Both the earthquake and tsunami catastrophe that struck in the Far East, and the fire that destroyed the Sacred Heart Church in Georgetown on Christmas day, have had a stunning effect on many of us. In Asian countries and in Africa, it is reported that the death toll could rise to over 150,000. Although there was no loss of life in the fire in Guyana, the church and historic monument that stood on Main Street for close to a century and a half (143 years) is gone.

With many thousands of innocent lives lost in the tsunami and damages amounting to billions of dollars, we have seen the poor and the high and mighty, smashed by a hand rising from the sea. Many are asking why?

Some say that the Lord is not sleeping and it’s the hand of God – the beginning of the end – the last days that we read about in the Bible. Others say it’s the work of the devil – only a demon could be so destructive. Some say it’s a random act, the work of nature or an accident, things that happen from time to time but rarely with this level of destructiveness. What are we to believe?

Some wonder why poor people or poor countries tend to suffer the brunt of these tragedies? A simple answer is that there are many more poor countries than rich countries. Some query whether it can happen in North America? Apparently so, as we are not immune from natural disasters, be it hurricane, earthquake, snow storm or blizzard.

I received the news of the Sacred Heart church and school fire on Christmas morning. Many memories flooded through my mind. This was the church at which I was baptized, as were most of my siblings. The Sacred Heart School was the first school I attended – li’l ABC and big ABC in the late 40’s.

I remember my father taking me to the school that first morning on his bicycle and dropping me off. As he started to leave, I began to bawl the place down! One of the teachers – a nun, brought me a banana that kept me quiet and gave him a chance to get away.

I attended mass at the Sacred Heart church over the years I lived in Guyana and even did my first public speaking there as a teenager, doing a Bible reading to a packed congregation during a service. This was the church where the hand bells chimed sweetly, sounding the passage of time, the angelus calling Catholics to prayer, pealing joyfully for weddings and tolling slowly and sadly for funerals. Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, when I heard the angelus bells of Sacred Heart ring at morning, noon and sunset, I stopped, blessed myself, and said a prayer.

The church, originally built to cater to Portuguese immigrants to British Guiana who could attend mass there in their native language, opened at midnight mass at Christmas 1861. Ironically, the fire that burned it down, was at Christmas morning mass. It was reportedly started by electrical candles in the crib by the altar.

Traditionally, leading up to Christmas, Catholics made a special effort to go to Christmas Novena at Sacred Heart for nine days before Christmas. To celebrate Novena, the church opened its doors at 3:00 a.m. and mass was ushered in with the singing of the Portuguese hymn Benidita Sejaes. The mass concluded with the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.

Many Catholics also looked forward to attending the Christmas Nativity Pageant and midnight mass at the Sacred Heart church where some of the old Portuguese traditions were re-enacted, costumes and all.

As I recall, the Good Friday service also saw a packed church, with parishioners spilling over outside. Besides the regular churchgoers, there were the "closet Catholics" – those who came to church once a year, like an uncle of mine, to get their dress suits aired out and sins cleansed, all at once. He rode all the way over from Brickdam. Needless to say, these reluctant churchgoers became the topic of conversation of some of the regulars after the service was over.

To honour the Golden Jubilee of Pope Leo XIII in July 1893, the church was described as a ‘grand illumination of three thousand lights, the finest ever seen in Georgetown’. In 1898, the commemoration of the fourth centenary of the voyage of Vasco de Gama, the Portuguese navigator, saw the transformation of this edifice with a décor of garlands, flags, buntings and lights. The church was also reported to be included as one of the 13 monuments selected in Georgetown’s nomination as a World Heritage Site.

Charitable groups, societies, guilds, religious organizations, the Catholic Library and I believe the Catholic Standard newspaper at one time, operated out of the Church and its confines. Many priests and nuns come to mind, good people who have now passed on.

The last time I entered Sacred Heart church was on a visit to Guyana in 1995 when I attended mass. The place was virtually empty, the congregation mainly nuns, religious and aged, gathered up front. I sat at the back in my usual spot, and got caught up on the news, speaking to a lady selling the Catholic Standard at the rear of the church.

She said everybody had gone away, mostly to Canada and the States, and she would leave too, if she could. She then ran through a list of the names of her relatives in Canada, asking me if I knew any, and to give them her regards. I thought it sad, the place now a shadow of its former self, almost ghostly, awaiting the last rites, symbolic of the country.

The Sacred Heart church will be re-built some day from the ashes, I’m sure. Guyana too will rise up, free of the demons that have shackled it – such is my belief. The survivors of the tsunami will pick up the pieces, with our help and God’s mercy. No man is an island. Don’t send to ask for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for you and me. If the creeks don’t rise and the sun still shines, I’ll be talking to you.

