PAINT A RAINBOW IN THE SKY

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IN a land on the north-eastern coast of South America, once a lost world, a hidden paradise. But now, the eyes of the world have been opened to its astounding beauty and uniqueness that enthral the mind and captivate the heart to fall in love. Guyana – the land of many waters. Kara inhaled deeply as the plane reached its destination.

“Home, after twenty years.” Her family had migrated to England when she was just eight years old, and she had never returned to Europe for her becoming home. But deep within her heart, as she grew from a child to an adult, the connection to a place that was once home stayed unbroken. “It’s kinda strange,” she mused, “Or maybe it’s because the bond between mother and child is never broken.” Her career as a journalist took her to many countries across the world, but the thought never left her mind that one day, she would return to the land of her birth. It was late in the night when the plane landed, and as she stepped out of the airport, the cool breeze sent a warm thrill through her body. She stopped and closed her eyes, embracing that moment, and she announced, “I’m home, dear Mother.”

The hotel had sent a cab for her, and on the drive to the Princess Hotel on the East Bank, she was quite impressed with the improved changes of smooth double-lane roadways and streetlights. She smiled, a happy feeling within her as she checked in at the hotel and said to herself, “From tomorrow, I will become acquainted with you again, dear land.” Kara awoke late the next morning and went downstairs to the restaurant for a scrumptious brunch with two of her cousins from the city. She had met them twice in New York and London when they were on vacation, and it was a happy moment seeing each other again. They had arrived earlier at the hotel, waiting to drive her to her old home in the ancient county of Berbice. After the brunch that Kara quite enjoyed, her cousin Vinita asked, “ Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Kara answered excitedly, “Looking forward so much to this trip.” The long drive was a journey to remember. Kara was awed by the lush green landscapes, the grandeur of modern architectural buildings and impressive housing schemes. “New chapters of economies that have opened a new frontier of developments,” she observed, “a third world country on the rise.” But what she loved better were the food stalls along the roadway selling tasty Guyanese delicacies, fresh fruits, sugarcane juice and thirst-quenching coconut water. “This is marvellous,” she exuded, sitting on a wooden bench under the shade of a huge flamboyant tree, relaxing in the ambience of the peaceful countryside. They had stopped at a roadside stall and she was enjoying the tasty cassava balls with hot mango sour that brought tears to her eyes.

The journey continued with a few stops for Kara to take pictures of old colonial churches and houses they saw along the way, priceless pieces of history. Soon, they reached Rosignol, a community, Amar said, had come a long way, boosting some fabulous houses that were real show-pieces and the Berbice River Bridge. “Remarkable accomplishment,” Kara expressed. They bought tasty, crispy cassava, plantain and sweet potato chips with mango sour from vendors who rushed to the car. It was afternoon as they drove along the Palmyra/No.2 Road and turned into Canje to Kara’s old home in a sprawling settlement on the Western Side of the main road. The streets were paved, and she exclaimed in surprise, “This is wonderful!”

She asked Amar to stop the car so she could walk to get a feel for the street that bore childhood memories, like falling down with her bicycle on the then-bad road. She looked at the houses as she walked past, beautiful country homes with a variety of fruit trees and blooming flower gardens. She saw faces she could not remember, who looked at her curiously, knowing from her outlook and accent she was a foreigner. So she introduced herself, recognised by her father’s name and soon the modest home she had lived in saw a steady flow of neighbours and extended family. It gave her such a wonderful feeling being home again, and she listened fascinatedly to the Creolese spoken, a mix of languages that was quite unique. Kara was nudged awake early the next morning by soft devotional songs, the aroma of breakfast in the air and the creole fowl-cock crowing. She began her day with a splendid Indian breakfast of dhal, roti, steamed calaloo and stewed dry fish.

“Oh darn,” was all she could say after that meal, her eyes misting from the spiciness. Later in the morning, she shared candies to the children in the neighbourhood, who were thrilled by her British accent and one young boy boldly remarked, “You like wan ah dem James Bond 007 gyal friend.” “What!” she said laughing, surprised they knew the Scottish actor. “The children these days,” Vinita told her, “Know everything because every home has a television now.”

“That’s great.” And in a moment of reminiscing, she said quietly, “Growing up as a child here, we had radio and story-telling nights.” The next day, she took a walk along the streets where she used to play games and ride her bike. She had the names of some people her father had given her to become acquainted with, but most of them were not there anymore. “Where has everyone gone?” she asked, a bit perturbed. “Migration,” was the answer. “Oh yes,” Kara acknowledged, “My family was a part of that exodus.”

Looking at the list of names in her hand, a tinge of regret touched her heart. A separation that left a deep yearning where hands could not touch anymore, distanced from loved ones by thousands of miles, for life had created more journeys other than across the Kala Pani. That night, she took some family members and neighbours for a night out in New Amsterdam. The town had risen to greater heights with television stations, hotels and supermarkets, restaurants and nightclubs. It was a night of fun, laughter, and great food, such as Banks Beer and El Dorado rum, when the troubles of the world were forgotten. A couple of days later, she went on a trip to the Corentyne, which was another wonderful experience for her because she had no memory of this place. Vinita, a regular visitor to Corentyne, described to her the developments over the years that left Kara truly impressed. But what impressed her more was the University at Tain, a world of opportunity for young people striding with the great advances of tertiary education. “It had some problems, though,” Amar stated.

“What doesn’t?” Kara responded, “Problems are a norm all over the world, but it’s how you address issues to find solutions is what makes a difference.” “Totally agree with you,” Vinita said, “But right now I’m hungry.” They stopped at a Chinese restaurant, and Kara surprised her cousins with the fact that she knew how to speak Chinese after having covered a few assignments in China. The proprietor was quite pleased with his new customer and more so when she told him she had eaten once at his uncle’s restaurant in Zhi Jian. “Talk about a small world,” Vinita expressed, “And you’re quite an amazing woman.”

After quite an enjoyable lunch, they drove further up the countryside through Springlands, an established township; the impressionable Skeldon market, a historical sugar estate; the beautiful community of Line Path and into Crabwood Creek. This was an area remarkably developed through farming business and trade with neighbouring Suriname. The ferry crossing at Moleson Creek was another great accomplishment, and it was the end of the visit. Kara felt a deep sense of satisfaction as they left Corentyne and went back to Canje, to relax for another day. Everywhere she went, everything she saw was beyond her expectations, and that left an indelible mark on her mind. So when it was time to leave, she felt kind of sad saying goodbye to a place where a piece of her heart had always been. “So you know what,” she declared, “This is not ‘Goodbye’, this is ‘See you again later’”.

There were many places left to visit, so many more amazing things to see that she knew she would definitely make more visits. And as she left her beloved land at the end of her vacation, the thoughts in her mind were, “I came back after such a long time because my identity was not lost, my legacy of belonging not broken and with that I can paint a rainbow in the sky.”

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PAINT A RAINBOW IN THE SKY

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