Episode 8: From ‘beating’ clothes to washing machine
RYAN ASKED the waiter for a box so that he could take his food home. He had lost his appetite, since he couldn’t divorce his mind from the stories his uncle had just related. He had difficulty assimilating the many arduous challenges people faced then. Why were people oppressed? he quietly asked himself. As a young professional, he couldn’t fathom living during that time. Those people had to be strong to endure the many years of hardship they experienced, he thought. He realised it was only one day since his uncle had returned, and the few stories he related must be the tip of the iceberg. He knew that over the coming days, he would hear much more about life back then. Maybe he should take notes. He made a mental note to do so. He noticed that his uncle was still savouring his dinner. As he observed him, he couldn’t help feeling more drawn to the obviously strong man sitting opposite him. His physical appearance would be misleading. As his uncle ate, he decided to upload to FaceBook the photograph of him eating with his hand. He couldn’t wait to see the reaction of his friends.

After a while, Uncle Benji looked up and complimented the quality of the food. It was good. It was the first time in his 75 years that he’d had the opportunity to relish such a tasty variety of food in Guyana. For the masses then, such exquisite dining was a figment of one’s imagination. For him, today was indeed historic. Never did he envisage that food would have been available so bountifully to ordinary Guyanese. He wished he could meet with his peers who are alive to reminisce on the days when they all longed for basic food. “Ah! Guyana has really come a far way, my nephew,” he said.

Uncle Benji continued to relate stories about his younger days. He remembered when he and his peers used to take the risk of ‘raiding’ fruit trees that belonged to village farmers. These adventures were not confined to trees in the vicinity of their homes, but extended to trees in the ‘back-dam’. Some farmers cultivated lands long distances away. Timing, he explained, was important. ‘Raiding’ had to be done after the farmers had left. Often, these escapades were successful, resulting in filled stomachs. Mangoes, bananas, cashews, cowah and even barahar were the most sought after fruits.

He remembered the day they went to ‘raid’ Uncle ‘Bow-foot’ farm and thought he had left. Uncle ‘Bow-foot’ had in fact ventured farther down the back of the farm. As they ‘raided’ and ate, Uncle ‘Bow-foot’ approached, screaming for them to stop. He picked up his cutlass and charged towards them. It was a frantic effort to slide down the trees. Branches broken in the process inflicted minor cuts and bruises. The pain wasn’t felt then. They ran through thick razor-grass, waded across the canal and down the dam, not wanting Uncle ‘Bow-foot’ to recognise them. They were wrong; he did.

The cuts and bruises from the broken branches and the razor-grass were complemented by the pain from tamarind whips crashing into their little behinds. Their parents never encouraged such ‘raidings’. He remembered seeing Uncle ‘Bow-foot’ looking on while he got his fair share of the tamarind whip. After then, the village knew the ‘raiders’. Uncle Benji always believed that boys will be boys, and as such, their ‘raiding’ moved to nearby villages. He remembered that such ‘raiding’ was very necessary. Many who didn’t cultivate fruit trees found it difficult to purchase fruits, and given the challenges to obtain basic food, fruits gathered from ‘raiding’ were welcomed, not only by the ‘raiders’, but by those who shared the harvest.

Some actually looked forward to such portions. It was not uncommon to see a farmer eating his own cowah, not knowing it was his. Uncle Benji smiled. He can now see humour from those painful days. He remembered seeing so many fruits, including those that were once banned, on the stalls along the route from the airport after returning. That was less than ten hours ago. Guyana has changed! he exclaimed again. Really changed!

Ryan never heard stories about such ‘raidings’. It sounded exciting, even though he grimaced at the thought of the pain that could be inflicted by broken branches and razor-grass. He wondered if young boys today in other parts of the country were involved in ‘raiding’. None of his peers even mentioned it. It was if his uncle was reading his mind. Uncle Benji asked if he ever did such ‘raidings’. Ryan said no, and explained that he might be too ‘soft’ for such adventures. Uncle Benji laughed and said, “Yeah! You like ‘white fowl’; can’t tek de rockings! Yuh is a fertilizer pickney!” Ryan knew what pickney meant, but not the entire phrase his uncle used. He didn’t ask.

Whilst scooping his food into the box, some steak sauce spilled on his shirt. “Ah! Now I have to do laundry this evening,” he told his uncle. “Yuh mean put it in de washing machine and sit down and wait,” Uncle Benji replied. Ryan nodded in the affirmative. “Washing machine, eh? In we days, de machine was de wife and girl pickney sitting down pun a ‘ghaat’ (a small landing in a trench) beating and scrubbing plenty time without soap. Sometimes de clothes does get more nasty when it done wash. De dryer was de ‘pailing’ or rusty zinc fence.”

Ryan paid the bill as his uncle continued to talk. “Beating de clothes was good exercise; de women dem did tough. Dem who didn’t had access to a ‘ghaat’ would sit down with a ‘churin’, some call it ‘bakey’, full ah clothes in de yard and beat and wash. It use to tek lang. Now all yuh gat am easy. Jus throw in and sit down. Meh can’t believe how dis country suh develop now. All yuh gat am easy boy; all yuh really gat am easy. Dis time nah like lang time,” he said as he got up. As they leave, Ryan asked, “Uncle, what’s a ‘fertilizer child’?
To be continued …