In aftermath of Rose Hall siege three widows, fatherless children, and persistent grief
By Kim Lucas
Stabroek News
July 23, 2003
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Police Constables Ramphal Pardat and Outar Kisoon were shot dead that night, as well as 17-year-old Balram Khandai from the Essequibo Coast; while 72-year-old Mohan Latchman collapsed and died during the six-hour assault. On Thursday, the wives of the three Berbician men shared with Stabroek News how the tragedy has impacted their lives over the past year.
At the Pardat’s Rose Hall residence, preparations were in full swing for a memorial service that day. On the fireside was a large carahi of chicken, while Pardat’s youngest son, Lakeram tested the sound system.
“He was a happy somebody,” Tarmattie Pardat said of her husband as relatives and neighbours bustled around to get things ready. “He would deh busy, busy at the fireside and doing all the cooking and decorating.”
Based on the woman’s account, her husband may have sacrificed his life to save his family. When the assault was launched, Mrs. Pardat said her husband was wearing a lot of his jewellery that night and the gunmen were demanding to know where he lived. The account of the ordeal was passed on to her by one of the men who survived the attack. The bandits, on their way out of the town, had held Pardat and another man hostage until they reached the foreshore. There, they reportedly fired at the other man and, thinking that he was dead, turned their attention to Pardat. They demanded to know where he lived.
But the father of six maintained that he lived at Bush Lot village. Moments later he was dead - shot in the head.
“After they done shoot he they go away,” Tarmattie told this newspaper. At home, she and her daughters were praying feverishly. During the attack, the woman had tried to call the outpost, but heard the phone “scrambled”, then went dead and she turned to her youngest daughter and remarked, “Daddy done dead”. The morning after, Pardat’s body was discovered at the back of the town.
Before he died, the man was preparing to welcome his youngest son into his profession. Lakeram Pardat was about to graduate from the Police Training School that very week. His youngest daughter, Omadavi, was still in school. Today, Pardat’s widow receives a small monthly allowance from a $1M death benefit to support herself and 15-year-old daughter.
“It difficult now. He was the breadwinner...it hard,” the woman said, but gave thanks to God that day for the life of her husband.
In the nearby Portuguese Quarters, Stabroek News found Latchman’s widow, ‘Nellie’. She had removed from the home she had shared with her husband to live nearer one of her daughters. The house, which stands a stone’s throw from where Pardat was killed, has been posted for sale.
“Life tough, life tough...money nah a stay,” the 66-year-old said as part of her greeting. She partly feels at fault for her husband’s death.
“Me got to fault meself because me tell de man gunshot a fire...[We] two sit down pon dah bed and like he nah bin hear...and when I hear this thing. I seh, ‘It look like gun a fire’. Me nah must gaff (talk)? Me nah must gaff, tell um what me hear? And de man fall just so,” Nellie recounted.
The incident had also driven the Latchman’s neighbours away and so in September, the woman moved to another family house closer to her offspring.
“People thief out everything at the back...All body go ‘merica [U.S.A.] and people dead out and so...That thing ah remember every night me go sleep. Dat can’t done gal, doan matter what. Da’s a nasty thing what you see pass through deh. You nah mean for you enemy pass through that.”
Last Sunday, Latchman’s widow and six children were expected to commemorate his passing. But farther up the Corentyne Coast, at Number 52 village, Outar Kisoon’s family said they had already done their one-year work in June.
The 43-year-old widow, who is now left with an inquisitive four-year-old to bring up alone, told this newspaper that they had an 11-month observance for the dead cop. Kisoon, 45, was shot dead at Rose Hall when the vehicle he was in came under attack.
“We try, we try...Everything [is] alright for so far [but] I miss how he does talk, advise awe,” Bhagwandai stated. She never expected her 22-year-old marriage to end so tragically.
Like Pardat’s wife, she too benefits from the monthly allowance initiated for the survivors of policemen who lost their lives during a 15-month crime spree that started last year after five men escaped from the Camp Street Jail on February 23.