This is the great seawall at Meten-Meer-Zorg in Guyana. Beyond the wall is the Atlantic looking sludgy and pink, like a desert of sediment except slightly more choppy. This sludge has been carried here from the heart of the South American continent by the Amazon, and this tainting of the sea continues all the way up past Venezuela.
On this side of the wall, the land is often lower than the sea level. Thus, the Guyanese were grateful for their wall, even if it was a legacy of the Dutch, built by slaves. It isn’t the only legacy of the Dutch. Another, more immediate, reminder of Holland is to be found in the place-names, scattered through the landscape.
Sometimes, in West Demerara, it feels as if the Dutch have never left. Among others, there’s Reed-en-Rust and Vreed-en-Hoop, Blankenburg, Den Amstel, Tuschen-de-Vrenden (or ‘Between Friends’), and even a miniature Hague.
I enjoyed these places. They were like fleets of little boats, moored in the drain. Everything was painted in glorious colours, for fear of not being noticed. I remember a huge, old cinema, looking like a bridesmaid, and a small café called ‘Christ’s Professional Fish Shop.’
Did modern Zeeland still look like this? Somehow, I doubted it. These were old plantations, and this was the landscape of slaves.
