Thoughts of a minibus traveller

By Vidyaratha Kissoon “I dun talk to you,” the man selling rat bait said quietly. The last question I had asked was ‘Did you have any of the phone numbers for the hotline?’ I had gone up to him to talk about suicide prevention. The man was packing his stand. The green packs of rat bait were arranged tidily in one box, the orange packs of another poison  were in another. The small sachets of blue pellets were lined up, knots aligned. There were some with pink pellets and some with white grains. I think I saw some with a mix of blue and pink. Each sachet seemed to have the same amount. It was evening and the orange street light gave a nice glow to the layout. The darker coloured round tablets were below the blue and pink. All neat, all organised beautifully.. The man had a scale. ‘How much to weigh’.. “”40” I paid and jumped on. “Relax your body” he said quietly.  I jumped off the scale and started with my brilliant idea about how to do suicide preven...

I walked into the lab at UG  to deliver my lecture on online journalism. Normal stuff, should expect Internet and so. Some janjat, Internet not there.. or rather what is there can't really allow a video or so to stream nicely so that the students could see what people can do with the Internet.  I want to go home after having prepared the nice thing. There is going to be some challenge.  I know that I have no intention of celebrating no Independence because we not really independent. There is a kind of superficial fakeness, urgency about the golden jubilee .. we must celebrate or else!!!! But I celebrate every day I wake up generally.  Here is why I plan to stay far, even if will might not be possible $300 million dollars on 50th birthday party is nuff money. I really don't care for song and dance and float and so on, not when the economy is in a mess, when sugar Workers at Wales not sure what happening . Guyanese know how to have a good time,the state doe...

A friend had said use Lavender to deal with itching , and someone said it was good for sleeping. First time I used it, the dreams were weird, all night. vivid. I decided not to use any more. Last night though, stomach churning from the junk and body feeling weird and spirit feeling sick at everything which had to be dealt with.. I rubbed my palms with lavender and inhaled before going back to the computer to fix a problem which could not have been fixed for 5 days. I lost about  4 working days this last episode, functioning in other ways . A man shared some post about rubbing lavender on the foot bottom to help with sleep.. The dreams were weird again last night, dreaming about dreaming and so on. Woke up though, and was glad to get up to get the various tasks done. Doing the tasks and thinking about the thing I have to write, and the other thing to write and the challenge which will come with the other meeting I was dreading from negotiating with people and not feeli...

Deep sadness at the end of a day which started with me telling a man who I think needs support that I can no longer provide that support, and that I can't keep my promise of 'you can call me any time you want and I will talk/listen to you" Irony examined though, in a particularly low episode, when the nice cold dark mornings match the mood and part of the mind is screaming .. withdraw, go , take a break, dont talk to anybody.. that the Universe does not listen and there is a blast of requests for information, help, etc and when counting.. 14 requests responded to. more than I have ever had in any one time with a bizarre range and one woman who helped me tremendously . I have not been seeking out voluntary opportunities or going to look for help as the energy to do that is too much.  Resisting the urge to not function is not recommended really for all persons, but being able to fulfil some transactions without any expectations of reward  is rewarding in that being ...

Callerasked during one of the silences when I should have said, hey I can't talk now even though I told you you could call me anytime " so what did you do today". War between pride and truth telling and 'mental health, managing mental health' because the day was kind of like that.. every interaction, every task, every distraction was done through a fog which was about resisting the urge to go and just lie down Distractions like drinking dhal, and reading random things without absorbing. Distractions like trying to compose words in emails around things which I care about, instead of taking a break..  Nuts, biscuits, cake, more cake followed by guilt. Trying to do the yoga routine which used to help, but the body is clumsy, and the mind is tired to focus on the stretches and the anger and frustration at not being able to move the body to get the serotonin needed to lift the damn clouds. Postponing the meeting for a week, but client says no, one day only.. ...

The primary school girl with spectacles had three books in her hand including Toni Morrison's Tar Baby . I said, but you will read that? and she looked up at me, through top of the spectacles and said . Yes I like to Read...  and I thought oh lord.. Arrived at 3pm at the corner of Camp and Robb Street with lots of books which I had accumulated for the next groundings from the house as a kind of letting go. The body pained in different parts as I bent down to layout the cloth and the books. It was crazy and I got distracted. I had forgotten we had agreed one or two books per person and make sure there is interaction.. on some question. The school children swarmed and were picking up. I had some of the love quotes.. first student pulled the "“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.” by Audre Lorde. She said she was not sure what it meant. A boy said, it means that we have to accept people ...

