To be living in Guyana and coping with the daily dysfunctions in this and that, is to notice that while we are aware of the various big projects needing attention, the creeping feeling of despair rather comes from the small malfunctions that seem to confront us – some of them going on for years – on a daily basis. So that, yes, we have all noticed the dilapidated state of our City Hall – at one time one of the proud showcases of Georgetown ‒ but distressing as that is, somewhere at the back of our brain we appreciate that it is an enormously expensive project, and we have to accept that, until funds become available, we simply have to make do with it as is; so our overall demeanour is secure.
When, however, we see a situation like my recent reference to the potholes on the entrance road to our airport at Ogle, where at the front of our brain we recognize that as a one-hour repair job for some gravel, a layer of asphalt, and two overnight barricades, the fact that we can’t seem to handle that small job leaves us completely dismayed. Understand that the holes I’m referring to here are on a narrow two-lane road, very narrow shoulders, and the potholes are so wide and deep that with two-lane traffic, vehicles in the lane with the potholes have to stop dead, allow the other lane to clear, and then you go over to that side and drive around the hole.
Understand this is the only road to the airport; failing a chartered helicopter, there is no other way to get to the facility, and so no way to bypass the impediment.
As the potholes grew larger, eventually some loose fill was deposited by a truck, but no asphalt, so at the first rain, away went the fill, and we were back to detouring potholes again.
If we can’t fix two potholes on the only road to an ‘international airport’, surely we must therefore have to put projects such as the City Hall completely out of our mind; similarly for the road to Lethem, hydro-electric power, and state-of-the-art medical facilities. Those things don’t demoralize us because they are huge undertakings, requiring millions of dollars, and we accept they’re beyond us right now.
It’s the little things not happening that cause us to despair. There is no rationale to get around the fact that two potholes on our international airport road seem to be beyond us; the evidence is there staring us in the face for weeks now as we stop at the pothole, wait for opposing traffic to pass, and then drive around the cavity.
If we can’t seem to fix even the small breakdowns, what hope do we have for the big ones? And that Ogle example is not an isolated phenomenon. Only a few miles from there, on the westbound seawall artery in Kitty leading to Vlissengen Road, a coconut tree on the northern parapet was cut down about a year ago and the trunk of the tree deposited on the roadside. Months later it is still there, partly covered by grass, and beginning to rot.
When I moved back to Guyana eight years ago, there was an abandoned 20-ft container on a parapet of the street where I live. It remains there to this day, now rusting and surrounded by weeds, serenely part of the neighbourhood; any time two cars approach, one has to give way.
The mindset here is that we can understand the big projects being very difficult; after all, they’re big; you’re talking millions of dollars, whether it’s restoration, like City Hall and Kitty Market, or innovation, like the Lethem Road, hydro power, and state-of-the-art health services; there are major burdens there so it’s understandable that we might stumble.
But when the small projects fail to happen, or fall apart quickly when completed, we can’t assimilate that. There is no rational explanation for why we can’t fix two potholes on a major roadway. It’s either we are inept, or uncommitted, or perhaps our attention has been drawn to some gain that benefits us and only us, and so we let things go.
Since the question of financial wherewithal is vitally in play here, I was interested to run across a website this week called FIND THE DATA by Graphiq which has listed the poorest countries in the world under the heading ‘Most Cash Poor Countries’, based on World Bank GDP data for 2015.
There is no explanation of their criteria, but on their list of “poorest countries” the higher the number the better the cash flow, so at #1 Burundi is the worst off.
This is a ‘poor country’ list and Barbados and Trinidad are not on it; interestingly, neither is Suriname, Grenada, St Lucia, Antigua, or St Kitts; perhaps feedback data was lacking. The highest listed Caribbean country is Dominica at 114, St Vincent is 112, Cuba is 110, South Africa is 101, Iran is 99, Jamaica is 97, Belize is 94, Guyana is 85, Egypt is 74, Honduras is 61, Pakistan is 46, India is 45, Bangladesh is 37, Haiti is 27, Afghanistan is 14, and Burundi is 1. (I did find it very odd that India is more cash poor than Guyana; something seems amiss there.)
In the overall, though, as we contemplate the ongoing matter of standard of living, which is essentially the point here, I am beginning to believe that much of the silent despair many of us feel here comes from those little defects we see in our daily movements, in the sense that as we worry about tackling the big projects we are subconsciously getting the negative message every day from those small failures of the derelict container, the rotting coconut tree, and the holes in the airport road.
We are braced for the big jolt; it’s those small encounters, sneaking in from the side that get to us every day, chipping away at our psyche and leaving us disillusioned.
