The succulent plants in my garden brighten my life. During humanity’s mad dash towards the abyss, their quiet dynamic presence calm my troubled mind. Under California’s scorching sunshine that set dry brush ablaze, my succulent plants have found a way to survive the extreme heat. Some change color; others become more compact in form.
My Poetry Corner October 2019 features the poem “A Simple Man” by Ian McDonald from the joint poetry collection, People of Guyana, by Ian McDonald and Peter Jailall. Born in the Caribbean island of Trinidad in 1933, Ian McDonald is a poet, novelist, dramatist, and non-fiction writer. After moving to then British Guiana in 1955, he made his home there. Today, he lives partly in his adopted homeland and partly in Canada. Continue reading →
The Decade of the Forties in British Guiana (Guyana)
Godfrey Chin – “Nostalgias”
By the late Godfrey Chin…
While some of this was before our time, we may have heard some of the stories from our parents or grand-parents!
Please feel free to share – Ya thin it easy! The Decade of the Forties – like milk – can truly be called ‘half and half. During the first half, the World on the Road to Ruin – the second half was on the Road to Recovery. In my Homeland British Guyana, the Forties was ‘Our Age of Innocence’. Continue reading →
Reds announces retirement from First-Class cricket Commentary
Dec 09, 2016……… Wants a PM X1 oppose an Opposition X1 at Bourda
By Sean Devers
Born on May 30, 1939 in the Riverain Community of Pomeroon in Region 2, Essequibo,
Joseph ‘Reds’ Perreira speaks to the Media at the Tower Hotel
Joseph ‘Reds’ Perreira has progressed from humble beginnings and overcome several hurdles including a stroke in Australia to become Guyana’s best Radio Cricket Commentator and a household name around the World.
On December 8, 2016 at the Tower Hotel in Georgetown, Guyana, the 77-year-old Perreira, his silver locks shimmering in the bright morning sunshine, officially announced his retirement from First-Class cricket commentary to bring an end to an iconic career on the Microphone where it all began in 1961 in Guyana at Rose Hall Canje where he made his debut on Radio when British Guiana played Trinidad & Tobago. Continue reading →
It was like magic transformed in Georgetown (the then rustic seaside colonial capital of overwhelmingly white-painted wooden buildings on stilts) that citizens could be in their homes or walking on the streets and hearing their own people talking to them, telling familiar stories and presenting general information along with the British music they adored.
Broadcasting had at last come to British Guiana, the lone English colony on the northeast coast of the South American continent, presenting citizens with an open window to the world and widespread relief from the trauma of the recently ended First World War (1914-1918) which took an estimated 17 million lives (20 million wounded), including some of their own countrymen. Continue reading →
Venezuela has long insisted it owns everything west of the Essequibo River, including the Guyanese town of Bartica, in a battle that intensified after an oil discovery.
BARTICA, Guyana — At a little tin-roofed beer joint on the west bank of the Essequibo River, Rawle Huggins relaxed on a wooden bench and considered his tiny country’s escalating border spat with its much bigger neighbor, Venezuela.
“Here is Guyana,” said Mr. Huggins, a sometime gold miner, referring to the land beneath him and everything around it. “I don’t live in Venezuela. I live in Guyana. They live,” he added, gesturing beyond the jungle that fringes the town, “over there.” Continue reading →
Dis time nah lang time! Remember Bertie Vann, Fogarty Bun Down, Kayto, Cow Manure, Tuts and Marjorie Monkey (from New Amsterdam), Peas Head, Law an’ Order, Mary bruk iron, Memory man Gonzalves and Side-Ways? They were called mad people or street characters – “Dey head ain’ good!” some would say.
Although generally tolerated and accommodated, they were teased and ridiculed almost every day. When they tried to defend themselves, taunting youths unsympathetic to their untenable condition and incapacity, desperately took flight to safety. Chinka-Lay-Lay and Walker de British were known to arm themselves with bricks as a defensive strategy.
