The Next Great Guyanese Novel

The crowing rooster in the neighbor’s yard two houses down signals it’s morning. The air at this time of day is cool and fresh as it blows in from the Atlantic coast making the breeze from the stand fan beside the bed an additional delight. It is quite beautiful at this time of morning and though there is light the sun is still somewhat absent from the sky. It has not fully made it’s appearance and there is a cast of dim light on the homes, not bright enough to drown out the street lights or lights on the houses.

It is not quite the time for alarms to go off but the sounds of the morning in a regular neighborhood in Guyana is enough to make anyone aware they are anywhere but right where they are. The street is quiet except for the passing car or two that would significantly increase as the day progressed. Everything beckons you to wake, to come alive. Shanti has started her morning routine of cleaning her yard before her prayer ritual, he can hear the soft sounds of the instruments played in the Bhajan she has playing. His attention is drawn to someone who is passing on the street by a culture song blaring from their pocket out the speaker of their phone. The sound moves swiftly so they must be on a bicycle. He is positive of the bicycle because Jenny’s dog from across the street is startled as well as he barks to signal his feeling. The neighborhood is slowly coming alive with every sound as the sun shows it’s face.

He opens his eyes to the sunlight streaming through the shades and the dust dancing within the light streak. With the break of light comes peace, relief in a sense. The silence, for a few minutes, puts a pause to all of yesterday’s struggles or even a recall on how well the day went. There is a safety that is welcomed by the morning. Somehow, caring for four young girls becomes even more worrisome as the sun sets in this town. Being the only man in the house, a fear of not being able to protect the most precious assets he owns is bound to cause panic. There is a different temperament that awakes with the morning and one that is looked forward to by Joe.

He yawns and stretches as he plans out his day, closing his eyes to the increasing light in his bedroom. The sun continues to rise causing the air to become more heated and crisp and the breeze from the stand fan is now even more appreciated. He can hear the sniffle of his youngest daughter and the chirps of the Great Kiskadees as they cling to the gutters and hop along the eaves having their usual loud conversations. He is distracted by their call and response, their chatter too will be one that will be drowned out as the time moves forward on the clock. It is time to get up but his body just seems to lay still too tired to fall back asleep as his mind goes over the day to unfold.

Not too far away, he can hear clamoring pots and pans and doors being opened. The houses are so closely nestled, he is sure to smell the breakfast being made from one of them. Will it be the smell of dough being fried mingled with the smell of sauteed onions for some accompanying side? Or will it be eggs and strong coffee? He wondered what his breakfast would be, although not significantly hungry.

The day is beginning because there is a shrill call from the gate

“Upstairs!”

A door opens, which he assumes is his eldest daughter, and she makes her way to living room.

“Yes.” She replies sleepily.

“Any chance I can get a loaf of a bread and a tub of butter. Iris is late with opening the shop this morning.” The woman by the gate responds.

He lies there musing over the facts of his culture, how specific and direct the English language was used and formed to reflect what foreigners recognize as the Guyanese accent. The woman at the gate was requesting a tub of margarine, it’s what everyone used because of it’s affordability. It was amusing to him this morning, the dialect he had grown so accustom to. How the brand Colgate was the general word used for toothpaste, pipe water the general term for tap water, how they had a tendency to overexaggerate or stress the meaning of words or actions. He always found amusing how easily the term “reverse back” flowed from people’s mouth. Was there any other way to interpret reverse? It all seemed silly and at times made the people saying it seem illiterate but half of the times it was just habit, communicating in a way everyone understood.

“Sure, give me a second I will be down.” His daughter responds

He could hear her making her way to the door. He heard her remove the large bar he had installed to prevent intruders from getting in uninvited. The door unlocked and he heard the keys for the gate he also installed in front of the door, again to prevent unwanted guests. There were window grills on each window of the house he personally had installed to quell his fears of a home invasion. The door gate unlocked and he could hear her making her way down to the little shop he rented to his cousin Iris. She lived around the block and made a living as a shopkeeper in the space Joe converted as a source of revenue. She left a spare key behind for cases such as these where she may be running behind.

“Did you hear the thunder last night?” the woman whose face he still couldn’t place asked his daughter

“Man! It went BADOOM and I jumped out my sleep!” she continued laughing out loud this time.

There, right there, he chuckled. How could he forget the sound effects they never failed to mention whenever telling a story. Guyanese sure can tell a story, they will make you feel like you were there with all the gestures and sounds.

