Standing outside the Regional Administrative Office in Mabaruma, Region One, on hot and rainy mornings are Venezuelans. Some faces tell of desperation and some of fatigue, but perhaps all are faces of hope. It is hope that drives them to wait for hours for hampers. They know it will feed them if only for a few days, but still, they keep hanging on the threads of life in their darkest hours.
The faces of those Venezuelans do not resemble the typical faces of Venezuelans seen in Georgetown and some other parts of Guyana. They can easily be mistaken for Guyanese as they resemble our Indigenous brothers and sisters. I was told many of them are from the Warrau nation. They remind us that no matter where people would have settled on this continent, we are connected through blood, culture, and experiences.
As we drove from where they stood, I grappled with that feeling where empathy meets grief. So often when we witness hardships that are not ours, we struggle to comprehend the conflicts of our struggles versus theirs and our struggles versus those who have created the worlds of poverty in a planet so rich.
Though the Venezuelans stood outside that Regional Administrative Office waiting for hampers, not being chased away, not being beaten, not having insults hurled at them (at least not that I heard), it was said that their presence is not always welcomed. It was reported that the desperation of the Venezuelans in Region One has manifested in farms being raided of their produce and fruit trees of their fruits, sometimes before they are fully ripened. Whether they invade while the residents sleep or their backs are turned, morality often takes leave when people are so desperate.
I thought about how desperate we are too as Guyanese. All may not be desperate to emerge from the claws of poverty, but even some wealthy of money and possessions are poor. They are poor in spirit and morality. Some are desperate for power, and some believe by being arrogant and greedy they are powerful.
Venezuelans are coming to this country because in it they see hope. And in the case of the Warrau Venezue-lans, though their language may be different from the Guyanese Warraus thanks to colonisation, their culture in many aspects remains similar. They realise that they can blend in among their brothers and sisters and eventually that connection that was lost when some settled in Venezuela and some in Guyana can be rebuilt. Eventually, perhaps they will merge into one people and slowly the hostilities that exist will dwindle. But we should ponder what that will mean for us about a decade or two from now when Venezuelan faces would have merged with Guyanese. Will the Venezuelans and Venezuelan Guyanese eventually outnumber the ones whose ancestors were enslaved or indentured on this land? How will it affect our politics? What would it mean for the distribution of wealth? And if oil wealth is mismanaged and we experience the oil curse and only 10% or less grow ridiculously wealthy, what would it mean for all of us?
Guyanese have been migrating for betterment for decades but are we who are still occupying this land at risk to be as desperate as some of the Venezuelans in our country? Some of our people are already that desperate but often they are invisible to the ones who do not care or seeing them is too uncomfortable. Could we see some of our people though, standing in sun or rain, waiting for help in another country?
Humans’ selfishness, arrogance, god complexes, and, in some cases, their carelessness or lack of vision or planning have resulted in realities such as Venezuelans fleeing their oil rich country for betterment. While some Guyanese dreams in this current reality are composed of $25,000 and $200,000 cash grants, flood and COVID relief for some, severance packages for sugar workers every other day, black gold wealth for a few, the dreams of some Venezuelans fleeing to Guyana are in hampers and in raiding the farms and fruit trees in some of the communities they find themselves. The dreams of some Guyanese who do not receive any grants or relief are to be seen as equal in their country and to have access to the opportunities that exist without bias.
We have seen Venezuelans in Georgetown with their fast-food stands. Some are working in stores and supermarkets, and some are working white-collar jobs, but what is common for all is that they are here, which for them is a land of opportunity. The Guyanese who face the same or similar hardships, we must wonder if they also see our country as a land of opportunity.
I was reminded of a young woman I saw in Lethem a couple of weeks ago. She was frail, no more than twenty, with a child no more than a year, sitting outside a grocery store begging. She was one of a few young women with children I saw begging during my week there. Looking at her and her baby it was one of those moments when empathy met grief overwhelmingly. It was the sight of the child hanging on the hem of his mother’s garment, innocent, a Guyanese, in an oil rich country where there are daily talks about development and a bright future for all. But many Guyanese need help now, and that help is not in telling them that they need to wait to be able to afford to live comfortably here. Many have already gone to their graves without knowing.
That help is not in oddly erected sculptures or photo-ops at new roads.
“Embrace the progress,” I saw someone say in response to the new Eccles to Mandela Road and I thought, some of the people would be more open to embrace “the progress” if they did not have to worry about the cost of living. But what is true progress? Is it progress when people are crying or begging because they cannot afford to live? Is it progress when even middle class Guyanese are complaining about the cost of living? Is it progress if most resources are put towards infrastructure, but many Guyanese are still struggling? So, the average Guyanese will be living in a country of beautiful roads, gated communities and five-star hotels but will have to walk on these roads because they cannot afford to drive, or they are too poor to dine with the 10% or less? Shouldn’t the priority be to ensure all the people can afford to live first and then the rest?
I watched the little boy hanging on his mother and I thought I hope he would inherit a Guyana that is truly ‘One Guyana’ and not just a fleeting idea being uttered by a few perhaps because it makes them feel good. When the actions align with the words, I will believe it. Perhaps that little boy and his generation will enjoy the best Guyana has to offer because this country belongs to us and perhaps by then the imperialists would have left us alone.
