WRITERS from all ovah de world, and de fuss ting all a we learn ‘bout New Orleans is dat de hotel we staying at might be haunted. Jumbie all ovah, dem seh. A lil ghost-boy name Maurice who don’ do nothing to nobody is one. He does be on de 14th floor. De 14th floor is not a real thing. Is actually de 13th floor, but dey calling it the 14th floor because like everybody friken fuh call de 13th floor de 13th floor. Anyway, de gyul from Singapore seh she hear knocking in de bathroom late in de night. I smile when I hear dis, but den I stop smile when de American seh she hear de same thing in she room. Knocking.

Not from de pipe in de bathroom, but like if somebody tek dem hand an’ go blam blam blam pon the wall or something. Jumbie. Noisy jumbie. All ovah New Orleans. Jus’ like how jumbie deh all ovah Guyana. Kanaima in de forest. Fairmaid in de water. Baccoo in bottle by the seawall. Yuh gon never run out a jumbie story in New Orleans. But jumbie story in Guyana like dey done dry up, bury, and long gone. Wham to Guyanese jumbie story, man?
Every other shop yuh pass in New Orleans is a voodhoo shop. Duh is like obeah. Back in de day dey had a bad voodhoo lady name Marie Laveau.

Thousands a people – black people, white people, everybody – use to come fuh see she wuk. You can imagine duh? All a dem coming fuh see a mix-race lady do voodhoo in de 1800s? Me neither. But, like a seh, she de bad. Who is we bad fuh days obeah lady? Wham, nobody na gon write a story ‘bout she? Ah gon take a poem. Somebody do de research, man.

In New Orleans, people does pay money fuh visit graveyard. Who gon pay fuh see Le Repentir wid de state it in? In New Orleans, people does pay money fuh go pon “ghost tour.” Who gon pay fuh see we ghost dem? Who know weh dem deh? And who gon take de people there? Now, I not saying we must monetise we jumbie. I saying we could, if we want to – just like New Orleans.

The city was also haunted by something mo’ bad than ghost. New Orleans was haunted by memory, by history. When you walk down de street, some that narrow and pack wid people like Regent Street pon Saturday, is bare history watching you when you think you watching for history. History that deh in de name of dem street that ring wid sexiness (because is a set a French names) an’ colonisation (because a de same French): Dauphine, Toulouse, Villere.

Mo’ history deh in the buildings and the architecture that stan’ up, watching over you, reminding you of you own colonial history when you pass all dem place with Spanish and French design carve into window and terrace and doorway. It even got a big church name St. Louis Cathedral, that gon put in yuh mind de image of we own St. George’s Cathedral – but without the prostitute dem. They cathedral mo’ big and mo’ fancy, but still – church is church. How much a we does do more than see dem buildings in GT? How much a we does see dem and dey history?

Even de food in New Orleans does be dripping wid history. De jambalaya, especially, remind everybody about something dey already know: the Mexican say is like paella, the Nigerian say is like jollof, and I think is like cook-up. Rice and beans and meat. Yuh see? Like cook-up. Yuh can taste de mix-up, mix-up New Orleans history in jambalaya. It taste good to me Guyanese tongue. I mussy recognise something in de jambalaya or it mussy recognise something in me. What we tasting when we taste Guyanese food? Yuh sure when we taste curry is Indian? An’ when we taste pepperpot is Indigenous? Somebody else got to got something else in deh. Is so we history stay, an’ we food – mix-up, mix-up like New Orleans; mix-up, mix-up like cook-up.

Jus’ outside New Orleans, it got a place name Whitney Plantation. To get there yuh got to pass a set a canefield. Yes. Canefield. in ‘Merica. You got to pass de canefield and de Mississippi River and de plantation house weh Quentin Tarantino shoot a piece a “Django Unchained.” But when yuh done pass all dat, you gon reach Whitney Plantation. When we went, from de moment we set foot pon the ground – same ground that enslaved people walk on hundreds of years before – was as if a great chill jus’ come ovah everybody. Everybody feel cold, as if dem same enslaved was still there an’ whispering to all a we.

The plantation itself is a monument to dem. Dem name carve pon rock tablets, so de people gon know an’ remember them. Hundred pon hundred a names. Peter, Lucie, Obe, Diachone, Banning, Petit Dion, Louis, Agathe, Vieux Gabriel, Claire, Paul, Babet, Lise, Alexandre, Denis, Fanny. Hundreds. And yet, these hundreds was de only set de records give life to. It got many more hundreds who name we don’ know; who name we might neva know.

Whitney Plantation got a real colonial house – wey a real white man used to live wid he family. De house big and nice. And two pen deh in de yard that dem used to use fuh raise baby-pigeon. Dey de like to eat baby pigeon back then, but de pen was more to show how dem de rich. Baby-pigeon pen – a sign of nuff, nuff money.
Mo’ disturbing than the baby-pigeon pen was de actual shacks dat de enslaved people used to live in. We get to troop through the shack, an’ while walking through I get friken and think ‘bout de souls of all dem enslaved people who used to eat and sleep in these small house dem, watching me watching the space pon de floor where dey used to sit, or out de window dey used to stare through and think ‘bout freedom or god. I get real, real sad.

I get mo’ sad when I think ‘bout how I had to come till to ‘Merica to find a kind a respect fuh de enslaved dat is not really the same in Guyana. I think about the young people who does be wining up pon de statue at the seawall or de people who tek selfie when de Umana Yana de bun down and I feel shame. Sometimes, I feel like in Guyana, we gon never know even some a de names a we fore parents, an’ wuss yet, is like nuff people don’ even waan know.

Dat is de thing wid New Orleans though, it close to de Caribbean belt. It close to we, an’ it got nuff in common wid we. So much so that when I was there, a even start remember back the Creolese a de friken a might fuhget. Thank gawd.