Cro Cro – Ah Feeling Shame



By  EWALT AINSWORTH                           09 19 2012

The GT funeral industry is in deep du-du. They digging holes like latrine pit and putting the dead to stand up.. man wid man and woman wid woman; and if space leff over they stuffing it wid garbage, as the collateral and alternative environmental strategy.

Guyanese falling like fly.  Anytime you in New York or Atlanta or Toronto and you see somebody in black and white with dark glasses to boot…worries in the camp.  We shooting up, we shooting out; we shooting down; we shooting across; we shooting first, second and third. You see a Guyanese man in a dark suit he either going to a funeral or coming from one or signing he self in to a hospital to die soon.  He walk with he Sunday best cause he don’t like to feel the chill in hospital gowns.  We is the shooting kind.  We shooting and murdering black folks and getting Crime Chief Seelall Persaud to say that to think of a crime is enough reason for the police to kill, maim and or disable.  On a sunny day that is murder and on a rainy day manslaughter.    In Guyanese parlance…mek-attempt-gone.      

Not enough space; not enough cement; not enough time and not enough mourners.   Lyken,  Merriman  and them got dead leff-back in the cold room cause people cannot keep track of all the deaths and funerals and all the  regulations  and quasi-rules governing how things running now. Sometimes all of the above.

And wait, wait:  there is more.  The department of Local  Government in concert with village councils, city planners, religious organizations and funeral homes have been given the go-ahead to bury the dead vertically.  Families are resisting the idea of their loved ones standing in peace when they could be lying in peace.

A big-man crash he car and dead while listening to the news about the stand-up thing.  He barely had enough time to use his Blackberry and tweet that his adopted wife…intimate partner, must bury him in his car rather than a casket cause “he got prosthetic legs and arthritis and he can’t stand up too long.
There was a death recently in the diaspora.  The deceased was on vacation and was rushed to hospital and died subsequently.  It was cheaper to cremate her under the circumstances but her family in GT wanted to be here.  The family lawyer, a PPP activist promised them a wholesale and wholesome joint-visa for the 14 family members.  He charged them retail price…more than the cost of a return ticket on EASY-JET.  He did not do what he was supposed to do and has gone into hiding with his pay-day loan.  It is a good thing the body was cremated.  The husband may soon arrive to take the urn home because nobody in the great Strawfus can get the necessary time-off and resources to bury the dead.  Dis time na long time.  Everything is transactional and has to be paid for a-la-carte.

During Commissioner Greene’s funeral service at the cultural center, somebody mek a joke with President Donald Ramotar and almost predicted his demise in language like this…Yuh will die soon and it will be on a coolie-holiday if you don’t look sharp (literally).   Ramotar told him is only two coolie holidays leff in the year…and both is in October…his birth month.  The man had to rewind and come again painstakingly telling him…the day when you die, that day will be the coolie holiday for the amount of stupidness that you doing and calling it bravery….dem same coolie people go kill you.

President Ramotar seems to be out of his roti-mind and is openly eating at the trough of apartheid when in fact he should be gallivanting in every ethnic enclave and relinquishing greed and violence.

Prime Minister Dr Ptolemy Reid, an Essequibian like Ramotar, used to say that…leadership was meeting people in times of sorrow and taking them to a place where they have never been before.  The PPP does not see blacks as worthy; they have lost the human touch and cannot offer sympathy and or empathy.  That is not a strength…that is a weakness and where there are weaknesses, there will also be violence.   ALUTA CONTINUA.

President Ramotar read the book on psychological warfare upside-down and taking emotionally challenged comrades to a dark, dingy and different place…where they have never been and will not stay.  Something has to give.  Too many deaths and too many dying.  Every cemetery in Guyana is today in active use;  folks with  lit kruda bush, mosquito coil, the scent of burnt cow-down, gas lamps and generators illuminating the bowels of the earth to synthesize bodies with earth.  And the resting places are getting smaller and smaller and more expensive like hell.  Elevating condemned wife-beater Seelall Persaud to official mouth piece for the farcical force is both destructing , dumb and destabilising….in reverse order.

