Guest Post From My Mom pt3: David Plays Tourist in Georgetown

The national museum being closed, we strolled out of the market area toward St. George’s Anglican cathedral. It’s one of the tallest wooden churches in the world and one of the largest wooden structures in the Caribbean. Marble monuments and plaques help tell the story of colonial British Guiana, including:

• Sir James Carmichael Smyth, appointed governor in 1833
• Hubert Carlton Whitlock, who died during his voyage to England in 1876
• Dr. JRF Hutson “who practised his profession in this colony for upwards of 46 years” and died in 1863
• Peter Rose, a native of Scotland and a colonist for over 50 years, a member of the “Court of Policy” and manager of the Colonial Bank. The climate must have agreed with him, as he died in 1859 at the ripe old age of 72

What appears to be intricate white wrought iron decorates the pulpit and designates the apse. Lovely stained glass windows tower above the altar. I’d love to come back one day just to hear the organ with its many decorated pipes. Along both sides of the church, the ocean breeze blew through the open shutters, and the wooden pews were a comfortable spot to rest and cool off.

David then called a cab and we headed to the Roy Geddes Steel Pan Museum. The museum is actually part of his home, and Roy himself gave us a tour. From the gate, we walked through lush gardens containing art objects made from steel pans and depicting famous musicians. I was especially intrigued by the “egg plant:” a spiky yucca-like plant covered with egg shells!

The “pan” is the top part of a steel drum that is hung by a strap or mounted on a stand. As Roy explained, the pan is hammered into a thin concave surface, and then the notes are formed with both heat and hammer, using a tuning fork for accuracy. A short flurry of mallets produced a happy sound and smiles on our faces. Upstairs, photos and news clippings of Roy and his bands and orchestras cover every inch of wall space. Several include Roy with former president Cheddi Jagan. Mrs. Geddes put on a CD of classical music performed by a steel pan orchestra, and surprisingly, most of the musicians do not read music! Today, Roy mostly teaches and works with local schools to form steel pan bands.

On our way back, we drove past an enormous cemetery, on both sides of the road. It reminded me of the cemeteries in New Orleans, with the graves above ground.

Our next stop was the 1763 Monument, commemorating the revolt by Africans enslaved at Plantation Magdelenenburg as well as the “struggle of all Guyanese for political liberation and national development.” Known as the Cuffy statue, it is 15’ high above an 18’ plinth. Faces on the back of his head and back represent all the peoples of Guyana. Plaques around the base convey Cuffy and the revolt.

Then we headed for the Castellani House. Originally a residence for colonial government officials, it is now the home of the National Gallery of Art. We climbed a massive staircase to the special exhibit, “The Spirit of Revolution,” celebrating Guyana’s 45^th republic anniversary. The paintings and sculpture (mostly mahogany) were arranged among the rooms on the second floor. All of the windows were open, and the building is not air conditioned or temperature/humidity controlled, so I wondered how these art treasures of Guyana could be adequately preserved. Upstairs there are more pieces on display from the permanent collection, also with windows open to the sun and wind.

A short detour on our way back led us to the sea wall so I could see the ocean. I’m used to the sandy beaches along the Jersey Shore, so I was surprised by the mass of rocks at the water’s edge. I guess it makes sense as a flood barrier. The driver mentioned that on Easter, the sea wall would be crowded with families flying kites.

Back in town, we walked through what seemed like a government and diplomatic neighborhood. Unlike the massive concrete or stone edifices we see in wealthy capital cities, the Guyanese government buildings are mostly wooden and white with shutters at windows for ventilation. The prime minister’s house also has that traditional Caribbean look and is surrounded by a wide garden and lawn and ornate iron fence.

A few blocks away are the Peace Corps offices in a more modern 5-storey narrow building. This is where the country directors and program coordinators are based. One of David’s fellow volunteers, based in Timehri, was using the computers to work on his resume and fill out on-line job applications. The volunteers receive career coaching and job search support in their last few months, and they work hard to line up jobs for when their assignments are complete.

Links:

http://www.aboutguyana.com/st-georges-cathedral/

http://www.gotoguyana.org/national-monuments/1763-monument/

http://www.gotoguyana.org/people-culture/castellani-house/

How Do Guyanese Talk/Sound?

I've been asked several times how to convey how Guyanese talk; what it sounds like. I found an episode of Merundoi, a local radio program in Guyana that portrays daily life here while teaching a lesson (domestic violence, HIV/AIDS discrimination, substance abuse, etc.). It's a great example to hear how Guyanese speak Creolese and to listen to topics that come up everyday here in Guyana.

*NOTE skip to 2:30, before that is just advertisements*

Guest Post From My Mom pt2: Saturday Morning in Georgetown

Warm and humid breezes wafted from the open windows at one end of the landing through the veranda overlooking Croal Street. At the back of the hotel are typical wooden houses with shuttered windows and colorfulmetal roofs. Laundry hangs drying in the sun and sea breeze.

