Dear Editor,
I refer to the timely and relevant SN editorial `Mayhem on the roads continuing’ (SN May 5). Indeed, it is, and it is now part of the settled culture, one aspect of the resignation associated with road realities in this society. Five hundred words are a mere scratch of the surface in any attempt to capture the sheer ugliness and madness that prevail on local roads; fifty thousand words might not be enough, but I sketch some of the flavours of a regular day on the road that complement SN’s editorial.
Traffic lights seem to serve little restraining purpose, other than being an ignored sentinel at many crowded fast moving intersections. They are routinely and casually dismissed in a blare of horns and increased acceleration. This is not rushing to catch green, or squeezing past amber. It is about going through red a long dangerous time after its unblinking signal glared. Blinking red is an open invitation for continuing exhibitions of crass Guyanese ignorance, utter stupidity, and terrible recklessness. It is of those lacking the intelligence to adhere to any standard. The corner of Brickdam and Camp Street stands as one prime example.
The Traffic Chief is going to take offence, but this has to be said: the same indifference and disregard for rules of the road and the safety of others extends to some of his ranks. Example: the light reads red on the northbound traffic light at Church and Camp Streets. There is a mounted traffic rank locked in conversation, as he occupies the turning lane, with a female pedestrian, while a driver ignores him and drives through the red light. There is no way, the traffic rank could be unaware of what happened, as he himself is waiting on the light to change. Many lengthy seconds after, when his conversation is satisfactorily completed, he proceeds rapidly with lights flashing after (I believe) the violator.
My regret is that I was too far back in the waiting line to record his motorcycle number. Also, proceed near to any intersection where there are traffic lights, and there are uniformed ranks locked in conversation with one another, while one dangerous situation after another unfold right before their eyes. They do nothing. They are content to stand on the grass and away from roadway, totally unconcerned with the plight of imperiled road users. Why are these ranks being paid? Why are they still on the job? Observe them as they leave the precincts, on the way to take up positions. They manifest all the enthusiasm of men going to take up a long residence in jail; the body language and whole projection are representative of detachment and disinterest. It is any wonder that the mayhem not only is continuing, but is increasing…
Then there are some pedestrians, who embody the easygoing indifference and indiscipline so characteristic (to be sure, a national one) of thought-challenged Guyanese. There is pavement, but they insist on walking on the busy lanes, sometimes two or three abreast. This type of misuse includes school children who mass in jaywalking mobs of studied unruliness. Yes, the cops are watching unmoved. And then there are drivers.
They complain that they are blamed for everything. The large majority of them should be; and this is not for minor infractions. Many times I use taxis to let someone else deal with the traffic. Now I am seriously rethinking that position, given the evasive actions that I am mentally taking while inside the car, and while being driven by another. Major roads, lanes, cautionary speed, and other users are not part of the regular Guyanese driver’s vision, concern, or lexicon. Frequently, drivers (private cars, taxis, buses) discharge passengers in the middle of the road, while blocking the free movement of others; it does not matter that there is ample space at the side for them to offload cargo, and let others pass. I usually chuckle, sing a few lines aloud, and let the others behind me unleash their angry horns; this is a big joke for me. It is not a joke though, that too many local drivers of varying ages and uncertain genders display neither courtesy nor care nor judgement nor sense on a daily basis. Police drivers are part of this endless cavalcade of swarming motorized monsters. Clearly, their ancestors lacked training; nothing was passed on to them in this department.
Further, the few citizens who adhere diligently to traffic rules (speed limit, lights, pedestrian crossings and so forth) have shared stories about impatient horns, tailgating, hard looks, and other forms of road rage that is increasingly part and parcel of daily Guyanese vulgarity. I have encouraged two responses: go slower, and turn up the music twice as loud. The average Guyanese driver is uncouth, unlearned, and uncivilized. I do not think that more law and regulations will make much of a difference; especially when the uniformed enforcers are idling in the shade and too busy to be bothered. I do believe, though, that more realistic fines can make the unthinking pause, if only monetarily. Of course, there is the risk and opportunity for traffic people to raise their prices, too.
One of the reasons that I strongly support parking meters is for the smidgen of discipline compelled. I see it as a tool in humbling wayward Guyanese drivers into dutiful (or expensive) submission. The hourly rates should be cheaper, but the fines for violations made draconian, if only for the deterrence effect. I believe that parking meters and the associated costs could transform a very tight capital city into a more civilized environment. It is overdue.
In sum, there are few innocents in the combat zones that are Guyanese roadways. Pedestrians, adults, children, motorcyclists, private drivers, and commercial operators are all leering hostile patients in the national mental asylum best called Guyana’s Road Rogues Raceway. In this sick place, they are attended by incompetents, and those afflicted with multiple malaises. They would be traffic policemen.
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall
