By Lincoln Lewis

MY father Stephen Lewis was employed by Reynolds Metal Company, aka Reynolds Bauxite, that had its operations at Kwakwani (aka KK) and Everton. He lived in one of the company’s houses in KK in an area called the Park, which was not far from the playground. Stephen, who was originally from No. 28 Village, West Coast Berbice, owned a house there but due to his job, KK became his second home and somewhat mine, too.

As his son I made frequent visits to KK to spend time with him. This allowed me opportunities at a very early age to know (what) I wanted to do with my life. You see, Stephen was not only a man of huge physical frame, but he also possessed a big heart and an independent mind. He was not only my father, but held the greatest influence in my life as a mentor and friend.

Like him, I knew early that I would be working in the bauxite industry, because I felt it could have provided me the best platform to serve my country. He was by profession an electrician and I a mechanic. Later, he was elected the local trade union leader in KK and rose to the level of President of the Guyana Mines Workers Union. Later, I too followed his footsteps into the movement.

Stephen had a passion for justice and seeing improvements in the quality of life for people. He was driven by a strong sense of his African-ness and the struggles and successes of his forebears. Daily I take with me his advice that trade unionism is not about getting rich and achieving status; it is about service to and satisfaction for the people who have placed their confidence in you. This was a man, as a trade unionist, who had the privilege to address the British House of Commons, but never lost focus as to whom he was elected by and to whom he was in service, i.e. the workers.

Whenever the opportunity arose to journey to KK I looked forward to the trip with much anticipation, knowing that I would be sitting at the feet of my father and getting the best university education, which was his education on life, his work, values and interpretation of world events.

Unlike me, Stephen was no cook.  I learnt to cook at an early age, given my love for food and I always felt the best person to prepare my meals is me. Aunt Maude (Maude Mingo), the cousin of his mother Mabel Carmichael (aka Aunty Mai) was living with him and assumed the duty of cooking.  Her cooking was good and for Stephen who knew little or nothing about this craft, Aunt Maude’s was the best. Going to KK meant that I would not only enjoy Aunt Maude’s cooking, but that of the community and since I consider myself a great cook, I looked forward to tasting the hands of others.

I’ll arrive in KK as soon as the Christmas holidays began. First order on my visit list were cousins Maude Bethune, Ineze Alleyne and Johnny McPherson. Christmas for us was about family foremost and making that connection was priority. After paying due respect, I’d go and look for my friends, some of whom too were my relatives. I can recall pleasant encounters with persons like Kenneth McFarlene, Harlan Bethune and Orin Roberts.

On Christmas Eve, with the smell of pepperpot on the stove, cake, bread and buns in the oven, ham and garlic pork wafting  through the air, the carollers in the Park went from door to door singing. By this time the last-minute hustle and bustle to do the fine cleaning that would see a sparkling house at the crack of Christmas Day also marked part of the festivities. Thankfully for me, a visit to KK freed me of the responsibility of doing chores because dear Aunt Maude had already taken care of that. What I did with great pleasure was lime.

Compared to the villages on the West Coast of Berbice, KK was considered a modern community and it delighted me being in this more progressive part of Guyana. There were continuous electricity and water, a total sewage and garbage-collection system, a commissary where everyone shopped, and a well-equipped cottage hospital.  However, amidst the evidence of development there was this great divide between the company’s management and rank-and-file workers, that had the characteristics of race, class and status.

Such disparity was not lost on Stephen and as his child, I too had to take note, share in the discussions of the importance of ensuring that systems such as these were toppled as pivotal to bringing about equality. As Stephen’s son, I was well aware that emancipation was just the attainment of one milestone in the  journey to freedom. Other hurdles such as independence, achieving, deepening and strengthening citizens/workers’ rights still has to be fought for, and even in the presence of festivities, conversations were not devoid of issues attending to discrimination in KK, Guyana and the wider world for he was an avid reader and follower of global events.

Come Christmas Day daddy, myself and other members of the family would have breakfast at his home which was prepared by Aunt Maude.  There was no material gift-giving for he felt the birth of Christ and having each other were the greatest gifts to be had. So as we ate Aunt Maude’s breakfast of bread and pepperpot, washed down with set ginger beer and Ovaltine, we talked stories about religion, family, history, current events and politics.

After this I would meet with friends and walk around the Park visiting everybody. KK is a small community and everybody knew everybody. There are times you would turn up at a home and no one was there, but it did not prevent you from entering, taking a drink in their absence or a slice of black cake already laid out on the table for any who visited. It was a time when stealing was not heard of in the community and persons could have left their doors unlocked without having to fear.

Away from my father’s home I looked forward to Maude Bethune’s baked turkey and roasted pork. These were spicy and succulent. Cousin Inez, Albert Straker’s mother, used to prepare an array of local wines and as a youth you took delight in sampling them, thereafter to suffer the consequences of having to walk on cloud nine, and only being able to come back to earth after sleeping off the experience. There was Christmas after imbibing and stuffing myself, when I woke up I was at the bottom of the stairs only to learn that I rolled and counted every stair as I could not steady my gait or stand.

Families used to invite you to come in and eat, it was a pride and joy for them. A home I never passed was Leone and Dodridge McFarlene’s. When you arrived it was food and drinks galore. This family would invite you to eat and drink over and over again and you begin to feel like rice being stuffed in the runners to make black pudding. The McFarlenes are still alive and residing in Canada. This year Dodridge marked his 100th birthday and no doubt his longevity is due in no small measure to the way he ate and drank from Leone’s kitchen.

Then there was the ‘meat gang’ that ensured the community was well supplied for the season — Ivan Monah, Small aka Slims, and Reddock aka Docs. These men would kill cow, pig and any wild animal to sell. As they sold the meats on the side were pots boiling with meat broth and beef rice that anybody could have stopped and participated in.

KK had three clubs- one each for the rank-and-file workers, the supervisor, and the senior managers. At Christmas these bars were well stocked with local and foreign drinks. The credit system, via chits, made these accessible and affordable for employees of the company. Since residency in the Park at the time had to do with having employment with the company, nearly every home enjoyed the privilege of the club.  Boxing Day there were parties at the Lodge Hall or club that I attended, tried out my dancing skills and charm on the lovely young ladies in the community.

As a teenager, visiting KK did not only prepare me for manhood, it made me feel like a man, given the level of freedom to imbibe and hang out without curfew. There wasn’t a time I left that I wanted to leave nor didn’t look forward to returning, for etched in my memories are experiences that cannot be truly quantified. I love KK and the life it offered me.