Portsmouth carried a different kind of weight at the memorial for Rosie Douglas. The crowd wasn’t just remembering a former Prime Minister who died suddenly after only months in office; they were revisiting a life that managed to stretch from village soil to international halls of power. Twenty-five years on, the emotion is still raw. Tributes from leaders like Dr. Ralph Gonsalves reminded the gathering that Rosie was not only a Dominican figure but a Caribbean and global one, a man whose convictions still challenge us today.
What makes Rosie’s legacy resonate is not simply that he once held the highest office. He lived as if politics was not a career but an instrument, one to make the poor visible, to connect Dominica to Africa and the wider world, and to stitch fractured communities together.
Rosie Douglas the Man
Those who knew him best described him with warmth, humour, and a streak of defiance. His family recalled his accessibility and generosity, qualities that made his home and office open to ordinary people and students of politics alike. The press remembered him as approachable, a Prime Minister who didn’t hide behind handlers but walked into rooms, joked, listened, and debated openly.
He was no ordinary leader. Rosie’s Pan-Africanism was grounded in lived experience. His years in Canada fighting racism and building alliances gave him a global perspective that he brought back to Dominica. He studied the writings of Marcus Garvey, Frantz Fanon, and C.L.R. James, and his activism landed him both admiration and confrontation. His was a politics forged in the fire of struggle abroad and tested at home in Dominica.
The anecdotes that emerged at the memorial, his booming laugh, his devotion to friends, and his stubborn commitment to causes make clear that Rosie was not polished in the conventional sense. He was rough, even combative at times, but never hollow. He was a man who believed ideas mattered and that Dominica could play a role far larger than its size.
The Political Legacy
Rosie’s premiership was brief, but his mark was indelible. During those months, he spoke clearly about education, housing, and the need to position Dominica as a bridge between the Caribbean, Africa, and Europe. He envisioned an economy that not only chased tourism dollars but also built regional solidarity and new avenues for trade.
Inside the Labour Party, Rosie was a healer. At a time when the movement was fractured, his leadership restored a sense of belonging. He did not run from ideological debates but leaned into them, insisting that the party could be both radical in its solidarity and pragmatic in governance. For many at the memorial, his greatest political act was to remind Dominica that it was part of a bigger map, that a small island could stand shoulder to shoulder with global movements for justice.
Speakers at the event, including Dr. Gonsalves, noted his fierce internationalism: his calls for African unity, his solidarity with Cuba, his refusal to let Dominica be reduced to a tourist brochure. Rosie insisted we see ourselves in larger struggles for dignity and fairness.
What We Were Asked to Remember
The memorial was not just about sentiment, it was also a call to action. Voices at the event pushed for concrete ways to honour Rosie’s contribution: a scholarship in his name to carry young Dominicans into studies of politics, law, or Pan-Africanism; a Freedom of Information Act to enshrine the transparency he valued; a press award that celebrates journalists who serve the people with courage. There were calls for Canada to finally exonerate him from the decades-old charges tied to his activism there, a blemish that never defined him but still shadows the official record.
Remembering Rosie cannot only be about speeches and music. It must be about embedding his values into institutions. If we truly believe in his vision, we must carry it forward in ways that impact education, governance, and public accountability.
Rosie’s Lessons for Today
The memorial forced a harder reflection too: what have we done with his legacy? The current political climate in Dominica is polarised, often bitter, and sometimes disconnected from the humility and accessibility that Rosie embodied. He did not pretend to be flawless, but he stood close to people, even when they disagreed with him. Today’s leaders, at all levels, would do well to ask whether they are building bridges or fortifying walls.
Rosie’s belief in regional and global solidarity is another lesson we cannot ignore. As Dominica pursues geothermal energy projects, courts foreign investment, and navigates international diplomacy, the question is whether we do so as proud equals or as quiet dependents. Rosie would not have tolerated the latter. He believed small nations had a moral weight disproportionate to their size if they stood firmly by their principles.
And then there is the generational question. Who is preparing to carry his torch? The event reminded us of the need to create space for young Dominicans, not just as entertainers or “youth voices” at events, but as serious political thinkers, journalists, organizers, and leaders. The past gives us legends like Rosie Douglas, Felix Henderson in broadcasting, or Shermaine Green-Brown in journalism. The present demands we translate that inspiration into training, mentorship, and opportunities for new voices to emerge.
Closing Reflection
At the Portsmouth memorial, people spoke of Rosie with affection, admiration, and a little bit of sorrow. Twenty-five years later, the pain of his sudden death still lingers. But the larger message is not about loss; it is about responsibility. Rosie Douglas lived a life that proved Dominica could matter in the world. He asked us to see ourselves as more than a small dot on the map.
The real tribute is not in the eulogies but in the choices we make now. Do we carry his internationalism into how we vote at the United Nations? Do we honor his love of people in how we treat dissenters at home? Do we make space for the young, as he once demanded?
If we do those things, then Rosie remains alive in our politics, in our solidarity, and in our everyday dignity. His voice, booming, stubborn, hopeful, still calls us to remember who we are and what we can be.
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