Dear Editor,
I thank Mr Frank Fyffe and Stabroek News for respectively writing and publishing the wonderful nostalgic piece ‘Recalling “Deslyn’s Parliament” in Linden’ which appeared in the letters column on Monday, February 13. It is refreshing to read such a socio-cultural reawakening treatise on a topic that is not related the current political dynamics dominating our over-charged political landscape. Reading Mr Fyffe invokes Guyana’s grandmaster of nostalgia prose, the late Godfrey Chin, who has left such big shoes to fill that it will take a collective effort of several Fyffelike contributors before trying for a fit. So in this Mashramani season we can appropriately start the journey by sharing stories about community parliaments and other similar historical social happenings that captured our interest as observers, backbenchers, shadow ministers or cabinet members.
Mr Fyffe referred to certain features of Desmond Trotz’s “Deslyn’s Parliament.” They include 1) a snackette and bar that facilitated members’ desire to imbibe; 2) the presence of other individuals who, though not consuming, would take up strategic positions to soak up whatever was discussed; 3) a special spot/ table reserved within the premises for “members of parliament”; 4) the coverage of a multiplicity of local, national and international topics, oftentimes at boisterous level late into the night; and 5) though debates sometimes reached a critical point and men had to be restrained, “when that was over it was done, no ill feeling remained.” I consider this noteworthy when compared to the growing propensity by some in society to ratchet up rancour and violence once there is disagreement.
From my childhood at Bartica to working life as a field officer in West Berbice, East/ Central Mahaicony from where scores of family members migrated, to the bauxite communities of Linden and Kwakwani, I had the rewarding experience of observing several parliaments in session similar to the one highlighted by Mr Fyffe. Such parliaments were of invaluable assistance to the work of public servants in law enforcement, as well as those engaged in the social sciences. Perhaps that experience might be a contributing factor that led many retired public servants to continue the pursuit of certain social habits well into the twilight of their existence. The parliaments I observed over time had characteristics similar to the five noted above, along with some additional attributes that I will now proceed to underscore. Apart from the pull factor of social drinking, parliament usually had other forms of attraction that enticed its regulars. The card game of bridge was a sweetener at Alwin Prince’s establishment at Lichfield village. Alwin’s succeeded Archie Naipaul and Felicia Fung grocery and rum shop after the passing of Ms Fung. Forshaw Ross and Joe Saul’s at No 41 and Seafield also hosted a mini-parliament, but they were no match for Alwin’s which was operating a stone’s throw from the dormant granddaddy of them all, Robbie Wade’s “store” front. Alwin, a tailor and farmer, who would be hobbling from sewing machine to drinks station, held the advantage because of the late night access by patrons. The late Clement B Rodney, headmaster of Lichfield Primary school who followed other accomplished heads like Felix Carmichael and Allan Ramlall at St Jude’s, was the consensus Speaker of that parliament.
At Hopetown, Zando’s butcher shop took over from Percy Issacs’ after a long run of hosting parliament. It would not be far-fetched to conclude that men like the late Senior Counsel Peter Britton, lawyer and Mayor Maurice Haniff, and head teacher Thomas Robertson may have ‘cut their eye teeth’ as great debaters at Percy’s parliament. Others who also apprenticed at ‘Scandal Bridge,’ an extension of Percy’s parliament, would be the likes of Eddie Johnson, Thomas Robertson, Evan Brewster Semple, Joe Alfred, T R Joseph and the brothers Michael and Stanley Hamilton, whose father also occasionally hosted sittings at his tailor shop. At Zando’s, a pot bubbling with ‘beef rice,’ a West Berbice’s delicacy, and the occasional ‘dry food’ was an integral part of the parliamentary interaction. So were indoor games such as dominoes and draughts.
The human resource was also a factor that influenced the making and sustainability of parliament. At Bartica in the ’60s a parliament was located at Oscar Smartt’s First Avenue establishment. And though its location next to the only cinema may have assisted in it being so recognized over CD Persaud or Maikoo’s, Smartt’s beautiful daughters motivated many a prospective suitor to sit at parliament often with the hope of gaining attention by exhibiting their prowess at trivia and current affairs with self-assured gusto.
Lest one imagines that parliament was exclusively a rural activity occurring only in the evenings, let me hasten to dismiss such thinking. There is a popular place in the City of Georgetown where parliament is held religiously at midday from Monday to Saturday.
If you doubt me, check out a building at Quamina and Waterloo Street corner at lunchtime. I guarantee you would be intrigued after taking in speaker Clem and the boys in action. Trust me!
Yours faithfully,
Derrick Cummings
