< Situations And Revelations Of Passing Notice In Guyana >
Locket # 16
I have to get this off my chest, and out my head. About this Pundit who arrive
in our district, set up shop in our district, and carrying on as if his presence
is the biggest news since they discover oil off our shores. He claims he's from
Essequibo, and went to India, and now he's back home with a "life philosophy"
to save the people.
Carrying on just like the Mormon boys in white shirt and tie. And people
believe in this man.
There's a hunger all cross this country. People want peace, people want
answers. They want someone to explain what has happened to their lives.
This Pundit behaving as if he is the Explainer they been waiting for.
Is amazing how word start spreading: that this man have special health
curing powers. This paunchy fellow, bald and wifeless like Gandhi, wearing
Gandhi spectacles, talking slow like he born with a talent for slow speech,
has brought new "spiritual knowledge" to the District.
Pa was in hospital, he has this problem with diabetes. But ever since my
mother start "consulting" this Pundit, she swear Pa doing better. Even he
start believing, swearing that his new "meditation" exercise really working.
Sometimes ignorance does put a jacket round your shoulders, your only
friend.
I argued: if he was a real Pundit from Essequibo, why he didn't go back
and set up shop in Essequibo? Why start up here in Canal District?"
The answer was the same. "Hush. You don't understand the man, so hush."
All of a sudden he's like some important secret we mustn't ask questions
about. So I hush.
First, he was just an ordinary Pundit, in his fifties I would say; riding a
bicycle. This bicycle come like a humble start-up project, because
within two months he invest in a car.
I argued again: how come all of a sudden he trading up from bicycle to
motor car? just like that?
Well, the car is supposed to be for business transactions in Georgetown.
Business transactions in Georgetown? Why he can't take a minibus like
everybody else? squeeze up inside like everybody else?
To which my mother answered, "Which pundit you know, which parson in
Georgetown for that matter, would "squeeze up" in public transport?"
So I hush. After all, I can't spend the rest of my life asking questions about
other people. Speculating about other people. As if I don't have difficulties
of my own to speculate about.
**
And I hush again at the news about the bicycle ride to the hospital. He rode
the bicycle in his pundit garment all the way to the hospital to give blood.
This lady's daughter got in an accident and needed blood. Guess who heard
about it ̶ claiming he felt "felt summoned" to donate ̶ and took off to the
rescue. On his bicycle.
Bicycle to the hospital. Bicycle back. Some people say they saw him on the
road. Was late afternoon, Phagwah festival. People walking about, face and
clothes powdered and coloured. And he down the road, using hand signals
and riding like the bike saddle and pedals made by Rolls Royce; his garment
wrap tight and starch white with knowledge.
That could never happen. The hospital too far. You have to be an Olympic
pedal pusher defying the heat and the dust; eating up miles and hours to
get to the nearest medical facility. Not to mention vehicles on the main
road pelting past with no respect for anything on two feet or two wheels.
And wouldn't it make sense to take the motor car and rush to the hospital?
The stupid car, which somebody "donate" to him, just sitting in the driveway,
because once he got the car, he needed a driveway. Which meant he had to
move from his old house with the bridge cross the trench, to this new house
with driveway and shiny metal gate.
The owner of the new residence was his friend from school days. Now a rice
mill owner. A mean son of a bitch as far as I'm concerned, who telling every-
body that now he is a "deeply spiritual person".
The morning after Pundit move in, they say he was outside blessing the
papaw trees at the back of the friend's house To keep away poisonous snakes.
That's what they say.
Whoever heard of blessing papaw trees to keep snakes out the yard? And
where you think the snakes gone after the blessing ̶ to the backyard of
the house next door, how you like that?
This is the sort of nonsense we dealing with in this District. Even Ma had to
admit that the story about chasing away snakes was kind of hard to swallow.
And when you pass the house somebody always washing the car; or sweeping
the driveway; or weeding and keeping the premises clean. Because now he
has a little canopy outside, like an outdoor office, where he does "consul-
tations": listening with his eyes closed, and talking slow.
Something as simple as hot flashes, or somebody contemplating suicide,
got people, who born right here, running to the house for words of healing.
As if he alone now responsible for their existence.
When it not raining, he outside under the canopy; in a wicker chair,
polishing his spectacles; and his clients there, clutching their bags, like cows
in the front yard swollen with distress while he there milking and milking.
I'm telling you, this man playing games people don't have names for yet.
**
The other day the neighbor was telling Ma, The pundit don't wear anything
underneath. He don't wear shorts.
So now he like the Scottish bagpipe men marching in their kilt. No life
support underneath. As reported, the neighbor said, by the nurse at the
hospital where he went that afternoon to give blood. And confirmed later
by another lady, the house cleaning lady.
You hear the kind of laugh we bussing? You see the level of "development"
coming to Canal District?
But I don't blame Canal people. The streets are narrow, the grass high; crab
pots does boil over under the hot sun; every night mosquitoes raiding your
sleep net. How else to cool and cleanse the blood each day?
There used to be comfort in having a little, knowing a little, but working
and observing and learning more about the world. Was you in control of
your life, not fear and foolishness.
Now this man! like ringworm lodged in the head and stomach; so generous
with his "knowledge", and expecting generous donation in return.
But our 6 o'clock is not his 6 o'clock.
You watch: soon they going start inviting him to a function here, function
there, just to "say a few words". Then what you think going happen next?
**
I have to say: over the years I have noticed all kind of people showing up and
settling in this country. From all parts of the world. Brazilians, Nigerians.
People like they bypassing Europe and America to get here.
And the human traffic speeding up ever since they find oil off our shores.
The oil rigs not even pumping yet and people running coming. And this
Pundit acting like he too is a run come. Went to India, didn't find it there,
so now he back here (with a little dysentery, the house cleaning lady say)
waiting for the flow of milk and money. I sure is that.
He should have settled in Georgetown, not in Canal District. Near the seawall
is the perfect place. Set up his little canopy there; watch and wait with
snake blessings for the oil platform to rise and float like a castle on the
horizon.
Anyway, I done.
One day somebody else will see through this Pundit and expose what really
hiding underneath. I may be just a young adult (that is how I see myself)
but from this point on, my mind gone blank to this man.
Alright, alright, I hushing.
M. Ghose
Canal District, Guyana
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 