Latest update October 19th, 2024 12:59 AM
Oct 15, 2017 Countryman, Features / Columnists
By Dennis Nichols
People have been asking of late if there’s anything good left in Guyana. Of course it’s hyperbole, but they obviously have a point. We seem to be hitting rock bottom over and over again. I guess there’s always more dirt left to be scraped at the bottom of the barrel. But take heart, and pause, in nature’s quiet bliss. Like our open spaces.
Although often brutally insensitive to human plight, nature offers some respite from human brutality, and can help counter the kind of apprehension and alarm that has gripped the nation over the past few weeks. It’s the simple appreciation and enjoyment of what I call our open spaces. And it’s all good!
Most of us are part cynic, part optimist, part realist. It’s a trichotomy unique to human nature, and a striking one. Since mid-August we’ve had to endure a great deal of trauma – locally, regionally, and farther up north, from the wrath of Harvey, Irma, and Maria to the termination of Constance Fraser, Phyliss Caesar, and Mahendra Ghanie. How much natural disaster, rape, robbery, murder, and suicide can people handle in six weeks?
We may take comfort in faith and spirituality or in the distraction and diversion of entertainment; even in the hope of black-gold riches a few years down the road. They’re all good, but nature also has something to offer.
I’ve written before about our rural and hinterland nature spots, from Essequibo’s coastal lakes to Rupununi’s savannah sprawl, but what about the natural attractions in our capital city? They’re enjoyed by hundreds of Georgetowners every day, and I hope they’re truly appreciated. I’m talking about the coastal Atlantic Ocean/seawall, the National Park, and our two main City Gardens – the Botanical and the Promenade.
A few days ago I got reacquainted with the last of these; what I imagined was the least visited of the four, and was warmly surprised at what I saw and heard. It’s hard to imagine that it was once part of a field where almost 200 years ago, slaves were hanged for taking part in the 1823 East Coast Demerara rebellion. But let’s move on to more pleasant vistas.
By world standards, our capital isn’t a very big city, and that may be to our advantage. From its centre, a five-minute drive (in fair traffic) takes you to any of the four attractions; the Promenade Gardens being the closest, occupying the block flanked by Middle, Waterloo, Newmarket, and Carmichael Streets in Cummingsburg.
Turning off from Waterloo Street, I stepped into a space steeped in verdant ambience, far from the clamour and commotion of downtown Georgetown. With the memory of the previous day’s double funeral still fresh on my mind, I went into relaxation mode, hoping to sequester body and mind in that square of greenery – shade, glade, and balm against the blazing sun.
The biggest attention-grabber is obviously the vegetation – a profusion of palms, flowering plants, and shade trees, from wispy Casuarina to mighty Samaan, the impressive ‘Tarzan’ the aptly-named Cannonball, and the umbrageous Almond and Flamboyant. There seemed to be at least a dozen kinds of palms, among them the stately Royal and the fan-like Travelers Palm. The flowering plants include Bougainvillea, Ixora, Hibiscus, Oleander, and Jasmine in a variety of hues and shapes. I couldn’t determine the names of some of the flora, but that didn’t detract from my appreciation of them.
Strolling through the promenade, I was surprised at the sight of a group of schoolchildren from nearby St. John’s College lounging, laughing , and limbering up on the neatly-trimmed grass for what their teacher said was a physical display to mark the upcoming opening ceremony of the inter-zone school sports. There seemed to be genuine camaraderie among them, and it took me back to the children I remembered at play in my youth; not a cell phone, laptop or video game in sight, but of all things, hula hoops, circling slender waists. Fifty years of growing up and shouldering adult responsibility just melted off my shoulders, and for a few minutes, the child inside me exhilarated.
Drifting away from them, I composed myself as I approached the statue of peace icon, Mohandas ‘Mahatma’ Gandhi. The atmosphere grew even more tranquil, and as I read the adjacent message, it struck me like a benediction ‘May peace prevail in our hearts’. The memories of the horror and heartache of recent events in our country flared briefly, but I had to quickly quell them; not here in this oasis. I did so by approaching and chatting with a few of the Garden’s caretakers who reminded me of some of the events and activities for which the plot has been traditionally associated. Here and there I also spotted couples on benches, unsure whether or not I’d interrupted some romantic interlude.
For decades the Promenade Gardens, like its bigger sister, had hosted weddings, and cultural/ artistic pageants such as fashion displays, the annual Inner Wheel Easter Hat Show and, according to one caretaker, school graduation ceremonies. In earlier times when it was also known as the Rose Garden, people went there for bouquets and wreaths which were created daily from freshly-cut blooms; mainly roses one would assume. To the best of my knowledge this no longer happens, but there are still many flower trees like the ones I mentioned earlier, some of them now in colourful bloom. Bougainvilleas appear to dominate the landscape.
Space does not permit me to dwell on the Gardens’ other attractions, but there is the iconic bandstand, the stone-lined walkways, the arches, arbors, and fountains, all of which lent touches of nostalgia to the experience.
Soon it was time to leave, for I had another appointment, a shorter one, at the Botanical Gardens. I was heading there to snack on puri and coconut water (My kind of fast food) that I would pick up at Bourda Market. I left the Promenade Gardens with an unspoken promise to return soon, and a peace of mind that stayed with me for hours.
The half-an-hour or so I spent in the Botanical Gardens simply topped off a mid-afternoon pause that restored some sanity to my muddled mind. On a sun-parched wooden bench across from the Seven Ponds monument, I ate my Guyanese snack under the shade of a Guyanese tree while watching a group of Guyanese schoolchildren (A younger bunch this time) pester their teacher who couldn’t remain stationary for more than a few seconds. It was a male teacher, and I smiled at similar memories.
So, is there anything good left in Guyana? Sure! Take a trip to Kaieteur Falls, Iwokrama, or Number 63 Beach. And if you’re in GT, stroll into one of its open spaces. Disabuse your mind of any notion that our country is doomed. Trauma and stress are everywhere, so why make Guyana alone a misfit and a mockingstock?
Next week I’ll tell you about another open space in our city that takes stress-busting and camaraderie to another level. Until then, remember that ‘benediction’ quote next to The Mahatma, “May peace prevail in our hearts!”
October 1st turn off your lights to bring about a change!
Oct 19, 2024
– Major step in Guyana’s football development By Rawle Toney Kaieteur Sprots – A momentous occasion in the development of football in Guyana took place yesterday with the official...Guyana’s shift into the US orbit Kaieteur News – For decades, Guyana prided itself on an independent foreign... more
By Sir Ronald Sanders Kaieteur News – There is an alarming surge in gun-related violence, particularly among younger... more
Freedom of speech is our core value at Kaieteur News. If the letter/e-mail you sent was not published, and you believe that its contents were not libellous, let us know, please contact us by phone or email.
Feel free to send us your comments and/or criticisms.
Contact: 624-6456; 225-8452; 225-8458; 225-8463; 225-8465; 225-8473 or 225-8491.
Or by Email: [email protected] / [email protected]