So It Go

Over the past couple of years, even casual attention to social conversations leaves us with the impression that crime and lawless behaviour is on the rise. 

This past weekend I was in Orlando hosting the Caribbean American Passport Connection event (I had the name wrong in my previous column) where they honoured outstanding Guyanese contributors to America as part of our Jubilee Year celebrations. 

I  was a country boy of almost 21 when I migrated to Toronto, but almost immediately after my arrival there I began to notice the disposition in Guyanese to improvise, to fix things, to repair and recondition, which was not nearly so widespread in the Canadian community where there was a tendency to discard and buy new, instead of restoring or repainting or patching up. 

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.

This past week, even as we mourn the loss of calypsonians Lord Canary here, and of King Austin in Trinidad, the subject of calypso as an art form is again getting traction with comments by Trinidad & Tobago President Anthony Carmona delivering the feature address at the Top 20 Stars of Gold Show presented by the country’s National Action Cultural Committee (NACC).

I haven’t noticed much mention of it but in the recent maelstrom emanating from Donald Trump’s run at the US Presidency, it is striking how much the choice of words coming from various persons in the campaign confuses the issues completely. 

As a youngster growing up in Guyana and going to Saints, my friend Stanley Greaves (yes, the painter) had introduced me to (I hope I have the name right) the British Council Library in Georgetown. 

Starting out, I have to admit I am a basket case when someone is badly injured or wounded and the blood is flowing. 

Anyone who is fascinated, as I am, perhaps even enthralled, by Caribbean history, would have to have noticed our disposition for disregarding what has gone before.

I didn’t know him when I lived in Guyana, but in my years in Toronto I became very close to Terry Ferreira from New Amsterdam who had migrated there.

I came into music at a time when comedy was a big ingredient in the popular music of the Caribbean.

Our esteemed Kaieteur News pundit Adam Harris, known for his daily fanciful dissertations, has dealt with some intriguing subjects in his time, but I cannot let Brother Adam’s recent comment on persons wearing “dark glasses” pass unchallenged. 

I did a television interview here recently along with Al Creighton and Ron Robinson on the subject of the arts as a propellant for social cohesion. 

This week as the world is agog with the outstanding track performances by Jamaican athletes in the Rio Olympics, it’s interesting to reflect on the remarkable ability of this relatively small nation to produce such a high standard in athletics.

One of my earliest awareness moments upon my return to live in Guyana (I have mentioned it before) took place in a visit to a major hardware store in Georgetown in search of some half-inch bolts to secure the posts of a wood fence.

Most people I meet have this impression that the life of a travelling musician – as we say, “on the road” – is one big joyful experience, seeing new cities and countries, playing before ecstatic crowds, doing well financially, meeting famous people, after hours parties, nuff woman and food and drink, as well as the harder stuff, with the pattern repeated more or less every day, on and on.

Like so many Guyanese who have migrated to North America, I have a special place in my heart for Canada as the place where I matured as a person and developed as a song-writer and a band-leader.

Patrons of the current T20 matches in the CPL, whether at the stadiums or via television, are witnessing a non-stop array of diversions – carnival outfits; steelband music; scantily clad dancers; one-handed catches by spectators; individual mask contests; etc – that mostly begin before the first ball has been bowled and often continue long after. 

In a recent column I made a passing reference to a comment from Stabroek News writer Alan Fenty who had posed the question in his column whether “one could be Guyanese – spiritually and culturally – without being Indian, African, European or Chinese?”

I keep jottings of various things I come across in communications with persons or in various readings or observations.