< Situations and Revelations of Passing Notice in Guyana >
Locket #15
My name is Oviola Baptiste, and I was born in Linden. I moved to George-
town, and lived for awhile with a good for nothing man, who I had to chase
away 'cause he wasn't doing anything for me; only waiting for me to come
home from Stabroek, where I had an umbrella stall. Never stop to think I
would be tired and only want to fall in the bed and sleep.
I had to ask him over and over, "Which half of Not now! you don't understand?"
I had to restrict him to early mornings, which was not my best time. He
think because since he stiff and ready, dark or dawn I should open up my
stall.
I just let him have his two minute merry-go-round ride, and remind him
I had work to do.
Anyway, I used to be a Stabroek market vendor. Now I am an entrepreneur.
Darling, you know how long it take me to learn to pronounce that word.
Aunt-tripen-noor. I stop using it now. Is easier to tell people I own a
restaurant.
How it start? Went up to New York to buy a big set of Polo Shirts. At
wholesale price. The plan was to bring them back and sell them outside
Stabroek.
Was real horrors going and coming. You have to pass through Piarco,
Trinidad. Nosy like Rosie, they give you and your luggage real hell.
Anyway, this time ̶ was in December, Christmas coming up ̶ I land in New
York, staying at a lady in Brooklyn who I thought was a family friend. She had
her front room shiny furniture with the plastic wrapping on it, like she want
to preserve it in showroom condition.
I ask her, Why all this plastic cover on the chairs? Who want to come in your
house and sit on plastic? You can't preserve furniture like fruit in a glass jar
for Christmas cake.
I don't think she appreciate my comments.
Anyway, on my way down town to get the Polo shirts, somehow I lose my US
dollars. Had it in an envelope in my bag. I reach in the bag only to find my
purse gone, the envelope gone. To this day I still don't know how it disappear.
Must have been on the train, all the jostling and squeezing.
I was so embarrassed and confused. Standing there, searching the bag over
and over; looking around, wondering what to do now.
This is when the good Lord intervene. I tell you, strange things does happen
in this world, but if you're a good person, the good Lord does look out for
you.
I was passing this Wendy's, and my eye catch this man sitting at a table
looking out through the glass. I swear was someone I knew from back home.
I turn back, went inside to him: I was just passing and saw you through the
window. I know you. From Linden in Guyana, right?.
He didn't say a word, just sat staring at me. Making this big slurping sound
from his soda cup, like he down to the ice cubes but he still hoping to
drain up more soda.
I explain how I came up here to purchase merchandise, but couldn't find my
purse; like somebody pick pocket it on the subway. And I was wondering
if he could help me out.
To which he took one last big slurp from the soda cup and said to me in a
Jamaican accent, Yes he was Jamaican! and he says, "I have a little propo-
sition for you."
And before I could turn away he said he would give me five hundred dollars.
500 Dollars. All I had to do was stand outside on the pavement and hold a
big shopping bag. For four hours. Don't ask no questions. Just stand on the
pavement holding this bag.
Well, first I thought he was crazy. But he was well-dressed, gold rings on his
fingers (looked like they worth more than the Polo shirts). And he sounded
real serious.
To make a long story short I said okay. It was a deal. And guess what? I got
the 500 dollars.
Four hours I out there in that cold, holding this big shopping bag; near a bus
stop, like I waiting for the bus. Wind in my face, fingers icing.
Every now and then he'd come outside with a cup of coffee. Sometimes he
took the bag, reached inside, pulled out a package, and walked off.
The packages were gift wrapped, with Christmas holiday paper, and the bag
was heavy, really heavy. He told me keep holding it, don't rest it on the
ground. I didn't ask no questions.
When it was over, almost all the package gone, he came outside for the
last time; gave me my money, in hundred dollar bills, and he said, "You did
well, you are a good soldier."
I didn't waste any time. Headed straight to the subway, came back to Brooklyn.
Next day catch the plane and flew back to Guyana. My running Polo shirt
days were over.
But hear this: standing out there in the cold, people and transport hurrying
past, not knowing what to expect, two things pop in my head. Stayed in my
head up to this day.
First, this is not the reason you came into this world, Oviola, to stand here
holding a bag. You could faint and drop down right here and nobody would
care. And second, you could own your own place, your own restaurant, just
like the Wendy's across the road.
Yes, my future was in my hands. I always liked cooking, and food preparation.
That was what I know to do.
Well, now you see me here, I have a really good business going. Start up
first with a little shack shop, but I'm here now. I doing okay.
People like what I cook, specially the taxi drivers. They tired of lo mein
fried rice. I have a good take-out box system for lunch time specials.
They dash in and pick up, motor running outside. You could also phone in
your order, and get quick bike delivery.
My secret recipe is what bringing the customers back. My sauces, the
way I use onions and garlic. And my homemade ice cream is a winner.
Got my girls working, got my suppliers of local seasoning. Nice, clean
entrance. Everything modernized and organized. And I ready for any
gunman who think he can just waltz into your establishment and rip up all
the lettuce you grow.
Yes, PickiPicki restaurant in Georgetown. Best service, best quality food.
I have plans to branch out: soon you going to hear about PickiPicki in Linden.
PickiPicki in Bartica.
Because, look, I not saying I understand everything what going on in this
country, and to be honest I don't expect much from anybody here; but at
some point you have to clear your space and arrange yourself.
If you find you just there waiting and waiting, make your move ̶ put your
porcupine on and watch your numbers. Don't ask me what that mean. I
heard somebody say that on the subway, I know what it mean.
I have one daughter, yes. The father gone his way long ago. She's doing
very well, thank you. Still going through her frisky filly stage. I tell her
already, is twenty four hours in a day. Men does blow hot and cold. When
they come with their feel-feely fingers, wanting to ripple your canal,
slide them in but only if the timing is right.
Now, you have to excuse me.
Oviola Baptiste
Georgetown, Guyana
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 