What happens to us after sun-up?
Letters to the Editor
October 15, 1999
I am a forty-something woman who, trying to keep at bay my middle-aged spread, has taken to walking or cycling around the city in the wee hours of the morning, before sun-up. Something has struck me and deserves comment. During this pre-dawn hour or so, there are walkers, joggers, runners, cyclists in the National Park, on the seawall, along Irving and Lamaha streets, on Homestretch Avenue, etc., and what is remarkable are the courtesy and consideration extended, I can only suppose to each other, since I am forever nodding, smiling and returning a `good morning' to this walker or that jogger. We look each other, in the eye and wish each other a good day - this from Guyanese of all hues to Guyanese of all hues! Let me say here that it's a great way to start the day and I recommend it highly.
Unwilling to believe that those who enjoy early-morning exercise are a breed apart, a courteous race of people, the question that goes a-begging here is what happens to us after sun-up? Does the sun-hot addle our brains? Or is it that in the glare of sunlight we believe we must perform as our respective political leaders wish, and so watch each other with cut-eye suspicion and jook each other rudely at the least opportunity.
With general elections just around the corner, our political leaders will be playing their games with us again. Already, I see they are flexing their racist-political muscles. They play games with us but maybe this time we shall all have the courage to say "enough" and look closely, instead, at all the manifestos published, and vote for the party with the best programmes, policies and leadership to move us forward. Then, maybe the early morning courtesies I, and so many others, enjoy will have a chance to become the norm not the exception.
If, however, we choose to blame the sun, its heat and light, for our discourtesies to each other then the solution, until we find a political one, may be that we should all live in a pre-dawn twilight. In that case, will someone please turn off the sun?
A © page from: Guyana: Land of Six Peoples