from the sheep....
There it is
A MAN CALLED BENTINCK
This, indeed, is a reference to Bentinck Sancho. There are actually two Bentinck Sanchos!
The first Bentinck Sancho is at the center and focus of what can be called the Sancho Folklore. It encompasses the "known unknowns." Quintessentially, we are looking at a whole series of questions.
Then there is the second Bentinck Sancho which would deal with things that we do know. Even in this area of our endeavors, there are still loads of questions. The answers are there, except that we have not located, studied, and analyzed them yet. This body of work would be expected to be historical but factual. It will be expected to be substantiated by records - both public and/or private. For the past seven or more years of unstinting research, we have been intrigued by the "Ignatius Sancho Factor."
Our dear cousin Muriel Sancho Ross has left us with the proposition that there were three brothers Sancho, grandsons of the African "man of letters" Charles Ignatius Sancho of England. This theory is further presented as a genealogical fact, which is translated into making all the Sanchos of British Guiana, now Guyana. descendants of Ignatius Sancho through his three "grandsons," BENTINCK, Tuckness, and John.
Despite the stellar scholastic achievements of cousin Muriel and her love for this family, her pronouncements have left us with more questions than answers. Neither her sibling, dear Aunt Inez, nor cousin Gwen Valentine, nor our relative Ms. Riley could shed light upon, or had any knowledge of, the Ignatius Sancho fatherhood. Remember now, they are from that age group.
Relentless searches at the FRC (Family Records Center) m London have not produced any birth records for Bentinck. Tuckness and John. At the same time, earlier parish records have divulged birth and baptismal records for the children of Ignatius Sancho. Going even further back the record of the marriage of Charles Ignatius Sancho to his beloved Ann Osborne is available. Everything
Live up Sancho children
Peace and Blessings!
It’s Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s prerogative to print whatever he feels like so doing. He is a grown man. He must be prepared to deal with the consequences of his actions.
The published reports found in the Daily Chronicle 1881-1897 revealed the names of some thirty unknown persons surnamed Sancho. A number of them hailed from the communities of Golden Grove, Nabaclis, Victoria, Friendship and Buxton and elsewhere on the East Coast of Demerara, Corentyne and Canje. I have a primary Sancho Family Tree showing 1383 names. I also have several showing as many as 250 names. I do not have those thirty persons listed upon any family tree. I believe our kinship is likely to show some five thousand souls. That figure was thrown out at me by Cousin Phyllis Kendall
I was initially excited. I was about to offer a few words of congratulations, after reading a note from Kenneth Joyce Robertson. I wanted to watch Spike Lee’s movie, Jungle Fever. Therefore I concluded I will read the preview later. However, several nagging images entered my thought process in rapid successions. There were images of deceased members of the kinship of Sancho. I am positive. I imagined Muriel and her siblings, Sheila Sharper, Bouya Sharper, Muriel Sancho (1912-2004), Gwendolyn Ralph and Brenda Abrams in tears. Also, bits of conversations I had with Leebert Sancho, Joe Hughes, Felix Bastiani, and Olive Fraser and the note Cicely Abrams sent to me were amongst the identifiable images.
I decided. I would view Jungle fever, at a later period. I hesitantly accessed the web site and the relevant links. I was utterly shocked. I was dismayed. Low and behold, I could not believe the text I am seeing and reading. I thought I misconstrued the word play. I read what Kenneth Joyce Robertson published respecting my recollections of indoctrination I received from my mother. I read the smearing of my mother. It is inconceivable that any man regardless of sex, and much less a member of the kinship of Sancho would allow them to think about my mother in such fashion. I can assure you. Be it fact or be it bizarrely plausible I am not with whatever their names are. I do not know what the other descendants of Muriel Sancho think about your astonishing assault upon the character of my mother. Quite frankly I do not care what they think. I long charge them with neglecting to the preservation of the accounts of her life and times. Mother always insisted I read what others write. Thereby form my own opinions. She insisted. You must always count your change. Do not be naivete. Everyone is not of your best interests regardless whether I am a teacher and Sancho. It was all about Sancho - every waking minute – that’s the reason I am all about Sancho. Mother concluded the folk’s songs ridicule every Sancho male. She disliked them immensely. She forbade me to sing them.
I would dearly love to witness a publication on the life and times of Muriel Sancho. However, I have great difficulties accessing oral sources of data - most of her colleagues are dead – and those who are alive are having great difficulty with their memory. Also I do not have the cooperation of my siblings and that fact is simply too nauseating for my stomach. There when I noticed my mother’s name I was overjoyed. Then as I read the commentary; I became perplexed. The question is why, why, Kenneth Joyce Robertson made the effort to belittle my mother’s integrity? What wrong has she done to Kenneth Joyce Robertson? I dare to conclude and state my beloved Cousin Tee Joyce would be appalled. He would repudiate such expressions.
I am taken aback at Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s tone and interferences respecting my most beloved ancestor Muriel Sancho. Why the attack upon the integrity of my mother? Why didn’t Kenneth Joyce Robertson consult with me respecting his take upon what I wrote respecting my mother’s account of her heritage? Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s wordplay is reminiscent of Thomas Anson Sancho’s butchery upon his grand father, our common ancestor, Limy Tuckness Sancho in his publication Pages of Life. T. Anson Sancho did not even have the decency to spell our common ancestor’s name correctly.
