(The article below, written by Sharief Khan and Raschid Osman, both now deceased, was printed in the Guyana Chronicle on April 22, 1979, when Muhammad Ali visited Guyana. Ali died last Friday night)

WORLD Heavyweight Boxing Champion Muhammad Ali swept triumphantly into Georgetown in the wee hours of yesterday morning, at the head of a mile-long motorcade with motorcyclists and pillion riders swerving precariously in and out between the lead cars adding to the fever pitch excitement which marked the arrival in Guyana of this superstar of boxing.

It was Ali fever from the moment the Pan Am aircraft bringing him to Guyana touched down at Timehri around 11:25 pm. But even before 9 pm, people begun filling the airport in eager anticipation –men; women, some pregnant, others with babes in arms; children, elderly people.

The Ai bug had already bitten, but just how deep became evident when the gangway to the aircraft was put up and ‘The Greatest’ stepped out, handsome and immaculate in a dark blue suit.

WELCOME
He smiled and waved in the inimitable Ali style as roars of welcome went up. Flash bulbs popped and heavy arc lights of the film crews swung into focus; and the fever spread.

The police at the airport never had a chance. People swarmed the tarmac and around the aircraft, the cops chasing them giving way helplessly to the tide hoping to engulf Ali in the sea of Guyanese hospitality.

Ali walked along, smiling, shaking hands and waving, and a chorus of “ALI! ALI! ALI!” went up. The Chronicle Atlantic Symphony steelband added fervour and rhythm to the chanting of the crowds caught up in the inescapable grip of the fever.

The night was dark, but Timehri never shone brighter. Ali seemed somewhat tired and perhaps nervous at this enthusiastic display of hospitality at first, but it was not long before he settled in among his people.

He moved to the steelband on the tarmac, was handed two of the rubber-tipped beating sticks, and played a pan as if that was just the thing he had been doing since back in Louisville, USA.

They swarmed all around him as he moved to the VIP lounge, and loved him even more when he took a baby from its mother and rocked it in his arms.

So all-encompassing was the warmth of the welcome that his party and local officials seemed hard put to cope with it.

MOTORCADE
The airport welcoming ceremony was cut short at about 11:45 pm. The motorcade moved off from Timehri for the trip to Georgetown. It was a cool night, and the 23-mile drive into town looked like an easy going affair for Ali and his party. After all, it was close to midnight, Saturday was a working day, and most people in the motorcade felt Guyana along the route would have reserved their welcome for daylight.

But that was not to be – the Ali fever had spread, and it moved along the highway weaved among the official cars, throwing the order of a traditional drive into the city for dignitaries into disarray. The rest of the official motorcade got lost somewhere behind, but Ali was there among his worshippers.

They were on the look-out for him and he wanted to see them all. He stood and waved at even those few who chose to stay on the platforms of their houses to watch and cheer as he went by.

As the procession, growing longer to eventually reach almost a mile, drew nearer the city, the Ali fever heightened.
A police traffic car was moved to the head of the motorcade to help clear the way, but even that did not prevent the halting of the procession. At one point, a group just blocked the way holding a cardboard welcoming sign aloft, and they scrambled on Ali’s vehicle just to touch the great man.

At times, when the procession had been halted, women almost swooned with cries of “Ow! He too sweet! Look how he nice!” Men and kids jumped with shouts of “Ah see him! Ah see Ali! ALI! ALI!”

As the motorcade cruised at about 30 mph, into the Ruimveldt Industrial Site road, the crowds grew from seven deep to fifteen deep on both sides of the road. Along the back road into Kitty Avenue they stood, ran and shouted. Some lost shoes shirts; girls scrambled on to pillion seats of motorcycles; mothers hoisted babies to shoulders and ran alongside Ali’s vehicle, and the cacophony of the ever-present horde of motorcycles added to the din.

They followed him all the way to the Residence on Vlissengen Road, and even when Ali had gone into the compound to the Villa, where he is staying, some waited on for a while outside. “He might come outside again to leh we see he”, some said.

But Ali was tired and the gale force of his welcome must have sapped his energy somewhat. It was after 1.15 a.m. He needed a rest – but he had arrived and he had been given the hero’s welcome the ‘Greatest’ deserved.