People landing in Guyana for the first time, will encounter a range of cultural surprises ranging from mild (road-side vendors) to severe (meat stalls in Stabroek Market), and I have often thought that since Guyana is so contrary, even by regional comparisons, that we should have a basic information booklet at the airport – perhaps even distributed to foreign travel agents – with a list of pointers to prepare people for some of the jolts they will encounter in GT.
It goes without saying that such information would already be known to most resident Guyanese, so, if that’s you, then perhaps you should skip this article and wait for next week’s column. This piece is really aimed at people who are coming to Guyana for the first time, or for people who have been away for many years (like Johnny Braff, living abroad for 31 years, and saying, “Buddy, dis place really change up.”) and needing some help with the things that are different here. Understand that this is an almost encyclopaedic subject (our Tourism Ministry could do a book on this) but here are some initial pointers.
To begin with, if you’ve come here accustomed to driving in the developed world, getting in a car in Guyana is not so much transportation as a life-changing experience. For one thing, the centre white line is found only sparingly here; on most of the roadways it is completely absent, and one would think that was due to Government funds being tight, or to simply wear and tear from the constant sunshine and heat, but the explanation is that it’s superfluous. Because of the narrow roadways, and the plethora of roadside parking, Guyanese drivers are constantly shifting the white line, mentally, to continue traffic flow. Here’s how it works: instead of waiting to drive around another vehicle or obstruction in front, a Guyanese driver heading north will simply pull into the lane where traffic is heading south so that the two vehicles, moving at a rate, are now headed straight for each other. A visitor driving here for the first time is liable to go into hysterics at this move, but the southbound Guyanese driver simply pulls slightly to the left, and the two vehicles whiz past each other without slowing up (okay, they’re kind of close), and then each goes back into their regular lanes
This is a common practice, you’ll see it on every road, every hour of the day, it’s the Guyanese solution to our narrow roads, and it’s actually a very efficient tactic. Without it, there would be constant traffic jams, as vehicles wait for a clear road to proceed, and most of us would be hours late getting wherever we’re going. We simply move the white line mentally, do the passing manoeuvre, and then move it back. Now mind you, it takes getting used to – I was in a car here once with a first-time visitor and she became totally unglued by this manoeuvre – but trust me, it works…well, most of the time.
The other thing to look out for in Guyana is the almost manic use of car horns.
Guyanese are apparently trained by their driving instructors to operate their vehicles with a thumb poised permanently over the horn button because they will let it go at the slightest provocation, or with apparently no provocation, and it can scare the starch out of you. At stoplights, in particular, if you’re a fraction slow moving on the green, drivers lined up behind will let out a simultaneous blast that can lower your cholesterol; guys two blocks behind you in the line are beeping. Further, since most traffic lights display a numerical countdown for the light change, drivers will actually start moving before the zero to get a jump on things, so you’d better follow suit or you may hear some choice descriptions of your close relatives.
You should also know that we have a range of car horn sounds in Guyana. Apart from the screaming hold-down-the-button-hard sound when you’re late at a light, we have the two short beeps for overtaking on the right, the steady short beeps by bus drivers to recruit passengers, the single very short toot to attract a nubile female, and the very difficult beep-alternating-with-a-wave move that some young people will use, accompanied by gales of laughter, to greet friends. In short, the car horn in most countries is a traffic signal; in Guyana it’s a way of life.
In Georgetown, also, be alert for beggars who station themselves at various junctions or stoplights. Some of these folks, apparently handicapped, can navigate like rabbits through a maze of traffic and locate your vehicle faster than airport radar. Most of them are usually benign, but some will actually establish your donation (“Gimme that hundred, na?”), and one salty individual, on Lamaha Street, has been known to pound on your vehicle if you don’t put something in his bowl; the dude has never heard of public relations.
If you’re going to be living here a while, and fixing up your abode, be aware that the hardware/houseware market generally operates on niches. The guy selling paint doesn’t always have paint thinner. The hardware store (a big one) may carry the 3-inch bolts you want, but not the nuts; you’ll have to go to another store to get that, and he may have the nuts, all right, but only for the 4-inch bolts. Bolt-down hammock hooks, in a country of hammocks, are not all over the place. You have to go to a store in Bentinck Street for that. I know where it is; call me.
If you find a reliable plumber, electrician, or carpenter, hold onto him for dear life. Most of those gentlemen here are good with their trade; the trouble is getting them to show up. That call-the-serviceman-he-comes-tomorrow pattern you know from North America? Not in GT. Let me put it this way: Between the time you call the guy to repair your clothes washer, you could fly to Miami, buy a washer, have it sent here, clear it through Customs (ask a Guyanese how long that takes), get your new washer going, and the repairman is still “coming”. In GT, so it go.
My apologies; this was supposed to cover a lot of pointers, but I got carried away with the driving stuff and ran out of space. Remind me to warn you next time about the taxi drivers at the airport (those guys can tear you limb from limb), Bourda Market when it rains, and a boat ride on the Essequibo River in the afternoon when the waves are out in force.
Before I go, I have deliberately omitted a phenomenon in Guyana (that’s the only word for it) called the mini-bus driver. I say “deliberately” because you probably wouldn’t believe what I told you anyway, and, besides, there are some things in life you learn best first hand.