The canal dividing Croal Street’s two lanes is a familiar sight through Georgetown, a vestige of the Dutch, David explained, and their methods for dealing with water in a city below sea level. In the plazas and built-up areas, you also frequently step over shallow and narrow concrete ditches that drain away rainwater.

Even though late March/early April is considered the dry season, the town is green and lush with palm trees, and bougainvillea and hibiscus bloom along the avenues. With few shade trees, though, many women carry umbrellas against the hot sun. The traditional straw hand broom is used indoors and outside to sweep away the tiny leaves and petals that drop in the heat.

Across the way and down the street is one of David’s favorite “snackettes” where we bought a late breakfast. Small egg tarts for me and chester cake (similar to a dense fruit cake between two flaky pastry layers) for David. We filled our water bottles from the cooler in the hotel lobby, and David walked to the curb to hail a minibus.

The minibus is the entrepreneurial version of mass transit in Guyana. Each minibus has a route number painted on the front, so David knew which ones were headed down Croal Street to Stabroek market. About the size of a Dodge Grand Caravan and equipped with four rows of passenger seats (including foldable jump seats to take advantage of every inch), the minibus can hold 20 or more passengers, including children on laps. The driver focuses on driving. The “conductor” sits by the passenger door, soliciting riders, instructing the driver to stop or go, assigning seats, collecting money and making change from his or her fistful of Guyanese dollars. I believe the conductor’s objective is to fill each possible spot in the minibus, because we sat intimately, shoulder to shoulder.

The market at Stabroek is a bustling, noisy version of a flea market/sidewalk sale. Vegetable and fruit sellers crowd side-by-side with vendors of t-shirts, tight dresses, mosquito nets, cell phone covers, flip-flops (“slippers”), DVDs of questionable origin, fresh juice, sunglasses and more. Minibuses, cars, bicycles and people fill the uneven pavementand create gridlock with no apparent turning protocol. With Easter a week away, traditional 6-sided kites are on sale, waiting to be flown along the sea wall, and church groups sell fresh hot cross buns.

Local crafts and tourist items are concentrated in a small designated area opposite the national museum (which seems always to be closed). A connected series of wooden booths, with barely enough room for David, me and the vendor, sells tourist knickknacks (key chains, pens, etc.) and craft items like crocodile leather purses and belts, straw hand brooms, leather sandals, and woven baskets and mats. Much of Guyana is heavily forested with a wide variety of trees, so carved wooden bowls and figures are also common.

Oh, the heat. I craved something cold, but ice is rare (very American), and diet sodas are nearly non-existent. Bottled soft drinks, teas and juices are loaded with sugar, so I made do with water which rapidly lost its chill.. In the hot sun, my straw hatprotected my face; in the shade of buildings, I used it as a fan.As much as I would have wanted to stroll through these little shops, the hot stuffy air inside drove me out to the shaded sidewalk. “We’ll come back next Saturday,” David assured me.

Next installment: David plays tourist

Guest Post From My Mom: Arrival in Guyana

After about 24 hours of travel (Chicago to LaGuardia and wait, shuttle to JFK and wait, long and stormy flight to Trinidad and wait), I finally crossed the tarmac at Cheddi Jagan Airport in Guyana to wait some more in the immigration line.

"Where are you staying?"
"I don't know. With my son in a hotel in Georgetown."
"Where does he live in Guyana?"
"I don't know. It's a small village." "What will you be doing here?"
"I don't know. Following him around, I guess. He is in the Peace Corps."

At that, my interrogator gave up and passed me through. Grabbing my bag, I emerged to see David's smiling face. He still gives the best hugs!

"Are you hungry, Mom?" Surprised, I realized I was. The "dinner" on Caribbean Airlines was a distant memory. "Let's go see my sister."

The airport in Timehri is a hopping place even in the wee hours. Music blared from car speakers as we walked around the terminal building to a curry shack where David's host sister works. Dusting flour off her fingers, Sherry hugged me, the traditional Guyanese greeting, and I sat down to a big plate of rice, a bowl of chicken curry and a spoon. "Watch out for the bones," David advised. I was to learn that in Guyanese curries and stews, the chicken is chopped, bones and all, before cooking. The marrow adds flavor and nutrition, but be careful for those bits of broken bone. Sherry then brought me an "egg ball:" a traditional version of Scotch egg with starchy cassava in place of sausage and coated in orange food coloring.

Pleasantly full and fading fast, I followed David to where our driver waited. The route into Georgetown, about 25 miles north, is mostly a two-lane paved road along the Demarara River (which you cannot see at night). We passed the stadium, the Princess Hotel complex, several mandirs (Hindu temples), the El Dorado rum distillery, the Banks brewery, and other industrial and commercial buildings gradually changing to a more grid-like pattern of city streets and sidewalks.

The Status Hotel, on Croal Street in Georgetown's Stabroek section, is where David usually stays while "in town" on Peace Corps business. The night clerk greeted him familiarly and handed him our room key. David flicked on the air conditioning and ceiling fan as I washed and changed. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.