Hello and Woof-Woof to you readers of this co
lumn. Always trying something different, the columnist Mr Fenty has given me some time and space to share just a few thoughts and observations with you today, a day amidst turbulent times.
I am Buddy, part Alsatian part German Shepherd, born and bred in the Eve Leary, Kingston area of Georgetown a few years ago. Just before my first British owner died he sort of donated me to the Guyana Police Force (GPF). I could do nothing much about that even though it was against my will, my choice or preference. You see, it was not that I, at the time of being made an operative of the Police Force's canine unit, felt superior or anything like that. But I just sensed, up front, that not all of my handlers would understand my style through my previous upbringing. I could not be just an ordinary sniffer dog like the other breeds I was made to accompany. My background and intelligence level were just simply a little different and evidently, a little above the others.
Yes, I Buddy am now a rebellious, Maverick sniffer dog or Canine Detective attached to the GPF to function at the Cheddi Jagan International Airport Timehri. Today is my day off and I'll explain why a litter later.
My primary function as you might guess, is to detect, through my high sense of specialised smell, any cocaine or marijuana any law-breaking passengers might be fetching in bags, suitcases or on their person. I was trained by both local police and British "Illegal-Substances" detectives. The things I have seen, heard, understood – and suspected! The people, of all races and classes and nationalities I've come into contact with! I can boast easily, that I am the best sniffer dog at the airport. My work has assisted both the GPF and CANU to detect and successfully prosecute dozens of drug mules and carriers. But things turned sour for me recently. Hence my day off this past Tuesday.
Most of my problems began when my regular handler fell ill and a stand-in "Narcotics Man" filled in for him. This fellow is horrible. He barks at me. He interferes with my work, my technique – and my very integrity. Through his clandestine conversations and deals, I realise that he is a rogue cop who profits from his association with certain prominent drug lords!
He absents himself from work and knows when to make me stay away from work for certain flights.
He tells his "confederates" what colour of suitcase to use; what other chemicals or odours to use with the illegal narcotics concealed in their baggage. And he becomes enraged when I defy his instructions and do my work! That happened last Monday when I sniffed out substances in a student's carry-on. That daughter of a low-level politician was a prize! You humans have probably read about it by now. Or seen it on television. So I had to stay in Georgetown this past Tuesday. I was so glad – in a sad way – however. More on that just now.
SNIFFING OUT SECRETS
Before I conclude this instalment let me explain that although I am not in the same category as a tracker dog or a guard dog, or sadly, even considered a pet, I hear other sordid things besides anti-narcotics issues. I have heard my police handlers tell of deals to acquire firearms for criminals. I have heard of schemes being hatched by Opposition-oriented policemen, in collaboration with political types, to continue confusion until elections. My tracker dog colleagues tell me of getaway, linked-up trails in the coastal sugar fields, used by the criminal gangs. For obvious reasons, the sugar workers are scared to speak!
And all this, it seems, is a grand plan to force the governing party to "open up". To back down and bow to certain demands – for sharing and including "outsiders". But even I, as a humble canine, suspect that, after all the destabilization and suffering, the ruling political elite will not surrender authority easily. It is going to be so much more tribulation for you Guyanese humans. Politics, of course, is not my business. Oh but how I wish I could speak!
FAREWELL BRUTUS
Remember I told you earlier that I was part German Shepherd? Well human friends, my cousin was none other than Brutus, the full, pure, "loving" German Shepherd belonging to the Sawh family which was so brutally slaughtered by bandits with an agenda. Talk about terrorism. Talk about speculation as to motives? But Mr. Fenty advised me not to dabble in the more political in his column!
I respect that, so I stick to telling you that in a cage in a truck, I was there to pay last respects to my cousin Brutus. Even children and dogs are not spared in this human carnage. Sad. The more I learn of humans the more I'm glad I'm a dog. Until.
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