At the far end of Flag Island on the River Essequibo there's this long brick hall (see photo). It has tall, shuttered windows, the bell-tower of a little church and the body of a warehouse. Forts aside, it's probably the oldest building in Guyana. Inside there was a large expanse of flagstones, a cluster of well-laureled tombs, and a colony of bats. This was the creation of Dutch directeur-general, Laurens Storm van's Gravesande (1750-72), and it's often thought that he's still here, curled up under a slab. In its day, the hall had been a church, an office, a college, a slave market, and, most importantly, the Court of Policy.
From here, the great planters had declared dominion over an estate five times the size of Holland. They were men of exorbitant ambition, and each had a fancy title, like the Predicant, the Captain-commandant, the Vendue-Master and the Fiscal. Now all that remained of them were a few coloured pictures, each looking splendid in a breastplate and wig.
It's strange to think these people ruled Guyana. In a way, they didn't really rule it at all.
Of the land the Dutch claimed, ninety-six percent of it remained unvisited and unexplored. All they controlled was one brilliant, fertile edge. As for the rest, their power was illusory. Out there, this great hall might just as well have been a Council-in-the-Sky, or a Parliament of Ants.