Tudo bem.

“Tudo bem?” I call out in me sing-songest Brazilian accent. Flash a smile as I slip from the back seat of we car, mamma-driver waiting for me to open the gate.

Brazilian chap coming from friends home down the street, is near we car now. He is brown-gold from top to toe…curls, huge eyes, torso, just-developing beer-belly bobbing slightly over shorts, knees, calves, bare feet...plenty o’ them is here, working for gold and diamond.

“Tudo bem,” all’s well, he grin, teeth slightly crookedy with tinges o’ coffee stain. Don’t know why he grin seem charming, musta been because it was warm, and because he eyes crinkle-up at the corners, gold laugh-lines on a twenty-something year old face.

Traitor, the Guyanese immigrant in ‘Merica might holler at me. I does imagine the immigrant keyboard clickety-clacketting rapid with fury, missing the irony of he situation as he type the letter he did send to a newspaper here late last year.

What are the rules in relation to Brazilian nationals coming into Guyana, he did ask. Is there a visa requirement? I would like to know what the government is doing about illegal minerals which are taken out from Guyana to Brazil. Also why is there a bridge which connects us to Brazil? This is very, very bad for Guyana. From my point of view, soon Guyana will be a Portuguese-speaking country instead of an English-speaking one. Georgetown has so many businesses which are owned by Brazilians. Why is the Guyana government allowing these people to come into the country like this?

Hey, I did want to say to the Guyanese-immigrant in ‘Merica...me brothers and sister live in other people countries; me aunties and cousins and uncles too...I hope them Big Countries don’t think that is very, very bad for them. And what about them Guyanese who been living in Brazil plenty-plenty years before Brazilians arrive here? I know that we Guyanese don’t take only the good when we travel, because people is people no matter what they do or where they go.

Them Brazilians bring every shade of id and ego – cooks, restaurant owners, hair-dressers, hotel-keepers and keepers of other businesses rhyming with hotels; dancing girls disappearing with Guyanese men behind stain-up, flimsy curtains in off-the-scene night-spots; drug-users, rapists; girls with bleach-hair and half-bare bums and short-short skirts; quiet young men working ‘n’ saving.

Across the road, before he move away to a different neighbourhood, Brazilian with the crookedy-coffee teeth sit alone at he doorway after work. Play music as the sun move to another place.

On Sunday, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road come from them new Brazilians, drifting high and low with the breeze, like music from a’ open bus or jeep that they cleaning.

And now and then on we radio, Sach Persaud, Guyanese who used to live in Brazil, does sing, Um dia, vou ganhar dinheiro. One day I will make money.