Guyana Chronicle Pepperpot E-Paper 10-08-2025

Sunday, August 10, 2025

Adventures turns Art

Artist Lisa Thompson debuts her storytelling pottery pieces in her solo art exhibition, “Guyana: The Stories She Told”

Artist Lisa Thompson, creator of the exhibition Guyana: The Stories She Told, uses pottery to capture vivid scenes from Guyanese childhood (Delano Williams photo)

A unique indigenous arts and craft venture

By Michel Outridge

IN an effort to keep her late mother’s memory and small business alive, Rubyanna Alleyne wholeheartedly took over the venture, establishing Rubyanna’s Handicraft and Fragrances.

The 32-year-old told the Pepperpot Magazine that her late mother, Bridget Alleyne, was a very talented indigenous woman who was multi-skilled and self-taught. Bridget, who was the founder of the small business, passed away nine years ago.

She had acquired skills from generational traditions, which took her through life as an entrepreneur, earning a living as a mother of eight children.

Bridget’s small business later evolved into a moth -

er-and-daughter entity. After her mother passed away, the daughter endeavoured to keep the business alive in remembrance of the enterprising and gifted indigenous woman.

Alleyne stated that, as a small business owner, she is learning every day, and the experience of investing in and marketing her products has taught her a great deal about strategies, competing in business, and connecting with like-minded people.

Rubyanna’s Handicrafts is located at 111 Miles Madhia, Potaro, Region Eight (Potaro-Siparuni), and at Lot 101 Barclay Street, Goed Fortuin, West Bank Demerara, Region Three (Essequibo Islands-West Demerara).

Most of the items sold were purchased from local

craftsmen and women within Region Eight and its environs. Other raw materials were also sourced from the natural environment.

Alleyne makes and sells

cotton handbags, home décor, knitted hand towels, dream catchers, macaw feather earrings, beaded chains, earrings, bands, head-dresses, Turn to page XI

Rubyanna Alleyne

The many different shades of earrings made from the feathers of macaws

Adventures turns Art

Artist Lisa Thompson debuts her storytelling pottery pieces in her solo art exhibition, “Guyana: The Stories She Told”

By Shaniya Harding

FOR most Guyanese, games like hopscotch, jacks, or cricket shape our childhood. Youthful adventures of swimming through blackwater canals and playing among the trees are all too familiar to many Guyanese and tend to evoke a sense of nostalgia. That all-too-familiar taste of nostalgia is what artist Lisa Thompson has recreated with her pottery exhibition, Guyana: The Stories She Told.

The exhibition, which kicks off this weekend at Castellani House, features some 120 handcrafted pieces by Thompson, but her pieces are more than your typical vase. Thompson uses her pottery as a medium for storytelling, featuring hand-painted, picturesque scenes that evoke childhood memories. In her sit-down with the Pepperpot Magazine this week, Thompson stated that her work is a unique reflection of the authentic Guyanese experience.

Born and raised on the Essequibo Coast, Lisa Thompson is an activist for everything Guyanese. When she’s not moulding and glazing clay into bright, vibrant pottery pieces that tell stories, Thompson is the Project Director and Country Representative for a government-funded project focused on improving access to justice for Indigenous women and girls.

Pottery, for her, began simply as a hobby. While in Canada during the pandemic, Thompson learned pottery from a neighbour and fellow potter. This, she says, is where her

love for transforming raw clay into something more began.

“I remembered my sister had once gifted me a piece of pottery for the baby, and I absolutely loved it. I thought, ‘My God, I want to learn how to do this thing.’”

She further added, “So my sister and I went every day for two weeks. Once I felt the clay, it was over.”

Since then, and upon her return to Guyana, Thompson has worked to refine her skills. Pottery, she shared, is a complex art form that requires patience. Highlighting her journey, Thompson noted that it has been a learning process, but one made possible by the support of friends and family.

“By the time I got back to Guyana, my husband had already bought me a kiln and a second-hand potter’s wheel from a local potter. He also gave me my first bit of clay and taught me how to process it. You don’t just dig clay and use it — you have to dilute it into a thick soup, strain it through mesh, let it settle and dry until it’s like clay dough, then knead it to remove impurities before you can start working.”

In a conversation with Pepperpot Magazine about her creative process, Thompson described pottery as something that cannot be rushed. “Pottery is not something you can rush. It teaches patience and focus. When you make something, you must allow it to dry for at least two weeks before doing the first firing, called a bisque fire. That’s when the piece turns into that orange-looking ceramic,”

Turn to page XVIII

Artist Lisa Thompson, creator of the exhibition Guyana: The Stories She Told, uses pottery to capture vivid scenes from Guyanese childhood (Delano Williams photo)

A vase from Lisa Thompson’s collection, featuring children playing cricket — one of several storytelling pieces in the exhibition

Some of the 120 handcrafted pottery pieces on display at Castellani House in Lisa Thompson’s solo exhibition (Delano Williams photo)

AMITY Festival – Bringing Culture and Cohesion Alive through Steelpan

From Berbice to Buxton,

19 bands bring the

Rhythms

of One Guyana to life at the Seawall Esplanade

MUSIC in Guyana and throughout the Caribbean is unique and vital. It is a way of storytelling, tradition, and identity, and no instrument highlights this quite like the steelpan. This is one of the main reasons the Ministry of Education’s Unit of Allied Arts, in collaboration with EdYou FM, is spearheading several projects aimed at developing music literacy nationwide.

From newly trained music coaches to the development of robust music classes that integrate into the curriculum, music is becoming as integral to school life as it is to culture. At the heart of this effort is the AMITY Schools Steelpan Festival.

The theme for this year's festival is ‘Rhythms of One Guyana’, a fitting representation of the unity, diversity, and celebration that the event embodies. Education Officer with responsibility for music within the Ministry, Joel Gonsalves, sat down with Pepperpot Magazine to talk about the steelpan festival, the work behind it, and how some of Guyana’s most talented high schoolers are reigniting the love of steelpan.

The word AMITY means friendly relations, and the AMITY Schools Steelpan Festival is far older and much more of a collaborative effort than most people might think. Although it has been reintroduced with new vigour and vibrancy, it is an event that dates back to 1996, when it was first held at the Botanical Gardens. However,

like many events around the world, the festival was put on hold during the COVID-19 pandemic and only returned last year.

This year, the festival has grown, welcoming more bands and drawing larger crowds as they light up the Seawall Esplanade on Sundays. Highlighting the festival’s success, which triggered

its expansion, Gonsalves stated, “We got a favourable response from the public because it's really pleasing the public. And as a result, we had our second concert on the 6th of July. The concert was deemed a success. And again, the public — it was based on public demand - they asked for more. And so, we listened to what the public said and it

was extended for another six weeks.”

The festival currently features a total of 19 bands from all across Guyana. From students at New Amsterdam Secondary in Berbice to Abram Zuil Secondary in Region Two, to communi -

ty-based bands like Buxton Pride, AMITY is a live musical showcase unlike any other, with each band bringing its own unique flair. Moreover, Gonsalves noted that this weekend’s performance is especially Turn to page IX

Education Officer with responsibility for music within the Ministry, Joel Gonsalves, says that the AMITY Schools Steelpan Festival is giving visitors and Guyanese a taste of Caribbean music while giving young musicians exposure (Ministry of Education photo)

This Sunday, AMITY will kick off again at 5 p.m. with the New Amsterdam Multilateral and the Buxton Pride steelpan orchestra set to showcase their pan skills (Ministry of Education photo)

The festival currently features a total of 19 bands from all across Guyana. From students at New Amsterdam Secondary in Berbice to Abram Zuil Secondary in Region Two, to community-based bands like Buxton Pride (Ministry of Education photo)

AMITY has also garnered incredible local support, with many visitors seeing the event as a unique, refreshing alternative to the music typically heard at public events (Ministry of Education photo)

Creativity and determination, the newest ways in swine farming

By Michel Outridge

THROUGH his direct intervention of creativity and determination, Delroy Barron, a swine farmer, has made significant strides in expanding his farm.

With his unconventional way, he self-invented some strategies that are new to Guyana, creating a model farm in an effort to extend and preserve the life of his pigs.

He has invented his own version of the ‘farrow crate’ for both mother and piglets, and also created a gestational section for the comfort of his pigs.

Barron also utilises artificial insemination (AI) at his farm, which has been successful and has caused his swine population to multiply within a short space of time.

All this has been made possible with the construction of an all-weather road in his community, which provides him with direct access to his farm from the main road. He can now take feed in large quantities there, allowing him to expand even further.

Barron was overjoyed with the new development in his village — a concrete strip that allows him to drive directly to his farm from the main road — which was previously a mud dam, inaccessible before the construction of the new road.

He is very thankful to the current administration for fulfilling their promise during a community meeting in the village.

The new road was built about four months ago. Even though it took time, it happened, and he is simply overjoyed because it is easier for them now to get to the farm.

Barron is a resident of Korthaadt, West Bank Berbice, and is one of the largest swine farmers in the community.

The 39-year-old told Pepperpot Magazine that he grew up in swine farming, as his father had been involved in it before his birth. When he came of age, it was handed over to him, so he took it on boldly until he migrated.

He was forced to sell the pigs and went abroad to work; however, he returned to Guyana five years ago

from Barbados with his wife and daughter and had to make a living.

