By Hon Algernon Watts
Long before he was a politician,
Hilson “Brother B” Baptiste was a man of the people.
He didn’t wait for a title to serve. He didn’t need a microphone to be heard.
The people knew him, trusted him, loved him. In fact, he was trusted so deeply, he became godfather to more than 20 children because when folks needed someone solid, they called Brother B.
He was the man you’d see in the garden, hands in the soil.
The one by the roadside stirring a pot and cracking a joke.
The one backing children’s mas with all his heart, because he knew that culture mattered.
The one who believed that food, laughter, and togetherness could heal things politics never could.
That’s why we all called him Brother—and not just out of habit. Because that’s who he was to us.
When he got into Parliament, he didn’t change up. He brought the same fire, the same plain talk, and the same deep love for St. Mary’s South. He fought for agriculture, our food security, for the people who lived paycheck to prayer.
Yesterday, he left us. And today, Antigua is a little quieter.
But oh, how loud his legacy is.
To his family—we wrap you in love. To his community—we remember the man, not just the minister.
To the nation—we say: let this be a reminder of what public service should look like.
Rest well, Brother B. Your voice echoed. Your boots left a print.