Why the attempt at denigration of my mother for posterity? Why the smear campaign? What has she done to Kenneth Joyce Robertson? It is regrettable that Sancho continues to be derogatory to another in print and/or public. It is one thing to lambaste me. It’s quite another to attempt to do so to my mother. I cannot begin to fathom why Carmen Sancho did not insist Kenneth Joyce Robertson alter such remarks concerning her aunt. I am told she read the manuscript. I do not know what I will say or do whenever if ever I met Kenneth Joyce Robertson and/or Carmen Sancho, again. I am sure. It would not be polite. How could it be? I am likely to make grand Aunt Edith Sancho sound like a church girl
I am perhaps more versed in foul language than I am with English grammar.
Now Kenneth Joyce Robertson has heaped scorn and ridicule upon my mother and me and Alexander Sancho, and Tuckness Sancho and members of generations of my mothers’ and prior ones.
I have no knowledge of Sancho folklore. I can assure you. I resided for the better portion of the first twenty-six years of my sojourn in New Amsterdam, Corentyne Coast and in the Golden Grove-Nabaclis Village District. It is obvious. The oral traditions of the kinship of Sancho are microcosms of the effects of the adverse conditions of life the survivors of the Middle Passage faced on the plantations in the Americas. It is also factual that when migrations occur, fragmentation takes place amongst the people and ultimately the oral traditions reflect this fragmentation. Let’s examine a family group - shall we? I will choose the descendants of Alexander Sancho and Rachael Campbell to display the point I am attempting to make. If you approach the majority of the grand children, they would be hard pressed to accurately name the siblings of their Sancho parent. It is understandable when they fail to mention the tenth child of this union of Sancho and Campbell. Fragmentation begins to take place amongst siblings when they marry migrate and begin to raise their own families. I can assure you. That, even the family gatherings at the residence of Aunt Elsa at Nabaclis until April 1966 could not withstand fragmentation in the oral traditions. There are great differences amongst the First-Cousins. Every sensible person would expect a generation possessing some seventy-three persons and spanning forty-four years would reflect differences in their understanding of their Sancho family history.
In the scenario of the children of Muriel Sancho, I can assure you, I can only recall hearing my elder sister seeking knowledge of her past. On the last occasion, my mother, my sister, my nephew David and I reclined in St. Hubert’s. I am quite positive my sister made notes. I heard she lost those notes in the mail to our relative in Toledo, Ohio. I am saying people ask different questions to different people regardless of their age. Therefore, siblings often exhibit difference in their understanding.
Kenneth Joyce Robertson has revealed himself. He is simply another cultural pirate. He has told me. He is not only rude but he is also ridiculous. He is a blatant and malicious liar. I state he is physically disadvantaged he has revealed a propensity of a brain malfunction. I had been warned but I must admit I was completely shocked by his verbal attack upon the integrity of my most beloved ancestor, Muriel Sancho (1914-1990). I find it even more atrocious that he has attempted to indicate my mother as a whimsical being by purporting to invoke the names of her relatives whom I regard as my mothers in his absurd take as evidence against her. If it were not, my relatives were being mentioned, I would have assumed that portion of the text was simply some sort of comic fictional take the workings of a diabolical mind.
Now please allow me to exhibit the points of contention.
Kenneth Joyce Robertson chooses of his own validation to use information which did not originate in his thought process. He did so without extending any courtesy whatsoever to the writer of the account referred to as originating from Muriel Sancho. Please remember that six of her children are still alive. But, however, only her last child researches and documents his findings. Please remember only eight years separate her oldest and youngest in USA - yet they have different takes on the lives of their parents.
I find it absurd that Kenneth Joyce Robertson in a single sentence - Our dear cousin Muriel Sancho Ross has left us with the proposition that there was three brothers Sancho, grandsons of the African "man of letters" Charles Ignatius Sancho of England - chooses to begin the sentence with a phrase suggesting endearment. Yet he continued and concluded the sentence with three absolutely false statements. I have to question how upon earth could he refer to my mother as, our dear cousin Muriel Sancho Ross and then continue to ascribe malicious lies as originating from her.
I can assure you. Muriel Sancho (1914-1990) never mentioned the name Charles Ignatius Sancho to me. I concluded she never heard that name. I also offer. It was Sydney Marious and I who began to examine the possibility that Ignatius Sancho is our ancestor. My mother was only aware of one Charles Sancho - and that’s her brother. Yet research has turned up a Charles Sancho, son of Bentick Sancho and Sarah Sancho born about 1861. I believe Bentick Sancho and Sarah Sancho also has a daughter also named Sarah Sancho. I believe “Dear Aunt” Teacher Sarah Matilda Sandy was named in the honor of her mother’s sister.
I began to seek out researchers. I was trying to locate anyone who may have knowledge of the kinship of Sancho beyond the boundaries of Guyana. I also attempted to communicate with academics in the effort to ascertain whether they have knowledge of the descendants of Ignatius Sancho. Thus, it was probably I who allowed this narrow-minded asinine being to conclude Sancho of Guyana are descendants of Ignatius Sancho. What good is a western university accrediat6ation to a Negro if he cannot distinguish an enquiry from scientific evaluation to conclude what is and/or what’s not genealogical fact?
