Welcome to the Island

Allan FentyLovely and vivacious, but unemployed, thirty-year old Guyanese Sattie never paid much heed to all the talk about CARICOM integration.

All through her late teens and twenties, she had to fight the economic battles of survival here.  Finally, influenced by the relative “success”  of other Guyanese female “traders” refugees and exiles, Sattie decided to “try her luck” in one of those smaller Caribbean Islands whose citizens, during the last twenty years, had long decided to “make their eyes pass” certain Guyanese.

What follows, is, as they say, based on a true story. (Noteworthy is the fact that though it is the ordinary people of the Region who, principally, can cause true integration, those people too can be real barriers to communication and integration.)  Sattie saved and saved, and armed with her “capital”, gold chains, salted fish and other “stock”, she showed up at the Immigration Section of the international airport of this tiny island. Her intention was to legitimately “do business” during her one week visit.

She took little notice of the tall, good-looking fellow looking at her with slightly special interest as she cleared both immigration and Customs and thankfully headed for the taxi her native islander friends had engaged.  She  had little time to appreciate the glimpse of the  island she saw before  arriving at her hosts’ home.  There were even a few Guyanese there to welcome her to the island on this, her first venture.

One hour after her arrival, the telephone rang.  Her friends mischievously announced that “the caller wanted Sattie”, adding they didn’t know she had known any islanders before her arrival there.   What they didn’t realize was that Sattie herself was as puzzled as she was surprised.  Who could it be?  Who would know that she had just arrived?  She had never alerted anyone and she certainly knew no islander there, as yet.

“Hi Sattie, welcome to the island”, the male caller greeted.  In time, a bemused Sattie was able to enquire as to the caller’s identity even as her friends giggled.  “Well lissen”, he explained, “I’m an Immigration Officer – but, don’t panic!  This is merely a social call.  I just want to welcome you – and get to know you”.  Whereupon Sattie plucked up enough courage to ask the new-found “official” admirer how he had come by all his information – her name, her nationality, her first-time visit and, of course, her address and telephone number.  Easy!  The fellow explained that, as an on-duty Immigration Officer that day, he not only observed her name  on her suitcase, but accessed her Immigration Form, exchanged information with his Customs colleagues,  phoned the taxi driver pal and easily located her address and telephone number.   As he emphasized “It’s a small island”!

It was then that Sattie’s host told her some of the facts of life.  At some airports in the Caricom Region, there are those officials who make a project out of victimizing and exploiting Guyanese.  Under the guise of perfectly legal and above-board investigations, they can use confidential personal information to intimidate or cajole females.  Innocent and vulnerable, these females are made to “negotiate” or “bargain” for work permits, licences or mere extensions-of-stay.  Compromises are many.

But NOT for our girl Sattie!  She agreed to a “meeting”, a rendezvous with the admirer and told him a thing or two.  She was needy but proud.  She wasn’t about to surrender her dignity and womanhood to someone or some system she knew not.  Other Guyanese females had let her down, she explained.  She was aware that the local islanders were jealous of the Guyanese professionals who seemed to be wanted and to be everywhere in the island(s).  She also knew of the females who disgraced themselves “for a few dollars more !! (She’d even seen one of her long lost school mates married to what had to be the ugliest old islander in the world!  Just “to get to stay!”)  She then understood, she said, the little “official” conspiracies that could be mounted against Guyanese (females) even before other forms of discrimination were executed.

Sattie-as well as a few more thousands-is hoping that her Guyana government could reverse our past economic fortunes and we’ll be in a position to just visit our Caricom neighbours, on vacation, and to make genuine, wanted friendships.  (Footnote Sattie’s brother went to the small island two years after her visit.  He sold some fake gold to a gullible islander.  He was apprehended at the airport as he sought to leave.  Her Immigration Officer admirer, thought once spurned, was  able to “assist”.  Is there hope for Caricom?)