Dear Editor,
At this festive time of the year, as I confine myself to the four walls of my living room in semi-frigid upstate New York, hoping against hope that, with the advent of real spring weather, the weather will warm up, I cannot resist the temptation to embark on that nostalgic trip to relive the fun times I used to have in the balmy temperatures of beautiful Guyana at Easter time.
Oh, how, as a kid, I would join others after school and on weekends, as we prepared for that special holiday weekend of frolicking and kite-flying to mark the end of the Lent and Easter seasons. I remember vividly the excitement of merely going to the nearby village store to purchase ‘kite paper,’ and staring at the assortment of beautiful colours, as the shopkeeper reached up to pull each sheet of ‘red, white, blue and yellow,’ my favourite colours to make a ‘star-patchwork’ kite. The flimsy but satin-smooth feel, the mild rustling sound, and the variety of colours of that unique parchment will, I know, always haunt my fantasies as I continue to confine myself to the ice-box atmosphere to which I chose to transplant myself.
I used to take pride in my kite-making prowess, derived from looking at the way my late father and my elder brothers approached this unique art. But getting the raw material for the construction always posed a challenge. Lucky for me, pilfering pieces of our house broom, made from the branches of the coconut tree, went mostly unnoticed to my strict mother; but this was a misdemeanor when compared to the felony of being caught with my hands in the flour jar – flour being used to make the paste for the potential flier. And then, my mother being a seamstress, reels of thread to fly the kite was always temptingly within reach, though pilfering this prized commodity could carry the equivalent of solitary confinement.
As Easter approached, I would graduate from ‘broom’ to ‘board’ kite. This involved getting the local furniture maker to provide the four pieces of light-weight lumber (board) and putting them together, carefully balanced with a tiny nail at the center. It was my responsibility to construct the nose, out of a pliable strip of bamboo or three pieces of broom strapped together. Creating the nose with the bent bamboo or broom left a portion of the string, used to construct the framework, available for attaching the ‘tongue’ of the kite – ‘tongue’ because when the kite is airborne, a continuous buzzing sound that was music to the ears was created, and the stronger the wind the better the kite would ‘sing.’
The ‘board’ kite size of choice for me was from two to two-and-a-half feet in length. And I always went for the star patchwork in lieu of the more easily pasted brown paper or ‘hat bag’ kite. The different colours I chose were, in my view, prettier and so attracted more attention.
The arrival of Easter Monday meant the culmination of what always seemed an interminable wait. As the day progressed, both adults and children would venture out to ‘raise’ their kites, and eventually the ‘savannah’ skies would be arrayed with an amazingly colourful tapestry of flying objects, ‘singing’ shrilly away to the delight of all, especially the kids (and indeed, we were all kids for that day!). The day’s activities would go on virtually non-stop in the warm tropical sunshine until sundown, when all the revelers, by now somewhat exhausted, would have had their full day of celebration and satisfaction. Then the curtains would be pulled down to bring to an end another uniquely special Guyanese holiday season.
And here sit I, once an avid kite maker and flier, in an environment far from conducive to such fun activities, doing all that I can do in my adopted surroundings: just reminisce. But, as a car commercial once said, I asked for it and got it!
But wait: Maybe next year I can make amends and go back home to relive it all.
Happy Easter!
Yours faithfully,
Abel Peters
