Karaoke is a regular feature at many local nightspots. On any day of the week, friends, lovers or even acquaintances can enjoy a night of impressive and not so impressive singing. There is little judgment of one’s talent. The experience is one that is generally good for the soul; one is often not only entertained by the singing, but some may engage in disagreements using colourful language, gentlemen may offer to buy beautiful women drinks, or young women may be asked to dance when popular oldies tunes are sung.
I needed karaoke night after the week began with great sorrow. It was another week confronting the fact that many of Guyana’s young people are in trouble – many of their struggles are psychosomatic after they experience trauma. They tiptoe on the edge of life and threaten to jump to their demise. Many who have just started living have lost all hope for various reasons.
On Monday, I watched a mother stand by the coffin of her dead eighteen-year-old daughter. She wore yellow. Yellow, the color of sunshine, hope and happiness, which has been chosen to represent suicide awareness and prevention. Sadness permeated the funeral parlour; it hung on every word that was said, attached itself to every thread of clothing, every cell and in the blood flowing through the veins, even as the voice of the man on the microphone boomed like recorded music as he sang one upbeat gospel song after the next, while the body of the young woman was viewed.
