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FM
Former Member

It's really sad when you think of how many people leave Guyana hoping for a better life in a foreign land. I, like many know it all too well that life is not a bed-of-roses anywhere else in the world. It's hard work and dedication that make a strong foundation for yourself and family. Unlike Guyana, life is much more laid back and simple. Nevertheless, most of us love our country and leave many fond memories behind.

What's your memory worth remembering?

Here are some of the things that I missed:
I missed feeling the sound of rain drops falling on the house zinc and make you want to sleep and dream about your girl friend.

I missed the "force ripe" age when you think you're in love. You and your friend would lime by the culbut and waiting to see your girl friend come out on the virenda. Then you would look at each other for hours, and that would be enough to give you dreams. (if she daddy is there, you have to look North).

I missed riding a bicycle and towing my neighbor daughter to the market. When she reaches the market, she says thanks. (I know her butt is sore from the cross bar, but she wouldn't rub it until I turn around).

I missed writing a love letter that goes like this: Dear (name) Dumpline, I hope that you are well. As for me, I am quite well. I hope my letter reaches you under the golden branches of something, something?

Now, what are the golden branches? Is it a coconut branch or golden apple leaves that have that romantic rhyme? I know I'm not the only one writes like that in my boyhood day because I receive and read letters like that from people all over corentyne?

Recently, someone posted a thread about how kids get it too good today. That is true to the bone. Our days were far too innocent from today and Mom and Dad use to be proud of us. Now that we're parents of our own, we know that first hand.

There're many more sentimental things I wish to share, but that's just a little something to put you in a Guyana state of mind.

Smile
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FM Former Member
quote:
I missed writing a love letter that goes like this: Dear (name) Dumpline, I hope that you are well. As for me, I am quite well. I hope my letter reaches you under the golden branches of something, something?

I remember this Big Grin I think we use to say "under the golden branches of love and happiness" Big Grin

such great memories
FM
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FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by Riya:
quote:
I missed writing a love letter that goes like this: Dear (name) Dumpline, I hope that you are well. As for me, I am quite well. I hope my letter reaches you under the golden branches of something, something?

I remember this Big Grin I think we use to say "under the golden branches of love and happiness" Big Grin

such great memories


sure remember that..those were great memories Big Grin it was so nice recieving the letters Wink
FM
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FM Former Member
Receiving a love letter can be nerve wracking. I remember a friend of the boy slipping me the letter and I quickly hid it in my book. It felt like it was burning hole in my book Big GrinBig Grin The first chance I got...somewhere remote in the yard Big Grin I would take it out with trembling hands and read it and quickly tear it up. Then the reply with golden branch bit Big GrinBig Grin only if I like him though clever
FM
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FM Former Member
I left Guyana when I was four, so I don't have very many memories. One thing I remember is trying to pick a monkey apple from a vine overhanging a trench and almost falling in. I remember being at it for a very long time (probably 10 minutes is a long time to a four year old) and being determined to get it. I used to LOVE monkey apples (the one with the little black seeds).

I also remember my mom and dad taking me to the sea to do prayer, and while on our way there we passed a place where there was a narrow walkway with sloping sides. Crawling up the sides were what seemed like millions and millions of little crabs. My daddy put me on his shoulders and carried me. That is one of my best memories.
FM
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FM Former Member
quote:
I missed riding a bicycle and towing my neighbor daughter to the market. When she reaches the market, she says thanks. (I know her butt is sore from the cross bar, but she wouldn't rub it until I turn around).


I never like sitting on those bars...even when the have their special made saddle bars. Plus once my leg ketch "junjuni" Big Grin Big Grin
FM
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FM Former Member
Memories are playing outdoors in the pasture;

Running down the damn to visit my grandmother especially when she made homemade donuts and konkie

playing dolly house with neighbour kids

climbing all the fruit tree in the yard

roasting green plantain on the fireside to make fufu

school days flirting and fighting with classmates; stealing school time to go to Plaza Cinema

Going Demico House for Chicken in the Rough

Playing music loud from the radio while doing house work

Lying in hammock under the house and daydreaming

Going on the seawall on weekend to lime

Flying kite in the pasture and doing bush cook

Going to Liberty Cinema on opening day of new movie and pushing to get in to get a good seat.

