Naked abuse of power on Demerara Harbour Bridge

Dear Editor,

On Saturday I witnessed/nay felt the brunt of unbridled arrogance and naked abuse of power. I pray that this is not a microcosm of what is regularly meted out to the poor and powerless in this dear land of Guyana.

I got to the western end of the Demerara Harbour Bridge (DHB) at 11:59 hr. and was denied access though the closing was advertised for noon. I pleaded with the two ladies on duty (one in security uniform) to let me through since the last vehicle was in sight about 60 meters away heading east. My request was denied. They claimed to have already radioed the registration number of the last vehicle. Traffic continued heading in a westerly direction for a further 3 to 4 minutes before the final vehicle exited the bridge.

I remained parked first in line on the northern carriageway behind the closed gate. At no time did the bridge authorities indicate anything untoward about how I was parked. In fact, a white Nissan minibus with uniformed policemen inside drove past me through the gate for westbound traffic, veered left and parked some distance in front of me inside the gated area at the beginning of the bridge itself.  After about 45 minutes, I alighted from the vehicle to chat with Nazim Hussain who had pulled up on a scooter in the left hand corner.  About two minutes into our conversation, to my consternation, I heard a bellowing voice from behind me shouting “driver move your vehicle you’re blocking the traffic”. I saw a green Toyota Tundra GMM 8914 about three vehicles behind the parked white double cab pickup truck I was driving. I didn’t at first notice the person who was ordering me to move, and then this man of African heritage, regaled in gold-looking jewellery, sporting a blue jersey leaned out the window of his vehicle and continued his tirade about me blocking an entranceway.  I couldn’t fathom what he was referring to. I continued to speak with an equally confused Nazim.

The man exited the (unmarked) Tundra (in addition to the jersey, he had on blue denim jeans and sandals), came to about 5  meters of me, shouting in a threatening manner  that I was obstructing access while  pointing in the direction of the old road north of the DHB.   I was shocked and taken back by his aggressive manner. Feeling surreal, I asked why he was barking at me. I stated, between his tirades, that I was totally unaware of creating any obstruction or infraction, as well as being in a position to cause inconvenience to anyone. I was barely able to explain further that I was parked in that position because I happened to be the first person behind the barricade. He loudly indicated a desire to proceed in the direction of the old access road north of my vehicle. Thinking I was finally getting some sense of what he was trying to convey by his boisterous rant, I took leave of Nazim with a view to exploring the possibility of shifting for “Mr. Powerhouse” to proceed unhindered in the direction he appeared to be indicating. This was almost an hour into the bridge closure and there was a buildup of vehicular traffic spanning several lanes.

To my surprise, the uniformed guard opened the very barricade she retracted for the minibus with policemen and the man in his green tundra drove and parked behind the said bus lined up to drive over the DHB. It dawned on a perplexed Nazim and I that the threating, boisterous   behaviour was never about me blocking the man’s access to the old road.  A lady, Ms Tiffany Jackson, who I was giving a lift over the bridge, was traumatized by the incident.  I concluded that through a hand of fate, I unconsciously messed with the ego of a man who was unable to roll up unhindered in high chested pomp, past the barricade to demonstrate to those in view, a veneer of raw, unbridled power. He had profiled me as a simpleton driving a pickup to be picked on and bullied.

I overheard him instructing the security guard to take down the registration number of the pick-up and send same to him along with photographs for him to transmit to the traffic department for me to be prosecuted. (Oh how I shuddered in my boots, bam ba lady, bam bam).

I approached the said security officer and asked her if she, as the uniformed officer had any problem with where I was parked from the time I arrived. Her answer was no. I further enquired the identity of the man who was flaunting his authority and power. After some hesitation and my unrelenting insistence she muttered “a policeman, a senior policeman.”

Heaven help us!

Yours faithfully,

Derrick Cummings