Their experience was likely attributed to social pressures, lack of resources and unattended mental disability – One psychiatrist fo de whole society! It was said that some of them “went off” after “studying abroad”. Perhaps their challenges were a reflection of how fragile we could be. Indeed mental illness is prevalent in many a society. Hopefully the GT “street characters” and others so afflicted are treated with more respect and empathy.
Dis time Nah lang time! According to the experts, the Guyanese context proves to be one of the most challenging for mental health in this hemisphere. Suicide, disaffected youth, domestic violence, child victimization and the woes of the homeless, appear to be a measure of mental health. We hear about the alarming statistics, which appear to unabatedly persist, potentially becoming a public health crisis. Possible solutions to this malady escalation require community-based care, informed national policy and qualified professional intervention.
Dis time nah lang time. Remember the days of Pan Am flying in and out de homeland with no confusion? Now dey gat nuff different airlines, with all kinds of delays, causing tension and aggravation. No reprieve when you complain, increasing the emotional pain. Lang time when you go back home you could always stay at your family, with no hesitation. Now-a-days hometown visitors increasingly stay at hotels, because of spiraling emigration and family dispersion. Despite such transformation, a growing Diaspora, sometimes wary, persists in efforts to sustain cultural connection.
Dis time nah lang time – Remember when a shilling (24 cents) loaf was a big plait bread, a penny mauby with tennis-roll-an-cheese was a meal, and Bastiani bury de dead? Short Hand and Typing was de in ting, steel band was king and Johnny Braff coulda’ really sing. De Bhoom was introduced by Tom Charles and the Syncopaters, Masquerade was prapuh flouncing and Yoruba Singers one of the best cultural entertainers. Dis time nah lang time, when gay was happy; before Watchman turn Security. “Operation” didn’t mean surgery; radio and gramophone, but no telephone in de home; no television showing all dem Reality nonsense; “Aunt Mary, a good neighbour” made more sense. Sneaker was yatin’ and $2 dollar could’a get yuh two bunch a plaintain. Remember when a freck for a small boy was a “jil”? Now is more like a hundred dollar bill.
Dis time nah lang time. We used to ride Raleigh and Hercules bicycle or travel by train on de East and West Coast train line. Now some ah we ridin’ de subway to stops like Paddington (Lon.), Ossington (Tor.), East Broadway and Far Rockaway – nowhere near Tigah Bay.
Remember the Georgetown yellow bus with routes around our garden city? Imagine a passenger asking: “Is this a Kitty-Campbellsville or Church-Durbun?” and another politely responding: “The latter Madum”. Courtesy, comradery and respect reigned. Dis time when yuh hear somebody sey: “Mistuh please fo a pass” on the Flatbush bus or B 103 to Canarse, yuh smile because yuh know is one ah we.
Dis time nah lang time! Where have all the writers gone? Martin, E.R, Wordsworth, Carew and Mittleholtzer – among those so inspirational. Put out a clarion call to invoke their names for a literary revival!
Dis time nah lang time! Bicycle and dray cyart use to share Georgetown road space and the City Council made sanitation a priority. Now cyar and Mini-bus congesting de place and people crying out for public health sanity to return to the Municipality. As soon as rain set up, Georgetown flooding, while de politicians proroguing and demonstrating. Dis time the focus should be on compromising, BRIDGIN’ and developing.
Lang time we coulda’ mark time. Dis time we don’t have much time!
uela has long insisted it owns everything west of the Essequibo River, including the Guyanese town of Bartica, in a battle that intensified after an oil discovery.
Lessons from Nature: Adapting to Change – by Rosaliene Bacchus
by the Rosaliene Bacchus Blog
Section of my succulent garden
The succulent plants in my garden brighten my life. During humanity’s mad dash towards the abyss, their quiet dynamic presence calm my troubled mind. Under California’s scorching sunshine that set dry brush ablaze, my succulent plants have found a way to survive the extreme heat. Some change color; others become more compact in form.
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