Of children, water and wildlife

Jun 14, 2015 Countryman, Features / Columnists

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COUNTRYMAN – Stories about life, in and out of Guyana, from a Guyanese perspective

By Dennis Nichols
The somewhat cryptic title to this week’s Countryman episode tells a story. It is about some of the things

that matter to me, and others of like mind, more than the things which are supposed to matter most to an adult male, albeit one who continually struggles to carve out his own niche of truth and self-fulfillment in this wacky and unpredictable world.
At my age it could be considered a futile endeavour, so I guess I have to be content with little vignettes of experience, when at least two of the three ‘elements’ combine in a way that stirs my soul, like a recent boat trip across the Essequibo estuary.
Crossing that expansive body of water, from Parika to Supenaam last week was one such cameo – no wildlife, but plenty of water and groups of animated children. My time was just about equally divided between tracking the path of the ferry as it was maneuvered around and between Leguan, Hog Island and Wakenaam, and tracking the antics and sheer vivacity of the children. There were maybe two dozen of them, of all ethnicities and in every possible combination. They were talking animatedly, laughing, teasing, and tramping the deck; many of the girls artlessly unconcerned by the salty wind whipping their hair every which way.
They are Guyana’s children, and as I look at them, it touches something both raw and supremely satisfying inside me. It blessedly counteracts the racist trash talk and bigoted prattle that often passes for debate and difference of opinion among us worldly adults, especially around you-know-what time! Nevertheless, I grudgingly admit that there seemed to be a refreshing degree of camaraderie among several adults travelling on board, regardless of apparent race or status; hopefully minus the artifice some of us pretend to be wisdom.
Sadly, wildlife seems to be all but absent on these cross-river sojourns. There was a time when, back in the seventies on the Malali and/or the Makouria, it was possible to see someone with a monkey, parrot, iguana, turtle, or caged Powis. (The last three maybe destined for the stewpot)  And as the steamer caressed the curve of Wakenaam or glided past Hog Island, you could maybe see a few river birds, and catch a glimpse of a branch-swinging monkey amidst the foliage, or at least hear its unmistakable simian chatter.
The closest I came to wildlife last week was on the Essequibo Coast itself, in the form of a menu option at a bar/restaurant called Bandar’s, if I recall the name rightly, at Anna Regina. I rejected Labba Curry in favour of mutton, but had it been deer or accouri, the sheep would definitely have lost out. (I’d been taken there by a cousin from Queenstown whom I’d met for the first time only an hour earlier – part of my life’s quest being to find and acknowledge my father’s relatives from that part of the country)
That brings me to wildlife in a broader and more philosophical context, and to a couple of divergent images on the internet. The first was a beautiful video; the second, a composite of snapshots, as painful to some viewers as to the creature involved.
The video, shot in March in Brazil, showed dozens of dolphins beaching themselves, unwittingly I suppose, and floundering in just inches of water, before being rescued and hauled back out to sea by a group of sunbathers. Dolphins have been known to save humans, so you could say this was a case of one good turn (or many) deserving another. It was nevertheless a risky venture since, contrary to popular belief, dolphins can be quite aggressive at times. Kudos!
The composite snapshot on the other hand, shows a giant leatherback turtle being used as a seat/recliner by several persons on a beach in North Trinidad. One picture shows a man squatting on the back of the reportedly pregnant reptile, smoking a cigarette. Another shows two men leaning on its back while a third captures a couple, with drink in hand, posing on its back for the camera. There are three other similar snapshots with at least two other adults enjoying themselves at the turtle’s expense.
People commenting on the pictures opined that it must have been torture for the pregnant female. My friend, journalist Miranda La Rose, in Trinidad, said a $10,000 reward was being offered for the identities of the ‘turtle molesters’.  She added that such a thing was unlikely to happen at our Shell Beach in Guyana’s North West region where sea turtles come to nest, since that area is strictly policed.
As readers probably know, the leatherback is one of the world’s endangered species, and an authentic marine wonder. The people obviously thought it was a fun way to get some offbeat pictures, and were probably ignorant of the pain and discomfort they were causing.
Returning to the theme of children, water and wildlife, I am compelled to turn back again to my days on the Aruka River in the North West District between 1976 and 1984. During those years I too was ignorant about our wildlife and its conservation. Animals were hunted and killed either for food or because of a threat perception. Children hunted with their parents and regularly ate deer, labba, tapir, bush hog, accouri, turtle, and yesi (armadillo). I did too; however I balked at yesi.
I once tried to chop a branch onto which a sloth was hanging, and ended up slicing one of its toes. Then ignorance turned to stupidity when I caught a small camoudie one afternoon and tied it by its neck at my front door hoping for a laugh by scaring the schoolchildren who would visit the teacher’s house during the lunch break next day. I almost cried instead. Early the next morning I checked my booby trap only to be confronted by a dead snake covered with red ants. That, and the sloth with a lacerated toe, did it for me. To this day I have mixed emotions when any animal is killed, even a jaguar, although I know it is a predator which occasionally develops a taste for human flesh.
So, one idea of paradise on earth for me, apart from certain material necessities, is a big house with a big fenced yard enclosing an orchard, near a flowing creek, where children, including my grandchildren and their friends, can play to their hearts’ content. Beyond the creek there would be pristine jungle, undisturbed by human encroachment. Predators would hunt their natural prey with no need to venture outside their habitat. God would smile, and protect all his creatures . . . Okay, I’ll stop dreaming. Back to reality.
Returning from the Essequibo Coast on Wednesday afternoon was almost anticlimactic for me. There were fewer children, still no wildlife, and the river showed its bad side by steering the ferry on to a mud bank. (Actually it was the captain) Politics interjected with the opening of parliament streaming live from three TV monitors, precipitating a nasty exchange between a Black man and an East Indian woman over the non-showing of the opposition MPs. Some things never change.
Ah well – I did meet an ‘old’ student of mine from the days when I taught at the Anna Regina Secondary School 20 years ago. He introduced me to his daughter. We chatted, laughed, touched on politics, and reminisced about schooldays. And I got a free ride from Parika to Georgetown. Thanks Karsen.

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