By Desiree Kissoon
“Wake up mom, we are in Guyana!”
I thought my kids were pulling my legs. I couldn’t believe that the dreaded stop-over in Trinidad had gone unnoticed. Wow! The Caribbean Airlines flight to Guyana was a surprisingly pleasant one, my kids didn`t once complain despite the seven-hour journey.
It was a good start to my kids’ first Christmas in Guyana. Oh, the many stories I had told them about Christmas here; the pavement vendors, the toys, the Christmas Carols, the hustle and bustle of the people rushing to get their last minute shopping done, the masquerade bands, gaily decorated houses, the blinking ‘fairy’ lights brightening up not only the street but lighting the spirit as well, all coming together to create an atmosphere of Christmas, like no other.
Apart from a brief two-day trip in late September, I was returning to Guyana after 12 years for a two-week vacation with my kids who had only heard stories about my home country. To say we were excited would have been an understatement. Our arrival went without a hitch. We passed through immigration and collected our luggage within an hour. The tinge of trepidation I had felt about being waylaid by bandits dissipated as we arrived safely at our destination. And so with much anticipation and excitement of things to come, we retired to bed.
No hustle, no bustle
We were up early the next day and headed to the city, it was December 20. We walked along Water Street and visited several stores. But it was not teeming with shoppers as I thought it would have been. We visited two malls and were in and out in 10 minutes. Something was missing; it just didn’t feel like it used to. Maybe it was too early in the week.
I planned another trip to the city for December 24, telling the kids that this was the busiest day of the year and we would have to park the car blocks away and walk to the stores, because of heavy traffic and the thousands of people thronging the streets. I was in for a huge disappointment. The traffic moved smoothly and my kids were giving me `the business’ so to speak.
“I thought you said we would be stuck in traffic,” my son Elijah piped up from the back seat.
I had no comeback. We got a prime parking spot on Water Street and were able to traverse the stores without a problem. I was a little sad that it wasn’t feeling like old times. This Christmas season, not only were we able to drive freely but there were no crowds in the stores, or on the side-walks, no rush of people pushing past us. It may seem strange that these things bother me, but this is how I remembered Christmas in Guyana. Why is it so different this year? I asked myself.
“I don’t hear any Christmas songs mom,” said my daughter Charis, her voice invading my thoughts.
She was right, no Christmas Carols were blaring from speakers in the stores, like they used to, and people seemed to be just going through the motions. I couldn’t find the traditional toys, like the police car, and the other emergency vehicles and crying dolls. I had told my son that I would buy him a police car since both of his adult brothers had had one as a toy when they were children. I was sure that I would have been able to find one for him. It was the blue and white one with cops hanging out the windows, gun in hand, sirens blaring, spinning around, cleverly displayed by vendors to capture the hearts of children and the eyes of parents.
Sadly I did not find one. However, there was a bicycle with a Chinese guy, a Chinese soldier crawling on his belly, a Chinese guy on a motorbike and so on – not that I have anything against the Chinese, but options for purchasing a toy that had nothing to do with China were virtually nonexistent. Almost every store I went into was owned by the Chinese. The traditional shopping areas were like `Little Chinatowns’. Looking for familiar stores was a waste a time. Even the street vendors were selling products from the Chinese stores that had sprung up all over the city.
‘Whatever happened to late night shopping on Christmas Eve?’
By this time my enthusiasm was waning and my kids were getting on my nerves with all the sarcastic comments about how busy the town was supposed to be. Another unusual sight for me was the early closing of stores on Christmas Eve. Whatever happened to late night shopping on Christmas Eve? It was another disappointment.
Except for my niece Keisha, everyone I spoke with said that Christmas was “boring” and not like it used to be. The lack of money, reduction in the number of Guyanese returning ‘home’ for the holiday season, the stark gap between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’ and a downright disenchantment with Christmas were turning the season bleak. Palaces seem to be going up all around the country right alongside rickety shacks. It was disconcerting to see. I couldn’t help wondering what was being done to address the situation.
Thankfully, one of the things that had not changed was the beautiful weather. Yes, it rained a bit but compared to the 20-degree weather we left behind in New York, this was paradise. The warmth and legendary hospitality of Guyanese people are still the same, especially among family and friends. They feed you well and pull out all the stops to ensure that you feel welcomed.
Although I leave with some regrets nothing will stop me from returning here, though perhaps not at Christmas time.
