Twinkle, twinkle, little ...
... firefly ?! ...
OK, today was a good day. For a variety of reasons. Though I still seem to be struggling with the sniffles and a chronic cough, thanks to a seasonal cold that seems to want to occupy my body permanently, I still made some time with friends this weekend. I needed company for thereapeutic reasons! And I was reminded of these friends again today, while driving to and from the local Loblaws for some groceries with the car radio blaring some quality soca music. Every Sunday, from 6:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m., the local "urban" radio station, plays lots of soca, old and new. The announcer has a Caribbean accent, which I find hard to place - there are so many islands in the British West Indies, but it never fails to remind me of my times spent on St. Kitts. My drastic improvement in mood started last night, though, as I was treated to a full evening of West Indian accents, when I got together with my fabulous "transplanted" Kittitian friends. These gals have been in Canada anywhere from 20 to to 30 years, or more, but they have not lost their Caribbean accents. When I listen to them, I always find myself relaxing and unwinding a bit. I am always carried away to that place that is a weird juxtaposition of welcoming, West Indian-style, tropical-island warmth and claustrophobic, in-your-face-archaic, British Colonial anachronism. I love it!
My Kittitian-Canadian friends seem to have "adopted" me. Much to the chagrin of some other friends whom I have known longer - they now have to "share" me! "No problems" my Kittitian friends say, "the others can come along too ... the more the merrier!" It's the West Indian way -and these gals seem to embody the same genuine qualities of gentle acceptance, dry humour and astute observations about people, politics, history ... heck, they can "wax lyrical" on just about anything and everything. These are the same qualities that many visitors to St. Kitts find pleasing and different from other tourist destinations. Kittitians embody almost universally keen intellect, sense of purpose, as well as a pride of nation and deep sense of self that is as refreshing as it is unique. They are who they are: take me as I am, don't try to change me and I'll take you as you are.
These same gals have dubbed me a "Kittitian by proxy." This is an honour, indeed. One which I don't take lightly, because Kittitians don't, as a rule give their trust easily. Sounds like a contradiction, based on how I just described Kittitians earlier, doesn't it? Well, to quote one young fellow who was trying to describe his homeland, "welcome to the island of oxymorons and contradictions!"
This duality was something that I was painfully made aware of back in 1988 when I first landed on my friends' home turf to spend an indefinite period of time in the then, very undeveloped tourist-designated area of Frigate Bay. These were the pre-Marriott days. Boy, did I have to jump through hoops, not on a daily basis, but sometimes on a minute-by minute basis; with hotel staff that I was required to work in collaboration, with bank tellers, store clerks, restaurant servers ... basically anyone who knew that I was not a tourist, but someone who was there for work.
My friends last night were talking about recent power failures on the island. The local energy service provider blew a transformer, and it may be some time before full power is restored. Listening to the inconveniences and frustrations that on again-off again power is causing for their friends and family members, brought to mind situations that I recall all too well. And in a way, I was secretly relieved that St. Kitts has not hurtled head-long into super-efficiency. It was almost refreshing to hear that some things haven't changed. Because over the last few visits, I have become painfully aware of just how much has changed on the island where nothing ever changes.
So, last night I was transported back to a night almost exactly twenty years ago. It was in October, 1988 when I finally felt the full welcome of total acceptance by the local contingent. After all, here I was just another North American, coming to the island with my "American" approach, over-relying on technology like computers, with no appreciation for the nuances and havoc that mother nature could wreak. It was hurricane season when I arrived. And I often heard how the weather, among other variables could easily knock out power - so what good would computers do? This in answer to why everyone did paperwork "long-hand." Well, lucky for me, I knew all about manual record-keeping, so I adapted quite easily and didn't miss electronic typewriters and computers too much.
It took a bit more time to be accepted by some of my fellow ex-pats: they were a tougher crowd to infiltrate. Perhaps because some of them were still feeling the sting and the bruising of having to jump through the particular hoops that the island and its citizens had placed in their path. Yep, some off the ex-pats were going to make sure that I was not about to have it too easy. But, in the end, I didn't care. And ironically, when I returned after a fifteen year absence, many of the more bitter "guests" from overseas were no longer on the island, some having moved on to "greener pastures" while others had succumbed to burnout, scandal, or homesickness. Of course the sturdy and adaptable - the ones who "get it" - those wonderful ex-pats are still there - and they have been joined by others, as the sister-isles of St. Kitts and Nevis, develop new hotel properties, restaurants and other forms of economic "drivers" to replace the recently defunt sugar industry. And there are numerour folks who are building homes in Frigate Bay, my old stomping grounds, rendering the hills above both North and South Frigate unrecognizable.
In the end, it only took eight weeks and a power failure to learn not to care about what other folks thought of me or my work. A Kittitian co-worker, sensing that after two months on island, I was finally at my limit with the delays, miscommunications and obstacles that are part of island life, and fearing that I might pack my bags and disappear as so many others had, took matters into his own hands. He drove back to the hotel after work hours and invited me to go for a drive in the hills around Frigate Bay. Now mind you, it was pitch-dark out there, but there was a crescent moon and a plethora of stars in the sky. And there were very few houses and even fewer roads than there are today, in the hills behind the hotel. Momentarily skeptical about where he would take me: as it was, the roads were really dark with few or no street lights, when the power was ON; I put my trust in this fellow and off we went. Off-roading around Fort Tyson, Frigate Bay and Half Moon Bay.
