The simple pleasures of Berbice…and a hair-raising drive

Berbice exudes the kind of charming calm that countryside living offers.

Aback of Number Two Village, Canje lies the sprawling green carpet of a wide expanse of savannah, decorated with the contented grazing of hundreds of cattle, horses, sheep, pigs and goats, all roaming freely munching on the fresh, lively grass under wide open skies.

On a brilliant sunny day the scene offers such a pastoral picture of lulled peacefulness. On a rainy day, it’s quite inviting to wade into the trench and play in the muddy waters, something children do with noisy delight.

The Fort Ordnance Government School stands at one end of the savannah, and children attending the school have become accustomed to the scenery. One can imagine being in class  and looking through the window to a day of wide beauty.
To grow up in such luxury of nature must endow children with the happiest of childhoods.

Across the Canje area this charming countryside living opens opportunities for a lifestyle of blessed peace.

Neighbouring Palmyra lies open and inviting, its savannah and cane fields offering endless acres of greenery to explore and walk in and smell the beauty of earth, grass, fresh breezy air, running canal water and the freshness of the sunshine or rainfall.

Our country offers such beauty. All across the land nature blesses us with an abundance of this pastoral peacefulness.
The road linking the Berbice Bridge at De Edward Village to the main Corentyne roadway, at Palmyra, cuts through the Number Two Village, Canje savannah, splitting the wide expanse of green into two.  Driving on this road is the most pleasant of driving experiences, with the savannah lying on both sides of the road.

At the entrance to the Bridge, crabs run around the corner of the road just outside the heavy brush – an ancient August happening, known as “crab march”. Men gather the crabs in straw bags, some to sell, others for a crab curry or crab soup at home.

Aback of Number Two Village, a new housing development rapidly takes shape, with hundreds of new homes under construction, some quite impressive in architecture and rather shocking in colour schemes.

The countryside charm remains intact even as development takes shape, a welcome welding of new roads and housing into the fabric of the natural environment. It might not be long before the savannah gives way to a general housing development in the entire area, but for now, this area is a delight of breath-taking natural beauty.
The villages of the area languish in severe under-development, with poor drainage, gross poverty and a new generation lacking functional literacy.

The Berbice campus of the University of Guyana opens up opportunities for higher education that could only be good for the communities making up the County.

But, so far, the human resource quality languishes in sad deterioration and under-development.
People make up this country’s most valuable asset. Yet, the neglect of the higher literacy of the new generation of Canje is painfully visible everywhere.

Spending a weekend in this area, walking the tiny streets struggling to look modern under broken asphalt, with endless skyscrapers of coconut trees towering over the land loaded with heavy coconuts, causes such an appreciation for the natural lifestyle.

Some families still cook on earthen stoves called “fireside”, burning wood to cook dhal, curry, cookup and metem. The sewerage system is evolving from outdoor latrines to septic tanks, and much of the potable water comes from rainfall, with black water tanks visible in every yard.
The living is highly self-sufficient, with home gardens, open-trench fishing and home-grown livestock providing much of the food, including fresh, organic fruit and vegetable.

Driving to the area from Georgetown is an exercise in high-level faith, as the main roadway on the hour-and-a-half journey slices through active villages with houses on both sides of the road. The drive is precarious and at any instant an accident could occur.

The trip back from Canje to Georgetown on a 4 am drive is even more precarious. Despite having an experienced driver who knows the roadway very well, the drive is a nerve-wracking experience.

Not once or twice, but three times the driver came blazing around an ‘S turn”, going at 120 kmh, only to find cows lying contentedly in the car’s path, chewing their cuds blissfully unaware that their lives are in danger.

Two other occasions saw donkeys and horses emerge from the darkness on the roadside to saunter gaily across the car’s path. Needless to say, the car’s brake system needs regular work, the driver complains.

Of course much of the roadway lies in darkness at night. From Weldaad coming west it is better with lovely street lamps, and the drive takes on a less edge-of-the-seat affair. Yet, people take over where the animals leave off, wandering out of nowhere into the path of the car, only to pull back just in time.

This alarming journey includes, of course, lorries without lights driving at break neck speed, or others parked taking up half of the roadway. Oh, and then there’s the two loads of sand somebody saw fit to dump, also blocking half the road.

The precarious state of the traffic linking Georgetown to Berbice symbolizes poor governance in the extreme. If we cannot manage where cows, dogs, cats, donkeys and horses sleep in the night, how could we manage a country seeking its place in the global village?
The Home Affairs Minister must admit alarming failure if this situation cannot be corrected.

But, having arrived alive with a palpitating heart of gratefulness and whispered prayers of relieved thankfulness, one cannot but appreciate the charm and beauty of this country.

To see a young man, Brian, with his seven year old son Nicholas in their donkey-propelled cart packed with dirt working so hard to build up their house lot in the new development as they prepare the land to build their house; to see children in rags run and play and laugh and sing in the rain; to see the coconut trees standing tall waving so gaily in the pleasant breeze; to see vegetable and fruit and fish so easily available; to see Brian making coconut oil for his family of four kids to save this cost; to see such smiles on their faces of contentment and happy living, despite the hardship of the daily grind: it is life at its best in our world of economic depression.
In Canje, nature offers its residents a life of abundant self-sufficiency.