Mahmood would share these accounts in humorous ways that could easily make a listener forget that lives and freedoms were at risk; that these young men in the Army and others, men and women with whom they had links outside, were facing batons, bullets, and lengthy prison terms.

After all, there was nothing funny about the dangerous and sadistic Flying Squad of Burroughs who saw law enforcement simply as summary execution on site. Mahmood, who was working with other revolutionary groups as the National Union Freedom Fighters (NUFF) after being released from prison, was held up by the Squad one night. He said that Burroughs told him "Say your prayers. You dead tonight', Mahmood said the only thing he could think of was "Grace before meals.''

The young officer instructed to shoot began to laugh. I do not remember what Burroughs's reaction was but Mahmood lived to tell the tale and to continue to work for a better Trinidad and Tobago.

In subsequent years, he lived and worked in Jamaica and with our High commission in Nigeria and with the then High Commissioner from India on security issues He has a daughter and a grandson. Two weeks before he passed he had a video conference with his daughter, his son in law and his grandson.

Those of us who never saw Mahmood, the grandfather, missed a treat. Ill as he was, he was fussing over his grandchild, claiming that the child got his good looks from him; that the child really resembled his grandfather. Though he was exhausted at the end, he had a very happy hour.

I knew him for just 2 years but learnt a lot from him. Mahmood hated racism with a passion. His light skin and Carib ancestry could have opened doors for him but he refused, even as a youth. He cared about people. When Raymond was dying and Mahmood was in Jamaica, looking after an ailing sister, he would call me consistently to go check on him.

His political perspectives were clear. I recall that he spoke in 2020 at an event put on by a leading female activist of the era at Lennox Pierre auditorium. It was a sentimental journey, full of Afro-centric reminiscences. When Mahmood spoke, there was clear discomfort in the room because he showed how that line had failed and class struggle was necessary then and now. They cut him short.

I did not imagine I would be doing this today. Mahmood once shared some of his writings with me. When I was done reading them, I attempted to return them. He said "No, you keep them.'' I said “What if I die before you?" He 'steupsed' and said to me "Doh be stupid. Doh cut lime on mih.'' It was only last week that one of his comrades told me what that means/t

In closing, I want to speak of his and Raymond's last days in a particular way. Two comrades who could have chosen other paths put Trinidad and Tobago first. But they suffered in the public health system for which they would have fought and sought improvement. Mahmood rotated between Mt. Hope, Arima and St. James hospitals for about 6 months. And it was a female doctor from socialist Cuba who said ''No '' to chemotherapy. Raymond’s attrition was longer. We must thank their relatives who came through for them.

 Neither would want us to mourn and wring our hands. Rather I think they would have us use their experiences to note that the changes they and other comrades fought and died for have not yet been won. Or in some instances have been and are being eroded. Look at the political and social crises we are facing today, right now, at this very moment All Mahmood would have asked is that we take up the baton and keep moving forward.

Rae Samuel

23/12/21