They say that you should never meet your heroes, because they’re sure to disappoint you. I’ve had this experience a few times, because, the person you see or hear on screen or radio, upon that pedestal that their fans have put them upon, or that you imagine them to be, is rarely who they are.

But telling people to never meet their Heroes, that could be bad advice, because instead of deifying the individual, by putting them upon that pedestal, we humanise them by meeting them, seeing the side of them that is often not visible to us. Yes, this can result in seeing them as different, and yes, you can be disappointed, but viewed from a wider point of view, it can illuminate aspects of their artistry that were not as obvious before.

There are many artistes I admire, few I’d call Heroes, and most of those have long passed from this world, so meeting them in this lifetime is not a possibility. Yes, many are photographers, kinda goes with the territory.

There are Heroes of mine whom I have met and never regretted it, and one of them died last night (August 18, 2024), causing my entire household to shed tears. He returned to our shores with his band to perform at Thirst Park to raise funds for his Alma Mater (and mine), Saint Stanislaus College, I refer to Dave Martins. I met him for the first time after his first set on stage, he was down in the grounds getting a drink of water, and I gathered up the courage to say Hello. The evening was unforgettable, even to him singing through the pouring rain to a crowd that would not leave the dance floor (including then Prime Minister Samuel Hinds).

Upon his repatriation to Guyana some years later I again made his acquaintance, just in passing and saying Hello several times. Then in 2012 when I was fortunate to exhibit alongside my friend Nikhil Ramkarran at the National Art Gallery (Castellani House), I was surprised and thrilled to read Dave’s review of the exhibition in his column “So it go” (Stabroek News, March 4, 2012). His kind words then and his support to us in the subsequent years has only made me think higher of him than I ever had. I grew up listening to his music, my father had many of his LPs, and my fascination never waned. Over the years I’ve attended many of his performances here, and my children were also fortunate to see and hear him in person as well as to meet him.

On stage, he was never just a singer, he was a performer, stopping the music many times to tell stories and anecdotes, keeping the crowd entertained and educated. In person he was Dave (never David), he always had a kind word for you, always a smile, always encouraging, he didn’t only write “Not a Blade of Grass”, through his column “So it go” he wrote to us about how we should live, how we should remember ourselves as Guyanese, and how we should treat each other.

You will be missed Dave. And you were a Hero to me, I am glad to have met you, to have been considered as someone you could call “padna”