BLACKOUT

I could feel the sway of the mango tree as its branches bent towards me, bringing with it a sudden coolness in the air. The day quickly turned into night as the gloomy clouds rolled in. Mama called out to me and in no time, I was running up the wooden stairs of our little house and through the door to where she sat tending to one of my younger siblings. The thunder roared as a flash of lightning burst across the sky. It continued for a half an hour while I ate and prepared for bed. I pulled up the covers tight and peeked from the corner of my eye as the light form the little lamp flickered on and off. Another boisterous roar came, this one louder than the rest. The heavens opened and several bolts of blinding white lights lit up the night. Suddenly, heavy raindrops began pounding the pavement outside. Within a few seconds, all went dark.

I was frightened. “We having a blackout, go quick and light a match!” my mom shouted to my father in her natural Guyanese dialect. Dad found his way into the kitchen, reached into a drawer and pulled out the little white and red matchbox. He quickly struck the black strip across its side and the matchstick flared to life. He then grabbed the dark gray kerosene lamp that hung just above the stove and lit it. Next, he grabbed a few candles to brighten up the place a little more.

The strong odor of the kerosene and the sweet scent of the candles intertwined and wafted through the air as Daddy carried them through the house. Holding the lamp in one hand, he carefully placed a candle in the far corner of the room. Then he sat on the edge of my bed, gently patted my head and wished me goodnight. Instantly, I felt better. I was no longer scared. The room felt warm and comfortable. The raindrops eventually slowed into a soft pitter patter. Sleep came quickly as I closed my eyes and drifted off into dreamland.

Excerpt from “Under the Demerara Sun: A Memoir Of My Childhood In Guyana”

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