Thoughts of a minibus traveller

by Vidyaratha Kissoon “Is which day is the right day man” the elderly security guard asked. It was the night of the Saturday Diwali. I had seen him moving around the trench in my area and was wondering if he needed a toilet. Place was darkish there. He was picking puraine (lotus) leaf for his employers who were also celebrating on the ‘Saturday night’. The leaf is used to serve food. “You know , dey traditional.. , you coming around later? “ A bus conductor had asked earlier in the day , almost the same “Is which day is the right day, why this problem now?” There are no real answers as the battle of the Diwali dates continued this year. The Government sided with the people who chose the 29 th October a nd declared it a national holiday. The Guyana Hindu Dharmic Sabha and others insisted on the 30 th October 2016. It is not easy. The Minister of Public Security is not King Solomon. It seems he had to choose between two dates. In this society of either/or th

Pains all over which are not only from the extra workout of cleaning. Itching in the memory and on the skin, so antihistamines as prophylaxis.. except that the antihistamines cloud up the already cloudy mind. The pain killers will help with some of the pains. There is strange dust which goes in the throat.  Some places which I cleaned, don't look cleaned because the underlying reasons for the dirt have not been dealt with. Like so much flipping things,superficial fixes don't work. Email coming in reminding me of things which I used to do. A work thing which is voluntary but which is full of craziness and I manage to ask for a temporary postponement. Lemons come as a surprise . Fresh from "Uncle Cheddi "(Jagan's) yard and I hope that the tree is never cut down by whoever buys the house. I scratch the skin and the fragrance is a rush.  One night sleep is fitful. Another night, probably tablet induced.. is not so bad.. but wake up feeling drugged Do the

Dear book Touching and picking up and putting back you.. the National Library is full of books I want to read. I am moving slow. Fog swirling in my head and trying not to feel worse. Big task to be done and I can't do it. Feeling sick. Remembering when I had things organised so that I could enjoy you. I had dreams of the space, and how to do it  Of not feeling that I had to steal time. Remembering when I thought I could design things better so that I could go through shelf by shelf. When time would have been my own. I have had to abandon you many times when my mind could not focus on you. Instead of adapting and adjusting to the circumstances which never changed and to the prison of my own making, I had to let go of you. Every time I spend with you now, I feel guilty because I think I should be making up for the other lost times. I should not be reading you but should be dealing with the things which have not been done. I look at you though. I think of all the things t

One of Guyana's beautiful old style wooden houses by Vidyaratha Kissoon “Oh losh is de same man in de bus” the schoolgirl said with some despair. De man was a preacher man. The bus called ‘Runaway Train’ was like a pentecostal church. The driver had been fiddling with the music – moving from one song wid dutty lyrics to anodda song..he kept the volume low Second driver in a week having to fiddle with music. Something with how the music is handed to the drivers on a flash drive to play. Minibus compilations. Coolie people in the bus and I was going to ask for old coolie songs. The bus stopped for a passenger. Driver turned to conductor and said.. ‘leh we pick he up.’ The man was neatly dressed. Looked like a construction worker. ‘Morning everybody’ said the man as he came in. It has been a few days since I notice a lot of people saying morning and afternoon. Driver turn off the music. “Driver you thought about those things

Staring at the recipe and thinking that it has been awhile, probably a year now but time does not matter. Trying to focus. There are some adjustments and complexities like 2 and 1/3 tsp of baking soda with a little extra for the crushed banana as the egg substitute. The days are tough. Getting through is hard. Taking escape in bad good which is good because it offers some path through. Body though feels heavy after but getting from moment to moment is important. There is a lot to do. The feeling of being out of control of things and not being able to acheive highly. One assignment with no end in sight.  Finish 1/3 of a task. Another task incomplete. Time running out. Feeling heavy as another task does not result in any transformation. Feeling anxious about the work which will pay but will not nurture like the cake will nurture. The cake is perfect. The butter and sugar cream up and the banana does not make it run. They rise level. It holds and the crumbs.. each crumb gives

Sun is hot. I had decided not to cancel the meetings.  One person, public servant did not turn up for his meeting. I listened as the staff talked about black out and low voltage. Some generators are packing in.  I think I should find a way to write about memories of the 80s and early nineties when staff had to come and sit outside because their offices were dark and hot and they did not work. I am cursing at the heaviness. Instead of doing some of the  big tasks I am finding distractions. I am cursing myself for not making use of time. I look at the dust covered junk.. which has to be cleaned. It is not my junk, somebody else's pride and memories and worship is meant to be allowing those who want those memories to keep them. Big tasks around. The plans are awry. I am trapped in a bizarre contract - two people already cynical about the outcome. Trying to look at this positively. Stumbling instead of walking confidently on the pavements. Cross to the avenue and stumble on t