Cemeteries and environs have a greater and wider stock of unusual birds, animals, rodents and mammals.  There is also a brilliant share of flowers and an abundance of garbage for rats to look like puff-mammies and bush-motor-bikes gallivanting at speeds in excess of 60-mph.  Alligators and turtles also beach in the twilight of burials.  Permit me to desist from these tales of death and drudgery.

This week too, legal luminary Prem Persaud chuck-in as chairman of the commission of inquiry into the break out at the Onderneeming boys school in Essequibo.  Prem did not even accord the PPP any prior notice; he just chuck-in after three meetings.  He found the evidence revolting as staff used the little boys and girls as part time lovers, drug couriers, marijuana farmers, prostitutes, drug dealers, snitches and bitches.  They even want to send them on covert assignments like the police to shoot people with guns that are not registered, have no markings and homing devices.  Guyana is devolving;  Guyana has devolved.  Another day soon and very soon the 411 on FOWL-COCK, their President’s cousin crashed his newly minted BMW driving at 110 miles per hor.  Ramotar sent a helicopter to pick up this lil-coolie boy; the boy was in such a bad shape that they had to leave him to die at Suddie hospital.  Both Comrades Gaskin and Greene were denied medical attention after their respective accidents within 15 miles each of hospitals..  ASOMELYKAM.

The PPP, the police, the hospitals, road accidents, the mining communities et al are reproducing too many deaths in Guyana.  Funeral homes are doubling up the amount of caskets/coffins they are delivering in both Georgetown and country areas.  In the light of scarcity of space and to conserve energy, East Coast burials are restricted to three days in the week; West Coast another day and East Bank another day.  Airlines have doubled the price for bodies and treating them like cargo.  Easy-Jet…Jagdeo’s official carrier,  now has special promotions for bereaved families.  Is two-fuh-one and one-fuh-one. And the clergy and presiding priests are encouraged to have home-coming services at a central or neighboring place to site of burial so that hearses and corteges do not have to double-back or make extra trips.

This week too, a man with a putagee name…Fernandes or something like that, got shot in the ususa drive-by something on the East Bank.  The police rushed him to Georgetown hospital even though he showed them he had enough money and insurance for a private hospital.  Fernandes was bullied into hospital and tied to a gurney and once he felt strong enough, he break loose…cuss out the doctor, cuss the nurse, cuss  the police and all who dared to come under the sound of his voice. I will vote for him any day soon.   The man took his own discharge and moved on.  Please listen out and holler at me if you see something or know something of this rusty-putagee who distrusts the hospital system in GT.

The Police on the other hand to ensure free-flow (well not free as in free);  the family of the deceased still have to leave a lil-something to get funeral convoys to their out of town destinations safely.  The Police is also involved in writing off young black-men when there is a deficit or shortage in head counts for any region or rural community.
The PPP makes sure they alter the emotional aspect to death and it is now transactional;  They cannot get people to marry and so they killing them off one by one and two by two.  Is hospital, is doctor, is nurse, is theatre, is pharmacist, is undertaker, is taxi, is videographer, is preacher, is choir, is clothing, is florist, is licenses, is perfume, is musician, is choir, is liquor, is food, is everything and everybody.  Death is what keeping Jagdeo and Ramotar alive and all the other comrades with hog-spirit.  You have to have the will to die or else you surely die.

Last week, there was a deficit of deaths in Agricola and a few young boys…average ages  20 were seen together.  Six policemen in uniforms took out their personal stash and opened fire at point blank range shooting two in the back of the head.  One died and the other one lived to tell the tale.  The one that lived, is now charged and had to find 40 towels as bail.  Wait-wait; there is more.  Seelall say he cannot determine which officers opened fire on the young boys; none of their guns have the tell tale signs of usage.  That’s right.  To avoid the mountain of paperwork and accountability, police does walk with their own gun and plant one on the victims and take it from there.  Any fool can see that…how Seelall cant.  (I think I may know Seelall if perchance he was stationed at Cove and John on or around June of 2008.  I had visited with the Persaud family that lives at the head of the depleted roadway to the area’s precinct.)

