August 22

Tomorrow is my Mum’s birthday. I find myself at a hotel in Charity listening to my children and their partners in the room next door playing some board game. Every now and then I hear a burst of laughter.

The trip has been bitter sweet so far. Travelling to Guyana is not for the feint at heart. It is hot, dirty, smelly, and oppressively humid. The sun shockingly beats down like when I open the oven door and in a rushed moment, forget the strength of it against my face. My children are first generation Canadians and children of the first world. The smell of sewer, pollution, stale garbaged filled water, car engines, and, oh, so much more assails their senses in an almost insulting way. At times I find their comments more than aggravating. My friend Ray says they’re exhausted and there is nothing like Guyana. Perhaps she is right. Ray also says to remember I am here on an emotional journey and I too will be exhausted. She’s right again.

Yesterday, my brother and I drove around with our driver, Albert. You’ll be meeting Albert. One of our stops was the street where it finally ended.

I remember my sister Debbie was changing my diaper. We heard sounds outside. Debbie scooped me up sans diaper, and we went downstairs. I have one memory of my father, Neil, and this is it.

We go down into what I remember as part of the house on stilts. Most houses here are, we are below sea level. I see a group of men gathered around my Mum and Neil. He kicks her in the stomach. I don’t know if his friends jeer because I can’t quite figure out what I’m seeing. I know a bottle breaks and I know my Mum gets cut in the face. The next flash is of someone handing my Mum three pills. I think two aspirin perhaps and a small blue pill. I can see the lines in the person’s palm and the pills sitting there. Flash to the truck of Neil’s car closing and his car pulling away.

It could be this house. It could be that house. I was hoping to know it but I didn’t. Neither did Rohan. It didn’t matter. It was on this street, my mother decided she did not deserve to be beaten anymore.