I kicked myself after reading the email response to one of my ventings.  I should have kept my mouth shut, but it was a weak moment of venting rather than logically composing a blog. The email response was well meaning, and full of concern and important calls for self-love, care etc.. but I didn't really need a response, or maybe I just wanted a 'sigh' or 'lol' or 'so what do you intend to do about this?" There is a palm tree in front of the  yard and I like how it sways in the breeze and how parrots and other birds often manage to eat the fruit. It is old.. one day it will fall down but as long as I have known myself it has been there . I remember a plea to not cut it down when the fence was changing. The fruits sometimes turn into seeds and I should have replanted and kept seedlings .. a kind of regeneration. But I didn't. The dried palm fruit sometimes composts and the soil around the base is fertile. I like how the tree is useful, swaying

Software Freedom Day September 2015 Picture by Taran Rampersaud http://www.knowprose.com by Vidyaratha Kissoon “I think all Guyanese women do not want relationship with men, they just want to have children” the Pastor sitting in the barber chair said. “Where I come from [Africa], women are not like that” The barber glanced over at me, smiled but continued shaving and cutting. I wanted to cuss up the Pastor, send him back to where he came from. I could only imagine the other important bits of wisdom and knowledge which his congregation accepted from him. I jumped in the chair after the Pastor paid and left. The barber asked me what I thought , and l I said was ‘yall mussee have to hear nuff stupidness’. The barber is happily married man and proud father and I didn’t bother to ask him if the Pastor was also talking about his wife. It was a missed opportunity to talk about knowledge and assumptions and to probe the beliefs and the Pastor’s way

The Kaieteur News website manager probably did not intend the letters to appear like this. The war over which day is the correct day for Diwali continues this year. North India, South India - PPP or PNC, who is real Pandit, who is fake Pandit. It started with the  bombs and squibs at Diwali. Light is usually meant to be quiet, contemplative , reflective. At some point in Guyana, Hindus decided that the religious festival had to become a spectacle.  The symbol of light in its quiet dispelling of darkness turned into fire and bombs - destruction.  And so now, Diwali is no longer about understanding unity, but about who has the power to decide how Hindus will decide on what is unity and who they will unite behind. The Guyana Hindu Dharmic Sabha insists on holding their Georgetown Motorcade on the night of the 29th, because for them only the 30th is Diwali and perhaps those who celebrate on the 29th can be excluded from what is supposed to be a Unifying activity. A big event wh

Bad day and wondering if I had made the right decision to go to a thing which looked like it was going to be another thing. Nervous as hell and wondering whether clothes will cheer me up. Favourite blue shirt, well all blue shirts are my favourite and some of them have been calming me since 2004 as I see from pictures. Open the drawer.. and the splash of colour.. the dreary functional blue , black.. and then this red thing standing out. I am like.. no no, I not able to be daring and dynamic  but then I thought what the hell.. red underwear instead of the usual thing.. in fact the reason I had the red is that it was probably on sale and no body else probably liked the colour. So I feel brave, and daring. I behaving  as though I would wear the underwear as outerwear. Confidence boosted. Go for it. Red is for bravery. Revolutionaries wear read caps and head bands and so on , well I will be revolutionary and try to sound dynamic and deliberate.. wave the read underwear as a fla

I am late so I jump in a bus which I hear before I see. Music pounding. Front seat. Coolie conductor. Coolie driver. RadhaKrishna murti on his dashboard. 'Is you bus?" "Nah.. is me mother own, I driving it" " Why you playing dis loud music'? "Is dem like it.. he said quietly and vex and looking at de back.." Dem is de black chirren in de back of de bus, bupping wid de coolie conductor who seem to be de most energetic bopper" "Yuh see dat picture deh, you is de driver, why yuh not uplifting dem' He look at me sideways like i mad or something and relieved when I got out. Trying to imagine the Hindu woman praying for her son and so on, and that part of the marketing strategy is to make sure that the bus shine and got loud music so that the chirren dem who would find Granger Big 'B' bus boring, would go to school, all pumped up, ears probably damaged.. and waiting to learn. Mental Health and Peace of Mind are prob

by Vidyaratha Kissoon “She is a lady, she should expect that” the female security guard at NIS said. It was a hot afternoon. A woman had walked into the NIS compound in Brickdam. One of the male staffers who was liming in the shed let out one of those sucking sounds. There were people around who seemed not to hear him.  I asked him if that is how he would treat customers at NIS. He said that he is a normal man and he showing his appreciation. He was angry that I would challenge him and looked like he wanted to fight. The security guard endorsed the behaviour. I didn’t bother to question her more to discuss gender expectations. Another time I was walking with two women. We passed a man and a woman. The man made comments about white meat. I asked the man.. is suh yuh gun talk to yuh sistah dem. The woman near him said no, is not a problem he just complimenting the women. He said “is whuh, man cyan show appreciation.” In 2007, there were two letters

