In early
February we moved to the brand new Namilco building in a large compound in the
commercial zone of Lethem.
Namilco
stands for the National Milling Company of Guyana. Namilco brings in wheat from the US and mills
it into flour and other wheat products.
The milling is done at its facilities near Georgetown on the coast of
Guyana, and the products are sold all over the country. Recently, the company has begun to sell flour
to Brazil. Trucks loaded with up to 550
45kg sacks of flour grind along the trail from Georgetown to Lethem, where the
sacks are unloaded into a bond (storage warehouse). Then, even bigger trucks arrive from Brazil
and carry 1100 sacks of flour off to Boa Vista.
The loading and unloading is done manually – that is, men carry the
sacks on their heads or shoulders.
Dayan’s job
as manager of the Lethem Branch involves maintaining the bond, promoting and
selling the products locally, supervising the loading and unloading of trucks,
and doing paperwork and liaising with the Brazilian buyer, the customs
officials, and of course head office in Georgetown.
View from the road. The left-hand half of the top floor is our apartment.
Note green septic tank below, with overflow emptying directly to an open drain. Hmmm.
Note green septic tank below, with overflow emptying directly to an open drain. Hmmm.
Guyanese truck unloading into the bond.
Brazilian truck being loaded (note the two extra supervisors on top).
Bond full of flour bags.
Typical Guyanese small truck. Hardy for the rough trail.
Driver catching a rest in the shade!
Driver catching a rest in the shade!
Typical Brazilian truck - huge and designed for proper roads,
which Brazil has and Guyana hasn't.
which Brazil has and Guyana hasn't.
Hammocks slung in the bond. Nap time for driver and porter!
The bonus
about this job is that above the bond is a two-bedroom apartment – the
manager’s quarters. It was so new when
we moved in that I had to clean construction debris out of the bathroom and
bedrooms, and Dayan had to arrange for a few last-minute finishing off jobs to
be done, like getting the water tanks operational, and fixing up the hash job
done by the contractor who installed the metal grills over the windows. I managed to get an extra light installed in
the open-plan kitchen/dining/living area, since the existing fluorescent tube
was inadequate. It was also urgently
necessary to install some plastic lattice to make the balcony railings less of
a death hazard, which were so sparse a large adult could easily slip through,
let alone a child. How the designer thought that smooth tiles (slippery when wet) would be a
good combination with a skimpy metal railing on the balcony, which is four to
five meters above the ground, I do not know.
Balcony railings, pre-lattice.
View to the south from the balcony, post-lattice.
Some of the
finishing details of the construction appeared to be rather sloppy by New
Zealand standards, however the overall effect seemed totally luxurious to
us: tile floors, freshly painted walls, running
water, a flushing toilet, insect mesh on the windows, and even a fridge and a
gas-fired stove.
Initially
the only furniture we had was beds and two plastic chairs. This state of affairs lasted rather too long,
but eventually our solid-wood locally-made furniture began to arrive. We now have a desk, some shelves and a dining
table, which has made life much more comfortable! More furniture is on the waiting list.
Open plan living/dining/kitchen.
Curiously,
the bathroom was designed with no windows and no ventilation. This seems crazy to me, but I have discovered
that totally enclosed bathrooms are quite common in Guyana and Brazil, even in
engineer or architect-designed houses.
(What are they thinking? Perhaps
they’re assuming there will be a housemaid or a housewife to wipe down every
surface every day). Of course, this
silly design was disastrous for the MDF cupboards under the sink. No natural light + humidity and moisture + no
air flow + leaky plumbing due to another hash job = mould heaven. My handyman husband has re-done the sink plumbing
and banished the leak, and drilled some vent holes in the ceiling to allow the
warm damp air to flow out via the roof space.
The brand new MDF cupboards will never be quite the same again, but
that’s a typical lesson for building in the tropics. Make sure your bathroom has good ventilation,
and supervise your plumber carefully.
Oh, and don’t bother with MDF if you can help it.
The kitchen
bench and sink were designed at a height perfect for a seven year old. Rather hard on the old back if there is a
large pile of dishes to wash. I could
just about kneel down to do the dishes (‘washing the wares’ in Guyanese-speak). Or better still, get my seven year old to do
them.
Kitchen corner (sink just out of shot under the window).
Despite our
attempts to keep food appropriately contained, ants always want to live in
close proximity to us. They have found
ways into the fridge. They go into the
oven. They have made nests in the electric
kettle, the printer (no longer functioning as a result), in the calculator, in
and under books, under tins or jars, and in many various spots around the
house. A common cry is ‘Ants’ nest!’ Every day or two we discover a nest and clean
it out. They just start another nest
nearby. On some remarkable days we found
four or five nests. We know we have only
a small window of opportunity to leave food unattended before it will be
overrun. Luckily, the two types of ants
we have in our house do not seem to be the biting kind. The little red ones are annoying, the crazy
black ones are annoying too, and both are ticklish when they are crawling up
your arm. But we are learning to
co-exist with them, since excluding them is out of the question. With Kalen being three years old, this learning is often
‘the hard way’, as he has a tendency to leave the sugar lid off, and
forgets to close food containers properly.
And then the ants have a huge party.
There is
one upside to the resident ants. They
clean up messes on the floor, and remove dead insects. On one occasion I found a small scorpion in
the kitchen (yes, a scorpion in the kitchen) and squashed it. I couldn’t immediately bring myself to touch
it to get rid of it, so I just left it on the edge of the bench. Within a short time, ants had dismembered it
and carried the carcass entirely away.
We have a
deep drilled well from which water is pumped into two tanks for our water
supply. I presume the water is naturally
rock-filtered as it is deliciously pure – unlike the town supply which is only
supplied to some parts of the town for certain hours of the day, and tastes awful
– so we consider ourselves very lucky.
We use it straight from the tap.
The manager’s
apartment comes with some nice bonuses.
No rent to pay, no power bill to pay, no internet bill to pay. No commute at all for Dayan. And, one of the best features of all; the balcony,
which runs the length of the top floor.
The compound is beautifully situated a full block back from the main
road in an area where the neighbouring plots are mostly undeveloped (although
there is a small mall being built next door).
The back boundary of the compound directly abuts the buffer zone along
the airstrip. So from our lofty, breezy
balcony, we have a commanding view of the airstrip, and beyond that the new
housing scheme of Culvert City, which is still mostly bare savannah; and beyond
that the open savannah and the glorious Kanuku Mountains.
Aah, the
Kanukus! The most bio-diverse area on
earth, I’m told. The sight of these
mountains make me feel completely at home, as they remind me of my beloved
Pouakai and Kaitake ranges. They are a
balm to the eyes and an ever-changing work of art of nature. I especially love to watch them at dusk, when
from minute to minute they change from hues of blue and purple to orange, pink
or violet. During the rainy season they
are often decorated with rainbows and fanciful cloud formations. Recently, we saw the ‘once in a blue moon’
rise from behind the ranges, full, fat and fiery.
A view from the balcony showing half of the ranges.
Rain on the savannah.
One end of a rainbow.
A plane taking off almost in our back yard.
A small but bright rainbow over Moco Moco.