Snatches of Life: A Collection of Stories

By Neil Primus

This manuscript is a compilation of original works. Folklore, legends, culture, fact and fi ction are all used to bring these pieces to life. Some of our folk lores and culture are refl ected in a Perfect Christmas, Ma Lotties Farewell, Old Haigue a Fly, The Called and Fraid De Dark. Guyanas beauty and natures gifts are weaved into pieces like An Outing in the Country, A Wild Ride and Life in my Neck of the Woods. Life and its triumphs and failures and peoples unpredictability are recorded in stories such as Plumber in the House, Pets are Us, The Days Goes Floating By, Needle in a Haystack, Rum Till I Die and Two is a Crowd. Humour
fl ows through many of my stories and is quite evident in the following pieces. Catch a Bull By the Tail, Flight of the Bats, Going Going Gone!, King Thief , Rooster Rendezvous. Appointment with Dr. Punch, Making my Melody, Patrick the Prankster, Repeat After Me, The Awakening. Millicent. The Young and the Wild, is based on true events. Fiction and adventure are captured in The Coming of a King and Strange. Written in simple language these stories are often upbeat and capture the imagination
of the readers young or old. Readers can journey through many aspects of Guyana and its people and reminisce on days forgotten. Snatches of Life is a must read for children and adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781453539569

Book preview

PERFECT CHRISTMAS

It was shaping up to be a great Christmas. My End of Term exam scores were excellent and I had made it into the top five of the brightest kids in my class. Mom had called from the USA and was sending us clothes, toys and other niceties. What more could I ask for?

The next day we got word that my favourite aunt would be spending Christmas in Guyana. She was staying with us. Oh boy! I had only fond memories of Auntie Julie. She was young and fun to be with. Whenever she visited we would go to movies, plays and other interesting places. What was more we played many games and losing became fun. She loved Bob Marley and Paul Keens Douglas and so did I. She helped me with my home work and I helped her with her chores whenever she was tired after work. We were friends.

Julie was nineteen and the youngest of my mother’s sisters. Mom had migrated to the USA three years earlier and we had lived with Grandma and Auntie Julie for two years. Then she had followed my mom to the United States. Though I had felt sad at my mom’s departure, when Julie left it was a setback for me. My grades fell and it took lots of encouragement and commitment to get back to my best.

This term’s good report was evidence of hard work and focus. I had made up my mind to do well and not mope any more. I knew I would see Julie some day. What a pleasant surprise the news of her coming was. My Christmas would be complete.

My sisters and I began the legendary pre Christmas clean up. I say legendary because in my grandmother’s house it was nothing short of that. As far back as I could remember, this activity had been an inseparable part of this holiday season.

Every corner of the house had to be swept, mopped, scrubbed and scoured and cobwebbed. The entire exercise took about two to three weeks depending on the amount of manpower available. When it was completed, the house would be sparkling clean and fresh. All the furniture would be packed into a corner in order to facilitate this exercise.

Grandma meanwhile had begun preparing home made wines, cakes and other goodies for which she was famous and adored. As usual, food would be in abundance. Garlic Pork, Pepper Pot, Mauby and other delicacies had been catered for in the Christmas shopping. We had only to wait for the grand day.

Mother’s barrel arrived a week before Christmas and the excitement in the house was palpable. As we put up decorations and did last minute polishing, we were hopelessly distracted by the gifts sitting under the Christmas tree. I felt that this years Christmas was really taking its time; and a long time at that.

The T.V. announced that it was snowing heavily in North America. A message from Auntie Julie confirmed this. Her flight had been cancelled and she would get here as soon as she could. Hopefully it would be in time for Christmas.

My mood slowly changed. I had been happy for the last couple of weeks, now I felt anxious and sad. The weather in Guyana seemed to share my pessimism. Rain began to pour. I knew that even with the gifts I would not be happy unless my aunt arrived for the holidays. That night I prayed that I would have a perfect Christmas. And that night I slept unusually sound.

The days crept along and my mood kept pace. I checked and re-checked with grandma for news from Auntie Julie and got a negative response for each enquiry. The rain kept up its intensity and I lost all hope of having a merry Christmas.

Christmas Eve kept everyone busy. The bustle of last minute shopping baking and cooking made me forget about everything else. I was so engrossed in the activities that when someone suddenly grabbed me I almost jumped out of my skin. Auntie Julie had arrived at last. Our screams of joy and excitement could have been heard in the next street. At that moment I began my celebration.

Christmas Eve mass at the Brickdam Cathedral seemed longer than usual and I was anxious for it to end. The bishop spoke about the coming of the saviour: I felt I knew just what he was talking about. The cathedral was packed with worshippers and hot despite the showers. After mass we hurried home to open the presents which had multiplied due to the arrival of Auntie Julie.

Christmas day was a blast. Presents, lots to eat, games with my sisters and visiting friends, spending time with my aunt and grandmother, wow! I felt contented, happy and blessed. God had answered my prayer. He knew what I needed and helped out. I silently thanked him for giving me a marvelous holiday. Next year I would put him to work on a perfect one.

