Two people sent me the text of a recent speech by Dave Martins (of Tradewinds fame). That means it's making its way around the internet e-mail circle. When you get it, you should read it--all of it. It's that good. Among other things, it's a good reminder of just how Guyanese we still are despite our distance from Guyana, and (in some cases) despite our refusal to admit that we still are. Best of all is Martins' humor. Here's a story he tells about a particular Guyanese trait (West Indian trait, I might add):
Remember the carrier bike with that big tray in front carrying cargo around town? A banna on a carrier bike coming down Croal street to turn right into Water street. Now mind you, the bike loaded: two bag of flour and a bag of onions in the carrier. And I don't have to tell you; the bike ain't got no bell and no brakes. Yuh put yuh foot on the back tire to slow down, and pray to God yuh stop on time. Second thing, he can't see this from Croal street, but up from the corner big truck park up on the right side of Water street in front of Bettencourts [I hear it's where Muneshwar's is today] unloading, traffic passing on the left. So your boy coming down Croal street and ain't got no bell, so he hollering, "Passage, passage!" and people moving out the way. Everything nice. But as he make the turn into Water street hear wha' happening: traffic on the left, building on the right, truck straight ahead, and he can't stop. Banna tek one look and holler out "Collision laka rass, collision!" Bradang! Guyanese culture. Levity in adversity.