He automatically went back into swine farming on a small scale. He had to start from the ground up once again. However, he worked as a taxi driver to earn a living, and after accumulating some money, he invested it in buying pigs to expand his

farm.

Barron said he worked as a taxi driver from Berbice to Georgetown, as he was determined to earn a living from being self-employed, rather than as a swine farmer.

Since 2010, he has been developing his farm in stages to create a model unlike any other and has invented new additions. He currently has

200 pigs after securing a loan to reach the standard he is today.

Barron reported that he worked towards making his pig farm reach an acceptable standard, as schools would visit and learners would get a firsthand view of what pig farming is about.

He wanted to raise the standards of his farm, and he was motivated to do so despite the challenges and struggles. He is now at a stage where he is expanding — under construction — but needs help in getting it done, as he has exhausted his savings on other upgrades on the farm.

Barron reported that the Ministry of Agriculture (MOA), in the form of the Guyana Livestock Development Authority (GLDA), has been assisting incrementally. After he developed his swine farm to an acceptable standard, he met the requirements and was permitted to participate in the AI programme.

It was his first time participating in the AI programme introduced by GLDA this year, which utilised three pigs and resulted in rapid multiplication within a short period.

From three pigs, he got 36 piglets, which allowed for a quick turnover to profitability. He is pleased at the prospect of earning more, as he is also a pork butcher who sells at Canje three days a week, and often there is a demand for pork. As such, he is required to provide 600 pounds of pork

to the market weekly, and without the advent of AI by GLDA, he would not have been able to do it.

Barron explained that his piglets were dying on a large scale; he was losing a lot, and one day he pondered why. So, he decided to create a parallel farrowing crate from scratch to house both the mother and piglets to see the results.

He told Pepperpot Magazine that he turned to YouTube because he had no prior knowledge of fabrication or welding, and he was selftaught through online tutorials.

Barron invested in buying a welding plant and a generator, which cost him $400,000 out of pocket. He then made two farrowing crates and saw good results; the mortality rate of his piglets went down significantly.

Today, Barron’s swine farm is equipped with five farrow crates. Additionally, he has developed a six-foot, 22-inch gestational section to house his pregnant pigs, which helps stabilise them, and the results are equally good.

The swine farmer added that this type of farming is a Turn to page IX

On the farm owned by Delroy Barron

Largest swine farmer, Delroy Barron

The part where pregnant pigs are kept

Honey production in Santa Aratak takes another level

By Michel Outridge

ZWAANTJE DeCambra, better known as “Zoey”, is a female beekeeper who is empowered to earn in her home village of Santa Aratak, Demerara River, Region Three.

She produces top-quality honey in different flavours, and her target market is for export and tourists, with her produce being sold at the Santa Aratak Gift Shop — a space where all local produce by women is retailed.

DeCambra, a single mother, had lost hope of restarting her small beekeeping business when a devastating wildfire last year completely destroyed her hives in the savannah of her village.

But with assistance from the current administration, she was able to pick up the pieces and give it another go.

The 35-year-old told the Pepperpot Magazine that she has abandoned her teaching career to focus solely on her beekeeping and honey production.

Government’s intervention

The single mother of one child, a daughter, explained that she currently has 19 hives. As a gift from the government, she was given an additional 10 hives to expand her beekeeping and honey production.

DeCambra reported that with 29 hives in total, she can take her beekeeping to another level in terms

Getting help with beekeeping gear

Zwaantje DeCambra’s version of honey produced

of honey production, thanks to the training she received and the support from the Guyana Livestock and Development Authority (GLDA).

She related that she produces high-quality honey which is thicker than regular honey because of the specific flavours of mora, French cashew, wild ite’ palm, among other plants grown in the area.

DeCambra packages and labels her honey production, which is sold from her home or at the Santa

Aratak Gift Shop, located in the village, a riverine community in Kamuni Creek.

Last year, residents had to be evacuated from Santa Mission/ Santa Aratak when wildfires spread rapidly, engulfing the savannahs during the dry season.

It was reported that the bushfires at Santa Aratak caused mass evacuation of locals, who were temporarily housed at Timehri Primary School, an effort spearheaded by the Civil Defence Commission (CDC), until the flames were fully doused.

The entrepreneur lost all eight hives of bees she had at the time and could not finance restarting the venture.

When President Irfaan Ali visited the village, DeCambra seized the opportunity to seek assistance

in resuming her small beekeeping business to produce flavoured honey. She spoke to President Ali, who promised to help, and he did so sometime after; she was then gifted four hives.

Repos, East Coast Demerara, in November last year.

The resident of Santa Aratak told the Pepperpot Magazine that when visitors come to the village, they often buy her honey since it is a preferred taste that is well-liked. She retails a small bottle of honey for $2,000, while the large bottle is $7,000 each. Her produce is also available at Arrowpoint Resort for sale, and will also be at the new Bio Green Escape Resort, set to open by Wild Adventures soon. The resort is currently under construction in the Kamuni Creek.

“As a single mother, I am very happy to be able to earn due to the support I received from the government, and I will use the knowledge gained to train and empower others, especially the women and young girls in my village, to grow and embark on their own business ventures,” she said.

DeCambra added that GLDA assisted her in training and provided the relevant personnel to conduct the sessions, including renowned trainer Sherwood Huntley from London, among others.

DeCambra had only four hives at the time President Ali visited the community, and she was able to revive the small business in her backyard, in the savannah area.

The beekeeper related that she represented the community during the community meeting, which was held, and has since become a role model in the village, inspiring women and girls to equip themselves with skills to earn a living.

DeCambra became versed in beekeeping and managed to represent her village at the first-ever Honey Fest, held at GLDA, Mon

She disclosed that there aren’t many opportunities in Santa Aratak, and, as such, women and girls are often solely dependent on their male counterparts for financial support. That has to change — they must become self-employed to create a better future and life for themselves.

DeCambra also dabbles in making cassava cassareep to earn a bit of extra money. She is a candidate for the People’s Progressive Party/ Civic (PPP/C).

The Santa Aratak Gift Shop is a space where local women producers showcase and sell their products. It comprises mostly arts and craft makers.

Zwaantje DeCambra

Santa Aratak Gift Shop in the village

A daily passion Region Five’s largest female cattle farmer keeps tradition alive

By Michel Outridge

DIANE Cheefoon, the largest female cattle farmer in Region Five (Mahaica-Berbice), devotes her life to rearing and breeding cows with her husband, Floyd Cheefoon—a fellow cattle farmer and veterinary doctor—and their three sons. She related that it is a generational business which was passed down to her, in the family tree, for decades, and she is the fourth generation involved in cattle farming.

Cheefoon told the Pepperpot Magazine that she is from the Singh family of Airy Hall, Mahaicony, East Coast Demerara, and her husband, a Cheefoon, is from Lovely Lass Village, West Coast Berbice. He, too, is from a family of cattle farmers.

She explained that her spouse inherited cattle rearing, and when he was just two days old, his grandfather, who was heavily invested in cattle farming, gifted him a heifer. His father kept it for him until he was of age. At age 22, when he got married, it was handed over to him. He started his married

life with that lone heifer and was able to build on it, with support from his wife, who also had cows to add.

Cheefoon said they have 5,000 acres of savannah land in the backdam of Lovely Lass Village, where they keep their cows. The milking cows and a small number are housed at their home.

The female cattle farmer added that they have in excess of 300 cows, all of which are white, unlike regular cows. Often, she would

sleep in the backdam with her husband to rear the cows and keep watch, warding off cattle rustling.

Cheefoon pointed out that they have no workers — it is just them: herself, her spouse, and three sons, one of whom is a jockey who competes in horse races. She related that they all can ride the five horses they have, and these are utilised to cover distance when going into the backdam to tend to their cows.

In addition, they also rear

something she couldn't stay away from.

Cheefoon reported that she loves animals, and when the cows die or are sold, she becomes sad to see them go.

Her spouse would often tell her not to name the cows, but she does it anyway, and it is a habit, she admits.

sheep and ducks, and parting with the cows — all of which have names — is the most difficult part of cattle rearing, since she is attached to all the animals on her farm.

Cheefoon explained that when the cows are sold, it is hard for her to be present; she cannot face it, but it must happen. The cattle farmer stated that even when she was pregnant, she refused to stay home. She would ride her horse into the backlands to tend to the cows, as it was

The 43-year-old disclosed that they were gifted an American bull four years ago, when a batch of 64 were imported via the Guyana Livestock Development Authority (GLDA), and that this new addition caused the herd to grow rapidly within a short space of time; their herd multiplied quickly.

Cheefoon said she is grateful for the gift cow, which is massive in size and unlike any other bull, and it has given them a faster income because the sixweek-old bulls can be sold. She noted that they also rear breeding cattle, and she loves what she does as a female

cattle farmer. As a woman in agriculture, Cheefoon pointed out that she was also gifted nine black giant chickens, which are used as layers. She doesn’t have to buy eggs, and they also received black belly sheep a year ago. She also grows her own herbs in her kitchen garden at home to avoid buying them at the market.

Cheefoon revealed that her spouse is well-versed in cattle rearing due to years of experience, and this knowledge is passed on to their sons: Daniel, the jockey; Joseph; and the eldest, David. Together, they run a smooth farm at Lovely Lass Village.

“Me and my family grew up in cattle farming; this is what we know. We are not troubled by the work it entails since we love it, and the children are also part of it, so we have no need to employ workers. This is our way of life — simplicity,” Cheefoon said.