The doorbell rang and I dashed off to answer it, my mood buoyant. As I swung the door open my mouth fell open in shock. Tears flooded my vision and I stood gasping at the miracle before me: Mom. Thank you God. You are a year ahead of me.

The End

AN OUTING IN THE COUNTRY

Somehow I should have known that the day would not be one of those ordinary boring ones. Not with Michael present. The day had started perfectly. At the crack of dawn we were all piling into a mini bus and heading for Parika. Everyone was punctual and all we needed was brought along. It was too perfect to last.

Parika turned out to be moderately busy when we arrived there an hour later. Boats were moored alongside the wharf and a few were taking on passengers. All of the boats going to the Essequibo Islands, Bartica and the Riverain areas along the Essequibo River used this port as their base.

A small crowd of people drifted about on the Stelling waiting for their boat to arrive. The melodious singsong chants of vendors rang out as they traversed and canvassed the small crowd trying to get their ware sold. Fresh fruits! Greens! Vegetables! Provision! Fish and Shrimp!

The giant planks on the floor of the wharf reverberated as large trucks, vans, and busses drove onto the waiting ferries that were so old that many spent more time in dry-dock than in actual service. The colourful bustling scene distracted me briefly. The rolling waves of the Mighty Essequibo River smashed into the aging Stelling causing it to shudder at regular intervals. I looked down at the many boats trying to figure out which one was the craft we had reserved in advance. Marshall Falls? We turned and saw a young Amerindian man smiling amicably at us. We acknowledged that we were the party he sought and he approached us. Picking up the two heaviest bags he headed for the northern end of the Stelling. Necessity forced us to follow his hasty progress through the crowd which had grown considerably.

He hopped nimbly into a madly rocking wooden craft and began helping us down one at a time. Our young Captain /Driver seated us himself, ensuring that the boat was well balanced. Life jackets were handed out but I had no need of any; you see, I was already wearing mine and had been doing so since I left home, much to the amusement of my friends. I didn’t mind. Let them laugh all they want. You never know when it will come in handy, especially around water and boats.

The eight of us settled into the small craft and at full throttle; our bow jutting out of the water, we hurled towards Bartica. The crashing of the bow against the relentless waves didn’t do much to encourage me to relax and I found myself hugging Jenny in order to calm her obvious fears. The trip was her birthday present from me and I wanted her to enjoy it. I couldn’t afford to do much more so I had to make this count.

Isolated houses flashed by at intervals; small canoes kept close to the shore and small children played happily in the dark brown opaque water their voices ringing clearly across the distance. The more inland we went the calmer the water grew. Our speed increased. By now we were fairly flying along. The sprays from the water kept us awake and damp. I had forgotten to be worried and stared around me in awe. The landscape was magnificent. In my twenty five years I had never ventured out of the capital city. This was a pleasant shock for me.

Compared to Georgetown with its congested streets and clustered buildings that block out all view beyond their unyielding walls, this was vast open country sprawling before us. The huge expanse of water kept extending before us like a playful escaping imp. Birds dived into the water to make their catch unperturbed by the noisy engines of the boat.

We approached Bartica and swung into the Mazaruni River to continue towards our destination. We passed the Mazaruni Penal Settlement situated on a vast plot of land on the western bank of the river. With deft steering that came from experience and knowledge of the waters, we navigated rocks, whirlpools and strong cross current to arrive at the falls.

Everyone disembarked and we reminded the captain to return for us at four o’clock. The boat headed for Bartica and we walked through the forest to our picnic spot. It was a short walk and we chatted as we went along. Only Sonia had been here before. The path was clear and easy to follow. When we got to the falls we put our food and drinks away safely, stripped and jumped into the water. I kept my lifejacket on, just in case.

The waterfall was about thirty feet high with two gentle drops. Its strength was moderate and we enjoyed sitting under the falling water and getting free massages. We frolicked and laughed until midday. When we emerged from the water we were all cold, hungry, and happy.

We had food enough to feed two other groups. The four girls had outdone themselves. The drinks were the responsibility of the guys and we had seen to it that stocks would be varied and adequate. We had catered for heavy drinkers and occasional drinkers. I fell into the latter category, but on this occasion I abstained because of the water factor. ‘Alcohol and water don’t mix’ was what my daddy taught me. He wasn’t speaking about a ‘chaser’ (water added to an alcoholic drink to enhance the taste).

It was Jenny’s birthday so after we had eaten the others gave Jenny their presents. I waited for last and gave her a beautiful cashmere jacket I knew she liked. Michael then suggested we go for a walk. Being always cautious I tried dissuading the others. As usual Michael took it personal.

Nobody knows this area well, I advised. Maybe we should just cool out now and swim a little later. Speaking about swimming!" Michael’s remark was aimed directly at me in obvious reference to my inability to swim.

You can stay if you want, but we are going for a walk, he ended bluntly. I decided not to get into an argument and spoil proceedings for Jenny. The others were eager to explore so I reluctantly joined them. Michael headed off into the thick bush, his mouth going faster than he could walk.