[Spoiler alert] Jamaican Tanya Batson-Savage read her story Ruth about a God fearing woman who had to deal with rude questions from 'that girl' her daughter .. about whether she had an orgasm. I muttered to the prize winning Guyanese writer sitting next to me that it is such a relief to hear about people who have orgasms and not about death and murder. Felene Cayetano from Belize read a poem and a story linked to the poem. Garifuna words and a place called Dangriga. Richard Georges from the BVI read a couple of poems, one about Prosper.. the slave who was murdered by Arthur Hodge. Arthur Hodge was the first West Indian slave owner who was hanged for the murder of a slave. Another poem, about Bush tea was interesting. I think for many Guyanese, BVI is a place to go and get work, and then to come back to Guyana  The poet's grandfather had lived in Guyana. Joanne Hillhouse read from The Boy from Willow Bend - a bit about a funeral and no death. Naijah Imojah...

The Yellow Wallpaper is one of the book club selections - the story alone. I had never heard of Charlotte Perkins Gillman before the suggestion. Charlotte Perkins Gillman was an American social reformer, and one of the earliest feminists. The Yellow Wallpaper is about a woman who is dealing with mental health. She is in a room with Yellow Wallpaper and she gets bored and imagines all kinds of things. The stories were written in the early 1900s. Three Thanksgivings is about a woman who does not want to go and live with her children and turns her home into a venue for women to meet up. The Cottagette is a love story with a difference in which the hero asks the heroine not to give up her art and so and not to cook. Turned is about adultery . If I Were a Man is about Mollie Mathewson turning into her husband.. kind of Metamorphosis but with some discussions about men and women and the perceptions of each other. My favourite story.. Mr Pebbles' Heart is about Arthur who is rescued...

by Vidyaratha Kissoon “I know you ask fuh two,” the man said has he handed me the pink saucer with three baiganee with the splash of the mix of “you want lil peppah and lil sour” instead of “ peppa alone” or “sour alone”. It is a hot afternoon, and the free extra baiganee  goes with a glass of cane juice mixed with ginger juice with ice. I do not know anywhere else in the world where it would be possible to have three baiganee, one free, with a mix of mango sour and peppa and a glass of mixture of cane juice and ginger juice. There is the odd fly buzzing around, and in typical Guyanese fashion, the fly is brushed away. This Guyanese identity for many of us across the political and ethnic divide must be this casual approach to the hygiene near our delicious roadside food. Another day at another stall there was rhythm and  smiles as the seller and the customer tapped a glass case to chase a fly out of it. In Linden, there were no flies near the neat ...

Strange week and every day a different set of things happening.. things moving fast and switching between disciplines.. computers, human rights, wellness, computers, politics, adultery, adultery again, gender, computers,lust, love, love again computers , money, worry, non-judgemental conversation and then having things to write. Body is paining in ways now, but determined not to take any medications as it is bad enough being dependent on the sweet.  Body feels in need of stretching but no matter how many stretches, it still feels like it could do with more. Mind whirls with thoughts of ways of doing things, of trying to respond to different things, while also focussing on present moment things. There are the moments in these lovely El Nino evenings though, they don't last long.. you can sort of be still and look for awhile.. but even that becomes a kind of rushed activity in other activities. Demerara River was nice at sunset at Linden. Conversations at the corner of the...

Left : Fingersnap - Guy Davies and David McAlmont; Right Down South with Francis Bailey and Mark Hall by Rae Wiltshire The curtains came down on the G-Jazz Festival concert -- not literally. The festival was held at the Theatre Guild's Garden Theatre. An event that transpired on December 11-14 2015 . The concert was mosquito free, thanks to three eucalyptus trees. The sky was black, a few stars were twinkling. "My friends that came loved that they could have laid under the stars and listened to the sweet melodies," Quinton Anthony said. Anthony was one of the many volunteers dressed in blue, who were shuffling around to get things done. "I haven't been to any jazz shows/concerts before, but I must say, that after this; I want to see more. The artists were amazing. They chose the right pieces to perform," Anthony said.  Vidyaratha Kissoon, was sitting on a red rug, where shoes were not allowed. He was zoned into the musicians, who took centre s...