A section of the cows in the backdam

Female cattle farmer, Diane Cheefoon

Diane Cheefoon’s family

Addressing poverty amongst elders in Guyana

THIS column section particularly highlights youth-oriented issues across Guyana. However, as a youth myself, I am concerned by my recent observations amongst the elderly in Guyana. I have noticed many elderly Guyanese facing significant financial constraints. As Guyanese grow older, they should be able to feel a sense of peace and pride.

They should be able to reflect on their golden years of nation-building while enjoying the benefits of their hard work. Unfortunately, this is not quite the case for many of our senior citizens. Many are forced into poverty, robbed of their resources, and placed into survival mode just to afford everyday necessities.

Poverty amongst the elderly is almost unheard of, because many elderly remain quiet about their struggles, or they do not have a channel through which to advocate for their needs.

The Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC) highlighted that Guyana’s current pension system is a significant factor in reducing poverty levels among older people. This initiative must be commended. Despite this, many of our elderly are still in poverty.

Most pension schemes are often generic, and while the pension serves as an added income for some seniors, that is not the case for most.

The pension system is the primary source of income for many elderly individuals in Guyana, as they often lack family support and other resources.

Just as the rest of us are trying to live within our means, they try as well, but with less income than most. Many elderly persons are unable to purchase medication, nourishment and supplements, or pay for food and utility bills. Many are also forced to live alone or under poor living conditions.

The reality of poverty among the elderly is one that cannot be solved solely by increasing income. It calls for social welfare, community support, compassion, and cohesion. While the future of Guyana belongs to the young people, it was the elderly who built the infrastructure and institutions with their bare hands, sweat, and tears. As such, they should not be treated as throwaways or discards of our society.

We need more inclusive and flexible social security schemes for senior citizens. Unfortunately, as prices rise and needs increase, we can no longer rely on a one-sizefits-all approach. For this to change, we need more statistics and data on the true level of poverty amongst the elderly. Note, I mentioned this piece was constructed mainly from my observations. As such, if we are to convince policymakers to create change, we need more information to do so.

One reality that absolutely breaks my heart is seeing an elderly person destitute on the roadways— whether they are homeless, seeking finances, or both. It is not a good reflection of our Guyanese culture of caring and compassion. As such, it is my hope that Guyana will also invest in more elderly-care facilities and systems that will amplify the impact of elderly support in Guyana. From more elderly care homes and shelters to support groups, mental health services, food banks, and accessible public facilities—it is essential that we consider the value of providing for our elderly. I often like to think that life is a full circle. We will be elders

ourselves one day, and would also like our current policymakers and authorities to consider the hard work and sacrifices we made in the far future.

I hope, as you read this column, that it inspires you to also consider your community and the elderly who live nearby. You can perform your own civic duties by simply knocking on the door to do a welfare check, or offering your services or resources if needed. These are the very people who held Guyana together, long before the tall buildings and oil discoveries. We owe much of our success to them, and they ought to be treated with human dignity and respect.

Creativity and determination...

costly venture and he would have to travel from his village to Corentyne to buy feed for his pigs in bulk, at a cost of $7,000 per bag, since he uses about 13 bags per week.

Barron explained that with proper and timely nutrition, the pigs grow as they should. Because it is a significant investment for him, he has to put measures in place to oversee the farm and ensure its smooth operation.

As a solo farmer, he gets the work done, which is time-consuming, but he loves what he does for a living and doesn’t mind the time spent rearing pigs.

Barron told the Pepperpot Magazine that he is in the process of weaning about 45 piglets because they have reached six weeks, four days’ growth, and as a pig breeder, this process occurs in stages. As a solo swine farmer on a large scale, he occasionally receives support from a friend who also resides in the village, but

emotional support always comes from his family. Barron reported that he

is grateful for the support of GLDA, which sends staff to lend support from time to

AMITY Festival – Bringing...

significant, as it celebrates World Steelpan Day; and it is the first time Guyana will be marking the occasion in such grand fashion. “This one on Sunday is going to be special. Because August 11 is known as World Steel Band Day. And in honour of that day, we’ve decided that we’re going to dedicate the entire show on Sunday to World Steel Band Day. Now, this is not only going to happen in Guyana. These concerts, steel band concerts, they’re not going to only happen here in Guyana. It’s happening across the world, in cities across the world,” Gonsalves shared.

The AMITY Schools Music Festival currently features more than 100 young Guyanese musicians; some are passionate about turning steelpan into a career, while others pursue the art form alongside other ventures. Regardless, Gonsalves says the goal is to make music an option for every Guyanese child at some point in their academic journey. This is one of the guiding principles of AMITY: creating a space where young musicians are given not just opportunities, but exposure.

“What we try to do with AMITY is to give the students the exposure because they would have learned a

number of things throughout the school year. So this is like an end-of-term close. And that encourages students as well.

You want to enhance your musical skill and knowledge, you can do the after-school programme as well,” he further shared. “AMITY is a product of the active music programme we have during the regular school hours as well as the after-school programme. And so, it’s now being showcased what we do.”

However, AMITY extends beyond steelpan and even beyond schools. Traditional music in the Caribbean is increasingly being used as a catalyst for tourism, and Guyana does not intend to be left behind.

As Gonsalves explained, with continued support and investment, the Ministry of Education sees AMITY’s potential to gain international recognition and become a major part of Guyana’s tourism calendar. “We’ve decided that we can grow the product by not only having it surrounding specific concerts. But we want to gain international recognition,” he said.

It would seem that international recognition has already begun. As Gonsalves explained, “Now we are getting visitors from all over the

time in various forms. He would like their continued assistance to ensure his farm remains up to standard.

“This is my daily bread, this farm, so I have put my everything into it. I am in the process of expanding — a section is under construc -

tion — I would like to rear more pigs, but it would cost in excess of $2M, and this is where I need the help to make it happen,” he said.

Barron noted that due to his commitment to his farm he is unable to do many things, including coming to

From page V

the city for more than two years, but he doesn’t mind at all. He has to feed the pigs at specified times during the day, and if it doesn’t happen at the scheduled times, he will stay until dark.

From page IV

world. Usually, we would see people from Berbice, Essequibo, and Linden. But the Esplanade has now become international — a site where international visitors gravitate to. We heard someone was from Kuwait. Someone from the United Kingdom. We had Canadians, we of course had Americans. We had Jamaicans, Antiguans, and Bajans.”

AMITY has also garnered incredible local support, with many visitors viewing the event as a unique and refreshing alternative to the music typically heard at public events. This Sunday, AMITY will kick off again at 5 p.m. with two more bands set to showcase their pan skills. But the event offers much more, as Gonsalves shared, “This Sunday we are going to have two bands again.

People are going to see the New Amsterdam Multilateral and the Buxton Pride. Those are the two bands. We are going to have some guest artistes as well as some solo pianists. They are also going to grace the stage. We are inviting the public to come out.”

So if you’re around the Seawall Esplanade this Sunday, look out for the AMITY Schools Steelpan Festival, and feel the Rhythms of One Guyana.

A section of the farm which is a farrow crate housing both mothers and piglets

WHEN A DREAM FINDS YOU

AMAR stood at the back of his dark blue Mitsubishi as it was driven, surveying the large expanse of his vegetable farm. The excessive rainfall during the May–June season had caused minimal damage because he had installed an essential drainage system—vital for preventing waterlogging and ensuring healthy crops.

Amar planted a variety of vegetables that had a ready market, thus contributing, as a farmer, to the nation's food supply.

He had come a long way—from working as a farmhand after leaving school at fifteen, to being a landowner managing his own farmlands. He was firm when it came to getting work done, but he also had a pleasant and kind personality. He paid his workers handsomely and

gave generously to charitable causes.

People often asked why he was always extending such generosity, and his answer was always the same:

“I grew up as a poor boy. There was never enough food in our home, so I know how it feels to face struggles.”

He hardly knew his father, growing up with a single mother who was a cleaner at the school he attended. He had seen and felt the hardship of her struggles with three children and had vowed to himself that one day he would give her a good life.

He didn’t do well at school because she couldn’t afford all the books he needed. He wore hand-me-down clothes, and when his boots got worn, he had to stay at home until she could buy a new pair.

Those were tough days— and not wanting his younger sister and brother to suffer the same fate, he left school and began working.

One day at a time, their lives improved, and he ensured his siblings had enough educational tools to help them succeed in their studies.

The bright smiles on their faces and less worry on his mother’s gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.

He later made his mother quit her cleaning job and helped her open a vegetable stall in the market. She became her own boss, earning more money for a better life for the family.

His father never came back to see them, so Amar scratched him from their lives.

“It’s just you, Mother,” he had told her one Mother’s

Day. “Thank you so much for the sacrifices you’ve made for us.”

She had kissed him on the forehead, blessing him.

“You’re a good son. I’m blessed to have you.”

Four years later, just after

his sister graduated from high school, a letter arrived from a lawyer’s office requesting that Amar and his mother appear. They were puzzled, unsure what it was about because they were not indebted to anyone. At the lawyer’s office, they were both stunned when the lawyer informed them that Amar’s father had willed twenty acres of land to him.

It had taken a long moment for that to register, and his mother asked quietly,

“He died?”

“Yes, four months ago.”

“Oh,” was all she could say.

That night at home, they sat as a family to discuss the inheritance and the father’s death.

