By Dave Martins
Wherever you’re living, there’s something wrong, and everywhere you go there are things that could be done better. Guyanese who live outside the homeland and don’t see the things that need fixing in their new country are either not looking, or, having looked, choose not to see.
Starting from that perspective, and with no order of importance, here are a few items I have in that mental filing cabinet labeled “Things We Have to Do Better”.
I played a night in Antigua recently and not wanting to wait until the Caribbean Airlines flight at night, I booked on the 9am LIAT flight, via Barbados, to get home early. We got to Barbados about 15 minutes behind schedule, and were put in an area at the northern end of the terminal; Gate 1, I believe. The LIAT staff seemed to be under a lot of pressure (a slowdown may have been on); they simply told us to “wait here”. More than 15 minutes later, and only from conversation with other passengers, I learned that the flight to Guyana was delayed, but nobody knew how long. After about 45 minutes or so, I asked if there was any word on the flight and was told “we will know soon”. I asked to go into the main terminal to get something to eat, and while there I heard an announcement that Guyana passengers on LIAT should assemble at Gate 1 and await further instructions. Eventually, there was another announcement with a delayed departure time, and then another announcement regarding a further delay. We finally left Barbados two hours late, and while the pilot apologized en route to Guyana, the LIAT staff back in Barbados clearly needed to show up at a few customer relations workshops.
There was more to come. Because the Dash-8 couldn’t accommodate it as a carry-on, I had to check my guitar as baggage, and I arrived in Guyana to be told the guitar had been left in Barbados. (I should mention that this is not the sturdy solid-body Stratocaster electric guitar, but the fragile acoustic one.
Also, in addition to being very expensive, this particular guitar has great sentimental value and I love the sound of it. Guitarists will tell you that no two acoustic guitars sound the same, and when you find one you love it becomes your most treasured possession.)
As it turned out, more than half the people on that full flight that morning were in the same boat, and we all lined up at the LIAT desk at Timehri. (Apparently, a full Dash-8 cannot carry all the Guyana checked baggage, and the “lef’ back” is a frequent story.)
The Guyana LIAT people however were great. They were polite, apologized for the mixup, assured me the guitar would be here, and even gave me a number to call and check. I phoned them in the morning, somebody actually answered the phone, they promised to deliver the guitar within the hour, and so said so done. I was impressed. As an amusing sidelight, the form I filled out at Timehri for my lost baggage was headed “Property Irregularity Report” – bet your boots some lawyer came up with that – but I was so glad to get my acoustic I could forgive the spin.
In that episode, the Guyana LIAT team was on top of things (the Bajans need to buck up), but in so many other areas in Guyana we really have to do better. One is Lamaha Street, an area I remember years ago as being one of the highlights of the garden city with that long picturesque waterway. Hopefully it’s only temporary, but to drive along Lamaha Street now is to be assaulted by a variety of very unpleasant odours; I’ve taken to calling the area Stench Trench. Whoever is responsible for sanitation along there is clearly not on the job; we have to do better than that.
We also have to put our minds more in GT to customer relations. Guyanese now are more traveled than ever, and being cordially treated by sales people or service people is something they expect to find. I drove into a GuyOil station on Sheriff Street recently where apparently the traffic flow around the pumps is one way, and not knowing better, I drove in the wrong way. There were no other cars waiting on that side; I was the only customer. Instead of simply pointing out my error, the attendant there launched into a tirade, at high volume, of “Yuh in de wrong line. Yuh can’t come in hay and do as yuh like. Guh back ‘pon de road, turn ‘round and come back ‘pon de odda side.” I was pretty low on gas, but I drove away and went to another gas station. I don’t know who mashed that fellow’s corn that morning, but GuyOil on Sheriff Street has lost me as a customer forever. Many businesses here treat customers that way; we have to do better than that.
I’m running out of space, but I have to mention garbage, particularly in Georgetown. While the powers-that-be are struggling forever to sort out jurisdictions, why are so many of us refusing to take responsibility for the 25 feet or so in front of our casa or our business? All right, we can’t do much about the general public dumping, but the litter in front our own space we can’t take care of?
Far more of us should be following the example of a cyclist on Vlissengen Road last week, who pulled off to the side, placed some litter in a garbage can, and then pedaled off. As the line in the song says, “eating fried chicken and letting the box fall” is not on. We really have to do better than that.
