All That Glitters: A Guyanese Folktale Story

Not that long ago, there was a man who had been searching for 'the one'.

Someone he could share his life and wealth with. Lionel was his name and he was tall and broad like the Mora tree, with shoulders stretching towards the sky. His skin was the deepest shade of midnight. His search had led him through villages, towns, countries, and even across conti-nents. He'd seen many wonders and collected many exquisite garments and treasures.

His search took him to the northern tip of Guyana, with its dense rainforests and deep gold mines. He sailed across the wine-dark Essequibo river until he reached the larger of the West Demerara islands.

Here, he happened upon a small village known as Free and Easy. No one really knows how it came to have that name. I like to think it's because the people there are so laid back and welcoming. Free and Easy is a long walk from the mainland. With only the blistering heat for company, Lionel slung his blue, silk suit jacket over his shoulder, unbuttoned his crisp white shirt and strolled along the dirt track, carrying two leather cases from Marrakesh in each hand.

People shuffled past, cows raised their sleepy heads and eyed up this stranger in their land. As with any small village, news of his arrival spread fast, blowing in on the sea breeze with faint smells of lime trees and fresh coconut.

'You see that tall, dark-skinned man? Did you catch his gold bracelet? His leather cases?'

Lionel strolled along and smiled at the ladies selling shave ice on Durumroad. He nodded at the men, liming outside of the rum shop, sipping their Banks beer. He soon came to a wooden house on giant stilts. It was the only boarding house in the village.

It was painted a flamboyant blue, with a sign hanging from the porch that read 'Alana's Place'. Singing was coming from within:

I don't know if it was the voice that captivated him or the smell of frying fish and spices, but Lionel drifted up those steps and into the house. He followed the singing, which took him to the kitchen where Alana was. He saw her halo of thick black hair, hips swinging from side to side and hands stirring and turning at the stove.

Alana looked up and drank in his gaze.

'And what breeze did you blow in on?' Her voice was music to his ears.

She smiled. Without missing a soca beat, she carried right on singing.

From that moment on they were inseparable. The next day, she showed him around the village.

'Here is the rum shop run by my cousin Leicester. Here is the post office that receives post once a month from the mainland. This is the cassava farm? Her face lit up, like morning sunrise when she spoke. Villagers shook their heads and whispered,

'What a fuss she is making over this stranger?

The next night Lionel told her stories of his travels. And what a storyteller he was!

'Let me tell you about the time I chased away the Lagahoo? For those of you who may not know, the Laga-hoo is what some may call a were-wolf. Neighbours gathered around him, sharing tales like they did every night under the moon's bright eye.

'Come close. Let me tell you how my friend met his death, at the hands of La Diablesse. For those of you whomay not know, some say La Diablesse is a 'she-devil'.

The days and nights went on like that, with Alana cooking and singing for him and Lionel dazzling her with his stories. Soon he proposed and she accepted. But her family was not so keen.

'What do you know about him?' asked her father.

'He's just showing off himself,' said her brother

'Give the local boys a chance nuh,' said her sister.

'All that glitters is not gold,' said her mother.

Cast your mind back to when you were young and deliriously in love. Would you have heeded a warning from your family? They married under the scarlet flame tree in the courtyard of the village church. Without so much as a second glance, they set off for Lionel's home, across the Caribbean Sea.

When they arrived in Trinidad, Lionel explained, 'I need to return something I borrowed from a friend?

He gave back his beautiful leather-bound cases from Marrakesh. Alana thought nothing of it. They continued to sail on through Grenada and when they arrived he said the same thing, 'I need to return something I borrowed from a friend? He gave back his exquisite, blue silk suit, from Sukhumvit road in Bangkok. Alana thought, 'That's a shame, he looked so smart and attractive in that?

When they stopped off in St Vin-cent, she marvelled at its white sandy beaches and coconut palm trees towering above them. They feasted on pumpkin soup, breadfruit and the legendary fried jackfish. In the midst of their honeymoon bliss, Lionel met a friend and gave back his gold bracelet.

Alana was growing deeply suspicious now and asked, 'Is there anything you own?'

But this carried on at each island.

When they stopped off in Barbados, that slice of paradise that you cantour around in a day, they dined on flying fish and he gave back his crisp white shirt.

In St Lucia, he gave back his gold tooth.

In Dominica he gave back his gold watch and chain.

In Montserrat, the Pompeii of the Caribbean, known for its dramatic volcanoes, he gave back his gold wedding ring.

In Antigua, he gave back his hair-piece.

In Puerto Rico, he gave back his legs.

In Haiti, he pulled out his eyes.

Fear crept over Alana's face like a spider in the night.

'Oh lord', she cried. 'I married a jumbie’. She was right. Lionel was a demon spirit who had finally revealed his true self. Alone on the island of Hispaniola between the Caribbean Sea and the north Atlantic Ocean, her mother's words came back to haunt her: 'All that glitters is not gold’

The end