Punctuality is a big thing with me. From a boy, as the Jamaicans say, I’ve been that way mainly, I believe, from the example of my mother who was always on time or early for everything. Catching the train from Vreed-en-Hoop to Parika, the Martins family of five would be in the stelling even before the train taking us would arrive. Most folks taking a taxi down the coast would come out of the house as the driver blew his horn; my mother would have us waiting at the roadside when he pulled up. So naturally, in the Tradewinds years, in a reflection on some of the foibles found in Caribbean culture, when I wrote a song called ‘It’s Traditional,’ Caribbean problems with time was one of the deficiencies I mentioned. On that subject my comedic complaint was: “We buy the most expensive watch to know how late we’re coming late.” People repeat that line to me up to this day, usually with a laugh of course, while acknowledging that it’s true. In fact, one gentleman in Barbados actually sang the words to me in a restaurant one day and ended up raising his arm with a huge Rolex on it and admitting, “I am one of those people you know.”
Caribbean people indeed are known to have tardiness in our genes. It’s part of the culture and it pops up everywhere. Of course we migrate to developed countries, where punctuality is a must, and overnight we’re as punctual as the Canadians or the Americans, but across the region we continue to pay scant attention to the clock.
In 2008, four weeks back living in Guyana, I was invited to take part in a panel discussion on art at a hotel venue in Georgetown. The card gave me the address of the place and the starting time as 6pm. Martins arrived at the appointed hour to find the place completely empty. Assuming I had the time wrong I checked with the receptionist only to be told that it was indeed scheduled for 6. She volunteered to summon the organizer of the event who came out, very embarrassed, looking at his watch, and lamenting, “I’m so sorry, Dave. The event is supposed to be 6, but you know Guyanese don’t come anywhere on time.” I was floored. This was a rather prestigious event, with a number of prominent people in Guyana taking part, and I couldn’t believe that every single one of them was late.
Lack of punctuality is everywhere in this society. Being late is an accepted norm, and the disposition is not only found everywhere, it is probably more prevalent the higher one goes. It is frequently the case at functions where the most senior persons in government are appearing that the proceedings are delayed until the featured individual, himself late, has arrived. Worse yet, in many instances, when the event starts on time, the programme comes to a halt and everyone stands when the honourable sir or madam arrives – late. One night at the Umana Yana, with the event one hour late, and a very high administration officiaI on the programme, but nowhere in sight, I asked the security officer, whom I knew, about the delay. He leaned close to me and said, “The Chief called earlier and told me to call him when the crowd build up. So I just called him and he’ll be here soon.” The dignitary did eventually arrive but “soon” does not begin to describe the timing.
Of course, it’s not just Guyana. Lateness is part of Caribbean life. I’ve been to almost every island in the region, and it is in full flower everywhere. Just this week, I received a postcard from a friend, Bernard Fernandes, who lives in Vancouver but is a carnival aficionado. Going to Antigua to check out their carnival, Bernard, an avid photographer, had gone on the website to learn that the carnival costume parade would be starting at 11am. On the island, he calls an official to confirm the time and he’s told, “Don’t go for 11; that’s too early; get there for 12.” The taxi driver, arriving to take Bernard, asks him where he’s going. Told he’s photographing carnival costumes, the taxi driver laughs. “At dis hour? No man. Doan expeck to see nuttin til all 3 o’clock.” It’s in the genes.
Even when we migrate and learn to respect the clock, the old ways, buried in the genes, can spring back to life. I’ve talked before about the Tradewinds nightclub We Place in Toronto where some patron would win a bottle of champagne in a draw at midnight on Fridays. One Friday night, a Jamaican regular shows up at 12.30 and asks about the draw. I told him, “At this time? The draw is at midnight; where were you?” Looking suddenly embarrassed, the J gives me a half smile and says, “Yeah bredrin. Ah sorry. Ah was in de west end, and a lateness take me.”
Finally, since I’ve heard that newcomers to Guyana sometimes read this column to help get familiarized, allow me to warn any recent arrivals that the two most must elusive words in our language are contained in the phrase “just now.” Any time you ask a Guyanese for the estimated time of something (a person arriving, a package being delivered, an event starting ) and you get the response “just now”; understand that that could mean anything from 10 minutes to 5 hours, and, if the speaker is Amerindian, you could be looking at sunset. In Guyana and in the wider region, we are not particularly governed by the hands of the clock; tardiness is in our genes.