Oh how I miss the good ole days Smile
FM
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AmralAmralSenior Member
quote:
Originally posted by Cher:
Everything I remember about Guyana was great...especially Friday Fights after school Big Grin however its not the same and therefore I have no intention in going back for visits.


That is one of the main reasons why I will not go back, I want to remember the old country, it is like a bubble in my memory, going back and seeing the new modern Guyana, will burst that bubble.
Amral
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FM Former Member
Lots of good memories starting with spending time at Mahaica Hospital on weekends and holidays when my father was stationed there. Waking up during roja month hearing my mother wake us up in stages. Also the smell of the food in the afternoon while listening the the muslim songs as we wait to break fast. That food smell was memorable. Also going to the masjid for morning prayer.

School days at Rama Krishna. Helping fix up the mandir on weekends for Sundays. Riding all over the city on Phagwah days visiting peoples houses to eat their goodies and sing chowtals.

School days especially at Indians on sports day. Going to the cinemas and pushing and shoving in the line even though I had tickets already from the manager. Smile

Playing cricket and beating up the black kids only to have them beat us up back although not at cricket. Smile

As a big family, we did so many things together even getting dressed and going to the store to buy two half gallon ice creams.

Very memorable was when Lata visited. I saw her at the garden, at Rama Krishna and at the National Park.

But the best time I had was after I met my final girlfriend. By that time, I was older, self suficient and without a curfew. Smile

Gosh, to many to list.
FM
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FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by chameli:
Ksaz, u coulda said it's none a nobody business ...so thank you for abiding by my fastness and clarying something that i queried for all the many times u said u went to dat sch.Cool wavey it shows how much your mom was respected/loved by your dad that he sent you to the sch on her request...very cool


I cudda jus tell yuh tuh cyer yuh fassniss self dahside. Smile

Actually we ended up at Rama Krishna because the headmaster was my father's patient. Exchange for free medicine. Smile
FM
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TolaTolaSenior Member
quote:
Originally posted by amral:
quote:
Originally posted by Cher:
Everything I remember about Guyana was great...especially Friday Fights after school Big Grin however its not the same and therefore I have no intention in going back for visits.


That is one of the main reasons why I will not go back, I want to remember the old country, it is like a bubble in my memory, going back and seeing the new modern Guyana, will burst that bubble.


Returning and visiting some of our memorable places, can create in our mind a different perception of Guyana, that we remember as children. Not only the people in Guyana have changed, so do us, who have been Canadanianized/Americanized for decades.

When we visit and experience the present harshness of Guyana,developed by the people during the decades while we were away, it takes away from us those memories we cherish most about our earlier life in Guyana.When this happens it is difficult to return to our childhood memories. Like our Indian language and culture, once it is lost, it is almost difficult to find again.

There are valid reasons for not returning to Guyana, in order to retain that memory.
Tola
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FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by chameli:
i have to admit that this has baffled me over the yrs... Confused
i thought that school was for Hindus onlydunno

Ksaz me darling, doan be offended...educate me pls


cham, I attended Rama Krishna. Despite the name, it wasn't just for Hindus. I had Chinese, Portugese and Black classmates. Granted, just a few. Don't know if that change now.

After a time, the Mandir was separated from the school.
FM
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AmralAmralSenior Member
quote:
Returning and visiting some of our memorable places, can create in our mind a different perception of Guyana, that we remember as children. Not only the people in Guyana have changed, so do us, who have been Canadanianized/Americanized for decades.

When we visit and experience the present harshness of Guyana,developed by the people during the decades while we were away, it takes away from us those memories we cherish most about our earlier life in Guyana.When this happens it is difficult to return to our childhood memories. Like our Indian language and culture, once it is lost, it is almost difficult to find again.

There are valid reasons for not returning to Guyana, in order to retain that memory.


Tola you read my mind, even reading what you wrote there, made a tear form in my eyes.
Amral
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TolaTolaSenior Member
quote:
Originally posted by amral:
quote:
Returning and visiting some of our memorable places, can create in our mind a different perception of Guyana, that we remember as children. Not only the people in Guyana have changed, so do us, who have been Canadanianized/Americanized for decades.

