Episode 12: Enjoying a slumberous slumber
HAVING reached home after dinner, Uncle Benji freshened up and prepared for bed. It was the first night he would sleep in his beloved homeland after 38 years. His nephew, Ryan, was extremely hospitable. He ensured that the bedroom provided a comfortable atmosphere for a sound night’s sleep. He switched on the air-conditioning unit at a temperature comfortable for his uncle. Initially, Uncle Benji protested the use of the cooling apparatus, since he was now in a tropical country. He had gotten away from the bitter cold winter. Uncle Benji found it difficult to sleep. His dozing off in the car was partly responsible. As he lay in the spacious bedroom, decked in colourful pyjamas and looking up into the ceiling with just the faint hum of the air-conditioner in the distant background, he couldn’t help thinking about the nights when he resided in Guyana. He remembered as a boy, he and his siblings sharing a small room. It was just a ‘ten-test’ wall that separated the ‘bedroom’ from the other room his parents occupied.

Another similar wall separated their ‘bedroom’ from the open space outside which housed the ‘kitchen’ and the ‘hall’. The ‘hall’, which had a small bench and a stool, served as the ‘living-room’. As he remembered it, the entire house would fit comfortably in the bedroom in which he now lay awake. The internal walls were plastered with newspapers, which were actually wrappers for goods bought from the village shop. Their ‘wall paintings’ were the movie advertisements, which were very prominent then. He still remembers seeing the likes of Dilip Kumar, Dev Anand and Charlton Heston adorning the walls of the small ‘bedroom’.

He still remembers his father instructing every night that the flambeau be put out before they fell asleep. The flambeau provided light, since the village lacked electricity. In addition to illuminating the house during the nights, the flambeau added ‘colour’ to the dilapidated house. Over time, a thick black coating was evident on the newspaper-covered walls and rusty zinc roof. This black soot was also prevalent in the nostrils of the occupants.

Then, a bath was not complete without a thorough finger-wiping of the nostrils; even the ears. ‘Black-pot’ was a part of life. So were bugs, which shared the ‘beds’. He remembered that his parents had an iron bed, which was basically an iron frame with a spring mattress; more spring than mattress. He and his siblings were not afforded the luxury of such iron comfort. Instead, they shared two spring mattresses placed on the floor. Many of the springs were loose, and most of the fibre missing. The sharp points of the spring prevented much tossing. With time, everyone knew which part of the mattress had a protruding broken spring.

While an old piece of cloth, which was sometimes stuck around the sharp point of the spring, may have reduced the intensity of the pain inflicted, knowledge of the terrain provided an added advantage to securing a desired part of the mattress to call your own. Sometime this ‘territory’ had to be defended during the nights from other siblings. Interventions from mom or dad ensured no ‘invasion’ or ‘capturing’ of ‘territory’. These challenges were further compounded, given that they were seven siblings. He remembered three each on a mattress, and one owning the small space on the floor in between. That was he.

His elder brother had exchanged places. His brother felt he was more ‘equipped’ to withstand the constant pricking of the springs. His brother was kind and caring; he looked out for his siblings. He passed away after suffering from tuberculosis just before Uncle Benji migrated. He cried bitterly at the funeral. As the memories rushed back, so did a few teardrops. Somehow, the pain felt fresh. He knew that his brother was in a good place.

He still couldn’t sleep. He remembered that bedbugs inhabited the crevices along the seam that lined the mattresses. During the night, they wandered into the fibres, seeking sustenance from the humans that lay asleep. He remembered taking a piece of stick and passing it along the bed seams. This helped to squash some of the bugs, releasing a pungent odour in the process. Their bodies bore the evidence of the bug bites and the piercing of the springs. These were complemented by the sting of thirsty mosquitoes. As if that wasn’t enough, extreme caution had to be taken to avoid more serious visits by yard snakes that occasionally ventured into the crammed house.

He believes that ordinary people would panic at such intrusions, which were more pronounced when visiting the latrine during the night. For them, it was routine. He remembered that in an effort to reduce mosquito stings, grass was burnt late in the evening, so that the smoke could infiltrate the house. Coconut husk was also used for this purpose. Unfortunately, when it rained heavily, all resigned to receiving the ‘bites’ since mosquito coil was considered a luxury for some. Uncle Benji and his siblings were not exposed to any luxury. So were thousands of others then. His story was not dissimilar to others.

He smiled in spite of the few tears rolling down his cheeks. He was now sleeping in luxury in Guyana: Netting, air-conditioning, and a dim light bulb. The mattress was flawless. No springs; no bugs. And he didn’t have to worry about ‘blackpot’ from a flambeau. He didn’t have to scrape soot from his nostrils. He didn’t have to worry about mosquitoes. He didn’t have to worry about sharing space with others. The room was all his. He never envisaged this in Guyana. He never thought he would see the day in Guyana when each sibling would have their own room. He wished they were here to savour the comforts they’d dreamt of. He knew they would have found it unbelievable.

His homeland has been transformed. What he has seen so far confirmed this. The lives of the people have been transformed. He wished his parents were alive to witness the tremendous advancements Guyana has undergone. He knew how they toiled and suffered. He felt like a child who misses his/her parents. He wished that the current government was in office in their time. He knew how different life would have been. He turned and closed his eyes. He was now sleepy. He was going to savour his first night of luxury in Guyana. Oh! How time has changed! He is more convinced now than ever that dis time really nah lang time.
To be continued…