Episode 10: From ‘wood’ buses to modern vehicles
AS THEY drove around, Uncle Benji had difficulty overcoming his shock at the near-perfect state of the well-paved roads. Indeed, much has been spent on rehabilitating them, he realized. For him, it was unbelievable. Smoothly-paved roads? “Wow! This country really develop meh nephew! Some people abroad nah know ‘bout this,” he said. He remembered the days when it literally took hours to travel from Georgetown to the ferry stelling at Rosignol. He visited there twice; for a funeral, and for a wedding. Then, the road was dangerously narrow and riddled with gaping potholes. Then, the many slothful and dilapidated vehicles increased travelling time. He remembered the discomfort he experienced during the two trips. This resulted from being surrounded by hot air and gas fumes whilst sitting for hours during the bumpy rides. The hot air didn’t only emanate from his talkative companions, but from the exhaust and engine of Uncle John’s old Vauxhall car. Not only did the car spew clouds of black smoke, but the engine leaked oil, which evaporated, and the fumes infiltrated the seating compartment. The car could not exceed twenty miles per hour mainly due to its age, and even if it could, the road couldn’t facilitate any desired increase in acceleration.
These factors, the absence of the car’s air-conditioner, seven persons in the back seat and four in front and a stuck back window which couldn’t be wound down, ensured everyone was drenched in their ‘Sunday-best’. Then, ‘Sunday-best’ was worn for every occasion that required ‘dressing up’. The male preferred choice was a crimplene ‘bell-bottom’ pants, which kept floors dust-free, and a multi-coloured long-sleeve flowered shirt. The ‘well-dressed’ males looked like ‘star-boys’, which was a common term due to the immense popularity of cinema. ‘Star-boys’ could be compared to the ‘dapper dons’.
Uncle Benji still remembered what he wore for the trip to the wedding: A green pants with an orange shirt, dominated by yellow flowers. He realized that he hadn’t seen such a shirt in decades. He plans looking for one. He also remembered his long, thick, straight, black hair which was parted down the middle and kept neatly in place by some good old coconut oil. Then, a young debonair was not without his coconut-oiled hair, a comb and a handkerchief. The outfit was completed with a pair of high-heel ‘kickers’ or ‘stone-crusher’ as they were known, and a comb stuck in the pant’s back pocket. Sometimes the shoe added a few inches to one’s height. He wondered what he did with those shoes after he arrived in the United States.
The handkerchief was used to wipe the coconut oil that oozed down the forehead and sides of the face, especially during a hot day. He remembered the frequent wiping of foreheads and faces by he and his friends during the two trips to Rosignol. Awkward seating positions prevented some from reaching for their handkerchiefs. For them, both perspiration and coconut oil drenched their clothing. In addition, leg and arm cramps were prevalent during such trips. Sometimes a few stops were made to ‘stretch’ and to venture into nearby bushes to expend excess body fluids.
As he related his interesting stories, Uncle Benji became aware of some speeding vehicles that were overtaking Ryan’s. They were many with ‘fighter jet-like’ speeds in comparison to Uncle John’s Vauxhall. He has never seen these vehicles. Some appeared to be racing along the busy road. Ryan explained that they are called minibuses, and are used for public transportation. Immediately, Uncle Benji thought of the safety of those inside the minibuses, given their breathtaking speed. Ryan further explained that, unfortunately, speeding is their norm, and that they are privately-owned by a wide cross-section of Guyanese.
Uncle Benji thought that if such speeding and new vehicles were possible during his time, then their ‘Sunday-best’ would not have been drenched, and their limbs wouldn’t have cramped. Ryan added that public transportation is not a hassle, and no longer an excuse for lateness. People even choose which one they want to travel in. “Well, look at that eh! Look how things change! Plenty people now own a bus! People ain’t gat fuh stand up lang, lang in de blistering sun and when rain falling waiting fuh transpy,” Uncle Benji chimed in.
He went on to explain the situation during his time. He remembered the old wood buses with troughs on top to hold baskets, ‘grips’ and other likes. The buses, which could have seated some sixty persons, were always filled to capacity and beyond. After the seats were occupied, passengers stood in the passageway and in any nook or cranny that was available. Some stood for hours during particular journeys. Even the doorways were crammed. Sometimes a few ventured up into the troughs, and it was not uncommon to see one or two hanging on to the back. Dangerous as it was, it was necessary. Sometimes one hundred were packed into a bus which chugged along pot-holed roads, leaving a trail of black smoke behind.
The buses were difficult to maintain. Some even had names. He remembered the ‘Highway Queen Elizabeth’. Another man named Benji drove it. He always sweated; not only from the engine heat, but from real perspiration derived from his arduous physical manoeuvring of the long gearstick. Often, when the gears stuck, more energy was expended, with perspiration constantly streaming down the faces of the drivers. If you missed a bus, the wait for the next was long. Not only were you late, but wet from perspiration. Clothes smoothed with a ‘flat-iron’ were easily ruffled.
“Now when all yuh press yuh clothes, yuh can wear am whole week. Meh keep sehing meh nephew, that all yuh really gat am good. All yuh nat sweating. All yuh gat smooth road with plenty plenty fancy vehicle with air-condition. Everybody ah drive now, young and old,” Uncle Benji added. Ryan smiled. His Uncle is right. Wood buses? No air-conditioner? Pot-holed roads? His Uncle is indeed from another era. This is a different Guyana now. Remembering what Uncle Benji had said sometime earlier, Ryan repeated: “Uncle, dis time nah lang time. I hope I got it right.” Uncle Benji smiled. Ryan did get it right. He is learning. Uncle Benji easily reached for his handkerchief to wipe his spectacles.
To be continued…