Despite the stellar scholastic achievements of Cousin Muriel and her love for this family, her pronouncements have left us with more questions than answers. Neither her sibling, dear Aunt Inez, nor Cousin Gwen Valentine, nor our relative Ms. Riley could shed light upon, or had any knowledge of, the Ignatius Sancho fatherhood. Remember now. They are from that age group. If the above statements do not wreck both arrogance and ignorance I really do know what does and/or what gives with that imbecile Kenneth Joyce Robertson. It is my understanding. Muriel Sancho (1912-2006) said the Name Change was from Sanchez or Sankey to Sancho. The fact remains it seems there was some mention of name change in the Sancho heritage. However, my mother never mentioned such a scenario to me. Cousin Gwen is believed to state the names of the three brothers are Bentick John and Robert Christopher Sancho. Again only an irresponsible person would take the wordings of ninety years old as totally accurate. What all they did in their lives was to reminiscence on the people of Sancho and/or what they had been told? How absurd. Any way I have not found a Robert Christopher Sancho. I have turned up Robert Johnstone Sancho...I am sure there were at least two persons with such a name.
I expected facts. I expected sources of data. To be quite frank except for seeking data and/or sources of data and also information respecting the people of Samuels I would be careless about the publication. I must also admit a man must know what evil thoughts to lurk in the minds of others. Muriel Sancho was far from whimsical. I can attest to a number of things she told me; I have not found proof that Sarah Denbow is my relative. I have not found concrete proof of three Sancho brothers came from England.
Further more. Muriel Sancho’s take is echoed by Cicely Abrams, her first cousin with more beef. Our Cousin stated Lambert Tuckness Bentick Sancho came to the colony of Demerara in 1815 or 1817. He was 31 years old. He came with several sons. He married. He raised up another family. Bentick Sancho is quite possibly one of his sons. She stated that this is her recollection as told to her by Eileen Esme Sancho as told to Aunt Eileen by Tuckness Sancho, her father. She also said Tuckness wrote several articles on the history of Golden Grove.
I believe her for I noticed two letters written by Tuckness Sancho in the early 1880s. Cicely’s take gives me great hope that the five unknown members of the kinship of Sancho buried in the vault at the cemetery in Golden Grove will be one day is revealed. I hope in the not too distant future. Also many persons have stated that Sancho migrated from Golden Grove / Buxton to Canje and the Corentyne and Suriname and French Guiana. Felix Bastiani, Olive Fraser and others have the same story as told to them by their ancestors. Boatswain, and Fraser, and others have Sancho DNA
Yes it’s true many slaves had the one name; Sancho. What occurred after the abolition of slavery on August 1, 1838? Many slaves took the slave masters’ names or some other European names for their surnames. The consensus is clear the people of Sancho today have no concrete data disclosing where our ancestors came from.
Also, I am with the Sumner ancestry. I am not with the porter take. I am with a great great-grandmother Mary Sancho being a descendant of that brutal overseer Thomas Sumner. I believe Mary Sumner is the maiden name of the grandmother of Alexander Sancho. Unless I see birth certificates of her children; Mary Sancho and Lammy Tuckness Sancho stating otherwise that’s what I will use as my thesis. I need to ascertain whether there were two persons named Bentick Sancho, alive in 1861. Could it be Bentick Sancho simply had several children’s mothers?
Are there more attacks upon the people of Sancho in the publication? Heavens forbid it. I really hope not. I am sick of reading Sancho attacking Sancho in print and in the judicial system in Guyana. Perhaps Kenneth Joyce Robertson would deem it fit to reedit that publication whenever there’s a second publishing.Kenneth Joyce Robertson needs to change or remove the commentary upon my mother. It is not accurate. He knows it is false. That would likely be the end of that. I will look up the sources of data. Kenneth Joyce Robertson could have saved me the time by sending me extractsthen again. It’s Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s prerogative....
There is no doubt that I am Sancho for I possess the DNA of Muriel Sancho, of Alexander Sancho, of Limy Tuckness Sancho, of Bentick Sancho, and others before them. The question which begs to be answered does Kenneth Joyce Robertson? DNA test could solve some questions - but it does not do so absolutely...It cannot - replace the human touch - the bonding amongst people who understood them to be closely related. Now is the time of decision - time to separate the wolves from the sheep....
There it is
A MAN CALLED BENTINCK
This, indeed, is a reference to Bentinck Sancho. There are actually two Bentinck Sanchos!
The first Bentinck Sancho is at the center and focus of what can be called the Sancho Folklore. It encompasses the "known unknowns." Quintessentially, we are looking at a whole series of questions.
Then there is the second Bentinck Sancho which would deal with things that we do know. Even in this area of our endeavors, there are still loads of questions. The answers are there, except that we have not located, studied, and analyzed them yet. This body of work would be expected to be historical but factual. It will be expected to be substantiated by records - both public and/or private. For the past seven or more years of unstinting research, we have been intrigued by the "Ignatius Sancho Factor."
Our dear cousin Muriel Sancho Ross has left us with the proposition that there were three brothers Sancho, grandsons of the African "man of letters" Charles Ignatius Sancho of England. This theory is further presented as a genealogical fact, which is translated into making all the Sanchos of British Guiana, now Guyana. descendants of Ignatius Sancho through his three "grandsons," BENTINCK, Tuckness, and John.