When we visit and experience the present harshness of Guyana,developed by the people during the decades while we were away, it takes away from us those memories we cherish most about our earlier life in Guyana.When this happens it is difficult to return to our childhood memories. Like our Indian language and culture, once it is lost, it is almost difficult to find again.

There are valid reasons for not returning to Guyana, in order to retain that memory.


Tola you read my mind, even reading what you wrote there, made a tear form in my eyes.


Amral, this has been a harsh reality for those who spent six months or more in Guyana, working with ordinary citizens.
A Guyanese NY friend and myself, who I have not seen in decades, rented a car to visit many of our childhood places on Old Years day. That night he died of a heart attack and is buried in Guyana.
During our tour, he remarked how isolated he felt about the memories of our childhood.
Tola
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FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by chameli:
I hope that all the people (even Cherie-berry) who say dem not going back to GY ever will have a reason to go and then they will see how the beautiful country is still beautiful and how much ppl have developed in their own way...
ppl do not want second hand clothes from TO anymore, they trash the stuff we send and buy fancy clothes...you should see what they wear

every 13 yr old has a cell phone

every home has water supply

i did not meet as many 'poor' ppl as i used to know...
all the ppl who were dirt poor when i lived in greenwich park now own huge houses, trucks, cars etc...and at least one woman in each family is home doing the housework, gardening etc


Like Chami wukkin' fuh de govament? Smile Dukkin' fuh cuvva. Smile
FM
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FM Former Member
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.
FM
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TolaTolaSenior Member
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.


D2, this is a very rich childhood memory of Guyana,its almost similar to those of a person growing up on a sugar cane plantation.
I remember our AmerIndian scouting friends from the interior telling us about their life while at camp near the airport and what we have seen at Upper Mazaruni.
Tola
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B Bookman (Guest)
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.

Great recollections, D2. I will remember this wonderful piece, except for the last sentence.
B
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T TI (Guest)
I hate to disturb this stream of nostalgic romanticism, but these recollections are all pre-PNC.

I remember the starvation and hardship, where bread, butter, cheese and basic foodstuffs were unavailable, long lines for everything, criminals kicking down doors, bars on windows and doors, and a host of other atrocities.
T
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FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by TI:
I hate to disturb this stream of nostalgic romanticism, but these recollections are all pre-PNC.

I remember the starvation and hardship, where bread, butter, cheese and basic foodstuffs were unavailable, long lines for everything, criminals kicking down doors, bars on windows and doors, and a host of other atrocities.


and during all of that, you have no recollection of a happy memory?
FM
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FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by Bookman:
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.

Great recollections, D2. I will remember this wonderful piece, except for the last sentence.
It happens when you grow up and are made to contemplate connections to things outside the narrow reality of ones personal pastoral existence. The meanness and the greed of men in distant places cuts into local life with astonishing sharpness and what was once an idyllic dream shatters into a thousand disintegral fragments and like humpty dumpty, never to be put back together again.
FM
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FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by TI:
I hate to disturb this stream of nostalgic romanticism, but these recollections are all pre-PNC.

I remember the starvation and hardship, where bread, butter, cheese and basic foodstuffs were unavailable, long lines for everything, criminals kicking down doors, bars on windows and doors, and a host of other atrocities.
I do not remember pre PNC or early PNC. I am a child who became stripped of innocence and thrust into the world of unmitigating racial hate, petty political quarrels lifted to brutal extremes and the persistence of such intractable indulging in this elixir of ignorance in the mid to late 70's.
FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
T TI (Guest)
quote:
Originally posted by Riya:

and during all of that, you have no recollection of a happy memory?


I do, but nostalgia is often imagined and may not even be related to real events.
I remember a lot of events but I am questioning myself whether it was really happy at the time.

Maybe those those special memories we keep mean more to us later than they did at the time of actual occurrence.

Or maybe we are all in love with the past, and wish for our lives to be the way they once were.
T
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.



This sound like Mills & Boon material. Smile
FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by cain:
quote:
Originally posted by TI:
...Or maybe we are all in love with the past, and wish for our lives to be the way they once were.

20 years from now, we'll be in love with today and wish for it to be as is. That's why I tend to just enjoy the todays and leave yesterdays and tomorrows where they're supposed to be.