“Why didn’t anyone inform us that he died?” his sister asked.

“Well, he left us and started a new life, so I guess no one cared about us,” his brother stated.

“Yeah, and that’s the surprising thing—that he willed something to me,” Amar said. “So I can work to provide for the family.”

“Maybe in his last moments, he remembered us,” their mother opined. “And this is his way of letting us know.”

“Well,” Amar sighed, “it will be interesting to see the land,” his hope rising a little at the thought of owning

farmland.

But his hope sank when he saw what he had inherited. It was an undeveloped area of land covered with tall, thick grass and shrubs.

“Damn,” he exclaimed. “This is going to take a lot of work and money to develop.”

“At least it’s a good acreage of land,” his mother said encouragingly.

“Yes, it is,” Amar agreed. Six years later, through a small bank loan and back-breaking work with a small team of labourers, he succeeded in developing the land into a productive farm. His brother, an engineer with a contracting company, regularly lent his skills. His sister, with a degree in business management, assisted in the garden and fruit orchards created through Amar’s ideas and her innovative creativity.

The garden had a unique setting, featuring vibrant tropical flora and serene spaces for relaxation, which attracted visitors from across the country. She partnered with their mother to employ their own staff to bottle a variety of pepper sauces, fruit jams, and fresh fruit drinks for sale.

“We’ve come a long way,” Amar sighed with deep satisfaction as he drove home mid-afternoon.

Home was a beautiful house overlooking the garden Turn to page XVII

A unique indigenous...

and hair crowns.

One of the main reasons behind Rubyanna’s Handicraft is to showcase the unique talent and artistry of indigenous people. Alleyne said her small business is an online venture with no physical store, but she participates in expositions and other events when requested.

She reported that this year she participated in the National Toshaos Council (NTC) Conference as an exhibitor of arts and crafts at the Arthur Chung Conference Centre, Liliendaal, East Coast Demerara. Alleyne was part of the exhibition held for The Origins Guyana Fashion Festival, which was newly launched earlier this year — an event designed to showcase Guyanese fashion designers and establish Guyana as a player in the global fashion industry.

The inaugural festival took place from May 2 to 4, 2025, at the Railway Courtyard in Georgetown. It featured 34 designers and over 68 models, highlighting Guyana’s diverse cultural influences on the fashion industry.

The festival is a Government of Guyana initiative, spearheaded by the Ministry of Tourism, Industry and Commerce, and aims to foster collaboration, innovation, and entrepreneurship within the creative sector. “I like what I do for a living, even if it means taking hours to make a single bracelet or chain. It is what I love doing; I am made for it. It brings me joy when I complete a piece of artwork or craft. It is my

work, I am proud of it, and my achievements. As someone with Amerindian heritage and of mixed race, I found my space in business,” she said.

As a businesswoman, it is no easy task to oversee the full operation of the business and at the same time produce to meet the market’s demand.

The entrepreneur stated that she will also be an exhibitor at the Marriott Conference Centre in Georgetown at an upcoming event, where she will represent the Ministry of Amerindian Affairs through an arts and crafts display.

In addition to Rubyanna’s Handicraft business, she also operates a small fragrance business, selling authentic Brazilian hair, skincare, colognes, and perfumes products both online and in a small store located at her residence in Goed Fortuin, West Bank Demerara. Alleyne is unmarried and has no children; her main focus is expanding her small business to achieve a wider reach.

Originally from Madhia, Region Eight, she decided to leave the village to seek opportunities for her small business and to expand it.

Rubyanna’s Handicraft is advertised on social media, and she gets support from repeat customers who are aware of the quality products she makes, as well as her fragrance business.

“It was not easy to leave my home village and family setting to embark on business elsewhere, but I did it anyway, and I am thankful for the steps I have made

so far and for the support I received,” she said.

Rubyanna Alleyne’s display at an exposition for arts and crafts

One of the pieces made by Rubyanna Alleyne

In the publishing game, sometimes it all just comes down to opinion

AS I wrapped up the final draft of LEECH and prepared to send it off to print

this past week, I reflected on the journey that led me here, and how I ended up

on the decided and definite path of self-publishing. I had paused a moment to

- Why I ultimately chose to self-publish my debut novel

decide whether I really wanted to go this route. After all, in the creative

writing space, your work is slower to be taken seriously as a self-published piece than if it were picked up by even the smallest traditional publisher. I get it. In fact, I, too, held a staunch belief in holding out for a traditional publisher until my mind changed, and I will tell you why.

I’ve worked on LEECH for 11 years, and my inability to complete it sooner was due to a lack of resources and community in the local writing space. So I took my time, accumulating resources bit by bit with every passing year, all while adding to the story and slowly bringing it to life. My intended approach, once finished, had always been the same: if the wait is too long (to further add to those 11 years), aim for self-publishing, but still submit my work to a select number of agents to take my book through that rite of passage, and I did.

Why agents and not publishers?

Because agents help you get the full package deal, they’re the go-betweens that pitch your manuscript to publishers, negotiate contracts, and guide your career longterm. With several months to spare before my intended launch date in September, I decided to query 10 agents to follow the process.

I used Poets & Writers (poetsandwriters.org) as my primary resource due to its vast and up-to-date database of literary agents. I looked for agents with a new or expanding list in my genre, a clear interest in fiction, those who actively stated a desire to work with Black, Indigenous and People of Colour (BIPOC) stories and agents who didn’t require large sample submissions upfront (thankfully, most didn’t).

I steered clear of those whose guidelines felt rigid or overly meticulous, those who demanded brevity due to their schedules, and those whose tone came off as too

impersonal or closed off to unsolicited queries.

The outcome?

Out of the 10 queries, I received three responses over four months. They were rejections (another rite of passage for every author), but they were all polite, professional, and encouraging:

“I’m simply not enthusiastic enough about my ability to sell this work.”

“We didn’t connect with the writing in the enclosed sample pages.”

“I didn’t fall in love with the style in these pages enough to feel I’d be your best champion.”

Each response also included some version of the same sentiment: “This is just one opinion in a highly subjective business.” And honestly? They weren’t wrong. I now have these letters in my archive, and I will cherish them as part of my first foray into traditional publishing—a necessary step, even if it didn’t result in representation.

Traditional publishing is excellent, but…

It turns out, in the traditional publishing world, the odds are stacked high against any debut author. Of all the manuscripts submitted to publishers annually, a staggering 95–99% are instantly rejected for poor quality, unoriginality, or irrelevance. From the 5% that make it past this first cut, most are still turned down due to market timing, similar titles on the publisher’s list, or shifting industry trends. The result? Only 1–2% of all submissions ever see the light of day in print through a traditional publisher. These numbers are even more daunting, given that the Caribbean region lacks a large-scale publishing industry.

I had a decision to make, and for me, it ultimately turned out to be the logical choice. After being so Turn to page XVII

Knowing Ourselves TO BE TAUGHT TO HAVE A THOUGHT

OUR thoughts are extremely powerful catalysts. They are the fuel that powers the genesis of every form of meaningful evolution. As we grow from children into adults, one of the most important skills we learn is taking command of our thoughts and focusing them in a productive direction.

OVER the course of our lives, all human beings unfurl and bloom like the creased pages of a diary that is slowly being filled with fresh stories. We allow life to embrace us, and, in return, we are granted the space to be who we are. As we grow up, the gentle discomfort and pressures of creating your identity fade. Our skin becomes our armour, and our heart fills with the satisfaction of being able to live our lives just as we had imagined in our

In an attempt to connect with the world around us, we have accepted a lifestyle where we spend hours every day in front of a computer, television, or smartphone to consume content.

occasionally and attempt to unravel each new idea through a lens that is uniquely ours.

Often, we do not acquire this skill intentionally, but develop it subconsciously in response to the new responsibilities of adulthood. Through acquiring this skill, we gain the ability to focus and complete tasks even when we have thoughts about procrastinating. Through gaining this skill, we are able to make difficult deci sions, even though our initial thoughts tell us that it is sim ply easier not to.

rather than later, we will realise that the most import ant thoughts do not come after redirection or control, but rather as an instinctual response to the new informa tion and experiences that we gain every single day.

basis of the qualities that dif ferentiate human beings from other organisms. It is the very fact that every one of us can have a different opinion that makes us so extraordinary.

the ability to think? What if we spent less and less time forming ideas about new things until we simply forgot how to do so?

Generation Z is one of the generations born into a world where its members are continuously being fed new information at every moment of their existence.

We are surrounded by various forms of media that are constantly seeking our attention or time.

The very act of stepping out of our homes often leads to exposure to new information in the form of advertisements, posters, or billboards. Even so, the majority of our exposure to mass media and social media comes from our voluntary engagement with technology.

childhood dreams. Even those who may not yet have attained their goals are comforted by the freedom of choice—the grace of knowing that, even though they have not reached their destination, they still have the power to steer themselves towards it. The reward for those who are true to themselves is the ability to look into a mirror and respect the person they see. They shall experience no loss or failure that can take away this ability from

them.

If we happen to spend a

There are even studies that indicate members of this generation may watch hundreds of short-form videos within the span of just a few hours.

This intense connection to media and technology has merged our minds, creating a syncytium where ideas and thoughts are so intertwined that they can scarcely be distinguished from one another or attributed to a single person.