Sky is orange and pink and blue, and piece of the moon is overhead. End of Sunday, cool breeze blowing. Walking through a side street in Kitty to avoid the  busy road. The street has a mix of old buildings and new buildings. Walking is made easier when the mind wanders and I do the usual of imagining the lives of people inside the houses. Remembering when I used to walk home from UG back in the late eighties when some of the houses near the  Cummings Lodge/UG road still had kitchens with open windows and you could smell curry and dinner cooking. Architecture and cooking habits and the smells have changed there and here Rum shop is open, it always seems open. Lady wearing a cap with her bags sitting down, I look to see if she drinking rum, but she is looking at her phone , kind of hold the phone far away as you do in the dim light when you have to put things away. I wonder if she knows she needs spectacles. I wonder if she is waiting on the rum to come. Old house, no ...

by Vidyaratha Kissoon The police man asked me “What is your first name Mr Kissoon”. Young man, pleasant and polite. I was shocked that he knew my name. I asked him “How do you know me, we have never met.” And he said that he knew me from being out there and seeing me around the place. We were standing at the corner of Carmichael and Middle Street, near the Attorney General Chambers. I had never seen him so he must have been doing his surveillance excellently. Mark Jacobs had planted a palm , as a memorial to Courtney Crum-Ewing who used to stand there saying anil-must-go. Somebody shot Courtney Crum-Ewing on 10 March, 2015. There is a protest organised around the 10 th of every month to call for justice. More people click Like on the Facebook posts and pictures than actually come to the protests. Forgetting is one of the ways to deal with trauma. And Facebook sharing and liking and commenting is probably the other way. Mark Jacobs asked one of the men we...

Lizards looking at me eating the mix.. fudge ripple ice cream, a whole set, with chocolate cream biscuits crumbled up and a passion fruit weaved in.. Days of feeling slow and heavy and fatigued , opportunity came to walk.. the ice cream could have been smaller. The serotonin could have come from running or so. Too much junk eating leaving the body feeling slightly sick but yet craving for more junk. Exercise is to be done but the mood to get into exercise is not there yet. The sugar rush worked.  The sweet stuff is nice.. the passion fruit is kind of tart and sweet. Finished the whole bowl and wanted more. Lizards are looking at me while they come to lick the empty bowl.

Guyana is fast catching up with technology. Cyber crimes will no doubt soon become part of the daily struggle, if not already so for many who have been subject to phishing attacks.. There is a draft Cybercrime Bill of 2015 which is in circulation. The Bill proposes several offences :- Illegal access to a computer system. Illegal interception. Illegal data interference. Illegal acquisition of data. Illegal system interference. Offences affecting critical infrastructure. Illegal devices. Unauthorised receiving or granting of access to computer data. Computer-related forgery. Computer-related fraud. Identity-related offences. Child pornography. Luring. Violation of privacy. Multiple electronic mail messages. Harassment utilizing electronic communication. Corporate liability. Attempt, aiding or abetting. Offences prejudicing investigation. A journalist had aske...

by Vidyaratha Kissoon “Have one of my pawpaws, they were cheap” the man told me on the Mall. He had just bought them from the lady who had her stall on the roadside not far from the place where she used to sell. “She keep watching and wondering. She move her stall to the road and she wondering if she will get move from there now” The sky is kind of grey. The Mall which had been the scene of anger, despair and power the previous day was kind of quiet and calm.  On Wednesday, the City Council had banned the vendors from the mall. There was a protest outside the Ministry of the Presidency.  One man was arrested. Not the kind of thing you associate with the sale of fresh fruit and vegetables on Thursdays , Fridays and Saturdays.  The dispute seems to be over the rubbish of the mall, and the appearance of the stalls –  “We told them that their stalls should be made to a specific height, colour and size” There was the red tent of the Jerk food sta...

The turpentine mango was big and hanging on the tree. Had my eye on it because you cannot pick and leave turpentine mango to set, it has to ripen almost on the tree. I should have been exercising. But the mind was not on the exercise and I decided to go and pick the mango. I saw the ragged hole left by the bird(s). A sharp knife cut around the hole, but at some point when sucking on the seed I realised that the part of the hole caved in. I might have eaten the bird jootah, but so far so good. It was near sunset. Sky was grayish. The last bit of the mango skin was like a strip of sunset on the concrete.  It was the disposal of the good time. Gratitude for the mango, perfect even after the birds and also well good to share with the birds. Like eating after the ants I washed off the tangerine, after I peeled it. Gratitude is not the problem really with mental health management. There are always good moments which though, have to be dealt with dispassionately because ther...