Dear editor,

I HAVE received compliments for a piece I did on the impact of banned goods on culture and religious practices. Some asked if I could explain how banned goods are smuggled into the country and the consequences if caught. The country must not eradicate or forget that horrific experience of struggling to get food to eat.

I recall a report in the early 1980s in Caribbean Contact that was headlined: “Give us our daily bread” that was quite literal in meaning. There was no bread (and by extension, roti, cake, etc.) in the country as flour was banned since the 1970s. It reminds me of my studies in European political history in which the French Emperor’s wife, Marie Antoinette told his aide in 1789 to tell the subjects, “Let them eat cake” when the aide complained that the people had no bread. The emperor and empress, like Burnham who himself behaved like an emperor, was out of touch with reality. Burnham later became a hated figure for his lifestyle of decadence and callous governance.

There were several ways in which banned goods made their way into Guyana. They were brought from the porous borders and the police were susceptible to bribes. It was almost impossible for Burnham to monitor the vast borders and the open ocean. Some of the border police were trained to confiscate banned goods and detain violators. But not all were ideologically aligned with Burnham to enforce the ban. Some were sympathetic with the hungry population and didn’t support the policy of using food as a weapon against people to break their cultural and religious practices and or political affiliation.

Most of the banned goods came via Suriname, crossing the Corentyne River in the night and made their way to other parts of the country. I direct readers to Prof Chaitram Singh’s classic book Flour Convoy. For Essequibians, it was more convenient and less harassing to bring goods through the Venezuela border or use boats for the short distance from the mouth of the Pomeroon River to the Venezuelan coast. And deep in the interior, banned goods were brought from Brazil as well as from Venezuela. You pay the right amount of bribe and the border police looked the other way. A “small piece” was also given to the food police to close their eyes when they made spot checks of goods being transported. At times, the food police would ask for or confiscate some items like sardines or tomato paste or corned mutton or milk or coffee and non-perishable items to take to their starving families. The spot checks were more conducted to collect bribes rather than to enforce the law. Some goods were seized and violators detained in order to show Burnham that the law against imperialist (White man) imports was being enforced.

In the early day the food police demanded heavy bribes, but over time, the amount declined. In the early days the food police were very ideologically supportive of Burnham and enforced the ban, jailing many people on the Corentyne caught with banned goods. Many people ended up in jail with long sentences for violating the food ban. Even if you were performing a puja or in a Koran Sharief or A “Christian Service” at home, you were not spared if the food police descended upon your home and banned foods. In fact, wedding houses and Jhandis, Bhagwats, Ramayana Kathas, and Koran Shariefs were regularly raided. That is where the food police netted their largest bribes. An aunt of mine was caught, sentenced and jailed for selling sardines, potatoes, and flour. I don’t wish to describe the sexual abuse she suffered from police. Unable to face the shame from having to return to family members, she took her own life, leaving several children behind. Over time, the food police became lenient. With low pay and hungry bellies, including starvation among their own family members, and declining morale among the police, they closed their eyes to smuggling of goods.  They were willing to accept some banned goods or a bribe in exchange for closing their eyes to food and medicine- smuggling.

Banned goods were also brought in through the airport. Whenever I went to Guyana from between 1981 and 1990, I would smuggle goods (including bread, flour, toilet paper, milk, etc.) into Guyana in my luggage. A police uncle often received me at the airport. Although he didn’t ask custom officers to break the law on banned foods, officers knowing that was the person who came to receive me at the airport closed their eyes to prohibited foods. From Timehri to town, one’s vehicle may be inspected several times by the food police, but since they knew my uncle who was a ranking officer, his vehicle was not searched. But from town to Corentyne, I travelled in hire cars that were searched several times. The food police would stop and search vehicles with passengers who looked as if “they just come in or foreign.” They hustled their “small piece.” If you resisted the bribe, they made threats to take you into the police station, so you caved in and offered a bribe. A small piece ($US10) was enough or a few apples and grapes or chocolates (Oh yes, all were banned including dried fruits; no imports allowed!).

I should remind readers that banned goods also affected peoples’ physical and psychological health. Many children grew up malnourished; statistics on malnourishment ballooned comparable to Haiti, Somalia and Ethiopia. Many, young and old, ended up being crazy because of a lack of food and basic medicines. There was insufficient space at the asylum to host them and so many remained at home or wandered the streets as vagrants. Besides lack of food, physical violence took a toll on a lot of people, driving them insane. Kick-down-door robberies, as an organised crime with involvement from some in state power, and choke and rob also took a toll on mental health with Indians in the main being victims.

Culture and religion prohibited many Guyanese from consuming certain foods, most of which were banned. In reflecting on that period of banned goods, it is hard to understand how the PNC’s supporters allowed Burnham to unleash such mental torture on the nation and a policy that led to mass starvation and enormous suffering.

Yours truly,
Vishnu Bisram