Newsletter
for alumni of The Abbey School, Mt. St. Benedict, Trinidad and Tobago, W.I.
Caracas, 15 February 2020 No. 954
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Friends,
Here is a narrative of the trip taken by Terrence
Ferreira from Guyana to Canada by Bicycle.
Maybe he is preparing a book on the event. The book
that one has to write in this life.
-------------------------------------------------------
Boy Scouts in Tunapuna, Trinidad: Harry
Laughlin and I prepared for a hike to Maracas Bay. [1963]
Terrence
Ferreira No
Allan it was taken by the owner of the gun and fellow scout and schoolmate John
Abraham .... nickname: Bram.
Allan Ramlall I just think that it looks so
classic - and belongs in a National Geographic.
Raymond
Girdharry Is
this the start for the long trip around South America then to USA on bike and
foot in support for the Mental forsaken people ....That must have been a
remarkable trip. I hope they make a short movie about it, then that will be
rewarding.... and a help for the forsaken ...
Terrence
Ferreira Raymond .... without a doubt New
Amsterdam was the genesis.... from the mental hospital to the ferry, so to
speak.
Terrence
Ferreira Yes
.... two years ago here is Harry with our high school soccer coach. This time around Harry's weapon of choice is a
dagger.
Arriving at Niagara Falls was confusing.
I finished healthy and in one piece, a
mystery in itself. I had traveled about
3000 miles more than I had promised Dr. Cheddi Jagan I would do, come what may,
the day before I left Georgetown for Kaieteur. My stammering had cleared up to the extent
that batteries of TV cameras, newspaper reporters, and public speaking didn't
scare me one bit. Quiet Noise had fostered
a homeless shelter, and had raised funds for mental health associations all
along the way. I had met bigwigs and
tons of small-wigs. Without doubt I had
received more blessing than I gave, and I had given a lot. Yet, in the back of my mind I knew that what I
had just accomplished, every mile of the journey, was probably all for naught. Even then I knew there was still a hell of a
long way to go before people would see things fairly.
Fifteen years later, today here in USA
our politicians are gearing up for presidential elections next year, our
prisons are wrongfully laden with mentally ill people, thousands more are still
homeless and roaming our streets, but no one dare address such issues during
their debates. Sitting on that railing
overlooking Niagara Falls somehow I knew, and I was bewildered.
Terry with woman and other rider: ‘In
late June Enrique Ramirez and I rode across Venezuela with Quiet Noise. We had first met in March on the day I broke
my wrist near the Brazilian border, ending up in Santa Elena a dusty town a few
kilometers north of the only land-border crossing between Brazil and Venezuela.
Pictured here though we are enjoying
happier times: glasses of ice-cold cane juice and a friendly vendor on a street
corner in El Tigre.’ – Terry Ferreira 96TF0011TFE
Terry sitting at a fruit stand: ‘Here
I’m enjoying a watermelon lunch in Venezuela about a week after I resumed the
ride. Lunches were always healthy and
reminiscent of my childhood roaming and enjoying the market at New Amsterdam. On the ride, at night, I would often force
myself to eat two dinners to provide fuel for the next day’s push.” – Terry
Ferreira
Terry sleeping between chairs: ‘With no
convenient place to sleep in Caracas, a priest gave me shelter in a classroom
between a stack of chairs. Bad sleeping
conditions were often a problem, leaving you worn out the next day. My lack of Spanish, too, was a problem; people
shouting at you as you rode by; you don’t know what they’re saying or what they
want.’ – Terry Ferreira took this picture of Jackie and me at right by his
homestead a half hour by bike to Orinduik Falls where we crossed into Brazil. For the first four days we essentially walked
through the bush to reach roadways in Brazil.’ – Terry Ferreira
Roadside along seacoast: ‘On Colombia’s
east coast, I spent an entire morning riding through loose gravel alongside an
endless convoy of trucks carrying asphalt. The dump trucks rumbled by inches away from my
shoulder. As they passed I’d have to
fight being sucked into their slipstream, truck after truck, hour after hour.
In the afternoon I ended up pushing my
bike through several miles of their roadwork with its hot asphalt; tar clogging
my pedals, tar on my tyres and spokes, tar on my shoes, tar all over the place;
making me feel as though I was creeping.’ – Terry Ferreira
Kaieteur Falls: ‘The pleasant March
morning Jackie and I arrived at Kaieteur Falls was the first time I thanked God
we were Guyanese.
I recall standing at the edge of the
gorge practically stunned by nature’s beauty, completely flabbergasted that I
didn’t know the magnitude and force of our country at all.
