Tribute to my brother, Renwick Adrian Ellsworth Rose
RENWICK was the first of six children born to Renold and Germaine Rose. He attended SVG Grammar School at age 9. Neighbours and friends often referred to him as having a “light head” as a child. I was puzzled by this because I thought they meant light in complexion. Renwick was actually the darkest of us in complexion.
Renwick was always a leader. At school, he would finish his assignments quickly, which gave him extra time for mischief. He was close friends with Frankie Mc Intosh, and together they got up to a lot of mischief.
Once, he was suspended from school and never said a word. He got dressed as usual and went off each day, but instead spent his time at the public library. In the small society where we lived, the librarian met Mummy one day and told her she had seen him at the library every day.
We grew up in a home where our parents never believed in corporal punishment. Whenever we got out of line, Mummy would scold us and lecture us on how to behave and always strive to do what was right. Sometimes these lectures would last a week.
We were always encouraged to read. We joined the library at age 7. At Christmas, our gifts were always books—never toys. Every year it was the same gift, and if there was extra money, a pair of pajamas.
We went to church every Sunday. Every Sunday evening, we had to report what books we had read for the week and what the sermon was about at church. This baffled us because we questioned among ourselves why Mummy wanted to hear this when we had all been at church together. We later learned she was training us to listen and express ourselves.
Her mantra was: “Never be poor and look poor.You must open your mouth so people can hear you.”
Renwick’s first ambition was to become a priest, with aspirations of one day becoming a bishop He was an acolyte.
After school, Renwick went into teaching, which he loved. Many of his past students have told me what a great teacher he was. One lady told me that he had helped her with two papers at university, and she graduated with honours. She said she was eternally grateful.
Renwick developed a love for Black consciousness and socialism. He read Lenin, Marx, Garvey, the Black Panthers, and every piece of Black social literature he could find.
As a young girl, I wanted to be like Angela Davis. Through Renwick, I met many Caribbean leaders who believed in socialism.
I had the privilege of hosting the late Maurice Bishop, the prime Minister of Grenada.
Renwick started travelling across the Caribbean, and whenever he returned home, they confiscated his books.
The Labour Party government then began searching our home for what they called subversive literature. The police came every Saturday night, which was very disturbing because they would turn the whole house upside down and leave it like that. This took a toll on our parents.
Then he started travelling to Cuba This made things even worse. People started referring to him as the “Black Power man.” He had difficulty getting employment, but in spite of this, he never gave up his struggles. He remained committed to the development and empowerment of women and to supporting the marginalized and vulnerable.
Renwick was also a master chef. His wife never had to go to the kitchen because he enjoyed cooking and took pride in it.
He ran for politics once and received maybe three to six votes.Yet, despite all his intellect, he was never asked to serve on any government Board. If this upset him, he never showed it.
Though he had little money, he and his wife always helped children to attend secondary school. They quietly gave support where they could and believed in creating opportunities for others.
Renwick was small in stature, but in mind and spirit he stood tall. To me, he was one of the greatest intellectuals Saint Vincent and the Grenadines had.
He was a Prime Minister that never was.
Renwick will be greatly missed by all.
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