GUYANA BLACK WATER PEOPLE

Twenty Poems

By Dmitri Allicock

(Dedicated to the loving memory of my father, Stanley

Allicock,Jan. 24, 1920-Jan 6, 2000)

BLACK WATER PEOPLE

Along the Demerara where black water flow

Lived people of true grit that I got to know

People of courage and respect for the land

Who carved out a living with their able hands

A blend of the river and early settlers in mind

People who rode the changing tides of time

A fountain that gave life meaning and a soul

A black water river and its people made whole

Native people of Guyana and those who came

Into the pristine wild of the rain-forest to tame

Tough folks who faced adversities by whistling

On the shores with just the songbirds listening

People of courage, faith and unyielding will

Along the river where it seems quiet and still

Black Water People bonded firmly by blood

Hardwood, farming and treasures of the mud

Black Water People now scattered near and far

But deep within they remember, and still are

The black water river running pure to the sea.

And the Black Water People will always be.

HEADING UPSTREAM

Demerara Riverman heading upstream

Feeling the sprinkles of the river’s gleam

The lush of the shores, passing by

The welcoming smile of Guyana’s sky

Demerara Riverman heading upstream

Skipping along the river like a dream

I hear the drone of the boat in my sleep

I can see the fishes jumping in the deep

Demerara Riverman heading upstream

I feel the quiet of the river it seems

I look for birds of the monotonous green

I see my reflection on the tea- water’s sheen

Demerara Riverman heading upstream

On the river guided by the sun’s beam

The waters meandering within my inside

And forever it softly flows with the tide.

THERE IS A PLACE

I will never forget those things that I use to know

Down by the river and now only a picture to show

Boats with family and friends, watching them go

A chapter of the sweet Demerara tides, as it flow

Life in the sunshine but also goodbyes and death

Down by that river where I drew my first breath

Lonesome teenage days but here, I found my wife

The story of the river shore, I am thankful for life

Running, playing, fishing, and the chores of a kid

Stories of daylight and nightfall, those things we did

As I watch this river, I often wonder what it knows

A river of history, nature and life, as it gently goes

Some says life is today and yesterday is forever gone

But our thoughts, emotions, and dreams are spawn,

Growing from the seeds and memories of yesterday,

And the tides of river will flow within, along its way.

GOING WITH THE TIDE

There is a certain beauty in the water I see

Such a wonder and majesty, wild and free

It seems to sing to me in its rhythmic sway

Tide rising and falling, makes my mind stray

Regardless of the high and low as the river flow

It teaches me to be persistent, wherever I may go

The fact that I don’t control the forces of my day

But I am still the captain of my destiny, it say

On the serene Demerara tides my thoughts drift

To everything, there’s season, purpose, a shift

Like the river, meandering within my view

Nature’s cycle that exist for me and also for you

I relish my blessings and along the way I ride

The harmony of the river and the tide is my guide

Skipping on the water seemingly without a word

Those lessons and songs of the tide, I have heard.

OUTSIDE MY WINDOW

Outside my window, a brand new day

Listen to the sounds of peace, I say

I hear the birds’ sing, a fowlcock crow

I see the soft waters of Demerara, flow

I see coconut fronds glistening in the sun

I hear the laughter of children having fun

I can smell the aroma of homemade bread

The amazing joys of childhood in my head

I can taste the sweet pepper pot on the fire

The closeness of family, always my desire

I feel like the river flowing without a sound

The hush of the Demerara’s lush, all around

Outside my window, I can still see

Yesterday's memories and my hopes to be

And it doesn’t matter wherever I may roam

Outside my window will always be home.

CHILDREN OF THE ETE

Children of the hinterlands play without care

On the shores where the ete trees are near

The song of life and laughter can be heard

In the Land of Many Waters and the birds.

