"Are you a Jehovah ('s Witness) ?"

"Are you a Jehovah"? the woman asked me, smiling.

We were in the food shop. I had come  to escape from some of the duties which I am not coping with, and the claustrophobia of a medical establishment.

There were a few tables and chairs for temporary sitting.

The woman was eating alone at one. She took each mouthful and then looked around. Elderly woman, bright eyes through peeper specs. Eating slowly. Back straight.

I asked her if I could sit. She smiled.  'Yes'. 

I sat down. I don't normally eat in front of people these days as I am clumsy with eating.
I bend my head and bury my mouth in the napkin and plastic bag so no one could see as I try not to make a mess.

I also didn't feel like talking to anyone as I am exhausted mentally.

"You were here yesterday" she told me, still smiling. 

I chewed and swallowed and removed the napkin. I said.. oh you come here every day then.

We started talking. I move into a mode of listening.

 She is 82. Lives alone. Her son lives abroad and sends money. She is a retired teacher
She comes to the place for meals. She is vegetarian. "Oh yes, I get up in the morning and do my exercises and so. Vegetarian is good"


She is like many other people I am conscious about who are lonely at random times. 
Glad to talk to someone who is not doing a transaction with them.
 She is like me.  Finding it necessary to talk to strangers. 

I ask her about church. She smiles and said that she goes to church, she is Christian. I was wondering if she had a community to check on her.

"What about you.. she asks, ".. are you a Jehovah "?

I laugh and say, no no I am Hindu. 



"Black, Indian.."
She knows about Hindus. 

"I grew up in Wakenaam.. Black people, Indian people all together.. ."

 My grandmother was a nawa sharing invitations with the dyed rice. We used to cook and so at weddings and functions.. "  
 In another life, I would have sat down and got a full oral history.  The word 'nawa' sounded beautiful coming from the retired teacher . 

In a time of no-confidence and confidence and  power and fear and use of black and coolie to hold on to power,  there is a need for other stories. Random stories of  shared heritage.

 Groundings
Why did she think I was a Jehovah Witness? 
She had long removed the from the village where she grew up. Were the coolie strangers who talked to her only Jehovah Witnesses?   Did she lose touch with the Hindus? 

A woman emails me to say she was born in the 1960s and she is tired.  She thought the coalition Government would have created spaces for people to talk about race, fears, and learning from each other.

It isn't really up to the Government though as the only way to get and maintain political power in Guyana is by pushing division.

I remember the Groundings

There were random roadside meetings with an agenda to build connection using books as the catalyst. I have not been able to do any as there is an emotional intelligence and energy needed to listen and foster the conversations.

But, the food shop with the elderly woman, retired teacher, is the short groundings space.



I am tired though. I have to run back to the prison I have created for myself.  




"Disgusting.. "
I get up to leave. A tiny part of me is sad that I can't sit and hear the rest of her story, especially the race thing.

I shake her hand and tell her it was nice talking to her.  I don't normally shake hands like this after random conversations.

One of the side effects of the new circumstances is the disconnection from people who used to have shared interests.  There is only so much misery any well meaning friend or acquaintance can handle, . The vacuum created by the inability to talk about shared interests creates an awkwardness. And so when there is no fuel of shared interests, the connections are extinguished.

So I have been mindful and been engaging talking to strangers. It is easier to do the small talk. No need to think of sustaining the connections.


One day in the market I see carilla. There are some women buying. I go up and say to the vendor 'I now cooking carilla, is it okay to cook with the red seeds too.. " . One woman buying laughs and says yes of course, the leaf good too. Another woman laughs and says that she also recently started eating carilla because it 'good for you'.  Shared laughter is a good thing. The only expectation. Maybe, in another life,  it was a good opportunity to move from carilla to confidence/no-confidence.


I have to leave the woman in the food shop.

She is still eating. She sees the taxi come to pick her up.

"Tell him to come back later" she says in this kind of royal way. I recognise the tone.

I go up to the driver and tell him. The driver says "dis lady disgusting you know.. I tell she I coming back 12 o'clock" 

I am tired and I do not take the time to gaff with him about loneliness and loss of control and if he is intending to work with elderly customers, he has to manage his frustrations.   It is another groundings space.

There is no point, since I am not able to manage my frustrations and despair either.

I understand his frustrations, I understand her desire not to leave the food shop just yet.

The woman eating in the food shop might be disgusting to many people.

I am grateful to her though for that brief encounter.