You’re supposed to know

So It Go

Here’s a good example:  Driving north on the Back Road, at two different locations you will come to a traffic light where traffic is supposed to divide into two lanes: one going north and one turning east. The hitch is that there are no markings on the road to indicate this, and if you end up on the right side, when the right turn light comes on and you don’t move because you’re going north, all hell breaks loose. People lean on their horns, heads come out of windows, hands gesticulate and cuss words fly. When you point out you’re going north, a chorus will inform you “You’re in the wrong lane.” When you point out to the closest shouter that the lanes are not marked, he shouts back, “You’re supposed to know.”

Coming from the southern part of the city, you cannot turn north into High Street because it’s one-way, but there is no overhead sign, roadside sign, or painted sign on the road so indicating. My first day behind the wheel in Georgetown, I did exactly that – turned north into High Street. The policeman on the corner, despite my protestations that I had never lived in Georgetown and was driving there for the first time, would have none of it. He informed me I would have to go to Brickdam, and made me wait at the side of the road for close to half an hour while he directed traffic. Whatever I said about the lack of markings had no effect; you are, he said more than once, supposed to know.  Eventually, after another officer intervened, he let me go, but I drove away from that encounter believing that was one policeman having a bad day; boy, was I wrong.

I’m driving comfortably down a street in Queenstown, traffic going both ways. I come through a junction and suddenly realize there is a motorist coming the other way, waving frantically out the window and yelling, “One way! One way!” It turns out that at the intersection I had just crossed, the street I was on had suddenly become one-way. Again, no sign, no alert, no indication, and when I pointed this out to the motorist he put his car into gear, and drove off with “This is Guyana, buddy. Yuh supposed to know,” ringing in my ears.

References to stop signs not painted on the road, absence of white lines defining lanes, confusion about legal parking, are all a complete waste of time when you’re trying to unravel Guyanese traffic chaos; such arguments are dismissed as not worthy of even consideration, because, as the speakers will tell you, “you are supposed to know.” End of discussion.
Some of the situations, of course, can be harmless, and even humourous, like the lady on the pillion of a motorbike at the upper end of Water Street where, with no warning signage, the road suddenly becomes one-way. Spotting me at an intersection looking to turn left there, she starts alternately waving her hand at me and pointing north vigorously like a berserk traffic cop.

Of course she got my attention and a grateful thank-you wave, but the situation isn’t always so benign. On occasion, you can be innocently proceeding up a road and suddenly find yourself facing possible mutilation, or worse, from an approaching cement truck, or worse.

Furthermore, although the markings on the roads are sometimes very clear, there are some instances where you’re supposed to know that you should ignore them. You’re coming into town on the seawall road, realize you’ve forgotten something at home, so you’re looking for a way to turn around and go back east.

Fortunately for you, you come to a traffic light where a huge painted arrow on the road, with the letters “Right Turn,” indicates you’ve found your turn-back point.  But, as you put on your right turn signal and start to inch forward, your passenger blurts out “No, you can’t turn there.” Your response that the sign says it’s okay, draws a little smile from him and a shrug, “Yeah, the sign says turn, but you can’t; you’re supposed to know that.”

At some traffic lights, a left turn is indicated by a green arrow; at some there is no green arrow. How do you know the difference?  YSTK is the acronym that covers that.  When I point out my dilemma to a policeman friend of mine, this was his advice: “You don’t drive there every day and see people turning? That tells you it’s okay to turn.” But I don’t drive there every day to see people turning. He paused, realized I had him cornered, and went back to basics: “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well look, man; it doesn’t matter; you’re supposed to know.”

There’s a street in town where if you stay your course as it crosses Regent Street you will run into the northbound lane on the other side, so that going south you have to shift over about six feet to the left as you cross Regent Street – you’re supposed to know that. Failing that, you’re heading for a head-on collision with the northbound vehicle, and you’re in the wrong because – well by now you know the reason you will be given.

I suppose the bottom line is that, as a new driver here, you should motor around for a few months as a passenger, with a little exercise book, taking note of all these unmarked oddities, before you take the wheel yourself. In almost every country, there are these traffic vagaries, and in most cases they would be clearly marked to guide you; here you are simply supposed to know.  In Guyana, so it go.