“Yea, I heard it. I hoped it might rain but nothing.” His daughter replied.

Yes, she was right. It sure would have been lovely had it rained. The sound of raindrops on a tin roof is the epitome of a good night’s rest. It could be pouring thunderously on the galvanized sheeting but still be so comforting and soothing. The smell to of rain and nature is absolutely aromatic. The houses are built for ventilation and are not air tight which is perfect for the climate or rain and sun. even though the rain did not fall, the air still had a smell of crisp sunshine but he still would have preferred the smell of the rain.

In that instant he retracted his thought and thanked the heavens the rain never came. Instead of the patron at the gate, it would have been his tenant below knocking on the door to report the seeping of water into his apartment possibly. But that would only be if the rain was continuous into the morning, regardless, he was grateful that he was still able to remain in bed with his thoughts.

He listened as his daughter returned and locked the door. The keys jingle as she tossed them back into the drawer and beelined to her bedroom. He could hear the others as they too began to slowly wake, the little one still sniffling. But nothing to worry much about, she had allergies which he began to notice were more prevalent in the morning hours which to his understanding could be many factors regarding the air quality but he was no doctor and kept his assumption to a minimum.

He decided it was time to get up. Outside seemed to be growing restless as the neighborhood came alive.

“Broom! Broom! Broom here!” shouted the tall, dark fellow who came twice a week carrying a bundle of ‘pointer brooms’ atop his head.

There was a pause then.

“Broom! Broom! Broom here!” his one statement rang through the air as he walked along the main road. Joe got to the living room to see the man make a turn into the side street. He wondered as he watched the man, how far the man would have walked to get here? Was this his only job? Joe worked two jobs most days to keep his family afloat and still found it difficult to keep up with his expenses half of the times. The country’s economy like it’s citizen’s safety was not prioritized. Many people were struggling to stay afloat, many of those like him most definitely have families. As he stared out at the street, he thought about the other ‘walkers’ – door to door sales men and women. The young man who visited the neighborhood once every two weeks selling yellow mesh polypropylene bagged limes, the man who sold sugarcane stalks that he too carried atop his head, the women with their baskets of herbs and garden vegetables with the children closely following behind, the snow-cone vendor pushing his cart of ice offering a local cool refreshment on a hot day which happens to be every day.

He felt emotion for these people, they were the ones the government stood upon, the ones taken advantage of. He was one of these people, standing behind barred windows of steel.

The cars passing along the street had began to become more frequent and not too far in the distance he spotted Nadine. Nadine lived a few houses down and she too made a live from selling food from her basket she attached to the front of her bicycle. She had her regular customers she visited and Joe and his girls were one. Nadine sold fresh fruit juices, Pholourie (fried, seasoned flour balls), Egg Balls (a boiled egg rolled into a ball of potato) sold with a tamarind or mango sauce, Fried Channa (fried chick peas tossed with onions) also sold with an accompanying sauce. Her prices were reasonable and the girls loved Nadine’s cooking. Although some days he knew the money could be used to go towards something else, the girls begging for Nadine’s cooked treats was more than he could take. He always caved and this way he could be sure they ate breakfast since most days he came home after breakfast hours.

“Uncle Joey. Morning.” Said Nadine in her loud voice

“Anything today for you? Where’s Bunny girl?” she added

Bunny girl is her reference to his youngest who most days is sitting right where he is today.

As if by magic, young Bunny’s room door opens as she quickly makes her way to the front where Joe is perched.

“I want something daddy and so does Jessie” said little Bunny speaking on behalf of her older sister she shared a room with.

Joe beckons her to the window to repeat her order.

“Bunny girl! Like you just wake up.” She jokingly teased.

Little Bunny blushed and began recanting what she wanted and Nadine hastily began bagging the treats being requested with a huge smile on her face.

Joe could see Iris making her way over from the side street. She looked weary and dismal and this peaked his interest. Iris had quite a sunny disposition, always smiling, always cheerful but today it seemed as if a cloud hung above her head of dark hair as she slowly made her way down the street.

Joe directed Bunny to his wallet and the amount of money owing to Nadine. She proceeded as instructed bouncing down the hallway and back, making her way down the stairs.

Joe continued to stare at Iris as Bunny and Nadine interacted below and as she got closer he could see the black and blue marks on her face and he immediately got up.