My family and I went to Guyana for ten days in late October. On the ride from Berbice to Georgetown, I witnessed a sight that could act as a metaphor for Guyanese culture. The road was so disorderly with cars driving way too fast, pedestrians crossing when they shouldn’t, cows plopped in the middle of the lanes, and road construction everywhere. But, amidst all the disorder was a straight line of students coming from school, lining the street in their green and white uniforms. Such order, such consistency, such cooperation, such discipline. Here we had the perfect image of two very unlike things side by side. As my trip went on, I realized that the uniqueness of Guyana’s culture lies in its ability to put these contrasting parts of its puzzle together despite their apparent disparities.

The diversity of Guyana is also seen in the people of varied ethnicities who reside there. The cultures and traditions of these people are not homogeneous. Nor are they all isolated from one another and dissociated. Rather, the people of the different cultures - Indian, African, Chinese, Portuguese, and Amerindian - have altered certain aspects of their own cultures by accepting elements of the other cultures while simultaneously maintaining much of their original beliefs, values and traditions.

Another example of the contrasting parts of Guyana’s puzzle can be found in the sights on the way to Georgetown from the Cheddi Jagan International Airport. Often, I saw small wooden shacks placed directly beside large beautiful homes. The shacks sometimes had Coca-Cola signs painted on them. Over time, it appears that the people who lived in the shacks earned enough money to expand their starter home and/or build a larger home. As well, this was a reflection of the rich and poor living side by side, though this does not negate the increasing existence of gated communities in Guyana. This is another example of the contrasting complexity found in Guyana.

In the Belair estate, a wealthier part of the city, there was a man and his family driving in a donkey cart while he spoke on his cell phone. This was a very odd combination. It reminded me of other parts in Georgetown where the cars were very old and beaten up but everyone had new shiny rims on their wheels.

In Georgetown, among the numerous nightclubs, the two most popular ones are Buddy’s and Avalanche. The architecture of Buddy’s is totally different from any other structure in Guyana, and it’s very noticeable. This four-storeyed entertainment centre is a dance club, pool hall and restaurant all in one. At night, it becomes alive with red lights and lanterns on the outside of the building, giving it a very Asian look. Inside the dance club, young people of every nationality could be found. There were individuals visiting from Barbados and Trinidad as well as contract teachers from England. The DJ’s played an interesting mix of music including music by Boy George followed by an Indian song and then the latest hip hop and R&B. I was caught off guard when I saw white, black and even Asian people dancing Indian style to the Indian music. In addition to the nightclubs, a new outdoor bar, Selena Resort, on the seawall in Kitty, Georgetown is the hottest new attraction. There is nothing better than sipping a cold Red Square while enjoying the salty smell of the Atlantic, and feeling the humid breeze on your face.

I couldn’t do much dancing at Buddy’s because my left foot and ankle were badly swollen from a number of insect bites. I went to see Dr. Harricharan, a doctor in Georgetown, to get help for the stiffness and swelling. The doctor’s office was very old fashioned. I didn’t have to wait very long. He took one look at my leg and diagnosed an infection. After I received an injection in my hip, the doctor sent me home with some pink ointment in a film canister and two different types of tablets packaged in thin folded paper. He wrote all the instructions I needed right on the paper. No need for computerized labels. It was a nice change from being in Toronto where my doctor normally sends me to a separate pharmacy to wait in line for my prescription. The visit was quick and painless. Instead of sending me off with a lollipop, on my way out the doctor said "don’t worry, the swelling in your leg will go down soon, and after that, lots of boys will look at you at the wedding."

The next day, 11 of us managed to fit into a minibus on our day trip to Parika Market and then back to De Willem on the West Coast of Demerara. At Parika Market, we were surrounded by a number of unsuspecting sights; random cows and goats roaming the market, and a man with a large container filled with baby chicks, which he sold for $100 each. My favorite snack was the fresh phoulourie and sour sold in brown paper bags. Along the way to the West Coast, a number of people had roadside stalls set up, where they sold fresh fruits and vegetables. The minibus easily pulled over and purchased the items without leaving the vehicle. My brother and I coined the term "Guyanese drive thru grocery shopping."