Despite the stellar scholastic achievements of cousin Muriel and her love for this family, her pronouncements have left us with more questions than answers. Neither her sibling, dear Aunt Inez, nor cousin Gwen Valentine, nor our relative Ms. Riley could shed light upon, or had any knowledge of, the Ignatius Sancho fatherhood. Remember now, they are from that age group.
Relentless searches at the FRC (Family Records Center) m London have not produced any birth records for Bentinck. Tuckness and John. At the same time, earlier parish records have divulged birth and baptismal records for the children of Ignatius Sancho. Going even further back the record of the marriage of Charles Ignatius Sancho to his beloved Ann Osborne is available. Everything
Kenneth Joyce Robertson
Lingers Deep within My Soul
Phenomena - Kenneth Joyce Robertson
As far back as I can remember I held Bentick Sancho in the highest of esteem. I was utterly proud to possess his DNA. I could not dare to imagine that I may one day be forced to compare my great-great-grand father to my father. That’s exactly what Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s most disturbing and abysmal literature has me doing. I must admit I do not know what the qualities of the character of Bentick Sancho are. But, certainly, I am yet to be made aware of any human being who would go out of his way to be deceitful to his descendants. Such a man, is not worthy of existence, much less to be considered a freedom fighter in the struggle for the preservation of Black life and culture.
Its high time, Kenneth Joyce Robertson is requested and/or called upon to answer a number critical questions concerning his absurd attempt to kick dirty upon my mothers, Muriel Sancho (1914-1990), Inez Sancho, Muriel Sancho (1912-2006), and Gwendolyn Ralph. I have no awareness of any noticeable differences amongst that generation of Sancho females. Perhaps, he is onto something that’s not there at all. It’s likely just his “imagination playing tricks upon” him again. Perhaps, he is simply some sort of snake in the grass. Whatever his reasons are I find them reprehensible at best...they are repugnant - totally unacceptable. I detest such a thought process. There ain’t any way I am going to stand for that sort of nonsense. There ain’t no way I am going to be associated with anyone who perpetuates fraudulent language against my loved ones whether just simply to make a mockery of the indoctrination I come to understand is required of being a member of the kinship of Sancho.
Please allow me to demonstrate and/or present an analysis and expose his ridiculous claims as exactly what they are; deceitful . . . It holds true that at a lie is a lie regardless who tells it. I have not known any human being who has not repeated in accurate thoughts and/or expressions. That is particularly accurate respecting politicians and religious philosophies and indeed the vast majority of the so-called experts in western society are all guilty of continuing to propagate and/or support the findings regarded as Humanities and Social sciences which they fully well know is most ridiculously inaccurate. However, most academics are institutionalized. The academics are highly visible. They are handsomely rewarded. They are compensated for their willful degradation of the history of Black life and culture. The academics are as reprehensible as the forces of destruction of humanity. They are the architects, supporters, defenders, antagonists and apologists of the most evil political, religious, and economical systems which have wrecked untold suffering upon billions of human beings for numerous millenniums and continuing in this dispensation.
Phenomena - Kenneth Joyce Robertson
As far back as I can remember I held Bentick Sancho in the highest of esteem. I was utterly proud to possess his DNA. I could not dare to imagine that I may one day be forced to compare my great-great-grand father to my father. That’s exactly what Kenneth Joyce Robertson’s most disturbing and abysmal literature has me doing. I must admit I do not know what the qualities of the character of Bentick Sancho are. But, certainly, I am yet to be made aware of any human being who would go out of his way to be deceitful to his descendants. Such a man, is not worthy of existence, much less to be considered a freedom fighter in the struggle for the preservation of Black life and culture.
Its high time, Kenneth Joyce Robertson is requested and/or called upon to answer a number critical questions concerning his absurd attempt to kick dirty upon my mothers, Muriel Sancho (1914-1990), Inez Sancho, Muriel Sancho (1912-2006), and Gwendolyn Ralph. I have no awareness of any noticeable differences amongst that generation of Sancho females. Perhaps, he is onto something that’s not there at all. It’s likely just his “imagination playing tricks upon” him again. Perhaps, he is simply some sort of snake in the grass. Whatever his reasons are I find them reprehensible at best...they are repugnant - totally unacceptable. I detest such a thought process. There ain’t any way I am going to stand for that sort of nonsense. There ain’t no way I am going to be associated with anyone who perpetuates fraudulent language against my loved ones whether just simply to make a mockery of the indoctrination I come to understand is required of being a member of the kinship of Sancho.
Please allow me to demonstrate and/or present an analysis and expose his ridiculous claims as exactly what they are; deceitful . . . It holds true that at a lie is a lie regardless who tells it. I have not known any human being who has not repeated in accurate thoughts and/or expressions. That is particularly accurate respecting politicians and religious philosophies and indeed the vast majority of the so-called experts in western society are all guilty of continuing to propagate and/or support the findings regarded as Humanities and Social sciences which they fully well know is most ridiculously inaccurate. However, most academics are institutionalized. The academics are highly visible. They are handsomely rewarded. They are compensated for their willful degradation of the history of Black life and culture. The academics are as reprehensible as the forces of destruction of humanity. They are the architects, supporters, defenders, antagonists and apologists of the most evil political, religious, and economical systems which have wrecked untold suffering upon billions of human beings for numerous millenniums and continuing in this dispensation.
