At this hour of the day even the shade of a scrawly (Guyanese word), holey umbrella is welcoming. The kind of heat which bakes us people in GT (Georgetown), to use the words of a passing mango seller, “jus’ ain’t ordinary no mo”.
It’s like that higher power pointed to our speck of a city and said: ‘that smelly little settlement there with the clogged-up harbour and large rodents needs more heat!”
There’s no such thing as a siesta in GT, so many of us can’t even be baked in our homes. And even in this scorching heat the sweaty minibus touts will try to