Agricola was livid.  They block traffic for hours and burn tires and debris.
They may very well have to return to their ignoble ways to get justice cause it en tent looking kosher from my perch.  To get something from the PPP you got to do something outrageous.  Racism has dimmed the lights of conscience and concern.  A chuck or two may be a shared goal with AFC’s Nigel Hughes:  Pim-pim.

The Grant family is a prominent family in Agricola.  And as excuses go, shooting someone in the head and back and buttocks…at least three times is not an excuse in any civil society.  It is murder.  Deputy Commissioner Seelall Persaud should also be charged along with the entire patrol unit for murder.

When I was a child I spoke as a child but now that the PPP is not willing to relinquish greed and corruptions, as a grown-ass man it is my civic duty to say something.  And nobody go stop me.  Rohee, al should get held by their balls and put over slow fire like a country pig on a dark, dark, dark  nite.

Some Ministries, come corporations, some agencies have stopped giving time off to employees for funerals n Guyana.  Musicians and calypsonians and DJs and choral groups are starving in Guyana.  Could you believe Johnny Braff and the likes of sweet-Toney Ricardo singing gospel?  Sparrow and Rose also in the gospel business.

As soon as they hear of a dead they pick up their banjo, goat skin, generators, mixers and microphones and appear and start singing and dancing.  You have to pay them cash money.  Some even take up residence until the next scheduled death and day.  Home-coming celebrations is now like bagwaat…big money wine.

Right now I have a family in Seafield; she built a burial ranch and crematorium with her own money by the waterside in the Tempie-Seafield district. Another family put in air-conditioning and fan in Litchfield’s St Jude’s Anglican Church.  The people and the communities have an understanding and are taking care of themselves.  The schools and churches are their own and want the government to get out of their business and out of their face and reinvest in nation building.

The Tempie-Seafield local authority chipped in and is now looking at the two-mile roadway to bring it up to all-weather status.  Georgetown is running out of burial space. Families are going back to their ancestral homes to celebrate because they frighten coolie-jumbie….it may be too late now to ask Henry Greene.  He was interned in Nabaclis vertically even though some said in jest that vertical or horizontal…same thing for Henry.

La Repentir has dogs from the neighborhood fat and big like sheep feeding off of the carcasses of improperly buried bodies.   The concrete is not cured anymore and chicken mesh is what holding up tombs and tomb stones.  And if you are not there, is slam-bam and done.  Next…next to nothing is nothing.

Every day; every living day another person is killed.  You buy a brand new Toyota, for an extra US200.00 you get a gun.  It is easier to get a gun in Guyana than to get a marriage license any day in the week.

The police themselves go door to door canvassing and displaying guns they took away from urban areas and taking them to Indian ethnic enclaves and getting top dollar.    Every coolie house got three gun, one cutlass, one screw-driver and one sledge hammer….according to statistics available from Robert Persaud’s  Office Of Environment.  This week operatives spread out around the country to do census.  Census takers have to know both Portuguese and Mandarin because of the depletion of the black stock and replacements from foreign.  Black women have also stopped making boy babies and are using the rhythm method for sex.  No outta-time wine as a precautionary measure…just in case.

A big-man show me that in some parts of the city the man that selling coconut water has another side business.  The barber shop is owned by Smith and the hair dressing salons owned by Ms Wesson.  There are also outlets in the back of Bourda market…  Regent street stores and on a healthy Friday night outside of Stabroek .  Guns are a staple and curry powder a treat.
This week an undercover drug enforcement officer was shot and killed.  President Ramotar aborted all his meetings and siesta to go visit.  Everyday a lil-black boy getting shot down, Ramotar busy.  Ramotar may be a fan of Busy Signal.  Guyana is both inching and edging towards a soul revival-type program.  And this is not a threat; it is a promise.  When the roll is called up yonder I will be there.


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