Kenneth Joyce Robertson - Vexation of Soul of Sancho
“Jah Jah guide me from my friends for I know they are my enemies” . . . Peter Tosh (1944-1987)
“Fools die for the want of wisdom - vexation of the soul is vanity”
“Why do you fight each other? Why do you kill your brother? Then your reward will be the cemetery” . . . Peter Tosh (1944-1987)
That’s the reason the children cry
Oh Bumba Klaat - this Guy, Kenneth Joyce Robertson was really and truly serious. The content likely in that exercise will not shock me. I am sure such personalities as Imhotep, Eusi Kwayana, Malcolm X and Antonio Maceo will not be found there in. Those are freedom fighters I would be only too willing to accept without much argument. Now seriously, Kenneth Joyce Robertson had previously, perhaps, on more occasions than I care to remember told me about his point of view. I simply concluded he was trying to encourage me not to narrow my focus upon Ignatius Sancho and other kinships of Sancho of the United Kingdom. When he suggested that Bentick Sancho, John Sancho and Tuckness Sancho were not brothers at all - the band of brothers’ oath - I never took that seriously. I do not recall Kenneth Joyce Robertson even point out the names of Fothergill, Frederick and William. Had he done so, I might have requested researchers look up those three and their relatives on the Essequebo coast, and what could be learnt of their ethnicity and parentage in West Africa.
When Kenneth Joyce Robertson began to tell me, that not every Sancho in British Guiana are relatives. He lost me. You have to understand; I was indoctrinated on the subject of Sancho above and beyond all else. I grew to be told Sancho of Berbice came from the East Coast of Demerara.
Let us now for the sake of recognizing the possible implications and their reverberations respecting the Humanities and Social sciences as handed down by the oral traditions respecting Sancho; if Kenneth Joyce Robertson is absolutely accurate.
What is he really saying? Fothergill is deceitful; so too are Frederick and William. The three were absurd beings. They were most of all narrowed minded and thoughtless souls. They possessed characteristics I find most objectionable.
Kenneth Joyce Robertson is telling us that the three men deliberately deceived their children and grand children - or is Kenneth Joyce Robertson saying the story of the three men were lost - but now resituated and reclaimed by him.
Among the question I propose to the author are the following; if Bentick Sancho is Fothergill, and the others are not his biological brothers - why Bentick Sancho did not tell his children, and at least, perhaps, two grandchildren, Allick Sancho (1873-1945) and Big Daddy Christy (1880-1956) may have been too young to understand. I need to acquire his date of birth. I am thinking the year is 1880 and not 1875. Perhaps they were being deceitful to the magistrate and the legal system in British Guiana in 1892.
Can the author state beyond reasonable doubt that the three were not even relatives and/or the same ethnic group. What ethnic group do they belong to?
What are the names of the seven members of the kinship of Sancho who are entombed in the vault in the cemetery at golden grove on the East Coast of Demerara?
Leebert Sancho - I think Bentick Sancho also had a wife named Sarah, perhaps Sarah Giles, and a son named Charles Sancho and a daughter named Sarah. Could this be another Bentick Sancho? Could Bentick Sancho remarry after the death of Mary Sumner in 1849?
Who then is Lambert Tuckness Bentick Sancho? Did he exist? Or he another of Fothergill’s deceitful and absurd story?
Kenneth Joyce Robertson is stating that our Sancho heritage is unworthy. It is a heritage forged in deceit. It is ludicrous for me to accept that an ancestor I never met but revered was satanic to his own children and grandchildren. I think that’s a bit much - more than I am ever willing to accept.
The author is telling you and I that Cousin Phyllis Kendall, Cousin Nelly Mackie, the children of Theophilous Luke, Sancho of southern Trinidad and others unknown to me are not the relatives of Bentick Sancho. What then is he therefore expecting of us? If he was sensitive man he would have understood that fragments of the stories handed down from generations to generation over a course of 160 years will likely survive in different quarters of the kinships and pass for historical truth. Lammy Tuckness Sancho was an educated man. He was capable of writing at least two letters in the appropriate English grammar. I am told he possess a tremendous memory. I guess the size of his skull ought to have indicated to me he had a huge brain. Yes I saw his skeleton in April 1966. I saw the bones and hair when I accompanied numerous descendants of Allick
Sancho and Rachael Campbell to Sancho plot at the cemetery at Golden grove to bury Elsa Sancho my aunt. Muriel screamed when I begun telling her what I have seen. One of the Sharper’s - I can not remember which one - but it was likely Sidney Sharper - sealed the seven cracks which was visible on the tomb of Tuckness Sancho. Numerous Sancho died that year. I have always felt whatever the number of cracks upon that tomb that would be the corresponding number of persons of Sancho who will die that year. I used to keep a regular watch on that tomb. I often visited and slept in the Sancho plot on my grand father’s grave at all hours of the day and night. It was my sanctuary. my holy ground. I killed no animal there - not ants, snakes, mosquitoes - the only life form I destroyed was grass and weeds which would overrun the tombs if left unchecked. I am told the cemetery is a mess today. A jungle soldier could hang out there for days without being noticed. Well that’s a result of the politics of paramountcy of the party - which destroyed the ruling elite and the system of village districts which the colonialist regimes implemented upon our ancestors’ plantations.