I can’t get lost in the bush at all. I have been on plenty of hikes alone and always find my way back. He strode ahead with a certainty that helped to allay any fear of getting lost; except mine.

My experience had taught me to take little that Michael said at face value. Many times I had found him lying but never bothered to confront him. I knew if I did he would deny it to the death and that would spoil our friendship.

As we trekked along the sound of the waterfalls faded away. We climbed a knoll and looked around us from this vantage point. All that met the eyes was green. Maybe we should turn back now, I tried again, we have been walking for an hour already. I am tired. Some of the others nodded but Michael challenged this in his usual flippant way.

You could quit if you want. We’re going to finish our hike.

I looked at Jenny and she smiled and said, Lets continue. We’ll turn back in a while. I acceded to her request and the journey resumed. It got hotter and hotter and bugs began to sting. The others began to voice their discomfort and sensing that he could lose control, Michael decided to turn back.

Returning was harder than I could imagine. We walked, pushing our way through the thick foliage. By now everyone was tired, thirsty and hungry. This gave impetus to our movement. It soon became apparent that all was not right.

We had been walking for over an hour without finding any landmark we could remember passing. In fact the surroundings were becoming stranger. Are we getting closer? Ralf was looking at Michael with suspicion when he asked this. He ignored this and hurried on. Mike! Todd’s voice showed signs of anger and he had stopped walking. I don’t remember coming this way. Michael looked around embarrassed. I’m taking another route back. He said this with little conviction. I had heard enough. I wasn’t going to take any more of it. We are lost aren’t we? The accusation was sharp in my tone. No! I am not! Michael sounded angry and confused. Todd spoke up. "Let’s stop for a while and try to get our bearings.

We sat or squatted in a small opening and tried to figure out a way back. It was already 4:45 p.m. After some debate we headed away from the sun. I had earlier noted that we had been heading towards the sun on our hike. Todd led off and we all followed. Michael was upset at being ignored and lagged behind. We took little notice of his behaviour.

The next hour brought no results. We had walked hard and long but found no recognizable landmark. The sun was going down rapidly. I began to panic for the first time.

On our return journey Jenny and I were walking together. I knew she was afraid and I had tried to comfort her. We were now holding hands and trying to keep up. She looked up at me and I felt guilty and embarrassed. The trip was my idea. I had organized it, picked the location and made all the arrangements. I should have ensured that nothing like this happened by sticking to my plans. What a birthday gift for the girl I loved. Sensing my thoughts she squeezed my hand and smiled. I returned the gesture with gratitude. We knew each other so well that often words were not needed in order for us to communicate. We had been together for three years and I intended to ask her to marry me. All this was going through my head as we walked.

Stop! The command flew from my lips in excitement. We halted and everyone looked at me. Listen! I encouraged. Everyone did but heard nothing. Waterfalls! I hear water. I continued, hardly able to contain myself. I don’t hear a thing. Todd said this wearily. Grabbing Jenny’s hand I rushed towards the sound leaving the others to follow. Soon the others could hear it and we doubled our speed falling and scrambling our way back to Marshall Falls. It had gotten quite dark and we gathered up our things. With no light to guide us we decided to stay put. There was enough food to last until the next day and we knew the captain would come looking for us. We waited silently in the dark.

The sound of movement in the undergrowth alerted us to the presence of someone or something nearby. A flickering light approached and our captain announced his presence. Hey! Where were you people? he enquired in a worried voice. I knew he was thinking about our safety and the dangers of traveling on the river by night. We got lost. He looked puzzled for a second and I could almost read his thoughts. How can anyone get lost in the bush? Not safe to move around now. Was all he said eventually. "I’ll light a fire. He disappeared from view and returned with an armful of dead branches. The fire was soon blazing.

As the place got brighter and warmer, we began to feel much better. This feeling didn’t last too long. It was our observant captain who first queried, Where is the boss-man? He was referring to Michael who always acted as though he was that. We looked around at each other trying to figure out what he meant. Michael was missing! Our apprehension returned. Everyone started talking at once and panic enveloped us. Where was Michael? When was the last time anyone had seen him? These questions were hurled around in our confused attempt to find out how this unspeakable negligent act had taken place. We tried backtracking our memories and realized that he could have been missing anytime during our return journey. Nobody had bothered counting heads in the dark. Big mistake.

Jenny was crying and clinging to me. I tried reassuring her that Michael would be okay even if I secretly had doubts. I reminded them that he had spent a lot of time outdoors. My heart sank. This was another of Michael’s exaggerations. God please watch over him, I prayed.

The young captain told us it would be dangerous to try searching for him at night. After our ordeal we knew he was right. We sat around the fire in a tight restless formation. Sometime during the wee hours of the morning everyone fell asleep.

I came awake with a start. The captain was speaking to me. The others stirred and the entire camp was up. Which direction did you come from? We answered him by pointing. He told us to wait until he got back and turning he strode into the jungle. There was little conversation as we waited. There was no move to eat so we just sat there feeling scared and miserable.

Being