The new year's model - Guyanese style

OMG - I have new things to love this year.  I love photography.  These aren't too bad eh!  Woman you will have to hire me to keep this image going ::))

New Year's Eve and the middle aged woman ::))

Eh heh!  Last night ai went to deh Hibiscus an' ai had a ball, ah gon' tell yuh.  But, I was under deh impression dat ai was still a young ting because - oh laud if you see dem young Guyanese.  It hurt when ai see all dem serious bodies dat ai had to envy.  So we throw back dem rum and coke and den after nuff a dem an' deh boys had deh beers we head over to Palm Court wrong an' strong.  Ai open meh big mouth about havin' nuff nuff energy and stamina.

LOL - deh music was blarin' so loud deh inside ah meh head start to shake.  Ai ain't tell nobody dat meh back was hurtin meh bad bad.  Nawww ai order anodda rum and coke.  Before yuh kno' it ai find a way to go over an' siddown on deh concrete.  And, some of you who kno' me could guess wuh happen.

Dis mornin' - meh nails and other tales

  

Guyanese Maroons - more treasure and new information

Ai, didn't know dis at all.  I attended a meeting last night and learned quite a bit about African heritage in Guyana.  It definitely made me realize that there is so much for me to learn about the history of the Guyanese people - all of them.  Unfortunately, as even more sad as time passes, I keep learning about how much I do not know about my own heritage.

Last night I realized that I did not know about villages like Victoria, Buxton, Pleasance, etc. when it comes to how it relates specifically to the grandparents and great grandparents of Guyanese. 

I find this is the problem with the Indian population too.  Even though there might be a difference.  There is the possibility that within the within the culture of colonialism there were no spaces to pass down these stories from generation to generation.  While with the Indian population there the spaces of tradition and other cultural glue were not disturbed in the same manner so there was a passing along of history and the preservation of culture.

The meeting was a form of struggle that I've witnessed in a number of places in the African Diaspora.  As an educator and one who believes in critical literacy and transparency I am convinced that there are methods that can build the bridges needed and increase and enhance the knowledge that will bring that self esteem, self respect, and common humanitarian rights.

A personal treasure - Rockcliff

Well, ai lucky.  Is good when yuh gotta friend who know ah friend who gotta cousin who odda cousin livin' in Barbados and deh cousin cousin livin' in Georgetown.

I had a fabulous lunch with Gun and I found out that he knew my dear father.  Dad died early in my life so it was a great thing to sit and listen to someone who knew him and remembered his love of cars and motor cycles.  He remembered that he had lots of daughters too. 

Now, the surprise is that Gun knows a lot about my mother's side of the family too.  In the midst of all this New Eyes and New Experiences - New Beginnings - I getting more treasure than I anticipated.

Guyanese blame themselves - tings like Pradoville

So, why can't we use the internet (technology) to educate ourselves and take a stand.  Guyanese Christmas is going to be healthy if the gutters continue to build in trash, overflow, and if the poor are forced to utilize what rots.  Guyanese need some savvy person to explain in layman terms how money comes into Guyana and goes out.  They have a right to ask if not a cent is coming to them.  Because, really and truely, when you walk down the street you have to ask if any money at all is going into the respectability of the Guyanese people.  The taxi driver said to me that he don't understand how they could talk about tourism and then give the tourist trash to smell and walk through and buildings that look on the verge of collapse.

Guyanese, like the taxi driver, blame themselves.  One man said that he feels his fellow people are just too docile.  They not taking a stand.  He want to know where the money going.  I interviewed a woman this morning and she said that they getting money to preserve the forest and all the Amerindians getting the shaft because they didn't know that signing the papers would stop them from using all the resouces for living.  They can't build, etc.

The taxi driver said that the government and the City Council at war and, therefore, the money is not getting to places it should.

The garbage dump is now out of town and closes at 5 p.m.  If the garbage truck is late it has to return.  What then happens?  He said that the private garbage collectors then just dump the garbage in a neigborhood that has no protection.

Then there is the question of Pradoville - What is dis?

Yes, it is Christmas and we are enjoying each other.  But, look at this, Guyanese people live with this concern daily.  My friend here brought this to me; it was in the Stabbroek News.  Life in trying times does not stop for vacation.  I am trying to reflect the concern.

This morning's walk and a troubled mind

I went for a walk this morning at 7:30 a.m.  I wanted to take photos of my walk toward the Stabbroek Market.  I found out a little bit more about myself and about the profession of journalism or any such related activity. 

