Monday Morning, Part I

It’s raining. I don’t like to get out of bed when it’s raining. If I were at home in the United States, I wouldn’t. Instead, I would turn on the news, open up my computer, or read a good book. I would make a pot of coffee and unwrap a nutrition bar. I may emerge from the bedroom at noon. . . or maybe not.

Here, it’s different. This is the rainy season and it rains every day. June 1 is the official opening of the season as well as the beginning of hurricane season. Rain showed up on queue. At home, rain is an event to be savored. Here rain is a regular occurrence that needs to be managed. I never had an umbrella until I came here. I’ve managed to lose three so far.

Grudgingly, I got up and got dressed in a nice pantsuit. It will be hot and humid, but for this day, I must dress accordingly. I hope a pantsuit is appropriate. I brought one dress with me, but I’m far more comfortable in pants. The people on the island are very formal. I combed my hair and put on makeup. Brenda drove up at 7:00 a.m. and honked the horn. She works for the Ministry of Social Transformation as the Community Development Officer in my district. Just as my landlord John announced, “she’s coming”, I ran down the stairs and entered the small white four door compact car with over 250,000 miles on it. I introduced myself to the woman sitting in the backseat of the car. I was relieved when I inspected their clothes. They were both in pantsuits. We drove to the next village and picked up another passenger. She walks down the stairs in a flowing pink dress with a matching umbrella. She is incredibly beautiful. As she entered the vehicle, the door protests, squeaking and crackling. The little car is filled to capacity and we are on our way.

One woman attempts to roll the window down and it resists with a loud creaking noise. Brenda warns, “the sound means you need to stop trying to roll the window down”. The little white car chugs along while attempting a hill. The weight of four of us is apparent. The rain has subsided, the windows are down and we are traveling along the main two-lane highway tapping our fingers and toes to the blasting gospel music.

The music is lowered and the conversation is filled with judgments about increasing drug traffic, violence and abuse. The women conclude the only hope is to turn our lives over to God. We pass a pack of homeless dogs. “I wish I could take them all home” one of the ladies says. Everyone nods in agreement. Then she says, “I don’t like to see them shoot the dogs”. I just learned something new . . . the island has so many strays and this must be their way of controlling the population. I often wondered why there were not more strays. I responded with care and said, “I hope I never have to witness that. I’m sure it must be disturbing”. Everyone is in agreement. It is disturbing.

Dogs with homes are tied up in the backyard. Few people allow them in their homes. It took awhile for me to understand why they would tie them. Then I realized it’s because they are not spayed or neutered so it’s necessary to tether them to a tree. People are compassionate. They feed the strays and so it’s uncommon to see scrawny animals. I remember seeing starving animals in Honduras and Guatemala and it was heartbreaking. Homeless dogs here are well-fed. My landlady has two dogs tied in the backyard. They are loved. She found the second one, who she named Lucky, sitting on my porch recently. He was sick and weak. The vet came to visit, gave him medicine and she took him in. He really is Lucky.

I sat quietly for the next few minutes thinking of my toy poodle, Barkley Bear. He is groomed every four weeks and gets his teeth brushed and his nails clipped. He is fluffed and buffed and returned to me smelling like lavender shampoo. He’s with my sons who tell me the new ritual after grooming is to allow him to pick out a new chew bone as a reward for being a good boy at the pet spa. Each year he visits the veterinarian, who performs a vast array of tests, gives him shots and flea medicine and a clean bill of health. He is trained, well-mannered and a good companion for my two-year old granddaughter. My son Jay has the responsibility to take care of my financial matters during my absence. When I left I told him, “Barkley has a budget. Make sure he gets what he needs”. I love my dog and Elizabeth loves her dogs. The United States must control the dog population and as does Saint Lucia.

My thoughts are interrupted as we pull up in front of the Ministry of Social Transformation. I've been preparing for the past three weeks. It's been a stressful three weeks. Three trips to Castries, numerous phone calls to the United States, and endless emails asking for assistance and review have been my focus. In just a few hours, I can rest and hopefully reflect on the success of the day.