Latest update March 28th, 2024 12:59 AM
May 05, 2019 News
By Alex Wayne
I approached the East Coast Bus Park with mixed feelings as I did not have much of an insight into the making of the village which I was visiting.
Naturally I did a little sleuthing of my own at the bus park trying to at least assess the inhabitants there, to be able to formulate my interview strategies, for maximum success. I was heading for Enmore Village, East Coast Demerara. Enmore is a village in the Demerara-Mahaica region along the coastal belt of Guyana. It is about two square miles (5.1 km2) in size and has a multi-ethnic population of about 8,000.
There are large concentrations of Indo-Guyanese. Enmore is known for the Enmore Martyrs, who were slain during a 1948 labour dispute in the village.
Well, when I was done talking to a few mature people at the bus parks, I felt a little discouraged with the stories I heard. But my philosophy has always been to never judge a book by its cover. And my
grandmother’s favourite quote kept ringing in my ears.
“Alex, never listen to the tales of others; they are often overrated. Go and see fuh yuhself if yuh want tuh know de truth about anything.”
So I boarded a minibus headed to Victoria Village (a few miles past Enmore) and lay back in the seat musing on what angle my interviews will take with villagers. The bus ride this time was smooth and comfy and I enjoyed the almost harsh feel of the crisp Atlantic breeze as the bus sped along the breezy East Coast Demerara Highway.
I was particularly pleased at the sight of extensive works being done on the public road in some areas. The sight of roadside vendors trading their items at the roadside Mon Repos Market brought a smile to my lips. I chuckled softly at their Creole style wailings as they competed verbally to cart off their items to shoppers.
Traffic brought the bus to a slow crawl in this area, and calls of “Come get yuh fresh celery, and tomatoes,
cheap and sweet..” filled the air. In some areas old ladies sat on beverage cases, shouting, “Come get yuh fresh pick mangoes, cherry and guava”, their apron pockets billowing with dollar bills from their morning sales.
It was a smooth ride after then and I took in my fill of children prancing mirthfully on the road parapets, or young men lounging along the streets, in the villages of Melanie Damishana, Paradise, and Buxton. The bus conductor was kind enough to enquire of my destination, and with a smile directed me to a taxi service when I told him of my reason for travelling.
Touching union of the races
Any fears of the reception I would receive in Enmore were quelled the minute I encountered the first villager. He was the pleasant and smiling Mohan Ragnauth, a taxi driver who put me at ease, quietly enquiring where I was headed. We had a brief conversation and he mouthed, “Hop in partnah, I will take you wherever you want to go…”
He particularly engaged me in conversation about the livelihood of villagers, and even explained the new jobs villagers had embarked on now that the Enmore Sugar Estate has been closed.
He took me to the very centre of the village and after wishing me success on my exploits, again assured me that my visit would be an intriguing one.
With my plan well mapped out as in whom I was going to speak to, I approached the beaming and very merry Rohani Gobin, a 62-year-old vegetables vendor who was very eager to engage me in a buddy-like chit chat. There was a man hovering attentively over her shoulders, so naturally I enquired if he was her husband. She threw back her head and replied amidst giggles, “Me?… He nah meh husband. He is just a good friend who does keep me company when meh come tuh sell. Me nah able wid ah man stress right now. Me had meh time of that and it send up me blood pressure. I good just how me deh…and me happy and comfortable just suh”
As our conversation continued she revealed that most of the villagers were employed at the Enmore Sugar Estate, while some did farming
and shop keeping. She did mention however that some villagers were employed in administrative offices at other locations.
“In years gone by, Enmore was a very busy and exciting place, where everybody could ah find a job. When the estate close down last year, it was bare confusion. I feel sorry fuh all them workers who used tuh depend on work at the estate fuh earn ah living. It was very sad because people had plenty mouth fuh feed, and the li’l money workers receive as pay off done out in no time.
“That’s why some people had to start back farming, and many people start fuh buy and sell ground provision and greens (vegetables) just like me. Of course dem farmers start mek money from them crops and suh on, but this estate really use to help we out a lot.
“People from this village nah really like work in de city, but in many cases dem ain’t get a choice and had to settle fuh other jobs elsewhere.”
Rohani has been trading items from her roadside stall for over twenty years and her little joint looked
quite attractive with an array of peppers, bora, ochroes, tomatoes, and many other vegetables. Her plants were rather large, and she jokingly referred to them as ‘country specials’. She purchases her items from the Stabroek and Bourda Market on wholesale basis and then retail them in the village. When asked if her efforts were profitable, she threw back her head and laughed loudly before replying, “If it nah bein ah pay me, yuh think me would ah sit down here every day? Yes me does mek money.”
The ‘ethnic mix’ in this village was quite electrifying…I saw people of all races chatting cheerily in the grocery stores. The same was the case with the elderly longing in the rum shops. It was quite surprising to find popular countryside comedian, John “Johnny’ Fowler, getting high over a small bottle of High Wine at a roadside rum shop at such an early hour in the morning. He was surrounded by a few other elderly men having either brown rum or vodka.
Their eyes lit up with interest when he bellowed that I was an old friend from the media.
There was just one table where four men were seated and from the look of things there were not favorites amongst the people in the village. They began in slurring voices to say foul things about the media, and almost immediately the female shopkeeper and most of the drinkers there turned on them like hot potatoes.
I did not wait to see the outcome, but instead crossed the street to talk to food vendor Ashton Clarke. And my, oh my, he was vain indeed. He kept fretting for a long time about forgetting his chef cap at home. He particularly instructed that I wait till the customers eased off so he can wash his face and comb his hair before sitting before the cameras.