“Fools die for the want of wisdom - vexation of the soul is vanity”
“Why do you fight each other? Why do you kill your brother? Then your reward will be the cemetery” . . . Peter Tosh (1944-1987)
That’s the reason the children cry
Oh Bumba Klaat - this Guy, Kenneth Joyce Robertson was really and truly serious. The content likely in that exercise will not shock me. I am sure such personalities as Imhotep, Eusi Kwayana, Malcolm X and Antonio Maceo will not be found there in. Those are freedom fighters I would be only too willing to accept without much argument. Now seriously, Kenneth Joyce Robertson had previously, perhaps, on more occasions than I care to remember told me about his point of view. I simply concluded he was trying to encourage me not to narrow my focus upon Ignatius Sancho and other kinships of Sancho of the United Kingdom. When he suggested that Bentick Sancho, John Sancho and Tuckness Sancho were not brothers at all - the band of brothers’ oath - I never took that seriously. I do not recall Kenneth Joyce Robertson even point out the names of Fothergill, Frederick and William. Had he done so, I might have requested researchers look up those three and their relatives on the Essequebo coast, and what could be learnt of their ethnicity and parentage in West Africa.
When Kenneth Joyce Robertson began to tell me, that not every Sancho in British Guiana are relatives. He lost me. You have to understand; I was indoctrinated on the subject of Sancho above and beyond all else. I grew to be told Sancho of Berbice came from the East Coast of Demerara.
Let us now for the sake of recognizing the possible implications and their reverberations respecting the Humanities and Social sciences as handed down by the oral traditions respecting Sancho; if Kenneth Joyce Robertson is absolutely accurate.
What is he really saying? Fothergill is deceitful; so too are Frederick and William. The three were absurd beings. They were most of all narrowed minded and thoughtless souls. They possessed characteristics I find most objectionable.
Kenneth Joyce Robertson is telling us that the three men deliberately deceived their children and grand children - or is Kenneth Joyce Robertson saying the story of the three men were lost - but now resituated and reclaimed by him.
Among the question I propose to the author are the following; if Bentick Sancho is Fothergill, and the others are not his biological brothers - why Bentick Sancho did not tell his children, and at least, perhaps, two grandchildren, Allick Sancho (1873-1945) and Big Daddy Christy (1880-1956) may have been too young to understand. I need to acquire his date of birth. I am thinking the year is 1880 and not 1875. Perhaps they were being deceitful to the magistrate and the legal system in British Guiana in 1892.
Can the author state beyond reasonable doubt that the three were not even relatives and/or the same ethnic group. What ethnic group do they belong to?
What are the names of the seven members of the kinship of Sancho who are entombed in the vault in the cemetery at golden grove on the East Coast of Demerara?
Leebert Sancho - I think Bentick Sancho also had a wife named Sarah, perhaps Sarah Giles, and a son named Charles Sancho and a daughter named Sarah. Could this be another Bentick Sancho? Could Bentick Sancho remarry after the death of Mary Sumner in 1849?
Who then is Lambert Tuckness Bentick Sancho? Did he exist? Or he another of Fothergill’s deceitful and absurd story?
Kenneth Joyce Robertson is stating that our Sancho heritage is unworthy. It is a heritage forged in deceit. It is ludicrous for me to accept that an ancestor I never met but revered was satanic to his own children and grandchildren. I think that’s a bit much - more than I am ever willing to accept.
The author is telling you and I that Cousin Phyllis Kendall, Cousin Nelly Mackie, the children of Theophilous Luke, Sancho of southern Trinidad and others unknown to me are not the relatives of Bentick Sancho. What then is he therefore expecting of us? If he was sensitive man he would have understood that fragments of the stories handed down from generations to generation over a course of 160 years will likely survive in different quarters of the kinships and pass for historical truth. Lammy Tuckness Sancho was an educated man. He was capable of writing at least two letters in the appropriate English grammar. I am told he possess a tremendous memory. I guess the size of his skull ought to have indicated to me he had a huge brain. Yes I saw his skeleton in April 1966. I saw the bones and hair when I accompanied numerous descendants of Allick
Sancho and Rachael Campbell to Sancho plot at the cemetery at Golden grove to bury Elsa Sancho my aunt. Muriel screamed when I begun telling her what I have seen. One of the Sharper’s - I can not remember which one - but it was likely Sidney Sharper - sealed the seven cracks which was visible on the tomb of Tuckness Sancho. Numerous Sancho died that year. I have always felt whatever the number of cracks upon that tomb that would be the corresponding number of persons of Sancho who will die that year. I used to keep a regular watch on that tomb. I often visited and slept in the Sancho plot on my grand father’s grave at all hours of the day and night. It was my sanctuary. my holy ground. I killed no animal there - not ants, snakes, mosquitoes - the only life form I destroyed was grass and weeds which would overrun the tombs if left unchecked. I am told the cemetery is a mess today. A jungle soldier could hang out there for days without being noticed. Well that’s a result of the politics of paramountcy of the party - which destroyed the ruling elite and the system of village districts which the colonialist regimes implemented upon our ancestors’ plantations.