My last visit made me happy with the camera.  I made a plan and I executed it.  I wanted to "see" my memories and I wanted to relate to all of you that it was great to be home. 

This time, it is again with the same feeling of "glad to be home" that my reactions are almost the opposite.  This time I want to create an image of a Guyana that needs concern; it is a Guyana that needs care; it is a Guyana that gave many of us on the outside the first solid grounding in self esteem and confidence.  Now that I've traveled a bit, I know the importance of identity and culture; I know the importance of education of all kinds.

So, this all made my walk difficult this morning.  I did and didn't want to expose Guyana.  I did and I didn't want to acknowledge what is a part of life.  I did not want to be unbalanced; I did not want to jump to conclusions; I did not want to embarrass my country.  I immediately understood the temptation to be biased and to let the camera and my eye be selective - take those flowers not the trash kind of thing.  But, there are people in Guyana - the land of waters - who are bathing and drinking from the trench.  Just one person in this position is a reason to raise a voice.  In Georgetown near the market there are poor people who look skeletal in the land of plenty food.   

I felt guilty taking these pictures.  I felt as if I was invading the privacy of family.

Here is my walk

And then there are the questions.  Here is a story that repeats itself in Georgetown.  The building is surrounded by pot holes, filled gutters, and trash in all areas of the street.  Just up the road are men on the paves.  I found myself adjusting like all Guyanese.  I did not walk on the paves, I walked near the middle of the streets.  I crossed the streets without looking at the lights but I looked to see if there were cars on the way and tried to judge the time I had to cross.

today I listened to hope

I listened today to Guyanese.  I listened to an Afro-Guyanese man - a vegetarian and a Rasta.  I heard honest critique and hope for change.  Yes, there are governmental games being played that have to do with control, money, and power.  The money doesn't come when it should and creates pockets of desperation in order to fill some sort of political ego.  Yes, there are Guyanese persons who hire private garbage collectors who collect the garbage from the "good" neighborhoods and dump them in the bad ones.  Yes, it might be old and worn but the class conversation is still real real real and crushing lives.

Indians and blacks are in a struggle for power and identity.  Suspicion is high and each one blame someone who is of that other group.  Yet, they are caught in an extremely intimate relationship of need and dependence so all hurt when things get bad.  As the Guyanese man and others told me one group owns the business, but needs the other group for labor and to be the consumers.  So, one wonders why they would not work together for a better place, a better environment.

The Guyanese market - rich with color and food in abundance

Now, this is the irony.  When you walk through the Bourda market in the morning the smiles and shouts of the vendors and the stands overflowing with the wealth of Guyana makes one smile and eager to shop.

The stands are vibrant with the red and green and yellow of fresh fruits and vegetables.  It is clear that Guyana's rich earth is providing an abundance of life sustaining food. 

When one steps out of such a market one expects to find the reflection of that wealth in the surrounding environment, but the shock of reality is like a solid brick wall.

HOPE and plans for the future - in Georgetown

I visited a home for the care of children today and found a taste of hope and determination.  Women work together to create an environment of laughter and childhood warmth and expectations.  I watched children at play; they sat and listened to teenagers on a visit to tell stories; they sang and laughed. The Ruimveldt Home is a place of comfort.

Parts of Georgetown are filthy - it is! Why?

Now, let me tell you that the last time my blog was all about the things in Guyana that will always hold beauty.  There is no way that can hide.  I did the blog

http://lethemtrip.blogspot.com

and there I tried to capture the history of wooden buildings, the beauty of the green plants and gardens the lushness of our markets.

BUT

This time I can't hide from the state of things that smack of an insult to the Guyanese who live and work daily in Georgetown.  In conversation with a young woman who lives here with her young daughter, I heard that the area around her daughter's school is full of pot holes filled with stinking water.  I learned of a few communities that are gated and the privatation of clean up crews that make it easier for the neglect of larger community.  I sense that Guyanese feel trapped.  As she said, "wuh we gon do." 

Is the neglect and the abuse of power causing a form of whole scale chronic depression?  It's not as if there is no effort.  The Guyanese seem to be trying against all odds.   The garbage cans are few, and the ones that exist have piles of trash around them; it seems to then create an attitude of "who cares?"  And a Guyanese informed that then people just dispose of their garbage wherever. 

I've also seen the efforts of men as they wade in overgrown garbage filled gutters with small rakes as they attempt to drag them to remove the dirt; it is a job that seeems impossible.  The homeless in Guyana are dreadfully malnourished. 