Children swim under the cool ete shade

Where the lush of the rain-forest is made

They have fun and laugh to their contented hearts

Of which love and the majestic ete is a part

Children of Guyana and the versatile ete palm

In the safety of the shallows and calm

Surrounded by such serenity and grandeur

Playing where the gently river runs pure

The voices of the children seems to say

Live each day and love each day

As they play in the shade of the ete trees

Enjoying a magical moment, young and free.

TEA WATER INSTEAD

Black is the water

Most have said

But how about tea- color instead

From the tannin it is made

Colored by falling leaves in the shade

You look and want more

But your view is obscure

I often wonder what exist on the floor

Pure tea kissing the Demerara Shore

In the shallow, fishes feed

Water can be treacherous so take heed

And if this is indeed tea

Well, it is tea with honey for me

And from my lips

I would sip

A cup of tea- water any day

Watching the sweet- water creek on its way.

A VOYAGE TO THE OTHER SIDE

A Demerara River trip, far from the sea

Once upon a precious time in the year 1903

The river of life, flowing in the haze

A journey through Upper Demerara historical days

The time when it was all about hardwood trees

Balata rubber, the shout of gold on the breeze

The Wismar to Rockstone railway and train

In the rugged land of sunshine and drenching rain

Those days when all the river traffic pointed west

Deep into the forest when Essequibo was best

For a century the Paterson’s sawmill had led the way

And the fortunes of bauxite was not yet in the sway

The songbirds of hope with many songs to sing

And a promise of what the new century would bring

The dreams of tomorrow that exist on the other side

A voyage on the gentle 1903 Demerara’s Tide.

GONE WITH THE WIND

The days of trembling tracks

Of Upper Demerara, way back

Whistle and thunder that excite

Wismar/ Rockstone rails in the light

Thick smoke of steam engine in mood

A rattling song of a 1900’s heart to soothe.

THE HISTORICAL1824 WATER

On the shores of Upper Demerara lies one of a kind

A precious Water Wheel that takes you back in time

A treasure of forgotten history that can be seen still

Only remnant that is left of the Paterson’s Sawmill

An amazing relic which has survived the ages of old

A symbol of Upper Demerara’s rich history to behold

The story of Guyana’s wood and the greenheart king

The echoes of an early British Guiana that still rings

The village called Red Camp with roofs painted red

The birth of Guyana’s second largest town that it led

The year of 1824, when it was erected on this ground

Waters of Catabulli, a wheel turning round and round

Transferring the power to blades with belts and gears

A wheel of ancient time and frozen for so many years

So silent, amidst the weeds where the Demerara goes

Story of a Water Wheel and the Catabulli Creek flows.

.

BEND OF THE RIVER I listened from the shores in the shade

To all the sounds that the forest made

The rhythm of Guyana speaking words

The echoes of life, the river and the birds

The land, where the waters ran through

The blessings, the ways that I once knew

The stories of the gently Demerara tides

Where my roots and heart- strings are tied

Water cresting and ripples kisses the shore

Ebbing and slowly flowing with folklore

Swirling inside, things that give us worth

Calm and serene, the dear land of my birth

Anointed for life, from the heavens above

To rise high, to cherish and to always love.

SLASH AND BURN For thousands of years it was the way

Time tested and is still effective today

This simple method of slash and burn

By the people of the earth as they earn

Tilling the soil, rich with ash of the field

Making for a few cycles of bumper yield

Then as the soil decline, it was learned

To allowing encroaching forest to return

And from the black- smoke and fiery skies

A lush vegetation for the wondrous eyes

Healing so well that few traces are found

Only a thick- tangle of the vigorous ground.

WHERE I WAS BORN

In the land of bauxite and the horn

There is that place where I was born

Just a few yards away, the Demerara flow

The dear 1925 Mackenzie Hospital aglow

Upper Demerara and land of treasured roots

Where I first learned of life and the truth

The blessings of love and family all around

A place that is my sanctified ground

Time have passed and the birds have flown

The river still runs softly where life was sewn

The seed that was planted now bears fruits

A celebration of peace and happiness of my roots

And, no matter where I have roamed

I will never forget the place once called home

And on the wings of love and heartstrings of gold

A place in the sun of my birthplace to behold.

