First of all, there is the Guyanese dollar, designed to blow away your sense of proportion. They ask for 200 dollars for the shortest taxi-drive, and a meal would be about a thousand. At 190 Guyana dollars to one American one, this isn't scandalous, but it's not fair to spring such tactics on faint-hearted first-time tourists. Georgetown is reported to have the highest crime-rate among all of the British West Indies. Actually, it comes across as a little city on a chill pill. There's pastel walls, bright clothes, and no worries in the air. The architecture is pleasing and understated, streets are simply named (Main Street, Middle Street, North Road), and men and women walk and talk with the easy rhythm that seems to dominate so much of life here.

They don't eat, breathe, sleep cricket in Georgetown - when Guyana brought home the Busta International Shield, there was no fuss at the airport. But when they drink, they sometimes talk of cricket. At a little corner-shop outside Bourda at high noon, over Ivanoff vodka and Banks beer, a passionate discussion on the Guyana boys ensues. Hooper is Sir Carl in these parts - the Rev. Wes Hall even called him that in his speech at a curtain-raiser press conference. Reon King's fate is argued upon. He will never be picked for West Indies again, asserts one. "The end is not in sight, my friend, it is already here."

You are invited to join the conversation with a joke that goes like:

"Are you Christian, maan?"

"No." The joke continues anyway.

"Why are they always sayin' Amen, Amen, never Awomen?"

"Don't know."

"It's because they sing hymns, maan, not hers."

Allround laughter shakes the roof.

Strange as it may sound for a country that forms part of the West Indies, Guyana's greatest population is made up of people referred to as East Indians. Sometime in the mid-1800s, after slavery was abolished, indentured labourers from India were brought into the country to work on sugar plantations. Today, they comprise half the nation; the president is of Indian descent, and so is the best-remembered politician, Cheddi Jagan. Several run curry shops, though you won't find duck curry easily in India.

It is revealing to find that a taxi-driver doesn't understand a single word of the Hindi film songs he listens to all the time. It is testament to an attachment to a country he has never been to, yet somewhat belongs to. Cricket is much the same. Schoolboys who land up at practice are excited to watch Tendulkar and Dravid, not merely because they are great and very good. There is a deeper connection.

A young man offers to drive around a senior Indian journalist he has grown up reading in magazines in the town library, and he listens intently to how Ganguly told Laxman not to remove his pads after the first innings at Kolkata. All this means something to him.

Despite this, the support will be overwhelmingly West Indian at Bourda. Still, expect at least some noise from the locals if India do something noteworthy.

More Roving Reporter
Rolled like a chapatti

© Wisden CricInfo Ltd