STEPPING INTO ANOTHER WORLD

I heard him before I saw him. I was pleased however thathehadarrivedoutsideof thebankbeforeIdid.Hewas prompt, not always a virtue that people are proud to d i s p l a y

“What happening partner?

Likeyoustillsufferingfrom jet lag. You don’t know this is Guyana?” he bellowed loud enough for the taxi operatorsandthevendorsto hear They all turned in his direction to see who was so b o i s t e r o u s I approached slowly The taxi drivers waited in anticipationofthenextblast. The vendors kept looking around, one eye for customers, the other for the pavementconstabulary.

HesmiledasIgotnearer andthenbarked,“Thisisnot Uncle Sam. The later you come here the longer you stay The line is long inside. Let’sgo.”

And with that we strode into the foyer of the bank. Inside indeed there was a long line. Memories of the Guylines came flooding back. That was in the day whenalmosteverythingwas short and you had to either join lines or have lines (connections) to obtain the basicnecessitiesoflife.

Being inside was like stepping into another world. The place was clean, posh andair-conditioned.

I heard something like a whisper and looked around to see whether anyone was behind me. There wasn’t a n y o n e

Then the voice grew to a faintsound.Itwasmyfriend. He said,” I just told you is this line we have to join. What happen you have wax i n y o u r e a r s ?

I was momentarily stunned. This same loud-mouthed bratthatIhadcalledafriend had been reduced to a quiet church mouse by the atmosphereinthebank.The same man who was seconds