One of the casualties of development and changes in society is the irretrievable loss of traditions and customs. One such way of yore which has disappeared from our everyday culture was the trip to Atkinson Field – (commonly referred to as ‘The ‘Base’), and later on, Timehri Airport.
In the Destroyers for Bases Agreement signed on 2nd September, 1940, between Great Britain and the United States of America (USA), in the midst of World War II, the latter received the right, under the 99 year rent free lease, to establish naval and air bases on several British possessions. Here, in British Guiana (BG), the Americans established an air base 25 miles up the Demerara River, on the right bank . The construction of the aerodrome on 68 acres at Hyde Park commenced in June 1941with the activation of a weather station and was completed within six months following almost nonstop round-the-clock construction.
The mission of Atkinson Field was to protect the colony from the German U-Boats prowling in the Atlantic Ocean. This was later expanded to protecting the coastline of northwest South America from the Axis Forces following the discovery of bauxite in Brazil in 1943. It also served as a major hub for the transfer of personnel and cargo from the USA to West Africa and the Middle East. Among the tall trees of the nearby jungle of the critical refueling stop, were 19 camouflaged fuel tanks, with a storage capacity of 250,000 gallons, which were connected to the runway via an underground siphoning system.
In October 1946, following the end of the war, Atkinson Field saw the commencement of commercial air traffic and the origin of a good ole Guyanese tradition, the trip to ‘The Base.’ The myth and the legend of Atkinson Field, which was a restricted area during the war, had grown over the years, and a trip to the now famous BG landmark to send a loved one off on an overseas trip or to receive someone returning home, or a first time visitor to the Land of Many Waters, was an important lifetime trip. The older generation can still fondly recall their first visit to the then modern institution.
The announcement of the date of a pending excursion – the occasion was treated as such – was a highly anticipated event and the building excitement was further accentuated if the trip was on a Sunday morning. The numerous detailed plans included the preparation of bags of sandwiches, the purchase of a few cases of soft drinks and beers, the checking of the road worthiness of the family car – careful examination of the spare wheel -, ‘gassing up,’ coordination with other family members for the departure of the convoy – notably starting location – and the crucial final stop at W & R (Wieting & Richter) Ice House to fill the Styrofoam ice boxes with crushed ice along with a last check to ensure that the bottle opener was still attached to ice box.
The string of vehicles would then set off along the Base Road which had been built during the war, replacing the former track on which only a limited number of vehicles could have previously traversed. As the cars meandered along the twisting road with its sharp bends and narrow bridges, passengers jostle each other for glimpses of the nearby Demerara River whilst an older family recants tales of past trips on the said waterway aboard the “R H Carr” to the bauxite mining town of McKenzie.
As the numbers on the concrete mileposts astride the road mount, so does the growing tension and anticipation of seeing the airport. Past Madewini Creek, a sharp ninety degree left turn in the vicinity of Timehri docks follows, as the road swings inland, and begins the winding climb up the now hilly terrain. The surface starts to level out and Atkinson Field appears in sight. The legendary terminal is there for all to see.
There is a mad rush to the viewing gallery to witness and greet the arrival of the noisy aircraft. The plane touches down to whoops of cheering and screaming, and taxis to a halt out on the tarmac. The steps are rolled out to the aircraft, the passengers disembark and are welcomed by delirious family members and friends packed in the gallery and shouting at the top of their lungs as they compete to identify their arrival amidst the well-dressed travellers who are making their way to the terminal. Burdened with heavy coats and bags, some of them smile and return waves of acknowledgement while family members scrutinize and pass on long distance observations about the new spouses of the visitors. This is the pinnacle moment in the trip, the arrival of the visitor, the crescendo emanating from the viewing gallery. The energy is electric, the arrivals draw closer, everyone can be easily identified, the screams grow louder, tears of joy flow freely. The observations range from the obvious to the ridiculous; “Look he dey!”; “ Michael get fair!”; “Auntie grow tall!”; “Who’s dat with (s)he?”
Attendees in the viewing gallery for departing flights are studies in complete contrast. They are often sparse in number and scattered like quarantined creatures. It is quiet, the relatives and friends are reflective. Not even the pending prospect of a trip to the famous South Dakota Racing Circuit, or Dakara Creek (also known as Louie Chung Creek), or one of the creeks on the newly opened Linden Soesdyke Highway can elevate the spirits of the melancholy few here to witness the departure of a loved one who is emigrating to ‘foreign.’ The boarding call is announced, the passengers turn for a final look, their bright smiles and goodbye waves are reciprocated with forced smiles, open tears of sadness and mechanical waves. At the top of the stairs some passengers turn for a last look which is accompanied with a disparaging gesture. It is quite clear they have no intention of returning.
Fast forward to today’s modern international airport, the Cheddi Jagan International Airport, the recent recipient of a US$130 million upgrade. Where is the viewing gallery located?
Sad to report, there is no viewing gallery. The arrival and departure experiences at Timehri have been reduced to dull and soulless transactions. Witnesses to departures can sit on their cars in the parking lot and peer into the sky for a final glance as the aircraft climbs into the sky.
Long gone are the days of the viewing gallery, collateral damage of modern development.
