Here’s Looking at You

The people I’m renting my apartment from live downstairs. Elizabeth and John are probably two of the kindest and most gentle people I’ve met. The first full day I was here, I experienced an electrical problem. There was a loud pop and the television was dead. John came up to investigate and when he didn’t have an answer he called his wife. He said to me, “I’m so disappointed. We want you to be very comfortable here. We will get you another television.” They had an electrician here within a couple of hours who promptly fixed the problem, bringing the cable television back to life. Now, when you are on Saint Lucian time – that is lightening speed!

The morning of Jounen Kreywol, Elizabeth brought me a traditional breakfast. She knew I had been living on the other side of the village for the past few weeks, so she took me on a small tour, showing me the supermarket and the village bakery. Last night she came up for two reasons. The first was to ask me if I wanted to join her and other village people in the morning to re-paint the cross walk. I quickly said “Yes!” Although I wanted to say “Hell, no!”.

Many times I’d rather read a book or spend time alone. Other times I'm glad I say yes when I want to say no. This was one of those times. Things like this take me away from my comfort zone – then I remember that’s part of the reason I’m here. . . to get out of that zone. I had a great time, met some new people, and learned a new skill. . . painting on asphalt. Anyone who comes to visit me will be immediately taken to the spot that I painted. It’s impressive.

Getting out of my comfort zone leads me to explain her second reason for the visit. She said, “Do you like red snapper?” I told her, yes I do. She said she had some to give me. Great, I love fish! Then she explained that she had a previous volunteer who lived here. She said the first time she gave him snapper, the heads were still on and the bones were still in its little body. She said that he was a little turned off by its sight and from then on she needed to fillet them for him. I’m thinking, “Oh my gosh! You need to do that for me too!” But, I politely respond, “Yes, there are a lot of us from the United States who feel that way.” I was hoping she would hear the message.

She gave me a little bag this morning. They were wrapped in a black plastic bag so I was unable to get a visual. The whole day, I’m thinking – please God, let me see them the way I do in a restaurant…no heads, tail, bones or skin. I have been talking to myself all day, knowing I have to deal with this. It’s Brendan’s birthday and when I called him he said, “Mom, take pictures.”
Well, here they are. They are looking at me. This is terrible.

I’ve been slowly eliminating things from my diet for the past twenty years. First it was steak, then pork, then hamburger, then hot dogs. Then I started eliminating body parts – nothing but chicken breast, nothing with bones, definitely nothing ground. This was not a planned lifestyle, but rather a slow process of becoming completely disgusted at the thought of eating a chicken leg or a piece of rare steak, or even jello.

So, now they are looking at me. They gave their little life for me and this is anything but appetizing. I have to do it. It’s not fair to them if I don’t. I covered one of their little heads with the black bag. This way I didn’t have to look at them. I beheaded it. I’m so sorry. Then I did it again. I’m even more sorry.

Neither of these creatures have a head. Now it’s time to filet them. I had no idea what I was doing…but I think I came up with a good three ounces of meat.

I wrapped them up and put them in the freezer. The vision of what I had just done was too fresh. I will eat them another day. I promise. For tonight, I will eat leftover vegetarian pasta.