What gives with Glenroy Williams
Lies infuriate listeners who know exactly what they are -
I can recall my mother being absolutely besides herself. She was lamenting the fact that Tom Keen requested her to back up his claim when he said he is a descendant of Sancho in her presence. I heard her say words to this effect. How dare that man? The gall of some people, he knows that I know he is not a Sancho - but insisted upon me to support his absolutely false claim. He is a Cupido. That’s what he is. He is not even a Campbell. Who really knows what he is? I was not the pillow.
The evidence suggests that while being transported from the East Coast Car Park to the corner of the Public Road and the Middle Walk at Nabaclis, the irrepressible Tom Keen, the undoubted champion of untruths of the generation immediately prior to mine, demanded that my mother second his absurd claim of being a member of the kinship of Sancho. Mother was having none of it. She regards such as blasphemy. Cousin Olga was also present. She tried to calm my mother down fearing the old girl may become stricken by high blood pressure. She further stated she never witnessed my mother in such a furious mood.
I do not believe King tom Keen ever apologized. I think neither mother nor I ever traveled or spoken to Tom Keen again. Since that incident I simply refuse to acknowledge his presence.
What gives with Glenroy Williams? A few years ago, I heard him arguing with Cush. He stated Cush does not know me. He continued Cush is a canje man. then, he questioned how in this world Cush could know me. Well! I got tired of the nonsense. I told Sue-bow I knew Cush before I meet you. I begged him to stop it. It seems he will not. I must realize that the safest thing for me to do is to totally ignore this fellow. I may very well at some point unable to retrain myself.
On an evening, in the summer 2010, I heard say he knows all of my uncles and aunts. He was trying to perhaps impress a female. She was hanging out with us. She is a Georgetown girl. The female stated I possess a recognizable face. However, she cannot quite place it. I asked her whether she was familiar with people of Princes Street area . . . she said yes. Then I told her I have an aunt. She resided at Princes Street. The female asked me her name. I said Hildred. Believe it Sue-Bow jumped in saying I have no such aunt. He began rattling off the names of my mother’s sisters. The female then said Hildred resided at Louisa Row. She visited my aunt often. She mentioned the names of my Cousins. She hinted that a female also resided with Hildred. That female was a student at Bishop’s High School and her brother made his intentions known to her.
I told I believed she is referring to my siblings. Sue-bow was flabbergasted. I asked if he ever saw my father. He said no . . . I said I believe that’s the most honest statement I have heard from you in the longest.
About the middle of the month of November last, two events occurred which left a taste too bitter for my understanding. They completely exposed the fact that English is an alien Language to me.
A few weeks ago, he said he found three pounds of gold in the interior of Guyana. Well! I am not entirely sure Glenroy ever visited Linden much less Essequebo. I do not know. I never heard of it previously.
That fable was followed by yet another. He stated he owned three thousand heads of cattle in Guyana. Again, that is baffling to me. When will it end? Glenroy is a grown man somewhere in the vicinity of sixty years of age.
Shortly, thereafter while seated in a vehicle on Franklin Avenue I noticed Glenroy. I do not know what got into me. I decided to say hello to him. The mighty Sue bow opened his mouth. He started saying every night he has a twenty-two-year-old female in his bed. He continued to bellow nonstop. It seems not even for air. Certainly, neither thought nor accuracy was a concern of his. I noted the man is losing his hair but not his flare for lying, needlessly. Isn’t that most remarkable? Sue-bow ran up his mouth in the presence of an East Indian. He has no idea whether the man likes Black people or hates us. He has no determination relative to the man’s logic on racism. He does not know if that Indo-Guyanese is simply bemused by Black people making spectacles of themselves. I am open to the probability that he ridicules us whenever he is amongst his fellow East Indians.
Sue-bow carried on about, he knows I was born and bred at Nabaclis. He further stated. He and I know the back dam at Golden Grove, Nabaclis and Victoria like the back of our hands. We could find any bed we wanted to at any time of the night. I could not stand it no longer. I left the vehicle. I began contemplating what to do about the latest episode. As I stood there, I was quite sure I heard him reveal personal stuff. He mentioned some thing about my mother. I did not quite get it - because by then, I was about ready to blow my cool.
The Indian fellow looked at me. He realized I wanted no part of the unfolding spectacle. A man making absurd statements is a vexation to both my mind, soul and body. He then dismissed Glenroy from our presence. By simply stating he had urgent matters to attend immediately. That being said his immediate absence was highly appreciated. The Indo-Guyanese has begun referring to him as three pound gold. He would say when last you see three pound gold. If he had three pound gold what is he doing here in Brooklyn? He further said he does not know of any in Guyana who possessed three thousand heads of cattle . . . Also if three pound gold is a champion welder as he claims - why isn’t he employed by a top company or self employed. I hated to admit it - I said would you employ a man with such an attitude - if you did how long do you think you would be able to put up with it?
I had previously warned about talking about me and/or my immediate relatives, behind our backs and/or in our presence.
That man continues to possess an extremely hard head. He simply refuses to listen. He’ll never get it. I have embarked upon a program of ignoring the man at all costs. Even if he accidentally bumps into me, I will not acknowledge him. That’s it. It’s over - no more of such nonsense. It seems to be the best policy. In fact, Eglande Younge told me when it comes to round back as he is known in Crown Heights, that’s his policy. It is probably the consensus.
