Coil: Not thinking of the fire while adrift on the Essequibo

by Vidyaratha Kissoon
The bus man said, “dem man deh stupid. Dey mussee tink dat when dey light de fire, de officer dem would ah open de gate and let dem out.”  He was playing nice oldies in the bus. He sneezed into his hands and wiped his hands on his pants. I was wondering whether to collect the change from him.

Near the Camp & Lamaha Street junction, there was a traffic jam as usual.  The sirens of the outriders of some dignitary sounded on Lamaha Street but the traffic could not really move. Some men in black clothes jumped around trying to clear a path. The bus driver said, ‘watch dat nuh, cyan do nutting.”

We talk some more about the prisoners. The driver said, “dem man stupid, dey tink dat dey would ah get away. De whole town would ah shut down.”

Earlier in the day, in another bus, the driver and conductor talking about the night after the day that 17 men died.  I had my ears open because I knew I had write this Coil.  The conductor was laughing – he had gone to a birthday sport .. ’nuff GT beer deh.. and guess whuh, nuff Cannabis tuh”. The driver had gone to another sport  on the Thursday night – “ I knock  17 Guinness.”

Beer drinking was on my mind the day when the 17 men died.  I had been on the Essequibo Coast, nice country side and plenty beer advertisements. It was my first trip on the ferry. The afternoon breeze was cool. It had been a strange couple of days. I was looking forward to the boat ride.  I took out  a book to read. I had heard about the prison deaths, but decided not to process too much.

A woman came up: “Hey, you’re Vidya right?” She knows me from Facebook. We chat. She had been doing some workshops on suicide prevention. She lives abroad and visits two or three times a year.

A friend called, she doesn’t live too far from the prisons. She wanted to know about the ferry and so, as she had been invited to Essequibo. We did not talk about the 17 dead.

One man on the ferry was drinking beer, one after another. He left the bottles near the seat ignoring the rubbish bin.  Another man was smoking, one cigarette after another. He had two beers. The woman said that she wonders if the people who chain smoke, and so, if they are not suicidal in a way. I wonder about the beer drinking too, whether the beer is not killing men slowly. We don’t talk about the 17 dead.

We were concerned that the ferry would leave on time and the length of the journey. The ferry left on time. The breeze is nice. The River is beautiful , amazing to think of how wide it is with all the islands and so. We are happy when we reach Parika before the scheduled time.

Taxi driver from the market heads down Brickdam. We hear a loud argument in a bus about the prison deaths. We could not hear details. The taxi man said something about ‘dem got time’. He was telling me the story of how a mentally ill aunt had been robbed of her house and land, and of the difficulty his family had in dealing with the mental illness.  We did not talk about the 17 dead. There is a view of Cuffy and the flag pole coming out of Cuffy’s head. There are some bright white lights on the flag flying there. We don’t talk about that either.

The stories come out from the prison on Friday. The Board of Inquiry is convened. There is a script.
The Ministers are meeting. One officer sent on leave.  Questions are emerging. Was it suicide? Was it another prison break? How did they charge the cell phones? Is this about ganja?  Would the public concern have been different if the prisoners had been convicted instead of being on trial? Was there a reason why this section of the prison was used?  Is this linked to the Dataram television testimony? In the days before the prison fire,  citizen Barry Dataram was talking his story on TV and CANU is now going to be subject to an inquiry. Two inquiries into two arms of the Disciplined Services in a week.

The Guyana Chronicle reminds its readers about the crimes for which the dead have been accused . It is as though to say, even though they have been burnt, yall manage yall sympathy and rage.  One citizen who was looking for information about a relative talked on TV about the ‘simple robbery’ that he had committed.

Citizen Dataram has been talking about trading in cocaine and so. And the Minister of Public Security responded to him. The Minister also responded  to the prisoners. He and Minister Harmon talked to the prisoners and reached ‘gentleman’s agreements’. None of the reports state whether their clients or in fact any of the clients of members of the Cabinet members or members of the National Assembly were affected in this prison riot.  Carol Ann Munroe who was accused of treason with her husband, wrote about her experience in the prisons.  Treason is a charge which has been levelled against many persons. Like so many things, it is easy to dismiss the prisons and conditions of prisoners – as a man running for local government said  – he doesn’t intend to go to jail and nobody making him go to jail. But it is not so simple, as Ms Munroe and others can attest to.

So prison is not on the mind of many people.

The Stabroek News on the day the 17 men were killed tells of 4000 acres of rice destroyed in Mahaicony due to the dry El Nino conditions and allegedly the bad water management. The same paper tells of farmers in Berbice who lose their crops to flooding due again to bad water management.

The citizen who was wanted for killing Alicia McPherson has been found one year after; he has reportedly confessed. His loved ones are probably hoping that he gets a better deal than those who died this week.

The fire it seems were part of the protests over the conditions. The prisoners have asked for better food, some more phone calls needed – nothing about ganja and/or beer.

There might be other issues coming out in the Inquiry. The media did not say whether any of the prisoners wanted to leave prison.

In the film Shawshank Redemption, Brooks Hatlen commits suicide after his release after years in prison. The prison had become his home and he could not cope with the outside world.  In Guyana, we have not heard of any ex-convict who has wanted to stay in prison.

The woman on the boat asks me, ‘Would you leave Guyana if you have a chance?” .

I explain to the woman on the beautiful river in the nice breeze about how I adjust to where I live as I stutter to cover the powerlessness of seeing some things remain the same or get worse. The  prisoners manage to find ways of negotiating cell phones and ganja as they deal with their circumstances. 

Something happened this week, and fires were lit and killed people in the prison.

I have never lit any fires though that could consume me or any others. Things still remain normal.