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For those of us who grew up in the 1980s and 90s, Austin Pinders was a fixture in downtown Basseterre. Children at Convent School, now ICCS, remember his presence all too well—the disheveled “crazy man” who roamed the streets near Independence Square, often shuffling between the Catholic church, the courthouse, and the nearby KWF Law offices. We’d laugh, scorn, and avoid him, sometimes fearful, yet mostly curious.

In those early years, Pinders was an enigma; his rough exterior and often intense gaze was intimidating. As children, we couldn’t see beyond his bedraggled clothing or his weathered appearance. But as we grew older, our perspective softened, shifting from curiosity and fear to a sense of respect, even admiration. Austin Pinders became more than just a homeless man on the streets—he became part of the fabric of Basseterre.

For more than five decades, Pinders seemed immune to the passage of time. Through the years, his appearance never seemed to change. He stood upright, walked briskly, and always had a cigarette in hand. While he faced the struggles of mental illness and homelessness, he was never a nuisance or threat. Beyond his rough exterior and notable aroma, he carried himself with a quiet dignity, a figure who somehow held his own on the streets that had long become his home.

There is little we know about Austin Pinders’ early life or what led him to live on the streets. Yet despite the circumstances, he became a well-known character, a man everyone recognized. Today, Austin Pinders was found dead, resting at last in the familiar surroundings near Independence Square where he spent so many of his days. His passing marks the end of an era and leaves a bittersweet memory for those of us who knew him from afar.

Rest in peace, Austin Pinders. You may have been an enigma, but you were our enigma.