I thought to myself that these country people were certainly not easy to deal with. All around his customers were licking their fingers, and making exclamations of satisfaction as they dug into his home styled Creole dishes.
Ashton has been selling in the village for over twelve years, and everyone seems to gather at his stall at lunchtime..
“I have been selling here for over twelve years. And business just keeps getting better and better. Everyone live as one in this village. There is no separation of the races, and they have been coming here like a swarm of bees every day to enjoy my cooking.
“The young boys love my mauby and fruit juices, and they just can’t resist my roti and curry, or my fried rice and chowmein.” As he chatted, the customers supported his claims with nods, and thumps up signs. Others said, “This food real good, this good just proppah”.
As I walked around it was an appealing sight to see school children walking down the streets, in excited conversations. Housewives shied away from the camera with peals of laughter, while a few saucy ones stood their ground dictating, “Girl like aluh stupid or what? Is only one time yuh does get the opportunity fuh become a star. You ain’t know if the man gon ever come back here. Fix yuhself and tek out de photo yeah…”
Vegetable vendor Goordat Bhagwandin was extremely pleasant to me, rushing about to make room for me to sit at his stall which was close to the Police Outpost there. We had hardly started talking when the skies darkened and heavy rains came down.
He practically surprised me, but grabbing an umbrella and sheltering me, took me to his minibus parked a few rods away so that I could have placed my camera and cell phone inside his vehicle to protect them from the rain. And he for sure was selling some of the biggest eddoes and cassava my eyes have ever seen.
This man certainly knew his onions. He said that he was the best history student during his school days. He provided deep insight with regards to the makings of the village, which coincided almost accurately which compared with information in Google.com.
History of the Village
Bhagwandin’s tale of Enmore informed that Enmore was known during the 19th Century as Plantation Enmore. He said that there were sugarcane fields to the south of the village and that the village takes its name from the sugar estate which was made famous by the Enmore Martyrs, the five sugar workers who were shot dead by the colonial police in 1948 during the struggle to improve their working and living conditions.
He said that after the establishment of the Labour Welfare Fund, 800 sugar workers living on the estate at that time were granted a loan of $500 which they used to start building homes. Villagers of the new area started cultivating fruit and vegetables as a main source of livelihood.
“Enmore, in the 19th Century, was primarily a cotton and sugar plantation, owned by Henry Porter. The estate became a community some time in the late 1940s or early 1950s when villagers were granted plots of land. These plots of land were an upgrade from the primitive logies (mud huts) of the old village, which bunched together.
The village is well-known for the Enmore martyrs incident, which marked the turning point in industrial relations within the sugar industry and heralded the improvement of working conditions”.
“In the 1950s, Enmore continued to develop significantly and its population almost doubled. In 1964, political strife between the races emerged, and Government and economy almost came to a standstill. This of course had resulted in some segregation, but over the years this has been significantly repaired, and the bond between the races in present day is very touching”.
In 1970, a community centre was added under the control of Bookers’ Sugar Estate and soon after, community leaders were permitted control of the centre. As stated by Bhagwandin in the early years of evolvement the culture of Enmore resembled very much that of India, but as African and Chinese populated the village, a slight variety was added.
The villages soon became a rich fusion of varying ethnicities. While in times gone by the traditional dialect would have seen persons using slangs like “maa”, “pita”, “chacha”, “chachee”, “didi”, and “bhai”, but not much of that remains today.
Enmore is a very civilized and very sophisticated village now, with the villagers being able to obtain their needs from shops and other businesses within the settlement.
Life on the plantations was very crucial in the older days. Logies (small huts made of wood, with mud floors and zinc roof) were popular features. The logies were divided into rooms and each room was given to a family many of who could not afford beds and had to sleep on the floor.
In those days, villagers used the pit latrines and there were no bathrooms for bathing. Cooking was done on firesides; water for household use was fetched from nearby trenches through which sugar cane punts were channeled.
Today things have changed greatly and Enmore can certainly hold its own against any other rapidly developing village in Guyana.
Today Enmore has a polyclinic, estate dispensary and two pharmacies. There are also quite a few mosques mandirs and churches. There are at least three nursery schools, two primary, and two private schools as well in the village.
Villagers enjoy bakeries, hardware stores, restaurants and beverage distribution outlets. The only thing missing is the sugar estate which was closed in early 2018.
Historical Features (Enmore Martyrs Monument)
As history would have it, the Enmore Martyrs Monument was designed by Dennis Williams, which was erected by Zenith Industrial and Construction Co-operative Society at a cost of $10,000. It was unveiled by the then Prime Minister, Linden Forbes Sampson Burnham on June 16, 1977 on the occasion of the 29th Anniversary of the death of the five martyrs.
Just after sunrise on the morning of June 16, 1948, five sugar workers were brutally shot to death at Enmore Estate in Guyana as they were demonstrating for better working conditions, fair wages, and for the recognition of a Trade Union of their choice.
The monument stands raised on a concrete base six feet high with five repetitive verticals each adorned with brass symbols reminiscent of cutlasses and inscribed with the names of the five martyrs. There is also a plaque designed by Guyanese artist Stanley Greaves, cast by BACIF (Brass Aluminium and Cast Iron Foundry).
The five Enmore Martyrs, Rambarran, Lall a/ka Pooran, Lallabagie Kissoon, Surujballi a/ka Dookie and Harry – lost their lives fighting for their rights and the rights of others. Join us next week readers when we take a ride to wide open pastures and sand dunes of Belladrum village, West Coast of Berbice.
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THIS IDIOT TELLING GUYANA WE HAVE NO SAY IN THE 50% PROFIT SHARING AGREEMENT WE HAVE WITH EXXON.
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