Right under our noses
up having to shout for help, for any reason, you would be wasting your time; only the bush leaves or the black water would hear you. You are in a cocoon of nature, bursting with life, but with no help whatsoever from mankind. This particular area is remote. Banks’ Jerry Goveia had introduced me to the spot; I was living on the Base and didn’t know about it, but the bushman Gov sure did. It had been right under my nose all the time.
It’s the same with our waterfalls. The adulation, even ecstasy, that comes from the majestic ones, such as Kaieteur and Orinduik, is widespread, but we also have the unique smaller ones, like Marshall, and, one of my favourites, Kumu, a few minutes’ drive from Lethem. Going by on the road outside you would never know Kumu is there, but it’s a spot that seems almost designed for a scene in a movie or a short video. Although in a dense forest (you need to walk about 15 minutes to reach it), the actual waterfall is coming out of dark, dense, black rock, in a powerful rush out of nowhere, spilling into a circular pool at the bottom, seemingly designed for bathing. It’s a delightful place and you drive by on the adjacent roadway, completely unaware that it’s there. That’s one of the great things about living in Guyana; you see nature in all her glory, and, many times, you don’t have to go far. Often it’s right in your backyard or a short jaunt away.
About a year ago I wrote a song, I Am There, in memory of the late Desrey Fox, the Amerindian lady who had served as Minister in the Ministry of Education (it’s really about the Amerindian dogma that man and nature are the same). I will get around to recording it one of these days, but for now one verse in it says, “In the place, Roraima stands, in that holiest of lands, home to all the roving bands, I am there.” Another one says, “In the Kaieteur water, where the swallows fly, you may not see me, but I’m nearby.” And, “On Essequibo’s falling tide, when those angry winds collide, and little children run inside, I am there.” In fact, the song, which is actually about an Amerindian way of seeing life, is full of examples of these natural wonders of Guyana that we interact with all the time, and it occurs to me that a video along those lines would be a powerful addition to our tourism promotion material showing visitors these singular aspects of nature we are blessed with in Guyana – often, right in front of us.
Finally, while we may seem oblivious to these things, we are really not. They may not be in the forefront of our minds, but those vistas, and the emotions they stir, are absorbed into our being over time and serve as a comfort to us; they are actually a part of who we are as Guyanese… an experience to lean on, a lovely memory to embrace with a quickening of the pulse in periods away; we have absorbed the influences; they are there, like reflections or shadows in a creek, making us who we are and how we are, whether we’re on the Toronto sidewalk or the Pakaraima trail, whether we want to or not. The bottom line here is that our country’s future depends on all of us “putting a hand” and President Granger made exactly that point in a speech on Emancipation Day recently. The special conditions of Guyana are in our favour; the material to shout about is not in some dark inaccessible place hundreds of miles away; most of it is virtually right under our noses.