The following day, we visited Number 41 Village, West Coast Berbice, where my father grew up. We were heartily welcomed by dozens of his cousins and in-laws. I did not expect to see that some of my father's cousins were a mix of Afro and Indo Guyanese, or Dougla. Interestingly, they considered themselves full Indians. My uncles such as Johnny Ross (Sobal), Vibert Ross (Calo), and Cecil Ross (Broogville) couldn’t be happier to welcome us and reminded me of how much I looked like my aunts who now live in Canada. We all stood in the backyard of the house where my father grew up, while Calo quickly climbed the coconut tree and picked some water coconuts. We gulped the coconut water, and scooped up the jelly from the middle using spoons made from the coconut shell. The family laughed and laughed as they reminisced about how their nicknames came about and stories from when they grew up. Shortly after, we congregated at the village cake shop across the street. All of the cousins began singing old country songs together, with live background music from the table they were knocking like drums.

I spoke with the lady who now lives in my dad’s old home. Joy White, 40, lives in the house with her fifty-year-old husband, here thirteen-year-old son and her mother-in-law. In conversation, I learnt that Mrs. White was married at the age of 26. With a vibrant smile on her face she described to me a typical day in her life: "I wake up early to make my husband breakfast and lunch for him to take to work […] he works with the water pipes. Then I wake my son up for school, and send him off in the minibus, it’s $40 to go and another $40 to come back" This is all in addition to the costs of books and uniforms. She counted that it was very expensive.

"During the day, I chat with my mother in law, and we do the chores and cook dinner […] When my husband comes home, we clean the yard together, eat dinner and then go to bed."

Mrs. White seemed very content as she went through this description. She seemed especially excited when she made mention of her husband Brian White, 50. That excitement could also be seen for her only son, William. Normally, when William came home from school he "plays with the ball in the field, but doesn’t go too far […] it's not safe for him to go far, and he likes to read" said Mrs White.

When asked what the family does for entertainment, Mrs. White said they liked to sing hymns around the dinner table. William listened to music on their small radio. He lives so far from Hollywood and New York City but his mom said he knew the words to all the rap songs on the radio.

Mrs. White was quiet, but nonetheless very warm and friendly. Though her family was not very wealthy, she insisted on sending me away with a fresh papaya and some pigeon peas.

Certainly, I found this all interesting having grown up in Toronto where I do not go a day without checking my e-mail, watching TV or talking on a cell phone. It was reassuring for me to see Mrs. White’s happiness because it proved that one could be happy without any of these modern gadgets.

Mrs. White said she always knew as a young girl that she would get married and stay at home with her family. In Georgetown however, the young people have a very different outlook to life.

Melissa Gounga-Khan, 17, is an upper 6th form student, as well as a senior prefect at St. Stanislaus College in Georgetown. She aspires to become a certified accountant and says she will attain her career objectives and then worry about getting married and having children. She hopes to marry an educated man who will help support the family financially and assist with the chores.

Gounga-Khan said, "becoming an accountant is so much more attainable than becoming a doctor or a lawyer, something every parent in Guyana wants their child to become, especially in the rural areas."

When asked about university degrees, Gounga-Khan said it’s worthless to get a degree from the University of Guyana (UG) because it will not be recognized outside of Guyana unless she pursues her studies for an additional year at a different University. She said "people with degrees and people without degrees both get the same jobs and get paid the same, so what’s the point?" For Gounga-Khan and her friends' university degrees were not considered prestigious.

A typical day for Gounga-Khan is comprised of waking up at 6:30 a.m. and going to school, which is followed by extra lessons almost every day. At home, in the evening she watches TV and does her homework. "On the weekends me and my friends go out for dinner at places like Pizza Hut or go for walks by the seawall."

Sherry Ramroop, 17, one of Gounga-Khan's friends, has similar views regarding degrees and marriage. However, Ramroop said, "I want to move to Canada, I like the people, the schools, the variety of clothes, and the boys." She would also be able to see her relatives in Canada more often.

She hopes to study a combination of business, technology and accounting. Eventually, Ramroop would like to work with the World Bank in Manhattan.

"I don’t love Guyana, I like it, because the laws are less rigid and we have more freedom." She said most young people in the rural areas of Guyana today grow up with the mentality that they will one day leave the country, while young people in town want to stay because life is good. Sometimes she can’t decide if she wants to stay or go.

My trip to Guyana gave me a feeling of warmth and happiness because I saw the country in which my parents grew up making progress. There was road and bridge construction going on in many villages and more tourist attractions were being built. The police officers were out in full force, doing random checks to ensure adherence to the seatbelt rules. The safety of the citizens is a visible priority. When I went to Guyana, I saw a country moving forward.

Everything, including the houses, the streets, the clubs, the doctors' offices, the markets, the food, the countryside, the city, and most importantly the people in Guyana are immersed in a unique and diverse culture that can only be found in Guyana.