Thoughts of a minibus traveller

Dying rivers and butterflies Nice air conditioned room in Bel Air, Georgetown.  Power point and projector in use. Discussions about the forest. Far away from the forest. Nice for a town boy like me who don't really like outdoors and who like to watch pictures and films of the forest without actually taking time to go there unless well, there is some 'work' to do. Iwokrama . Guyana's gift to the world.  An environmental activist and citizen who veers between despair and hope about Guyana tells me more than once that it is a shame that we don't remember how Iwokrama was started by Desmond Hoyte of the PNC and then brought to fruition by the PPP. One of the few things the PNC and PPP worked on together. 30 years ago. Iwokrama could refer to the forest, and the river, and the Iwokrama International Centre for Rainforest Conservation and Development. It was remote from those of us on the coast working on other things. In 2000, I took up an assignment a

Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay Psst, hey man,psst, run away from your rightful place Run away from that place man to the wrongful place where men in leadership don't  want you to go Psst, hey man,psst, run away from your rightful place there shouting 'white/fat/chineee/red/fine/sexy/whatever comes to your mind at the girl or woman  walking on the road.  Run away from that place man to the wrongful place where men in leadership don't  want you to go, to that place  where any woman, human being should feel safe to walk down the road . Yeah, I know , many of us voted for men who have contempt for women. Psst, hey man,psst, run away from your rightful place where you watch other men harassing women  or any other person they think is not like them, watching like how I watch sometimes without saying anything because you not sure if to fight or to become involved in the fight or to mind your own business. Run away from that place man to the wrongful

Yard being cleaned for the funeral rites and all the scraps of old bird's nests taken down from the various beams where they had been left until the chance come to do the annual cleaning. I look in one or two which had been used, not wanting to see any skeletons or so of chicks which did not make it but glad there were none. Then as the funeral rites proceed , one bird finds a corner and construction resumes. I am not in charge so I am nervous that those in charge would want to remove the nest. Funeral comes and goes and then the days pass as bird sits comfortably. I pass it looking up now and then.. the only nest in the more or less clean space. Soon I see four small beaks open without sounds and I feel afraid as I wonder what would h appen to them if the mother does not come back. It is nice to live in a place where bird's nest but it is not nice to have to let 'nature' takes its course or be anxious about what if. The nest is deep so somedays I don'

Images from Pixabay Is a 12 minute walk or 4 minute bus drive and I am in a hurry. A bus stops near me. A woman about my age comes out of the front seat. Young man moves from the jump seat to the front seat. I go to the front door. "Nah nah, two man can't sit in front.." An older man had told me before in another that two man can't sit in front. When I told some 14 year old boys about the incident, they laughed and said..nah.. nah that is extreme, he got insecurities. Conductor comes out and I jump in the front seat near to him. I say "So driver , man, what gun happen, if i sit down deh, yall gun turn gay" "I am gay.. " bus driver says.  Front seat passenger looks at him funnily. Conductor laughs awkardly. I laugh and say so man, what gun happen if I sit down. "I aint want turn you gay " bus driver tells me "But how you aint know I aint gay already".... "This is a gay bus.." driver says I

"Women don't want men to be emotionally vulnerable...women want strong men.." was a message from a video of two men talking about women and the men who might talk about their emotions (apart from anger, rage and lust).  I like to think that I am open with my emotions, too open most times to the point of being a bore to whoever is listening. But I have not locked down though , even though I know a few people probably wish I could. Here are the lessons on my mind 1. Risk I tell a man I am tired about the caregiving duties and the man yells at me, curses, calls me a hypocrite. The buse out leaves me tired, fatigued and I tell another man , an almost stranger, the next day I wish I was dead and the man tells me not to worry, take it easy 'dont tink about duh' Yeah, it is a risk to be emotionally vulnerable, to talk about how you feeling and about pain, trauma, and about fears. It is a risk to express emotions other than anger and rage (or selective sadness

The man fixes his workspace. A folding chair, back legs missing. He braces the chair on the folded door of the store. He has a piece of wood tucked at the bottom of the seat. The piece of wood will form a kind of third leg to balance the chair.  He puts his bag on the chair.   He has a bundle, dark reddish brown cloth. There are some umbrellas, some ribs. He puts the bundle on the cardboard which might be on to of another box. This is his work bench .  His face is set, no smile. He does not look at me. He takes out his tools and lays them on the cardboard.  A knife, white handle, blade with edge slightly curved in from repeated sharpening.  Black thread. Tarnished pliers. Some wire. He takes the umbrella from me. He does not say anything. Opens the umbrella and examines it. Realises that he has forgotten somethings in the storage space in the 'crack' between the two stores. He gives me back the umbrella. Gets up. Says nothing. I stand waiting there, watching the