Recently, I discovered the story of Narcissus from Greek mythology. Narcissus was a young man who was prophesied by a prophet to live a long and fruitful life as long as he did “not know himself.” He was known to be extremely handsome but prone to rejecting the affections of others, no matter how sincere they were. Then, one day, as he was travelling through a forest, he came across a body of water and caught his reflection glimmering

few hours viewing videos or reading content, we must spend the next few hours forming our own thoughts on the information we have

on its surface. He leaned forward and watched as his own perfect face peered back into his eyes. Then, he remained there, falling in love with his own reflection until he passed away from thirst and starvation, unable to tear his eyes away from it. The spot where he died was marked by a bright yellow flower known as the Narcissus. We now commonly refer to the Narcissus flower as the daffodil.

The myth of Narcissus is a fascinating tale

their connection to technology stems from a need to facilitate their education or earn a livelihood. People do not only consume content— they create it.

As a generation, we must find a way to ensure that we do not lose the originality and creativity of humankind. At the same time, we must also ensure that we do not completely discard the useful connections we have made with technology. The key is balance.

As we engage with content and encounter new concepts through technology, let us remind ourselves to pause

received. Most importantly, we must find ways to connect with the world that do not rely on technology every

that offers us a valuable lesson. It teaches us the dangers of self-absorption and the losses we may face by refusing to open ourselves up to the love and affection of others. We may speculate that perhaps if Narcissus had already been in love with another person, he might never have been inclined to fall so madly in love with himself. It also shows us that our destiny is rarely within ourselves. We may spend a lifetime preparing ourselves to be better people, but this preparation will not mean anything if we do not use it to change the world for the better. Beauty and good character have no power if their positive influence does not extend beyond our own boundaries.

The process of building an identity—of “knowing ourselves”—is necessary as we progress through our lives. Attempting to live without being comfortable with who we are is much like living in a space where we cannot fully walk, stretch, or look upwards at the sky. However, it is also quite easy to fall into the lonely path of knowing no one but ourselves. As we lean forward to watch our shimmering reflection grow and transform into something that we are

once in a while.

We must cultivate thoughts that are not just reactions, but products of genuine curiosity.

proud of, it is quite easy to forget to look around us at the people who are fuelling the successes and the joys we are experiencing.

The affections of others are a gentle influence. These affections can fade away and disappear long before we glance around and begin to notice that we stand completely alone. Yet, the emptiness they leave behind when they are gone is a mighty force. Those who have developed a strong sense of identity and learned to love themselves deeply will not be limited by the failures they experience or the losses they face. However, they are still quite open to the possibility of grief.

In a similar manner, it is possible for our own influences and connections to the world to fade away, just like the affections of others. When we fail to acknowledge and reciprocate the love that others proffer us, we will eventually lose it. If we stop reaching out to the world with kindness, we will ultimately lose our ability to impact it.

Each of us holds a massive power within us. Let us allow this power to extend beyond us so it can reach parts of the world that truly need it.

CAN CHILDREN REPAY PARENTS?

By Geary Reid

CHILDREN are often oblivious to their parents’ contributions. Some barely spend time with older parents, visiting them rarely or calling occasionally. Some people give money to their parents occasionally, with the expectation that the parents will repay them. Even when several children combine their efforts, they cannot repay their parents for the love and sacrifices they made.

Money cannot buy the love that parents give to children. Even with gifts of birthday cards or vehicles, children cannot repay their parents for the contributions they make.

Things Parents Do for Their Children

The relationship between parents and children can be very good or bad. Some children find interacting with their parents challenging and struggle to connect with them due to differences. However, children must understand that they cannot repay their parents for whatever they did or are doing for them. Therefore, it is important that they love and respect their parents.

The process from fertilisation to delivery is explained so that children develop an understanding of how they came into being. Some women may not be aware of their pregnancy in the first few weeks. However, after experiencing some changes in their bodies, they may conclude that they are pregnant.

When women are pregnant, their bodies go through many changes. In the labour room, it is a life-and-death situation for women. A mother who leaves the labour room healthy, with a healthy child, is thankful.

Parents live in rented houses for many years to make sacrifices for their children. All their money is spent on taking care of their children. Providing meals can be expensive, especially when there are many children

at home, each with different dietary needs. This can put much strain on parents, who stretch their limited financial resources to meet their children’s demands.

Exposure to early education, religion, and social activities can help children find the right career. Once children find their careers with the assistance of their parents, they can have a great future.

The meals provided by parents for their children sometimes come from great sacrifice and love. In some homes, parents skip meals so their children have something to eat. Parents will often provide meals for their children and eat only if anything remains. When parents make these sacrifices, how can children repay them? If children were to skip meals during their early stages, they could have died, but their parents loved them so much that they ensured the children ate first.

When children indulge in activities that cause injuries, parents have to pause whatever they are doing to render medical assistance to their children.

Parents often give children opportunities to exercise. As children exercise, they not only build their physiques but also learn to socialise and may find a career in sports. Although involvement in sporting activities may result in possible injuries, with guidance from parents and coaches, children can learn to avoid injuries skilfully.

Things Children Can Do for Their Parents

Although children cannot repay their parents for all the things their parents did, they can show gratitude. Many parents do not look forward to anything in return. Parents are often happy when their children have grown, become independent, and made positive contributions to society.

Parents like to know that their children care for them. Children can show their love to their parents by praying

for them. They can ask for a long and healthy life for their parents.

Any support that can be given to parents in helping them with domestic activities is welcome. As parents age, they may no longer have the sight and strength to complete domestic activities and will welcome support from their children and even grandchildren.

Some parents are alone and lonely because their children do not visit them. This often makes them sad and leads them to wonder if they still have children.

When parents can connect with their grandchildren, friends, and neighbours, they are excited because they have some time to talk with people dear to them. Grandchildren often make their grandparents smile and laugh.

Children must find the time to take their parents to sporting events. This will cause some parents to feel youthful. When children take their parents to sporting events, the parents may have the opportunity to meet their friends and reminisce about old times.

Children can take their ageing parents to markets and supermarkets. Parents can choose products they are most comfortable with, and children can pay for these products.

Remembering and celebrating parents’ anniversaries is an important thing for children to do. Celebrating parents’ anniversaries should not be a one-off event, but rather something that is done frequently by their children.

Parents want their children to love and respect them. Even large sums of money cannot replace the love that children must show their parents. Nothing that children do can be compared to what their parents did for them. All sacrifices made by parents are significant for their children’s development. Children are adults today because their parents loved them greatly, even when they were not doing the right thing.

Prayers by parents have saved the lives of their children from destruction. Parents do not give up on their offspring as they love them deeply. Parents know that each child has the potential to achieve great things.

Parents often want their children to love and respect their neighbours. Parents often build good relationships with their neighbours and do not want their children to damage those important relationships—many of which have started years ago and have gone through testing times.

Friendships established by parents provide great

strength to them when they were depressed or needed answers to family problems.

Children may not understand why their parents value certain friendships; however, only parents know how these friendships have helped them become better parents.

Often, when women are pregnant, they consult with mothers who have more experience than they do. Sometimes, the advice shared with them gives them a better understanding of the challenges of pregnancy. Friendships also help them to understand the joy of having children.

Fathers tend to build relationships with other men who

have children involved in the same sports or attending the same school. Whenever they meet, they may discuss their concerns, and most of the time, older men will provide guidance to younger men.

For more information about Geary Reid and his books:

• Amazon: http:// www.amazon.com/author/ gearyreid

• Website: www.reidnlearn.com

• Facebook: Reid n Learn

• Email: info@reidnlearn.com

• Mobile: 592-6452240

By Cosmata Lindie

THE drum had belonged to my grandfather. Now it was mine. I had not asked for it, yet here it was, delivered into my hands late one afternoon, in the middle of an otherwise ordinary week.

I had not been expecting anything and stood puzzled for a minute or two, staring at the package the deliveryman had left.

There was no mistaking who it was for—my name, written in a clear and careful script, was lettered in bold, black ink on one side of the box. I opened it. Inside, carefully wrapped in a layer of heavy brown paper and an old shawl, was my late grandfather's drum.

When Grandfather died, almost a year ago, there had been no sign of the drum

among his things.

After the funeral, my mother and her siblings divided up Grandfather’s ninety-seven long years of frugal living amongst themselves. A rather easy task since his material possessions consisted of only the bare necessities, along with a few items of deep sentimental value.

But his most prized possession—the drum he had inherited from his father, and his father before him—was nowhere to be found.

In the little backwater where my mother was born, traditions hold strong. Of these traditions, community events known as ‘Gatherings’ were the strongest. Deaths, weddings, anniversaries, christenings, and any other significant event were occasions for gatherings, and Grandfather, the

GRANDFATHER’S DRUM

Man with the Talking Drum, was a legend in the county during his lifetime. Where drumming invoked the spirits of dead ancestors and thrilled the souls of the living, he was always at the forefront.

These were celebrations of togetherness and community strength, and drumming and dancing were central to the spirit of these gatherings. Hands clapping, feet stomping, bodies swaying; everyone chanting and moving in perfect time to the rhythm of the drums.

Everyone, except me. Though born of them, that wonderful sense of rhythm that came as naturally to my people as breathing had missed me completely.

We visited Grandfather every year and participated in gatherings during these visits. There I witnessed the magic

of Grandfather’s hands on the drum, felt the beat in my soul as those hands struck, lightly or firmly, on the tightly stretched skin.