I can recall my mother being absolutely besides herself. She was lamenting the fact that Tom Keen requested her to back up his claim when he said he is a descendant of Sancho in her presence. I heard her say words to this effect. How dare that man? The gall of some people, he knows that I know he is not a Sancho - but insisted upon me to support his absolutely false claim. He is a Cupido. That’s what he is. He is not even a Campbell. Who really knows what he is? I was not the pillow.
The evidence suggests that while being transported from the East Coast Car Park to the corner of the Public Road and the Middle Walk at Nabaclis, the irrepressible Tom Keen, the undoubted champion of untruths of the generation immediately prior to mine, demanded that my mother second his absurd claim of being a member of the kinship of Sancho. Mother was having none of it. She regards such as blasphemy. Cousin Olga was also present. She tried to calm my mother down fearing the old girl may become stricken by high blood pressure. She further stated she never witnessed my mother in such a furious mood.
I do not believe King tom Keen ever apologized. I think neither mother nor I ever traveled or spoken to Tom Keen again. Since that incident I simply refuse to acknowledge his presence.
What gives with Glenroy Williams? A few years ago, I heard him arguing with Cush. He stated Cush does not know me. He continued Cush is a canje man. then, he questioned how in this world Cush could know me. Well! I got tired of the nonsense. I told Sue-bow I knew Cush before I meet you. I begged him to stop it. It seems he will not. I must realize that the safest thing for me to do is to totally ignore this fellow. I may very well at some point unable to retrain myself.
On an evening, in the summer 2010, I heard say he knows all of my uncles and aunts. He was trying to perhaps impress a female. She was hanging out with us. She is a Georgetown girl. The female stated I possess a recognizable face. However, she cannot quite place it. I asked her whether she was familiar with people of Princes Street area . . . she said yes. Then I told her I have an aunt. She resided at Princes Street. The female asked me her name. I said Hildred. Believe it Sue-Bow jumped in saying I have no such aunt. He began rattling off the names of my mother’s sisters. The female then said Hildred resided at Louisa Row. She visited my aunt often. She mentioned the names of my Cousins. She hinted that a female also resided with Hildred. That female was a student at Bishop’s High School and her brother made his intentions known to her.
I told I believed she is referring to my siblings. Sue-bow was flabbergasted. I asked if he ever saw my father. He said no . . . I said I believe that’s the most honest statement I have heard from you in the longest.
About the middle of the month of November last, two events occurred which left a taste too bitter for my understanding. They completely exposed the fact that English is an alien Language to me.
A few weeks ago, he said he found three pounds of gold in the interior of Guyana. Well! I am not entirely sure Glenroy ever visited Linden much less Essequebo. I do not know. I never heard of it previously.
That fable was followed by yet another. He stated he owned three thousand heads of cattle in Guyana. Again, that is baffling to me. When will it end? Glenroy is a grown man somewhere in the vicinity of sixty years of age.
Shortly, thereafter while seated in a vehicle on Franklin Avenue I noticed Glenroy. I do not know what got into me. I decided to say hello to him. The mighty Sue bow opened his mouth. He started saying every night he has a twenty-two-year-old female in his bed. He continued to bellow nonstop. It seems not even for air. Certainly, neither thought nor accuracy was a concern of his. I noted the man is losing his hair but not his flare for lying, needlessly. Isn’t that most remarkable? Sue-bow ran up his mouth in the presence of an East Indian. He has no idea whether the man likes Black people or hates us. He has no determination relative to the man’s logic on racism. He does not know if that Indo-Guyanese is simply bemused by Black people making spectacles of themselves. I am open to the probability that he ridicules us whenever he is amongst his fellow East Indians.
Sue-bow carried on about, he knows I was born and bred at Nabaclis. He further stated. He and I know the back dam at Golden Grove, Nabaclis and Victoria like the back of our hands. We could find any bed we wanted to at any time of the night. I could not stand it no longer. I left the vehicle. I began contemplating what to do about the latest episode. As I stood there, I was quite sure I heard him reveal personal stuff. He mentioned some thing about my mother. I did not quite get it - because by then, I was about ready to blow my cool.
The Indian fellow looked at me. He realized I wanted no part of the unfolding spectacle. A man making absurd statements is a vexation to both my mind, soul and body. He then dismissed Glenroy from our presence. By simply stating he had urgent matters to attend immediately. That being said his immediate absence was highly appreciated. The Indo-Guyanese has begun referring to him as three pound gold. He would say when last you see three pound gold. If he had three pound gold what is he doing here in Brooklyn? He further said he does not know of any in Guyana who possessed three thousand heads of cattle . . . Also if three pound gold is a champion welder as he claims - why isn’t he employed by a top company or self employed. I hated to admit it - I said would you employ a man with such an attitude - if you did how long do you think you would be able to put up with it?
I had previously warned about talking about me and/or my immediate relatives, behind our backs and/or in our presence.
That man continues to possess an extremely hard head. He simply refuses to listen. He’ll never get it. I have embarked upon a program of ignoring the man at all costs. Even if he accidentally bumps into me, I will not acknowledge him. That’s it. It’s over - no more of such nonsense. It seems to be the best policy. In fact, Eglande Younge told me when it comes to round back as he is known in Crown Heights, that’s his policy. It is probably the consensus.
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