Cold ground was my bed last night
And rock was my pillow too… THEY appeared from different points of country and town, and made the city streets their homes. They talk no blues. They work as hard as any, and sleep at nights on concrete pavements. And always in their shoes.
People call them ‘Junkies’. They are the casualties of ‘crack’; victims of hustlers who take without giving back. They populate the commercial section of the town, seeking the dollar their demands require, working most times as hard as any other, hardly a shirt on their backs. Both male and female are caught in the trap.
It began in the very early 80s, right here in Georgetown city. It was a time when there was an influx of remigrating Guyanese, particularly from the United States of America. They called it ‘putty’, perhaps because it had the looks of construction putty used by painters and construction workers.
A few ‘blocks’ dealing ‘putty’ began to make an appearance around certain parts of the city. Some of the smokers used a small bottle with a small receptacle screwed in at the top that was the holder of the putty and had a rubber tube attached to it, through which the smoke was inhaled. This method was known by two names: ‘Water-pumpy’, when water was introduced into the small bottle, and ‘dry lick’, when there was an absence of water in the receptacle.
The purpose of smoking the ’putty’ was to get high. This was the first introduction that Guyana experienced of the importation of the illegal drug, ‘cocaine’. It was brought in principally from Brazil, and was the unrefined version of the drug.
The popularity of the drug increased; it attracted persons of all walks of life: Intellectuals, civil servants, the working poor, the middle class, school kids, particularly females who later turned to prostitution to support the habit. The fatality to the human body and mind was especially felt in the artistic and creative communities.

NOTICEABLE CHANGE
It was not long after that there was a noticeable change, however. Suddenly, the more potent form began to make its presence felt. ‘CRACK COCAINE’ had arrived.
I began to take note of these developments and their consequences. I wear many literary hats, so to speak, and ‘investigative journalism’ is one of them. I noticed a new development in the importation of the drug. Really, it was the first time I realised that Guyana had become a trans-shipment point. I noticed a certain North American had begun to fly regularly between Guyana and one of our neighbouring South American countries. He never carried the drug, but had set up a connection, whereby one of his henchmen would come to Guyana, and, strapping the drug onto his body, would take it up to America, after he had negotiated the deal and certified the delivery to Georgetown.
The knowledge of these nefarious activities became known within a certain section of the society. They proceeded to exploit it advantageously. This was a small group of hustlers, however, and the influence of the drug, though well known, was not as detrimental to the society in the public’s viewpoint.
To some, it was merely a curiosity; though, to the dealers, it was quick and big money in a slow economy. But the increase in trade and illicit remuneration was only fractional to what it is at present.
The change came when one individual allowed his greed to get the better of him, and exposed the knowledge of the hustle to a businessman.

ENTER ROGER KHAN
Foreign currency was in great demand; businesses were ready to expand. It was the advent of Roger Khan. Guyana changed. Xtra-judicial killings became the norm. Prostitution was now wide-scale business. AIDS and associated medical and societal diseases became more prevalent. Everybody wanted money; even very young kids began to leave their homes, since few parents could earn enough to put adequate amounts of food on the table.
The ‘STREET CHILDREN’ made their presence felt, begging, stealing; anything for the dollar. So, ‘crack’ began to proliferate all through the 80s and 90s. The attendant consequences of HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases also became prolific. Murder, robbery, domestic violence; all the evils had begun to descend upon the city and spread out into the country areas as well.
Today, it is worse. The scourge of drugs is truly upon the nation, and has brought its side-kick, corruption, along for the trip. Prostitution is making so much money that prostitutes are now imported from Dominica, Brazil and Colombia because of their skin tone, and the sophisticated, exotic, sensuality that seems to breathe around them.
And yet underaged and aged Guyanese young women are on the Internet, soliciting each day. Prostitution is paying off big.
But on the streets, other victims sleep; and always sleep with their boots on. No one wants to lose his shoe, as theft there is legal. They are the labour force of vendors. They sweep, run errands, move garbage, and don’t bathe. And in the evenings, when night falls on a day’s work and vendors have packed their makeshift stands up on trollies to be pulled and pushed into Robb St between the Bank and the Mall, the ‘Junkies’ come and push and pull and take the trollies there. They collect their pay, and go off to various missions. And at some point, each lies down to sleep.
Cold ground was my bed last night
And rock was my pillow too…

By Ras Michael