SAGUENAY SHIPS

Not so long ago, along Demerara’s way

Passed the many ships of the Saguenay

I remember their names began with sun

On the river where the calm waters run

The Sunwalker, Sungate, Sunray ships

The Sundora, Sunhenderson, on my lips

I remember the Sunvictor, the Sunhill

The Sunbrayton and their horns’ thrill

Ships of the Saguenay loaded with cargo

That brighter day when their horns blow

Alumina and the best calcined bauxite ore

And the ships of the sun will pass no more.

JOYFUL SANDS

Overburden and former bauxite hills of sand

Now Upper Demerara’s playground so grand

Mountains of white sand as soft as sifted flour

The cathedrals to mining and striking towers

The gleam in the sun of that midday squint

Changing colors of time and now a grayest tint

Children playgrounds for sliding and tumbling fun

The shifting sands of delight, warmed by the sun

Nature embrace abandoned mines and reclaim

Nectar of the fat poke tree, calls you come again

The joyful sands of an Upper Demerara’s day

Casting spells’ of memories of my childhood play.

HORN OF THE SHIP

The horn of the bauxite ship blows

Clearing the way as the river flows

A century of bauxite, and the horn

In 1916, the bauxite king was born

Rhythm of Upper Demerara’s chime

The fortunes of bauxite and that time

A heart wrenching boom and a thrill

Echoes of life flows on the river still

Shadow of a ship passing in the light

Swells of the waves as it sails from sight.

MY GRANDPARENTS’ HOUSE 1940 In my heart there lives a special place

For the memory of a dear time and space

A sacred place where my heritage is found

Along Demerara River’s hallowed ground

A place where many graves stands arrayed

The journey of the winds of time on parade

Over two centuries of Upper Demerara to keep

Where many now lie peaceful, in eternal sleep

A fountain of stories and amazing history for me

That exist in that sanctified place across the sea

A story of time and space that I try to understand

My dear ancestor’s blessed place, in another land.

BLACK WATER FAMILY

My first cousin Rowan is as handsome as can be

I look at his photograph, his eyes, what do I see

I see so much of my relatives in this bright ember

My uncle Hugh, my brother Andrei, I remember

In his youthful smile, my aunt Morsead is so strong

The family traits of ancestors that we belong

My wife said that he looks like me sitting there

She added that it is all about the eyes that we share

His photograph and a face of family like a dream

A Demerara’s bloodline from the ages it seems

His eyes, looking to the future from where he stand

A mirror of his people that I will help him understand.

WHAT MEMORIES ARE MADE OF

[My dear wife Evadney and late uncle John Fiedtkou-

Upper Demerara River]

Demerara runs like a dream

Twinkling in the sun’s beam

Like a precious family kiss

Memories are made of this

To sit with a relative of old

And share the stories of gold

A treasured time to reminisce

Memories are made of this.

An old time Demerara River bliss

Family and friendship that I miss

A Demerara’s sweet- water creek kiss

Black water people are made of this.

BLACK WATER FAREWELL

Time is a sort of river of passing events they say

No sooner is a thing brought to sight is swept away

And another will come on the tide to take its place

Again to be washed away with time that has no face

A river flowing with memories like grains of sands

From the shallows to the deep from where I stand

And for a precious moment as it runs on through

I think of time and my ancestors that I never knew

An eternal river that winds its way between the hills

Meandering within my inside and momentarily still

I look for the traces of life and the changing signs

Of this Demerara waters and communities lifelines

A quiet river now but once bustled in Guyana’s youth

Upon its tides history moved down river to find truth

Leaving the melancholy embraces to eternally yearn

And forest to overhang black water and freely return.

Dedicated to the loving memory of my father, Stanley

Allicock, Jan. 24, 1920-Jan 6, 2000)

The End.