But matching that feeling with movement was impossible for me. Though I tried to fall into the rhythm and moves of the dancers around me, I always fell out of time.

I was nine when I stopped trying altogether.

We were visiting during the Gathering of the Harvest, a celebration at the end of the reaping season.

Warm golden light filled an open communal space, where feasting tables laden with the bounty of the community were placed.

Grandfather sat on a carved wooden stool, the drum between his knees, his hands moving in a blur of powerful sound as he led the

other drummers in an electrifying session. His mahogany skin gleamed under a sheen of sweat and smoke from his cigarette curled into the afternoon light.

I was bouncing on my feet and clapping my hands, oblivious to everything but the energy of the moment and the thrumming of the drums, when the sounds of muffled merriment pulled me rudely back into the present. A group of children about my age were gathered nearby.

“Ty can’t even clap in time,” said Cousin Casper, doubling over with laughter—as if my uncoordinated dance was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

I froze with embarrassment, feet stilled, hands falling to my sides.

There was no way Grandfather could have heard the remark over the sound of the drums, but our eyes met as I looked up in mortification.

I felt a slight shift in the tempo, and his eyes continued to hold mine as he played. But I turned and slinked away, hugging my shame and sudden feeling of unbelonging close to my chest.

He sought me out later that evening, finding me in the corner where I had hidden myself.

“Never,” he said, as seri-

ously as if imparting the wisdom of a great sage to me, his hard, lean fingers gripping my bowed shoulders, “ever let anyone shame you into silence, Tyrone.”

But I kept to the sidelines after that. As much as I enjoyed these gatherings, I was done with being made a laughingstock. If Grandfather did notice, he never commented on it again.

When, many years later, he passed peacefully away, it felt like that strong and dependable rope that had guided us silently but surely through the years had finally been cut.

As we sorted through his belongings, we all wondered what had happened to the drum. But searches and enquiries turned up nothing.

The drum had vanished without a trace. It had not been passed on to one of his sons, as had been expected.

Had he given away this legendary instrument before he died? While we found that hard to believe, with no better explanation, we finally agreed that it must have been the case.

My mother and I had returned to our own home, thinking often of Grandfather, though much less about his drum, or its whereabouts. Then, many months later, Turn to page XXVI

In the publishing game...

meticulous with LEECH over the years: two literary assessments, multiple writing coaching sessions, two rounds of developmental edits, one round of copyediting, and a final proofread—the feedback I started to receive from the professionals working with me was unanimous: This book has commercial potential.

That kind of validation from editors, authors and coaches who took the time to read and work closely with me made me proud that I created a good story.

Soon, a strange realisation washed over me: none of those agents were there throughout the journey. None of them saw the setbacks, the

rewrites, the blood and ink it took to get here. Why should this story—one already recognised by professionals I respect—be held up or passed over by people who, through no fault of their own, haven’t had the chance to know it truly?

So, why self-publishing?

Because it gives me ownership, and it’s more accessible. The profits return to the author, and the timeline and the choices are mine.

Self-publishing isn’t for everyone, as it demands marketing savvy, creative control, and a lot of behindthe-scenes work. I’m fortunate to come from a background in communications

WHEN A DREAM...

and fruit orchard—a place like a dream you could get lost in.

As he drove along the driveway to the house, he noticed several visitors in the garden, and one of the guys ran up and signalled him to stop. Amar knew him—the son of a large insurance company executive in the city.

“Hey man, how are you?”

“Great,” Amar answered. “Just back from the farm.”

“I’m here with some friends and they’d like to meet you.”

“Nah man,” Amar declined with a little laugh, “I’m kinda sweaty and dusty.”

“That’s okay, just say hello.”

Amar hesitated, glancing around for his sister. Not seeing her, he decided to meet the visitors briefly.

They were happy to see him and expressed their absolute pleasure.

“This place is so beautiful—it’s like a little paradise.”

“Credits to my sister,” he said with a pleasant smile.

“We didn’t get to meet her.”

From the introductions, Amar realised they were from the top echelons of society—doctors, lawyers, business executives.

The young lawyer he recognised from primary school, but he said nothing to her. He spoke with them for a while and, as he took his leave, the young woman said,

“There’s something familiar about you. I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

Amar smiled and answered casually, “Possibly.”

That night, relaxing on

and marketing, so I am not too worried about my ability to push the book’s marketing beyond launch day. In fact, one of my editors told me flat-out: “Given your skill set, self-publishing is actually your best option.”

And they were right. I always knew this story would be self-published, but I needed to walk the traditional path, to feel it and say I’d done it, and I’m glad I did. Now, I know what’s on both sides of the fence, and I can say with certainty that this

story —this one—deserves to come out on my terms.

Perhaps another story —one I write more quickly and develop with a deeper understanding of this industry—can wait on someone else’s timeline.

I’ve enjoyed every bit of the journey, even the moments that hurt, but LEECH has waited long enough.

LEECH will be available on Amazon (e-book and Paperback) and Austin’s Book Services from September 20.

From page X

the veranda on the upper floor of the house overlooking the gardens, his thoughts drifted to the beautiful young lawyer.

“Never thought I’d see her again,” he said to himself with a slight smile, sipping the scotch in his hand. “It’s indeed a small world.”

The next Sunday, she visited again with three friends, having called to book one of the small benabs in the garden. It was a full day with visitors, and Amar was assisting his sister to ensure everything went smoothly when he saw her arrive. A good while later, he went to her small group to welcome them to the ‘Garden of Dreams’.

Her friends were from the United Kingdom and expressed their pleasure.

“We so love this place— it’s marvellous.”

“And I love the pure fruit drinks,” one of the women said. “It’s thirst-quenching.”

They spoke for a while as Amar answered questions about the names of some exotic flowers, plants, and fruit trees. As he was about to take his leave, the young lawyer said,

“The more I think of it, the more I feel I know you from somewhere.”

Amar smiled, not wanting to respond in front of her friends, but noticing they had stepped away to take pictures, he said quietly,

“We were in the same class in primary school.”

She looked surprised.

“The same class?”

“Yeah. I’m the poor boy you used to bully.”

“What?” she looked stunned.

To be continued…

Adventures...

she further explained. “The firing takes four hours and reaches 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit, then takes 16 hours to cool. You can’t just ask me for a vase and expect it tomorrow. Then comes glazing; each glaze must be brushed on three times, inside and out, drying in between, before it’s fired again.”

During her creative process, Thompson had a new idea — one that she says has shifted her art. She began creating vases, of all sizes, painted with bold colours,

each telling a different story. The first ‘storytelling’ piece she created featured the iconic game of cricket and depicted children of all shades. Thompson shared that she wanted to create something that all Guyanese, of all ages, could relate to and see themselves in.

“I always have ideas running through my head, and I love children and storytelling. One day, I thought, ‘Let me try a vase with cricket.’ I doubted myself because I don’t draw well, but I did it anyway. I wanted it to look

like a sunny day, with children in different shades of brown, with different hair types. I loved the result. When I showed it to a friend, she said it was beautiful and suggested hopscotch. That led to more childhood memories — Chinese skipping, swimming in the blackwater trench,” she shared.

For Thompson, a proud Essequibo native, her work is inspired by real memories; memories that most Guyanese share. “I grew up on the Essequibo Coast in a vil-

lage called Adventure. On weekends, my siblings and I would sneak away to swim, no adults in sight. I created vases of those memories — swimming, using palm fronds as boats, slingshots made from tree branches and old tyres, paper boats sailing in puddles. I have over 60 of these story-filled vases in the exhibition,” she shared. Those 60 pieces make up half of the 120 pieces in Thompson’s exhibition, which will run from August 8th to the 21st.

However, the road to transforming these memories into hand-painted realities has been marked by several hurdles. Although pottery in Guyana is a growing art form, with more workshops emerging and more artists turning to the medium, obtaining materials — especially on a large scale — remains a challenge, says Thompson. “Materials are the biggest challenge.

In Canada, you would

just go to the store and buy a 50-pound box of ready-to-use clay. Here, we dig clay from trenches or roadside spots; people even call me to tell me where good clay is.” She added, “But the process to clean and prepare it takes over a week of hard, physical work.

The glazes I use are imported, expensive, and subject to high duty. Then there’s the electric kiln. The cost of materials is high for all artists, and while we can use local clay, the preparation is intense. So, anyone who creates here is doing it out of love.”

Thompson’s work stands out not just for the storytelling but for its vibrancy and raw Guyanese authenticity. As the exhibition takes flight this weekend, Thompson hopes that people walk away understanding that her work is more than just art; for her, it’s about connection and reflection.

“What I hope people take away is that this is more than

just art; it’s about seeing yourself reflected in something beautiful. It’s about connecting with your childhood, your culture. Even if people don’t buy anything, I want them to come, look, enjoy, and immerse themselves.” She further shared, “Exposure to art is always a good thing, and this collection is unique. We’ve never had an exhibition of only pottery in Guyana, far less one focused entirely on Guyanese childhood memories. It’s incredibly humbling to be the first to do that.”

Although the event is now underway, Thompson is already thinking about her next venture and is captivated by the idea of using other mediums to tell stories, such as Anansi tales, through her work. But whether it’s through her craft or her activism, Thompson says she is sure she will continue to tell the Guyanese story — one way or another.

