HE WAS shocked! Again, it was unbelievable. He lost count of the many times within the last two hours this sensation was forced upon him. After ascending the three flights of stairs that lead to the guestroom on the third flat of his nephew’s home, old Uncle Benji was full of energy.

For many at seventy-five, energy seems a vague memory of past science classes. However, Uncle Benji is different: Healthy, robust and relatively agile despite being classified as a senior citizen.

Some say his health improved drastically after his domineering spouse of forty years passed away a decade ago. But that’s a different story. His state of shock was two-fold: He felt immune, especially after overcoming what he endured during forty years of marriage, and he never envisaged in his lifetime his eyes would feast on such images which were bombarding him.

Since arriving at the Cheddi Jagan International Airport two hours ago, he remains in awe. He prepared himself for the small outdated excuse for an airport he left behind thirty-eight years ago when he and Shelia, his wife, migrated to Uncle Sam’s country.

Claustrophobic, he even packed ‘medication’, Limacol that is. He was primed for a long wait at the small airport still etched in his memory. During the flight, other memories resurfaced. Actually, it was fear. He never forgot when passengers were at the mercy of Immigration and Customs Officers.

He remembered seeing some officers confiscating the two ‘ice-apples’ and the one chocolate bar a visiting relative was bringing for his family members. He remembered his sister sending him an ‘ice-apple’ and the privilege and joy of cutting it into eight pieces to share with Shelia and their six children. He remembered chewing slothfully to savour the flavour. He remembered putting away a piece of his piece for the next day, only to discover that Shelia had already devoured it.

The memories were haunting him. He was sweating. The stewardess offered a drink. It didn’t help. He was afraid. Even what Shelia did couldn’t compare or prepare him. The plane stopped. His fear increased. His handkerchief was soaked. The Limacol was in his shirt pocket. He hesitated to step out. The stewardess helped. He was afraid to look. He descended the aircraft with eyes planted to the ground. When he looked up, the sight shocked him. He thought he landed in the wrong country.

Scared of being lost, he embarrassingly asked if he was in Guyana. A sixty-five year old female passenger proudly said “yes”.

She sensed his discomfort and offered to walk with him towards Immigration and Customs. He smiled; happily. It was the first time in ten years he was walking abreast with a lady.

He couldn’t believe the small airport was no more. The claustrophobia dissipated. The Limacol was not needed. The officers were professional and pleasant. The time spent was short. He walked slowly out to find his nephew whilst absorbing the transformation of the airport. The modern amenities were pleasingly shocking.

Even more so were the modern car his nephew owned, the smooth ride to the City and the numerous vehicles he saw. He thought he was still in New York. He remembered the potholes, the donkey carts and Ramjohn’s old Vauxhall car which was the only vehicle in the village thirty-eight years ago.

The ‘ice-apples’ and grapes he saw abundantly on sale on roadside stalls made him believe he was dreaming. He sniffed the Limacol to be certain. His nephew’s modern home left him even more astonished. He was proud of Ryan. He had accomplished much; much more than he and others could almost four decades ago.

From upstairs, his shriek beckoned Ryan. “What’s the matter Uncle?” Ryan asked as he sprinted up the stairs. He was curious of the screams. Relief was immediate. The answer was humorous. Uncle Benji was in shock that water was flowing rapidly through the shower three stories up.

This was unbelievable. He remembered fetching water in buckets and saucepans from long distances. Then, the broken pipe was in a filthy drain. That was the unhealthy routine. A shower, as he remembered, was when someone drenched him with trench water on Phagwah day.

In shock, he said, “Meh nephew, when meh done bathe, we gat to talk. Yuh gat a lot fuh tell and show me. This is not de Guyana meh know. Dis time definitely nah lang time!”

To be continued…