I reflected on my parents and on my
brother; the reason for Quiet Noise.
I said to Jackie, “Hear girl, scatter my
ashes here, eh.” Kaieteur is honey for the soul.’ – Terry Ferreira
Often when the pressure is on prudence
is not the easiest thing to navigate.
One late afternoon back in 1996 the
Quiet Noise bike ride brought that truism home for me on the Costa
Rican/Nicaraguan border, when I had to endure over an hour behind the captured
beast.
Instead of already showering and resting
up after a 80-mile segment, it was cow doo-doo by the yard.
A level head was prudent though.
-------------------------------------------------------------.
Saturday, August 27, 2011 3:47 PM
I'm sure many of us still have, hidden beneath our
socks where no-one else can see them, those little memories of our days at
school, when we first proved to ourselves that we were good at sports, able to
compete, able to outdo our peers and to win!
They are and always will be, our boyhood
treasures.
They instantly recall a moment in time when we met a
challenge, participated to the best of our ability and succeeded. They provide a reason for personal
satisfaction, a level of pride in achievement and a memory of friends and
classmates of long ago. They represent
an individual achievement, a target met and conquered, an objective realized. They give us, every few years or so, when we
unexpectedly run across them under our better socks, a sudden shock, as faces,
names and events quickly run across our minds, and we smile again, wondering
whatever happened to each of our friends of years long gone.
They're really not much. Just little blocks of wood, painted black or
brown, affixed to which are small circular tinned olive wreaths silvered or
bronzed, and in the centre of which are little circular medallions depicting
athletes in one or other sport, running, jumping, throwing a javelin, hurdling
or playing tennis. Others depict the
Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Holy Family and they
each carry a little plaque inscribed "ABBEY SCHOOL, TRINIDAD".
No! They're not much, really. They don't cost much. They're weathered and worn, tired emblems,
memories of our past victories. No one
else but ourselves will ever understand how we worked for them, practiced hard,
sweated and strained; how we worried about our competition, how immune we felt
as we stood at the starting line, and finally, our sense of elation as we
breasted the tape ahead of the field. (Personal Note: I never breasted the tape
ahead of anyone else. I was a hopeless athlete).
But they are our individual boyhood treasures. I think
I still have one or two (not for athletics) under my socks.
At our June 2006 Reunion at Rotilicious Restaurant in
Ajax, Ontario, Terrence Ferreira presented a box containing his own boyhood
treasures, memories of life at the Abbey School, Mt. St. Benedict. We had heard that there was a plan afoot to
utilize a small room at the Mount, perhaps in the original "Pax"
honey factory, to place items collected from or donated by the Old Boys to form
a sort of Museum of our life at the school, for visitors to admire.
It has always been my intention to ship these
treasures down to Trinidad, to the ASAA management, for inclusion in the
proposed Museum. But nothing more has
ever been heard about the project and I can assume only that it's now on the
back-burner, unless and until "things change" and it becomes a
reality.
Terrence's treasures also include a wonderful
collection of loose medals proclaiming his personal athletic prowess.
He had, as a little fellow, witnessed the Athletics
Champion of 1960, Richard "Turtle Back" Galt, winning the Senior
Victor Ludorum, as he stood directly behind him among the Abbey School boys . A
few moments later, he himself won the Midget Division Victor Ludorum.
Five years after his Victor Ludorum win, Terrence, now
in Form 5, captained the MSB Touring Team to Guyana, where his dad dutifully
kept clippings of the team's successes and Terrence's own achievements. Since we're talking here about Boyhood
Treasures, aren't these the kinds of memories one would keep tucked away in
privacy, to remind us of the fact that one day . . . . long ago . . .
we actually did these things. But thanks to Mr. Ferreira (T's dad) we
have these little memories to make us too, feel proud.
Terrence's Treasures also include his scout shirt, his
scarf, his scout belt, his arm patches, his First Class Scout Badges, and his
Catholic Scout Prayer Book. Here they
are, as a record of achievement, and as a stimulus for us all.
--------------------------------------------------------------,
Sorry to say that Terrence’s Treasures are misplaced
somewhere in Trinidad.
Maybe ASAA should look into this, Joseph Berment.
------------------------------------------------------------------.
EDITED by Ladislao Kertesz, kertesz11@yahoo.com, if you would like to be in the circular’s mailing list please
contact me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Photos:
96TF0010TFE, Terrence
Ferreira
96TF0011TFE, Terrence
Ferreira
96TF0012TFE, Terrence
Ferreira
70LK9577FBFRHIM, Fr.
Harold Imamshah
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.