A recent video clip posted on Facebook prompted this letter. The narrator, clearly frustrated, showed a familiar scene ie, a flooded Mosquito Creek, lambasting the Government and in particular our PM's lack of concern or care for Southerners, using such colourful language that would make a sailor cringe.
Whilst not condoning his coarse narrative or the target of his attack, the actual content of the video echoes what Southerners have been silently enduring for decades.
Raised at Fyzabad and having attended high school in San Fernando, commuting along this heavily trafficked roadway brings a flood of memories. In the early 80s, confronting flood waters inching up to your car's hood was considered fairly routine. Bumper-to-bumper traffic jams from Oropouche Junction all the way to the end of the Creek, again, was just another inconvenience. Conversely, traffic jams from 'Benedicts' all the way back was an event we prepared for mentally. Less appealing, though, was having to drive through Woodland, mindful of the horrific state of the rural roads back then. Hoarding bottles of water in your trunk in case of overheating or to loan a distressed driver, was a must. Most days, forward-thinking wreckers did a decent enough trade.
I remember in my teens, the many times arriving at school late, joining the 'late line' and getting off with just a 'slap on the wrist' by the mere mention 'well sir, I coming from Fyzo'. Envious classmates from the environs were not that lucky.
After school, late into the evening, I recall standing 'outside de hospital' for hours on end, trying desperately to get a car home whenever the Creek flooded. Our designated taxi stand is at the bottom of Lord Street, but if you must get home, you must catch one of the few taxis at the hospital turn off. Pushing, pulling, and cussing was the order of the day. Getting into a taxi only to realise three others already shoved their way in from the other end caused mild disputes which were settled only by an already stressed out driver.
Growing older and finally having my own car, I quietly identified with my fellow drivers as we passed alongside each other on this troubled but picturesque stretch of road. I saw tired drivers with sweat dripping and lines of frustrations etched on every passing face. Air conditioning, back then, was for the privileged. It was a look of defeat equally extended to listless children after a long day at school. Not to be outdone, perched high, and ingeniously creating a lane of their own, truck drivers, aka 'demons on wheels', came barrelling down through waist-high floodwaters at ungodly speeds, sending cascading waves of rust-induced saltwater onto already irate drivers. Again, profanities were hurled, the likes of the narrator, to the excitement of all.
For us daily commuters, the struggle was real, but we somehow managed to chug along, choosing instead to admire, indisputably, the most amazing sunset found only at the Mosquito Creek. Full moons (translation: high tides), on the other hand, were looked upon with some despair, whilst majestic rainbows stretching over the Gulf were just a delightful sight to behold.
Frustrations led the narrator to post that video clip which he aptly titled 'Smh...nobody f......g cares!!! echoing precisely what Southerners have felt for decades. Comments on his post were intriguing, to say the least.
Back in the day, we had normal two-way, potholed riddled roads from Oropouche Junction, all the way to San Fernando. Fast forward today, we enjoy spanking new dual carriageways complete with traffic lights, intelligently placed round-a-bouts, working street lights on both sides, newly constructed drainage, proper road markings with raised cat eyes, and crash barriers. Save and except for this beleaguered Mosquito Creek stretch, this massive project is already bringing about much relief for us Southerners. I'm certainly no expert, but I do believe constructing a dual carriageway sitting atop an age-old mangrove just parallel to the Creek, is no simple engineering feat. Unforeseen circumstances, including change of governments and primary contractors, did not help any, hence the frustrating delay of completion. And whilst I can identify in part with the narrator, I will say to him that relief is nigh. Already, commuting from one point to another, on completed sections, is a breeze.
Like you, good sir, I have been waiting my whole life to see an end to this perennial inconvenience at the Mosquito Creek.
Barry S Bissessar
Fyzabad