It feels as if the wheels stopped turning and what should be up sank and should be down grew up and spread - buildings and land.  There are pot holes in the street and the pave and there are areas where pools of rain gather and wear the earth down. People have learned to walk in this danger zone without slipping, falling and breaking limbs.

Can it be ignored?  Can't I speak about it and still love Guyana?  Can't I try to understand?  It doesn't stop me from wanting to be here; it doesn't stop me from loving the warm Guyaneness of people. . It makes me wonder if it is a form of social depression.  Guyanese restaurants can have piles of garbage not too far away.  It seems to affect everything.  The grass is overgrown, the trees look a little sad, it seems beyond the idea of poor; it feels as if the Guyanese people are overwhelmed by the circumstances.

Guyanese step around and over the lack of care. They continue to live.

It's like badly broken beauty.  You look and you see what was and wonder what will be.  How can one lift it back up?

The smell of rot overpowers the senses at certain places.  It seems to me that it was not this bad, but I was told that the last time I visited I was blinded by my sentimentality.  I still think that it was not so.
 
Again, this is not a popular topic for some and it is not open for discussion or for publicity especially if you do not live in Georgetown.  I am not trying to demean Guyana in a malicious manner because I am aware that many social challenges - monetary and otherwise can cripple a country, but I have questions and the Guyanese people I meet seem to also feel a little lost in trying to understand the state of things.  Even though they mention places like "Prada" that I was told houses officials in an upscale housing development while the Guyanese wait for the government to spend the money necessary for their standard of living to improve.

It's Bajan pride - I like it

I do like the cleanliness.  It can't just be because of tourism.

I am not living in the Caribbean so I have to be careful about opinions.  In order to be as safe as possible and to be as objective as possible I engaged the local people about certain observations; race and class continue to be issues that affect people's lives.  To pretend they are not seems to beg the consequences of denial.

It has become obvious to me that certain topics are not welcome and not the kind of thing that an audience wants to see or read.  Ironically, the same topics that populate academic papers are sometimes the same ones that academics find irritating in real life conversations; race and class are sometimes not popular real time conversations.  And, they are challenging to identities and national pride. 

I understand it; I am Guyanese and I feel a reaction when I listen to how Guyanese steal jobs; Guyana is filthy; and Guyanese race issues between Indian and Black are stark compared to Trinidad.  Of course, it grinds, but I can't hide from what seems to be the outward appearance of things.  And the truth is that these are real issues.

Barbados is a quiet and pretty island.  As a matter of fact, one of the first thoughts that came to mind as I drove around the island was that it appeared very clean.  My Bajan friend let me know that Christmas was a big deal and it was a time for cleaning up the place.  But, it was not my first visit and I did notice the last time that it was a clean place compared to other places.  I remember thinking that Bajans seem to take a little and make a lot; there was pride in appearance.  It is impossible if one travels and pays attention not to notice certain extremes; those who have compared to those who have not. 

The word "ghetto" seems to be popular for some and poverty is very obvious in certain areas of the Caribbean unless one plans to purposely ignore it or not make it a part of the discussion.  Wealth and the lack of it also seems interwoven with the issue of color/race.  This discussion is not welcome in certain circles, but if one listens to others the awareness of how this impacts lives is there.

It seems politically incorrect now to speak about issues of race and class when it comes to people of European and African descent, but it is very "in" to discuss the raging race relations between Indians and blacks in Trinidad and Guyana.  This has been my experience.

I will have to be unpopular because just as I object to the idea that slavery is passe and cannot be seen as affecting people's lives today, I can't see how a heavy dependence on people who are a part of "power" and "oppression" in some form or the other does not affect the forming and shaping of identities and outcomes.

Boxing day with friends

Life for the Guyanese immigrant is so common place these days.  As friends we meet once a year, sometimes 10 years pass, sometimes you're sitting having black cake with neighbors you haven't seen for 30 years, yet it all feels like a minute or two slipped by and the echo of the past sounds less hollow.  The group is often made up of people who reside in an odd mixture of countries - other parts of the Caribbean on in the West somewhere, but the conversation is often full of vivid memories of youth - not much of it covers the ongoing lives in those strange places. 

The surprises of age show in the self conscious laughter as we recognize the inability to read as before, the bodies' realities, the gray - oh my!  Could that be a balding spot; and is that pain in the joints!  No, it couldn't be arthritis; those things belong to those older women sitting in the kitchens of our past.  None of this matters as we acknowledge the freedom that comes with age.

Barbados is a place for gathering thoughts and moving into the future.

Beautiful Bajan children