Guyanese-born poet, writer and academic David Dabydeen is perhaps one of the most colourful literary artists of his time. I have always fancied a nice creole poem; my favourite poets being Edward Baugh and Christine Craig but I would be a fool to not have Dabydeen on my list with his “Coolie Mother” and “Coolie Son”.
Bear in mind that I was born and raised in the city where no one in my family – a mix of Indians, Blacks and Amerindians – dared to say the word “coolie”. We, like so many others in the country, saw the word as derogatory, on the lines of racism. I was explaining to a friend that my extended family was so multi-ethnic that we never saw any difference in our very large household. We transcended all boundaries of culture. It was commonplace to have pepperpot for breakfast, curry or cook-up for lunch and dinners of the occasional roasted meat. Of course what we ate was just the tip of our cultural iceberg. Thankfully, I experienced all cultures of the six peoples in our country.
Now imagine this city boy as he sits in class and recites “Coolie Mother” out loud, hesitates to say the title and only does it after shrugging; feeling as if he has cursed in class. Consumed with guilt, he pulls himself through, not understanding many of the references and the beautiful use of similes. (Listen closely to a Guyanese and you will find that we season our speech with similes; always describing someone or something with ‘like’ and ‘as’.)
Dabydeen, secure in his maturity as an Indian-Guyanese, used the word ‘coolie’ without hesitation to describe the personas of the poems. The poems can offer comic relief but paint a picture of us Guyanese as a people.
Today, years later I see ethnic lines drawn in Guyana, but perhaps because of my upbringing I cannot grasp the relevance of this division and why we just can’t move forward for the good of all of us. Oh my Guyanese nation how beautiful we are; if only we can see it. If only we can see how hardworking and motivated a people we are.
Both of Dabydeen’s poems show this in two different ways. During this season of Mashramani, what better time to sit and read about Dabydeen’s Coolies?
After reading the two, I tended to focus more on the industrious woman from Canje, Berbice. Her strength and her attitude reflect how we should behave as a nation. Jasmattie, the coolie mother, was sick and tired from hard work, but her one life’s goal pushed her forward day after day. Death was knocking at her door, but she remained motivated so that her son, and the future generation of her people would be educated. She refused to have him grow up and become like his “rum-sucker chamar dadee.”
I instantly thought of not only this mother during what must have been pre-independence but the mothers of today. The ones who work hard without aid, the ones who sacrifice even their own lives. I thought of the lessons and morals they instil in their children because they want them to grow up and be more than what surrounds them.
Then I looked at the bigger picture of young Guyana, whose British mother left her with nothing but a Commonwealth title but who took on the principles of a Republic. Do we, her children, aspire to be more than what we see around us?
Should I really answer that question when a strong ethnic line persists? Should I answer it when we can’t even keep our one and only city clean? Does it need an answer when providing basic services for less than 800,000 people is a strenuous task and not a priority?
What are we slaving for? Jasmattie surely did not want her son to be a loser like his father; she not only saw hope in her son’s life but in the future generations. Can we work just as hard to ensure the future of this Guyanese nation? Can we not see that there is hope and that if we, Guyana’s children, learn to respect ourselves and others we can build a nation of unity?
