Guyana: endless space and water
MARINA SALANDY-BROWN Thursday, January 28 2016
GUYANA WAS always a kind of mythical place to me. My first visit, last week, to that north-eastern corner of South America did not diminish that fictitious character I had divined for it.
Unusually for me when travelling, I did absolutely no research.
Not least, because it was strictly for work with only the possibility of a day off at the end. Instead I relied on all the stories I had heard as a child about and by an elder, now deceased Guyanese cousin-in-law.
I therefore had no real sense of what to expect, and it was a revelation.
Firstly, it was unusual in that we had (thanks to international donors) brought together nine literary editors, each from a different Caribbean country, to Georgetown for an intensive week’s workshop.
Having all those diverse people there in itself was not strange since Caricom is headquartered in Georgetown with a full staff of regional people, but it was the first time that such a professional gathering had taken place.
Secondly, Guyana itself offered an entirely new experience of the Caribbean, as it should since it is geographically part of the American mainland, but I was unprepared for the extent of the difference.
It is almost a cliché to remark the distinctiveness of each Caribbean country, partly determined by topography and partly by each individual experience of colonialism, slavery and/or indentureship that has shaped the culture.
In the case of Guyana, these are exaggerated and overlaid with the legacy of post-independence politics.
I have been to most Caribbean islands, excluding Santo Domingo.
Guyana resembled none of them.
I am guessing that French Guiana and Suriname (once Dutch Guiana) that neighbour what was once called British Guiana must share certain similarities, at least superficially.
What most impressed me, apart from what remains of the beautiful colonial architecture, was how the Guyanese use the enormous space that their country occupies. Fewer than 800,000 people live on territory the size of Great Britain, 90 percent of them in coastal areas, leaving the vast interior pretty empty.
The under-population is not surprising when 55 percent of Guyanese live abroad, having fled the divisive and economically ruinous politics of the post-independence years that has resulted in onethird of Guyanese living below the poverty line. But the fact too that three-quarters of the land is densely forested and almost one-fifth is water is a contributing factor in the under-population.
Settlement sprawls uninterruptedly along the very many meandering miles of main roads into central Georgetown, the elegant coastal capital, which is symmetrically laid out with wide streets and pavements overlooked by impressive, comparatively well set back wooden buildings.
In contrast, outside the city large plots of land with as large, mainly newly built concrete houses huddle together edging the roadways, as if land was scarce or as if to form a shield against nature. Behind them one could sense the vast forests of emptiness.
Travelling down the largest of Guyana’s three great rivers, the Essequibo, reveals a different interaction with and understanding of the environment, although settlement pattern is relatively similar.
The Essequibo is 20 miles wide at its mouth and people live nonchalantly along its banks. Thick yellow-brown water rush past islands, some the size of Carriacou, one of them owned by internationally famous singer Eddie Grant and sporting his smart private retreat.
Speedboats transport passengers along the roughly 50 miles from Perika to the Wild West-like town of Bartica, gateway to the interior, with its diamonds and gold mining, and claimed by Venezuela as its territory.
The international airport welcomes all to the gateway to the Amer icas but events have conspired to rob time w a r p e d Gu y a n a , alas, of that pivotal role.