Cain, this is so true.
We tend to cling just to the fond memories of the past that is why we often hear "the good ole days".

Talking about memories, how do we want to be remembered? Each of us will make a mark, what would that mark be?
FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by Rosita:
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.



This sound like Mills & Boon material. Smile
I think you are giving your imagination too much freedom, it was nostalgia not romance. No raven haired, doe eyed girl with ample backsides and melon like mammaries was waiting at the end of the gallop; just my chubby, fussy mom with a towel and lots of yapping about getting sick being out in the cold rain.
FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
quote:
Originally posted by Rosita:
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.



This sound like Mills & Boon material. Smile
I think you are giving your imagination too much freedom, it was nostalgia not romance. No raven haired, doe eyed girl with ample backsides and melon like mammaries was waiting at the end of the gallop; just my chubby, fussy mom with a towel and lots of yapping about getting sick being out in the cold rain.


Oh well it still sounds romantic in my world Smile
FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
caincainTired old hippie
quote:
Originally posted by Rosita:
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
quote:
Originally posted by Rosita:
quote:
Originally posted by D2:
I remember on the river bank waiting to watch the water recede as the ships pass on the Demerara and then watch it come rushing back in again. I remember jumping off the black rocks at Kaikan into the black water. I remember sliding down the big steep the hill on a coconut branch at Sand Hills by the old church ( still standing) and into the water. I remember heart beating and pulse racing as we come down the Hiama at low tide. I remember riding my horse after the rain at full gallop on on the hard packed dirt with the water splattering all about. I remember shooting Houri and other fishes with a bow and arrow as they lurk next to the run off along the fields. I remember waking up early and going with my grandmother as she catch sherigha with a grass knife as they lay by the side of the streams. I remember going with her to get her fishes from her fish traps at low tide. Iremember cutting down the cabbage palm so they could prepare it to harvest toucama. I remember turu tea in the morning. I remember having to watch BRE to keep the birds away, smoothing the fields on a tractor with cage wheels dragging a large heavy log behind. I remember hearing the jaguar growl slowly as they come next to my grand mothers house in the jungle hoping to snatch our dogs. I remember her being mad at my uncle who wanted to kill it. I remember the Indian guy around the bend on the same creek killing the jaguar and making a lifelong enemy of my grandmother. I remember she was not too unhappy when he stepped on someone's wabini and got shot in the leg. She said he deserved it. I remember her tying a beena on me so I would not be given the bad eye/cursed by the Macoushi in the next village. I remember waking up to hundreds of Toucans, coming strip the Guava trees in the mornings. I remember I am Amerind....alas that Guyana is gone. All I remember now is how much I do not like the PPP...or the PNC for that matter.



This sound like Mills & Boon material. Smile
I think you are giving your imagination too much freedom, it was nostalgia not romance. No raven haired, doe eyed girl with ample backsides and melon like mammaries was waiting at the end of the gallop ; just my chubby, fussy mom with a towel and lots of yapping about getting sick being out in the cold rain.


Oh well it still sounds romantic in my world Smile



'specaiily dis here part, "raven haired, doe eyed girl with ample backsides and melon like mammaries" waitin for a gallop ..
cain
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by Bookman:
BOOKMAN'S MEMORIES OF GUYANA:
Zex soap. OK soap. Carbolic soap. Dry nenwah scrubber. Coconut husk pot scrubber. Canadian Healing Oil. Ferrol Cough Syrup. Whizz pain killer, Phensic pain killer. Phosphorene. PL pills. Brooklax. Calabash. Rain water vat. Sill and lorha. Dhal gutni. Pooknee. Sifta. Flat iron. Communal standpipe. Communal latrine over trench. Roxy cinema. Monarch cinema. Erlo cinema. Tarla cinema. TIGER the wallaba wood man from Leonora. Tube radios: PYE, ECKO, Ferguson. Berec batteries. Mohini Hair Oil. Humber bicycle. Raleigh bicycle. Triumph bicycle. BSA motorbike. Mandall's De Soto car at Zeeburg. Sweet fig banana. Barahar fruit. Bookers Gin. Portello soft drinks. Puma soft drinks. Ferraz peanut punch. Lighthouse cigarettes. Broadway cigarettes. Texas 99 cigarettes. Bristol cigarettes. Lighthouse matches. Russian Bear rum. D'Andrade fruit cured rum. Correia's wine. Auto Supplies. Hindustani-Pakistani Record Bar. Jihangir Record Bar. Ayube Hamid. Ishri Singh. Sonny Mohamed. Pita Peyari. Bulla Mubarak. Mohan Nandu. Gobin Ram. King Cobra. Lord Canary. ACE Record Bar. SPCK Bookshop. Argosy Bookshop. Midget Bookshop. Central Bookshop. Ifill's Book Stall in Stabroek Market. Fowlcock sweetie. Oasis restaurant. Rendezvous restaurant. Bamboo Garden restaurant. Farm Fresh restaurant. National restaurant. Brown Betty ice cream. Kissing Bridge in Botanical Gardens. Porknocker statue in Guyana Museum. Salted Channa sold in newspaper funnel.