GRANDFATHER’S DRUM

came a knock on the door. “Package for one Tyrone,” said the deliveryman. I signed for the box, unwrapped it, and there was Grandfather’s drum. The wooden shell was carved from a single trunk, and carefully knotted ropes held the skin tightly in place.

I was still staring at it when my mother came through the door.

“Where’d that come from?” she asked in surprise when she saw it standing in the middle of the dining room table.

“Special delivery,” I said. She went perfectly still for a moment, then, “Dad always did have a strange sense of humour,” she said.

Morbid, I thought, but didn’t reply.

She turned it around, slim fingers running fondly over the polished shell, thwacking lightly on the skin.

“Uncle J always thought it was going to be his,” she remarked. “This drum, as you know, has been in our family for generations, handed down from father to son.” Uncle J was her eldest brother and my favourite uncle. “We all thought so too.”

“Well, he shall have it then,” I said with relief. “It came here by mistake!”

Depriving Uncle J of what was rightfully his was something I did not want to do at all. Besides, I knew he could play it. No one would have called him a master drummer, but he had good rhythm and had drummed at gatherings with his father many times in the past.

“Dad never made mistakes,” she said firmly. “If he had wanted Japheth to have

the drum, he would have given it to him.” When my mother called you by your full name, she meant business.

“But he couldn’t have sent it to me,” I argued. “He’s been dead for nearly a year, and now it shows up.”

“We are in no position to question his actions without knowing his motives,” she said.

“And no way of ever finding out now,” I muttered.

“We may, in due time. Your grandfather never did anything halfway, Ty. He always planned in advance.”

“Are you saying he timed it to arrive here now, in this present time? Long after he was gone? For argument’s sake, Mom, let’s say he did— it’s completely wasted on me. I don’t have any rhythm. Everyone knows that.”

“That’s beside the point,” she said serenely, “and if Dad didn’t send it, who else did?”

I could think of many possibilities, but knew it was pointless to argue any further with her.

I’ve always been told that I look like my mother, and I take that as a compliment. She is beautiful, short and small-boned, with skin the colour of warm honey. I am only a little taller, and while I might look like her on the outside, our similarities ended there. We did not think alike, and I had not inherited her ability to look past logic and override obstacles as if they didn’t exist.

Perhaps my tendency to avoid facing up to my fears, and my innate lack of rhythm, stemmed from my father, who had drifted into town and into my mother’s life when she

was twenty. He had enchanted her with his smooth words and extraordinary beauty, and taken her away with him when he left.

Deciding later that the responsibilities of fatherhood were too much for him, he had drifted just as easily out of our lives when I was still very young, leaving me with only a memory of what he looked like. I am certain, though, that I had never seen him dance. I set the drum in a corner. Looked at it often, but, except for a few half-hearted taps, I could not work up the courage to play on it. “After all,” my inner critic whispered in Cousin Casper’s mocking voice, “you can’t even clap in time.”

Whoever had sent me the drum probably did so as a family joke. If that was the case, I did not find it funny.

“We’re gathering at the old place to keep up Dad’s one year,” my mother said, “I’ve already booked tickets for the flight.”

A gathering on a person’s first death anniversary was an important rite of passage.

“I think, Tyrone,” she continued, “that you should bring the drum along.”

My enthusiasm meter registered a plunge. Was my mother serious? How could I roll up to a gathering commemorating the death anniversary of Grandfather, with his drum in tow? The same drum that my mother and I had claimed ignorance of its whereabouts a full year ago.

“Mom, there are other drums in the town. Good drums too, drums with great sound, Mom. No need to lug this one all the way back

there.”

But she was serious and insistent. Eventually, I agreed. Now I contemplated the gathering with a sense of dread, then felt a little better when I remembered that this was also an opportunity to find out who had sent the drum to me in the first place and return it to the rightful owner.

There are certain places where time seems to move differently from others. The community of Red Hills was such a place. Here, time moved visibly more slowly. It meandered, and now and then seemed to pause entirely. It was a place of rich colour, red earth and green fields. The people had a glow to them, and even the colour of the light was different to the light in other places.

Grandfather’s house was on the edge of the town, surrounded by the same fields his family had ploughed and planted from time immemorial. The family member who now lived there welcomed us with good spirit, and Grandfather’s old home was again, for a little while, the gathering place of the family.

I observed each familiar face closely as we greeted each other. If one of them had secretly sent me the drum, I thought, I would soon find out who it was.

But they all seemed as surprised to see me with Grandfather’s drum as I had been the day it was delivered. If the person who had sent it was there, they were hiding it well.

I watched Cousin Casper more closely than anyone else, but his face was innocent and smooth as an egg.

I cornered Uncle J the day after we arrived.

“Tyrone, my nephew,” he said, “you’ve grown much in the last year.”

I wasn’t sure if he was pulling my leg or needed glasses. I’ve been the same height since I was thirteen.

“Uncle,” I blurted out, needing to get it off my chest.

“We all know Grandfather’s drum was supposed to be yours. So, we’ve brought it back for you.”

“Did you, now?” His deep brown eyes studied me closely. “You could have said that since yesterday, with everyone around. But let’s have a look at it now, son.”

We went to the side table where I had placed it since arriving. Uncle J ran his hands over it, just like Mom had done that afternoon in our kitchen.

“This drum has been in our family forever, Ty. But it’s always handed down from a father to his son. That’s the way it is done. My father did not give it to me, and the

drum is not mine to claim.”

I could feel his disappointment, but there was no animosity from him towards me. We had set up a big white tent at one end of the field, where trestle tables for the feast were set.

We observed all the rites and had poured a libation onto the red earth mound of Grandfather’s grave. Later in the evening, we all gathered under the big tent, where food was plentiful, and drinks flowed without ceasing.

Then, in the middle of the feast, my uncle stood up on a chair and addressed the gathering.

“Friends and family. We are all here today to observe the anniversary of my father’s passing one year ago. It has been a good day, my friends, a meaningful day, but as the evening draws to a close, it is missing something important. It is missing the beat of a drum. Yes, we have drums in this town and drummers to play them, and they did. But there is one drum that we all need to hear now.”

He turned and looked me straight in the eye. “Bring out the drum and let’s make this a proper soirée!”

In the sudden silence, I felt my heart plummet. With the eyes of the gathering on me, I brought out the drum and set it down carefully. I looked around... Was no one going to come forward?

My heart had recovered from its earlier faint and was thumping hard in my chest. Surely, someone in this large gathering would volunteer. No one did, and every eye I met looked away. All except my mother’s. She smiled confidently at me. “Go on, son,” she said, “You can do it.”

“Not Tyrone,” groaned a voice. It was Casper—tall and fine-looking now, but still a bully inside. “He can’t even snap his fingers in time.”

Maybe it was that insult from my cousin, spoken like that in the middle of the gathering for everyone to hear, that spurred me forward.

“Never, ever let anyone shame you into silence,” Grandfather had said a long time ago. Well, they were going to hear me, whether they liked it or not. Just because I couldn’t play didn’t mean I shouldn’t play.

I squared my shoulders and pulled up a chair. My breathing quieted as my heartbeat settled down to a measured thump. Setting the drum between my knees, the way I had seen Grandfather do, I swept my eyes across the gathering and heard a few sniggers from somewhere in the crowd.

My eyes narrowed as I gritted my teeth and brought

my palm down hard on the goatskin.

And a sound like thunder rolled through the tent. Startled by my audacity, I looked up. Strange, but no one else seemed to have heard it. They were all still watching me, quietly and curiously now. I tapped more gently with my fingers on the skin, and the sounds came out. Not timid, not random, not out of time—but powerful and rhythmic.

If I was shocked at myself, the gathering was even more shocked. They were staring at me. A sea of wide eyes and open mouths surrounding me.

Then I saw hands on the drum. Not my own hands, but another pair—pale grey and ghostly hands. Long, knotted fingers that I recognised instantly were moving along with mine. Or rather, mine were moving along with them.

They were my grandfather’s hands.

“Ty’s been fooling us all this time!” a voice shouted. “The man got riddim!”

And just like that, they were moving, stomping, swaying, clapping their hands, dancing as I drummed. As my mother passed by, caught up in the beat, she met my eye with a grin and a wink that said, “I told you so!” Laughter came pouring out of me.

I looked down at the hands on the drum, following their lead, feeling the beat flow out of them and into my own hands, then into the drum and out again.

Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. I looked up again and saw the old spirit wending his way through the gathering, rocking in time as he went, dancing away into the hereafter.

I don’t know if anyone else in that crowd saw him as I did, but his presence was there, in every beat of that drum. I wanted to call out to him, ask him to stay a little longer. But my heart was filled, and it was not my place to tie him any longer to this world, so I said nothing as I watched him go.

He turned and waved, then walked out from under the tent, his spirit light leaving a faint glowing trail as he disappeared into the gloom of the field beyond. Far away, my eyes followed him, and I saw him rise, like a star, into the pale evening sky.

But my hands continued to play, finding the rhythm of the drum on their own. Relishing in the beat, and my grandfather’s final gift to me.

THE YEARS BEYOND EMANCIPATION AT A GLANCE

EMANCIPATION was not a continuous celebration for the formerly enslaved African population, but rather a challenge of survival. Thus, they persisted, carrying the memory of past hardships into the new day to shape a better future than the past.

Their first challenge arose when the requests from the Africans outlined labour costs and benefit allowances for food and medicine, which were denied.

