The strong north westerly breeze was cold and the dew was heavy as Cleveland drove his taxi towards New Amsterdam. He was up early trying for an early passenger. Sure enough someone was flagging him down. 

He brought the car to a halt and the elderly East Indian woman approached the driver side window.
“I going to Bourda Market. I have some goods to carry.”
Cleveland hopped out and opened the wagon’s trunk. He helped to pack the three baskets of callaloo and two bags of pepper. The woman got in and he took off for Georgetown.
Driving early was best for him. He had an old car and many people did not hire him because of that. This meant that he had to catch people with load. Most of these were vendors and they travelled early.
As he drove he admired the beautiful countryside. Guyana was a magnificent place with plenty of land to spare. He sped past villages that had rich histories which made them famous. These were bought for plantation owners by the collective effort of slaves. He passed kokers and sideline trenches that were crucial to the proper drainage of the coastal community. Then there was the sea wall, a dyke built by the Dutch to prevent the sea from re-claiming miles of land. This dyke stretched from hundreds of miles along the coast.
There were few other vehicles on the road. Driving was a labour off skill and knowledge- skill to avoid the potholes and knowledge of the road so that the long dark patches of unlit roadway did not become too much of a challenge.
Buxton flashed by. BV dwindled in the rear view mirror. The traffic picked up and this showed the taxi’s progress. Skilfully Cleveland veered his way towards central Georgetown. As he drove past Camp Ayangana he knew he would arrive in about ten minutes.
His passenger had been unusually quiet. That attribute was unusual for a market vendor. Normally you could not get them to shut up. This woman sat in the back seat staring straight ahead. She looked neither left nor right. It was as if she was focused on her destination. She wore a strange smelling perfume that made Cleveland feel slightly light-headed. He promptly opened his windows and the strong cold breeze came to his assistance.
Cleveland turned into North Road and then into Bourda Street which runs next to the market. It was still early and not many others were stirring. He exited his taxi and walked around to the back door of the wagon. As he opened the door the driver was greeted with an empty trunk. He stared at it in shock and disbelief, there was nothing there. How would he explain this to his passenger? He shook his head in anger and bewilderment. He would now be forced to pay for the loss of her goods. He sighed and called out.
“Miss come see dis thing.”
There was no answer.
He looked back at the trunk of the car expecting it to be filled with callaloo and pepper.
Cleveland walked to the rear door and opened it.
“Miss come please.”
No response
He leaned down and looked into the back seat. Like her callaloo and pepper the woman too had vanished. Cleveland almost had an aneurism. He vowed to invest in a new car so that he could start working normal and safer hours.

(By Neil Primus)