Dry nenwah scrubber = Loofah in NA.

FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by Bookman:
BOOKMAN'S MEMORIES OF GUYANA:
Zex soap. OK soap. Carbolic soap. Dry nenwah scrubber. Coconut husk pot scrubber. Canadian Healing Oil. Ferrol Cough Syrup. Whizz pain killer, Phensic pain killer. Phosphorene. PL pills. Brooklax. Calabash. Rain water vat. Sill and lorha. Dhal gutni. Pooknee. Sifta. Flat iron. Communal standpipe. Communal latrine over trench. Roxy cinema. Monarch cinema. Erlo cinema. Tarla cinema. TIGER the wallaba wood man from Leonora. Tube radios: PYE, ECKO, Ferguson. Berec batteries. Mohini Hair Oil. Humber bicycle. Raleigh bicycle. Triumph bicycle. BSA motorbike. Mandall's De Soto car at Zeeburg. Sweet fig banana. Barahar fruit. Bookers Gin. Portello soft drinks. Puma soft drinks. Ferraz peanut punch. Lighthouse cigarettes. Broadway cigarettes. Texas 99 cigarettes. Bristol cigarettes. Lighthouse matches. Russian Bear rum. D'Andrade fruit cured rum. Correia's wine. Auto Supplies. Hindustani-Pakistani Record Bar. Jihangir Record Bar. Ayube Hamid. Ishri Singh. Sonny Mohamed. Pita Peyari. Bulla Mubarak. Mohan Nandu. Gobin Ram. King Cobra. Lord Canary. ACE Record Bar. SPCK Bookshop. Argosy Bookshop. Midget Bookshop. Central Bookshop. Ifill's Book Stall in Stabroek Market. Fowlcock sweetie. Oasis restaurant. Rendezvous restaurant. Bamboo Garden restaurant. Farm Fresh restaurant. National restaurant. Brown Betty ice cream. Kissing Bridge in Botanical Gardens. Porknocker statue in Guyana Museum. Salted Channa sold in newspaper funnel.


And almost all of these things were banned/destroyed by Burnham. Mad
FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
FM Former Member
quote:
Originally posted by ksazma:
quote:
Originally posted by amral:
anybody still gat wan pozy


Aunty AGH said that she has a plant in one. Smile


You could have seen the face of one of my co-wrokers when I was explaining "pozey" to her.Smile I had to keep reminding her that we were too poor to have "inside toilet" facilities.
FM
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
VillagebelleVillagebelleProud Nanee
quote:
Originally posted by Cobra:
Anyone remembered picking bell flower (hibiscus) on Sunday morning to pray or throw dhar? (hindus)


what i remember is.....early every sunday morning all the Hindu aunties living around us would go and bathe in the trench (with dresses on of course), then they fill the lotah with water, put a hibiscus on it and go by the Jhandi bamboos in their yards......pour the water out in a gentle stream.....and pray!
Villagebelle
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ðŸ’ŊâĪïļðŸ˜‚🎉🙏ðŸĪ”😀ðŸ˜đ👍👎☝ïļðŸ‘ðŸ˜ŧ👀ðŸ‘ŋðŸ˜ĒðŸĪŠðŸĪĢ✅🙄ðŸĪ·ðŸ”Ĩ🏆📈ðŸĪŊ
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