Death has overtaken our roadways; crime has increased tenfold

Mar 16, 2023 Letters

Dear Editor

I was about nine years old when one afternoon my mother sent me with the ‘box hand’ money to give to sister Irene. I do not like explaining things in detail because I write for a familiar audience but recently it was brought to my attention that many non Guyanese read my proffering and would like to have a good grasp of the things I write about.

‘Box’ which Jamaicans refer to as ‘partner’ is where a number of people give a certain amount of money to one person to keep for the purpose of giving each person the full amount of money in a given week or month. If ten people put a thousand dollars a month, one person would collect ten thousand this month and the rotation continues until everyone got that full amount each month.

I will, for the purpose of this missive, refer to sister Irene as Sis. That was how everyone in the community greeted her. My mother had wrapped the money in brown paper and placed it in plastic which was firmly knotted. Today, when I use my debit card, I often think of the notion of money in plastic and wonder if the world got it from her.

By the time I had taken the shortcut through Pappy’s yard, debating whether I should stop to join a game of cricket with Clement Henry, Louie and the other boys in our small and tightly knit community, the rain had begun to drizzle. I hit the main road in Half Mile and dashed into Sis yard and knocked on the door. She opened and I handed my mother’s ’box money’ and said, “Mammy send dis.”. I was about to turn away when she said, “no, come in and shelter.”

“Sit down on that chair over there, mek yo self comfortable. The rain soon done.” She urged. Sis, I was told came to Linden from Buxton. I was told she knew Eusi Kwayana personally. The stories abound about Kwayana; it was said that he was a mystic man that could be in two places at the same time. A child hearing such begins to think about the paranormal and fear creeps in. Sis was an old woman with aged but good skin. Her face was set in permanent seriousness. She always had her head covered.

Sis appeared to sense I was afraid and said something to me I will never forget. “Dis house is headed by a good spirit suh is a good place. No harm gon come to yuh… seen or unseen. You get it? Yuh get it straight? Duh different.” The reassuring warmth she said it with evaporated my fear.

She continued. “If the owner of the house is wicked, the whole house becomes wicked, even if the innocent and righteous in it. Now yuh have to worry. Yuh get it? Yuh get it straight? Good, duh different.”

Since the PPP took office in 2020, the carnage on our roadways is staggering. Death has overtaken our roadways; crime has increased tenfold. Cousins shooting cousins, suicide has skyrocketed. Rape and abuse gone through the ceiling. Strange and mysterious deaths have overtaken Guyana. Wanton suffering everywhere. Sexual lawlessness is the order of the day. The rains have come and Guyanese are made to shelter in the house of evil. None is safe. I think of Sis in times like this and hope one day I can sit and talk with Eusi Kwayana. I feared the righteous spirits as a child. Today, I have to call out the demons amongst us. Yuh get it? Yuh get it straight? That different.

The spirit of sister Irene from Buxton to Linden guides this missive. Rise up, Guyanese.

Sincerely yours,

Norman Browne

Social and Political Activist

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