Snippets: Things to Remember

A cool breeze strengthens and I look up and the sky is purple. It’s a good indication that I need to step up my pace and head for shelter before the down pour. These are the moments when I pause to reflect that I’m living in a village on an island.


It’s a nice night for a walk. I walk down the street, passing make-shift houses in between a few sturdy modern homes. Dogs are wondering in the streets and people are sitting outside enjoying the cool breeze of the evening. People greet me with “Hi Karen”. My village has a lot of bars and I pass by several in the two blocks. There are crowds of men and women in the streets with beer in hand. Country music is so loud it leaves my ears ringing. Many of the people I tonight, I will see sitting outside the hardware store in the morning. Jobs are not easy to find.


I’m working in my bedroom and enjoying the fresh air blowing through the room when I hear the sound of steel pans. I look out my window and see the Catholic Church; lighted and the doors open. I quickly dress and head for the church which is less than a minute from my house. I walk into the church and sit in a pew. A few friends notice me, smile and wave. The music is nice and children are dancing up and down the isles as the musicians practice. It is casual and a happy place. The church is where people worship but also where people congregate to have fun.


I walk down the road and smell the chicken cooking on the coal pot. A woman is roasting corn by the roadside. There are a few bananas and a couple of heaps of grapefruits sitting on the ground next to my favorite vendor. She is holding her grandchild who is less than one year. She gently rocks her grandchild in her arms while selling her fruit.


The cucumber vendor is just down the street. Many times she is upstairs inside her home. The cucumbers are left downstairs, sometimes with prices on them, sometimes not. To buy them, I must knock on her door and give her the money…trust is a matter of environment.


Turning the corner I say a quick hello to Jeffrey. He is an elderly and lonely gentleman who just lost his wife of fifty plus years. James, mentally impaired and always with a smile calls out, “Hello my lady”. The children in the village excitedly jump up and down saying, “Miss, Miss” when I pass. I like the people in my village.


There is a goat clearing the weeds from the cracks in the street. He looks at me, unimpressed, makes a goat noise and goes back to eating his snack. I look over and there are a half dozen more goats tending to the soccer field. Two pigs cross the road and there is a horse beyond the chain link fence tied to a tree. In the distance I hear dogs barking and roosters crowing. There is a mother hen and her chicks flapping about in the gutter water. Life seems so basic.


There is a fundraiser for the village Steel Pan Band. They need covers for their instruments. They are roasting fresh bakes and Dahl in large Dutch ovens sitting on coal pots. They are barbequing chicken and hot dogs. There is ice cream for dessert and plenty of beer at the bar. A few nights ago they were looking for additional ways to make money. They would be making money on food and drink, but they needed to make a little more. I explained Fre-Way Little League’s 50/50 raffle. Tickets cost $1 each and the pot is split 50/50. They liked the idea. They raised another $80 but called the raffle Half and Half. My Little League experience has proved to be quite useful in recent weeks. As the musicians are beating on the steel pans young children form a chain and line dance. Simple things are sustainable.


On a recent evening, I walked the darkened streets and maneuvered my way through the crowds of people, I think about how safe I feel in my village. It never stops surprising me. I approached a house with the colorful lights and there is a lighted sign that says “Merry Christmas” and lights in the shape of bells with more lights outlining the windows. My glasses easily fog in the evening humidity.


I’ve been here long enough now to learn the secrets of Saint Lucia, the secrets of my village. I recently learned why it is so difficult to get a chess club started here. It had to do with a village secret, something only whispered about – likely whispered in Kweyol. It took a trusted friend from the inside to fill me in. It’s a small community and gossip is a past time. Consequently, there are things that are simply not talked about, but swept under the rug. I’m beginning to hear the details. These are the ugly truths that lurk within societies. We have them in the United States. They have them here. Some are the same, others are not. Secrets can be difficult to hear when I’m powerless to make a change.


I met a couple on the internet, Greg and Karen. We connected through this blog. Although they live in Brooklyn, Greg is originally from Saint Lucia and they are planning to move here. Greg came for a visit and I have spent some time with him in the last couple of days. He took me to a primary school in the south. We spent some time with the principal before going into a classroom to help. The principal told a story of used teddy bear donations she receives. She gives each child a teddy bear during the holidays. Some lucky children will receive a used teddy bear for Christmas.


There is a fine line between hope and no hope. In the end it matters which line you choose to stand in. It can change the course of a life. Sometimes it’s harder to get into the line that encourages hope.


As my service charges through my second year, I find myself looking at my surroundings in a reflective manner. I want to capture the details and remember the fine points. There are many things I know I will miss and it is becoming increasingly important to record these pictures into my mind. I won't miss the ants that are crawling on my computer.