"I don't want to call, I don't want to trigger anything'.. the loved one said apologetically during a surprise phone call. The friendship had ended in an amicable way. We both realised that communication was difficult as I had to be honest about mental health and inability to pretend in social situations and that was not part of the friendship. I tried to explain though, that I did not give power to anyone to trigger anything. My responses of anger, fear, love, being upset, low are my own and I accept responsibility. And that I tried to keep connections with people open and hope that it was possible to be useful without seeming upset. A man apologised for making me upset. I could not find words really to explain again. The irony in the Universe, is that work pushes me in situations which require active listening and responding. I came through a recent project and I think of the dynamics and the success. It was not easy and I keep thinking, how can I do this i

My mother asked me  why I soaking the ochro in the water. I was feeling a lil bored with plain ole steam ochro with tomato and decided to browse the Internet and found this recipe Greek Vegan Ochro which talk about soaking the ochro for half hour in water with vinegar and lil salt to take out the sliminess before cooking it. So I follow the recipe. Trick apparently is to make a lil tomato sauce, and then put in the ochro and leave it on low low heat for a long time. Then I did my own thing. Ingredients 1 lb ochro garlic ginger a lil bit whole geera (just because) oil wiri wiri sweet pepper carrot onion other herbs you have around.. small tin tomato paste Method Soak ochro in water, a lil salt, and some vinegar for 30 minutes. then wash and dry and then 'tail' it - take  out the tips. 1. Heat oil in the pan and roast the whole geera a lil bit. Chop up garlic, onion and ginger and saute in a strong bottom pan which has a tight lid. 2.  Mix toma

Heat is intense and there are dark clouds in the South West which might mean welcome rain somewhere else but not where it is needed. There is adjustment to the heat.. but it is difficult , adjustment works out.. get a fan, no rest is possible in the day. Rest is necessary, working against the other dark clouds hanging over the spirit and mind  is fatiguing even though it is possible to function.   Night is broken. The alertness is always there.. the quarrel which should not have happened .. a chance to redeem as 3am wake up to try to detach from those memories of contempt and the knife and the threat to clean up the pee, to try to restore the power relationship because you understand that the man resents having to depend on you more than you wonder at the Universe slapping you in the face when you want to just rest but to deal with all of this. The mind kicks in.. the detachment, calm voice, organised. Remembering when the woman had told you as a child after hearing her father

Eddo leaf bhaji and eddoe and chunks curry.. Strange times as I work on avoiding social conversations as I have lost the sense of being intuitive. I agonised over whether I should let a man know that his comments would not be good,.. communication is about feedback. Took time to compose the email as I thought the man was reasonable and interested in Guyana and Guyanese. The man defended his right to be disrespectful.  I was shocked and thought maybe I did not communicate that it was not about rights, but about engagement and empathy. It was not about a disagreement with my views.. there are other things we disagree about and I tend not to engage him on any of them. So a sense of a mistake as I realise that the man is not as I thought and that I should have stayed quiet. Thought too of whether to gently ask a loved one if everything is okay as a strange universe of work has an overlap and there are some communication problems.  I chose not to as I know that I would be rejecte

by Vidyaratha Kissoon “Nutting ain really doin’” the cheerful driver said. We had just passed Whim village on the Corentyne. There has been a broken Alliance For Change sign for a while now on the Whim roadside. It is probably touchy to bring up AFC in Berbice in a car. There must be a reason why the AFC has not fixed the sign. The driver laughed when I asked about the sign. “Yeah.. dem musse learn now, how nutting aint change.. de odder set was bad but at least you earn, now it rough suh. “ “Me aint racial, but look is whuh.. yuh cyan just wake up one marning and find de economy gone” A young man who came back to do good work in the public sector is feeling the frustration. I told him that scholarships were available and he said ‘No. I can’t live like this ‘.. living like this under the contract. He has not been able to achieve anything as the inertia in the public sector left over from the PPP continues and ‘the powers that be remain the same’