Another issue was the taxes levied on the purchases of former

plantations that the freed Africans had bought, which were then increased to facilitate the plantations with funds to import indentured labourers.

A major clash occurred in a strike in 1842, supported by indentured labourers from Sierra Leone. Tensions reached a peak in 1848, but the new indentured labourers from Portugal and India did not support the strike.

The village taxes were meant to finance village drainage, but the planter-governed Colonial Government used them to finance inden-

tured labour. Thus, village agriculture and infant loss were affected because the proposed drainage did not occur.

However, during the late 1870s, some subjects of French Guiana began prospecting in Cuyuni. This was the pilot group that contributed to lighting the torch that launched the saving grace of many villages— whether it was luck or a lenient act of the Faiths.

Though the Gold Bush was by no means a simple adventure, it enabled many, and many did lose their lives. The Gold Bush created a

chapter of rich culture in folk songs and bush lore.

It brought the emancipated British subject closer to his land of suffering than to the shores of his African beginnings before the slave ships came.

That past will always be valued through the drums, rituals, and memory of his folk being.

But this was a land where the village lay in which he was born and suckled; for example, the lyrics of the national song “MY GUYANA, ELDORADO”:

“My Guyana, Eldorado, best of

all the world to me, In my heart where’er I wander, memory enshrineth thee; All my hopes and aspirations, all my longings only tie, Everlasting bonds around us as the fleeting years roll by.”

It was by the depth of passing on the knowledge of the past, while embracing the wisdom of today, that people survived.

Emancipation is a celebration of seeking answers, understanding the worlds that envelop, and more so, the individual worlds that we are.

STUDY SUCCESS

Welcome dear reading friend. Since your aim is to understand the passage whether it be paragraph, section, or entire text, and you have found its core message, press on to locate its supporting information.

Just look for points which together, either develop, or explain; give evidence, examples, reasons, facts, statistics, anecdotes, com -

parisons, or details befitting the text structure. Supporting information clarifies and strengthens the text’s core point and helps you understand the author’s overall message and reasoning. Be wise.

Love you.

IMPROVING PUNCTUATION

Punctuating a passage with listings

Note: When you punctuate a passage containing listings, use commas to separate items in a simple list within a sentence. Listings can be introduced with a colon if preferred.

There are complex listings also, for when items contain commas, use semicolons to separate the list items. If items are full sentences, they should be punctuated with full stops, and if ver-

August 10, 2025

tically presented, each item can be punctuated with a full stop or left unpunctuated, depending upon the context.

Example of simple lists within a sentence:

The fruit bowl contained green grapes, oranges, kiwis and apples.

The pantry contained: bananas, lettuce, bread, and nut butter.

(Here commas are used to separate items in a list of three or more. Only put a comma before the last item; if it is not used the message might not be clear.)

Example of list with internal commas:

The conference will be held in Maplesville, South Georgetown; Champion, West Berbice; and Seaview, Bartica.

(Here semicolons are used to separate items to avoid confusion.)

Sample of list with sentence fragments:

If you are dealing with the method in a recipe, you have the option of not using any punctuation at the end of each list item, but you must be consistent.

(Here commas are used to separate fragments, with the last fragment connected by “and” or “or” if needs be.)

Sample of list with full sentences:

The first step is to put together your materials. Then, you should preheat the oven. Finally, you can bake the apple pie.

(Here a full stop is used if each item in the list is a full sentence.)

Sample of vertical list:

The benefits of balanced diets include improved mood. It can also help with weight management.

And it reduces the risk of chronic diseases.

(Here for vertical listing (bullet points or numbered lists), items can be separated by commas if they are sentence fragments and the list is treated as a continuation of an introductory sentence. If each item is a full sentence, use a full stop at the end of each item. In some cases, no punctuation is needed at the end of each item if it is a

You must never go down to the end of the town if you don’t go down with me.

A.A. MILNE (1882-1956)

short list.)

Instructions: Read and then punctuate the following snippets which have lists within them. They come from two stories and a recipe for baking. In all three snippets the paragraph structures still maintain a full stop at the end of each.

1. The Sugar Shack was an exceptional candy store. It had bins full of M&Ms separated into colours so if you wanted exactly eleven greens and eleven blues but no yellows reds or oranges as bast did you could get exactly that.

Along the back wall were all the gummies - gummy bears gummy worms gummy sharks gummy hippos gummy rhinos gummy jellyfish gummy dinosaurs gummy frogs gummy sea stars gummy zebras gummy camels gummy parrots gummy crabs.

Bat didn’t like gummy candy but he always got one gummy sea star anyway he liked the way they felt in his hand.

2. Let the dough sit at room temperature 5 to 10 minutes on a lightly floured surface roll each batch of dough to a 12” round transfer one round to a 9” pie plate gently press sides down to make sure there are no gaps cut second round into 1”-thick strips for a lattice top then place on a large cutting board refrigerate both until cold about 15 minutes.

Pour cooled cherry filling over dough in pie plate to make a lattice top lay strips of dough vertically over filling lift up every other strip and place and arrange another strip of dough across horizontally lay strips back down lift alternate strips up and place another strip across horizontally then lay strips back down repeat with

remaining strips.

3. The food was spread along a much larger table buffet style in glistening abundance – chicken teriyaki pickled vegetables egg rolls cucumber and abalone salad the seaweed-wrapped rice balls called sushi shrimp prawns fresh lobster and finally taking up what seemed like half the tablecloth a great gleaming roast pig with a bright red apple in its mouth.

THE PASSAGE

Reading Comprehension

Note: Reading comprehension involves processing and integrating information among other reading abilities.

Instructions: Read the passage and then answer all questions based on it. If any event climaxed the prewar years, it was, for me at least, the silver wedding anniversary we celebrated in 1940. Papa was elegant that day, in a brand-new double-breasted worsted suit, with vest and silk tie and stickpin.

He was still the dude, always the dude, no matter what, spending more money on his clothes than on anything else. Mama wore a long, crocheted, rose-coloured dress. And I see them standing by our round dining room table, this time heaped not with food but with silver gifts – flatware, tureens, platters, trays, gravy bowls, and brandy snifters.

The food was spread along a much larger table, buffet style, in glistening abundance – chicken teriyaki, pickled vegetables, egg rolls, cucumber and abalone salad, the seaweed-wrapped rice balls called sushi, shrimp, prawns, fresh lobster, and finally, taking up what seemed like half the tablecloth, a great gleaming roast pig with Turn to page XXXIX

Dentistry for children

MOST dentists I know are ethical, caring individuals. Many of them, however, are unaware of the effects of some of their procedures. That is why, as a parent or guardian, you need to recognise how dramatic and dangerous dentistry can sometimes be when it comes to your children.

Pedodontics, also known as paediatric dentistry, is a dental speciality that focuses on treating children. Children begin getting their first teeth at about six months of age, and they have a full complement of “baby” teeth— dentists call them deciduous teeth—usually by the age of three. By about the age of six, the child begins losing the “baby” teeth as the permanent teeth come in. The last deciduous teeth are typically lost between 11 and 14 years of age.

Pedodontics treat children from infancy to the point when the child goes off to high school. Particularly, the early years of this period are extremely important. A child is constantly in the process of development; every day sees new changes.

Every stage builds on the previous stages of development. Therefore, anything that has adverse effects on a child runs the risk of having an impact on the rest of their life. This means that dental interventions at this time must be professional.

Children’s physical systems can be more vital and reactive than those of adults, so toxic intrusions can cause severe problems. Be extremely cautious with dental work for your children. Too many

dentists recommend invasive dental procedures that can be devastating.

We are often unaware of the impact of this type of dental work on young children. Since we do not recognise the problem, we do not have statistics to understand the scope of the issue. We have no way of knowing how many children might have suffered unnecessary illness brought on by dental procedures. Avoid taking a chance with your children’s health.

Dentists, especially paediatric dentists, often use stainless steel crowns on baby teeth. They can place these crowns rapidly, and insurance coverage is better than for amalgams. The problem is that a child can react to the nickel and become very ill, and no one will think that the illness came from the child’s dental work.

In addition to stainless steel crowns and amalgams, topical fluoride treatments can be dangerous for your child. I would also not recommend giving your child fluoridated water or fluoride tablets.

I strongly recommend using only non-metal restorative materials for your child’s dental work. Never, ever allow a dentist to put an amalgam filling in your child’s mouth.

Children should have their first dental visit by the age of seven at the latest. By that time, all their “baby teeth” should have been lost. It should be emphasised that it is important to have early dental check-ups to establish good oral health habits and detect potential and actual issues. These issues can in-

From page XXXVIII

clude severely injured, decayed, or infected teeth, as well as mouth injuries, root canal treatments, hypodontia

(missing teeth), hypomineralization (soft tooth enamel), genetic conditions, and developmental defects.

If your child is ill, do not allow a dentist who is not properly trained in health, nutrition, and the correct

process for amalgam removal to do the removal, or the results could be disastrous.

a bright red apple in its mouth.

1. Give the meaning or significance of the following phrases: any single event, prewar years, double-breasted worsted suit, still the dude, crocheted, buffet style.

2. Paraphrase the first sentence in the passage.

3. Explain: Pa was elegant that day.

4. Why does the narrator use words this way? “And I see them standing by our round dining room table, this time heaped not with food.”

5. What was taking up what seemed like half the tablecloth?

6. Give a summary of the text.