Episode 6: The ‘scramblers’ are missing!
WAITING TO be served, Ryan pointed out to his uncle a few dignitaries who were also dining. Uncle Benji never envisaged luminaries and the ordinary people in the same restaurant here. He still found it difficult to believe the ease and comfort in which ordinary Guyanese can now dine. Back in his time, such places were very few, and only the elite could have afforded to grace them to savour exquisite and expensive dishes. He remembered that ‘poor-people’ like himself could have only passed in proximity to such restaurants and gaze, dreaming of the day when an opportunity would present itself for them to experience such luxuries. He was convinced then that such a day would never dawn. He knew and heard many other stories of the blatant extravagance that enamoured the then ruling privileged political few, and which transcended societal strata with blatant disregard to the many basic needs of the poor and oppressed masses. Not only were the members of the then regime privileged to relish in such glamour at the expense of the working class, but imposed themselves as semi-godlike ‘deities’. While they enjoyed fine cuisine complemented with imported beverages, many parents faced the unenviable and inhumane reality of not being able to feed their children.
Many were forced to watch in anguish as their children wept from the pain inflicted by hunger. His anger, along with that of thousands others, was forced to be curtailed for fear of repercussion; anger at the cruel reality that children were being deprived of something as simple as bread. From what he has seen so far, he was ecstatic that the current and future generations would not have to endure what he and his peers were forced to. Back then, while being cognisant of the related dangers, they often would discuss among themselves the disregard shown by the regime for the populace, and the lack of accountability for public funds.
He remembered the many failed projects which were conduits for enhancing the lifestyles of those who were rewarded with positions of authority to (mis)manage. He cannot forget the glass factory, the bicycle factory and other failed ventures under the guise of development. He cannot recall hearing of any form of glass or even a bicycle that was produced from those factories. He made a mental note to ask his nephew to take him to visit them. As an afterthought, he wondered if they have been overtaken by vegetation.
He remembered that then, only the privileged and chosen few were in possession of state-of-the-art vehicles, upon which the lesser mortals could only look and wave in forced respect. The few telephones that were available were already in their possession. He remembered the day when he was forced off the road whilst on his prized possession; his ‘scrambler’, which was the term used to describe an old bicycle with just the basic necessities. It had no fenders (fenders were fairly popular then), no brakes, and no pedal, with just the two pieces of round metal at the base of the crank to aid propulsion.
The rider’s feet were used to bring the ‘scrambler’ to a stop. Given that most moved around barefooted since footwear was expensive, the feet of ‘scrambler’ riders eventually became hardened after the initial period of pain and blisters. It was common to see riders skilfully coming to a screeching halt, using their feet. Uncle Benji recalled that it was a feat to marvel! Those in their ‘infant’ stage of such endeavours were often cushioned by the nearby ‘blacksage’ or ‘bee-zee bee-zee’ bushes or canal when trying to stop.
Sometimes such lack of ability to dexterously manoeuvre across the rough dirt terrain (in many cases, the access and main roads were not dissimilar to the ‘backdams’ that led to farmlands) did not culminate in the ‘cushion-like’ landings mentioned. In such instances, it was not uncommon to see an ‘awara’ or a ‘sugar-cake’ or a ‘green tamarind’ stand in the vicinity aiding in stopping a ‘runaway ‘scrambler’. While eventually such escapades would lead to laughter and taunts, it wasn’t humorous to the village aunts who laboured to make or gather such ‘delicacies’.
More often than not, a good old ‘cut-arse’ would follow such ‘crash-landings’ since parents of the young ‘defaulters’, and even those who were adults, lacked the capacity to compensate financially. Sometimes the ‘cut-arse’ was two-fold; from the vendor, who was part of the extended family of the village, and a parent. A smile breaks on Uncle Benji’s face as he remembered, as a youngster, he and some of his peers not only had tough feet, but ‘rears’ that were on the receiving end of the popular tamarind whips.
The multipurpose ‘scrambler’ was used as a means of transporting everything, from a wife and two children, firewood, water and whatever farm produce a family may have cultivated. Even animals like a pig, sheep or goat were transported by the versatile ‘vehicle’, which was capable of traversing the ‘backdam-like’ terrain over long distances. Those who were fortunate to own such transport marvels, often loaned them to others. It was a ‘village thing’. He realised that since his arrival, he hasn’t seen a ‘scrambler’. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t seen a bicycle; only vehicles: Fancy ones; ordinary people driving; young and old too.
He realised that no longer were just a few privileged to drive state-of-the-art vehicles or dine in an exquisite restaurant. Cars have replaced bicycles. He realised that food and food items are in abundance. He realised that dignitaries and the ordinary people now mingle. The country’s transformation is unbelievable. So was the food trolley that pulled up and interrupted his reminiscence. He didn’t mind. The wide, sumptuous variety was extremely appealing. After choosing his portions, he began to use his hands to put the food in his mouth. This left Ryan dumbfounded, and a little embarrassed. This is something he has never seen. He found the courage to snap a picture. It is destined for Facebook!
To be continued…
