WHEN GOING FARIN(FOREIGN) WAS AN EXCURSION

 WHEN GOING FARIN (FOREIGN) WAS AN EXCURSION 

Harry Bissoon 1/19/2022



In the 60's and early 70s, before the catastrophic effects of the economic turbulence that precipitated the vagaries of black gold, leaving the shores of my country of birth, Guyana, was an adventure. It was a time when the village didn't only raise you, but got involved with you at events and occasions that should have been private and personal. 


In the early 70s myself and three other colleagues applied to a college in New York City, to pursue our education in specific fields of choice. We were all school teachers at the time.  We all got 18 months multiple student visas. 


Our families were excited! The Village was excited! Extensive preparations were made. Many of the villagers visited our families, offering advice to us, and cautioned that we, the four of us, stick together, once we got to New York.


The big day eventually came when we had to travel to the airport!  Three big buses were hired to take us -  our families, friends, and other villagers - to  Atkinson Airport. It was a long trip by bus! We made several stops. Music, drinks, and food flowed in abundance.  In the buses, prayers and supplications were regularly made at intervals.  


At Atkinson Airport, we gathered in a final farewell. Confusion, weeping, uncertainty, excitement, anticipation and drunken goodbyes filled the air!  Amidst the hugging, kissing, finger waving, and a host of well intentioned advice, we ensured that we had all our travel documents intact. We were told  several times by those around us, "Hold on 'good' to your passport. Don't lose it!"


As we walked out on the tarmac, towards the plane - Pan American Airlines - we wanted to turn and look in the direction of those who were waving tearful goodbyes, but we didn't! Village superstition got the better of us! We were instructed not to look back because it will only bring bad luck.


The Pan American Airlines flight took off, leaving our parents, families, friends, and villagers behind, as we embarked on a journey to seek a new world.


The excursion to the airport had come to an end, but the revelry, and occasional emotional outbursts of happiness and sadness, followed those who had come to see us off, back to their homes in the village.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

OUR CHANGING TIMES: DOOM OR GLORY

OUR CHANGING TIMES: DOOM OR GLORY Two particularly useful and significant lessons of human behavior that I have learnt in my social progression on the ladder of upward mobility, still habitually gnaws at my intricate psychological constructs. During my early years in the upper echelon of management, I was told by my management mentor, in simple terms, that in any social engineering of humanity, it is the living thing that has the capacity to deceive and lie, and not the inanimate objects that I will be dealing with.  Intricately connected to this observation, is the remarkable ability of  living things to decieve, and celebrate a dance of intrigue and camouflage.  We have developed this art form into means of survival, deception, treachery, vengeance,  jealousy, and unmitigated tragedy. It is amazing how this web of deceipt has embedded itself in the socio-political milieu of our existential behavior. It has become an intrinsic part of our lives, and for many it's a ...
Read more

FIRERASS

FIRERASS  Harry Bissoon 2/13/2026 Mabel, up before sunrise, long before the cock, Natty, crows.  In haste, amidst hazy and foggy mist, she pushes herself to limits anew, to meet deadline, daily vows,   The light shines through neighba Aunty Breto's windows, in an eerie brightness.  It flashes,dances,and speeds into the still darkness,  Look! Mabel laments! She gone again! To roam and suck blood, before light approaches! Firerass she is! Firerass, oh god, is Breto, a never-ending nighttime seeker of gourmet secrets.  Nay,she cannot be. She laughs and talks,day after day, with a face of neighborly goodness.  But yet,  flies and seeps through cracks, in hungry nighttime flurries of wanton, thirsty adventures of mysterious gourmet madness.  Let her go, Mabel sighs. Make your way, Breto! Make your way! You are the village night walker! @highlight
Read more

THE PANGS OF DEATH

Death is ever present, and  like a dark specter of doom, it hovers above and around us, waiting in the shadows to attack and devastate. It is envious of birth, which brings joy and happiness to us. Envious of our struggles down paths of thorns and roses.It follows us, breaching our defenses when and where we least expect it. Maybe this is why some of us celebrate death and mourn the coming of new life. Maybe this is why some of us glorify death and its painful throes of the unfettered release of our souls to be free of the agonizing clutches of life. Maybe, this why birth and new life are lamented by some, knowing of the trials, tribulations, and bumpy paths that lead us into the hands of Death Itself. Nonetheless, whatever views and opinions we hold close to our bosoms, we still ponder upon this dilemma, trying to reconcile the beatitudes of life and death,being fully aware that death is always filled with agony and sadness.  We are children of promises and faith. We are chil...
Read more