We finally stopped at the crest of a hill and got out of the car to enjoy the star lit night. The moon reflected off the Caribbean Sea as we gazed down on South Frigate Bay. There were so many stars in the sky that it almost looked like the angels had unwound countless bolts of rich black velvet fabric, upon which they had then strewn layers and layers of glitter dust, crystals and diamonds! And then looking down toward the Salt Pond, I thought I saw those stars reflected in its stillness. But when I refocussed my vision I realized what actually lay before me - in the grasses of the hills about Frigate Bay, and for what seemed like miles, where nested tens of thousands, perhaps millions, of fireflies! It took my breath away. For a moment, I was in complete awe, having never witnessed such a sight. The fireflies glowed and flitted around and settled down again in the gentle night breeze. And there were so, so many of them!
When I took in this magnificent panorama lit only by the cool glow of the billions of stars in the sky and the warmer, closer, yet more ethereal glow of the fireflies, I forgot about all the people-politics and the heat, the humidity, the recent rains and other stresses of the day. And it hit me: My friend was sharing something very profound and personal with me. This was his St. Kitts. Simple. As God made it. This tiny, green, volcanic little island, surrounded by sea. And my friend showed me that if I was really lucky, the island would accept me and the sign came when, at night the power and magnificence of the sea was completely dwarfed by a carpet of stars in the sky and a carpet of stars at my feet.
Acceptance into the fabric of this little island was hard-earned. But it was sweet!
OK, today was a good day. For a variety of reasons. Though I still seem to be struggling with the sniffles and a chronic cough, thanks to a seasonal cold that seems to want to occupy my body permanently, I still made some time with friends this weekend. I needed company for thereapeutic reasons! And I was reminded of these friends again today, while driving to and from the local Loblaws for some groceries with the car radio blaring some quality soca music. Every Sunday, from 6:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m., the local "urban" radio station, plays lots of soca, old and new. The announcer has a Caribbean accent, which I find hard to place - there are so many islands in the British West Indies, but it never fails to remind me of my times spent on St. Kitts. My drastic improvement in mood started last night, though, as I was treated to a full evening of West Indian accents, when I got together with my fabulous "transplanted" Kittitian friends. These gals have been in Canada anywhere from 20 to to 30 years, or more, but they have not lost their Caribbean accents. When I listen to them, I always find myself relaxing and unwinding a bit. I am always carried away to that place that is a weird juxtaposition of welcoming, West Indian-style, tropical-island warmth and claustrophobic, in-your-face-archaic, British Colonial anachronism. I love it!
My Kittitian-Canadian friends seem to have "adopted" me. Much to the chagrin of some other friends whom I have known longer - they now have to "share" me! "No problems" my Kittitian friends say, "the others can come along too ... the more the merrier!" It's the West Indian way -and these gals seem to embody the same genuine qualities of gentle acceptance, dry humour and astute observations about people, politics, history ... heck, they can "wax lyrical" on just about anything and everything. These are the same qualities that many visitors to St. Kitts find pleasing and different from other tourist destinations. Kittitians embody almost universally keen intellect, sense of purpose, as well as a pride of nation and deep sense of self that is as refreshing as it is unique. They are who they are: take me as I am, don't try to change me and I'll take you as you are.
These same gals have dubbed me a "Kittitian by proxy." This is an honour, indeed. One which I don't take lightly, because Kittitians don't, as a rule give their trust easily. Sounds like a contradiction, based on how I just described Kittitians earlier, doesn't it? Well, to quote one young fellow who was trying to describe his homeland, "welcome to the island of oxymorons and contradictions!"
This duality was something that I was painfully made aware of back in 1988 when I first landed on my friends' home turf to spend an indefinite period of time in the then, very undeveloped tourist-designated area of Frigate Bay. These were the pre-Marriott days. Boy, did I have to jump through hoops, not on a daily basis, but sometimes on a minute-by minute basis; with hotel staff that I was required to work in collaboration, with bank tellers, store clerks, restaurant servers ... basically anyone who knew that I was not a tourist, but someone who was there for work.
My friends last night were talking about recent power failures on the island. The local energy service provider blew a transformer, and it may be some time before full power is restored. Listening to the inconveniences and frustrations that on again-off again power is causing for their friends and family members, brought to mind situations that I recall all too well. And in a way, I was secretly relieved that St. Kitts has not hurtled head-long into super-efficiency. It was almost refreshing to hear that some things haven't changed. Because over the last few visits, I have become painfully aware of just how much has changed on the island where nothing ever changes.
So, last night I was transported back to a night almost exactly twenty years ago. It was in October, 1988 when I finally felt the full welcome of total acceptance by the local contingent. After all, here I was just another North American, coming to the island with my "American" approach, over-relying on technology like computers, with no appreciation for the nuances and havoc that mother nature could wreak. It was hurricane season when I arrived. And I often heard how the weather, among other variables could easily knock out power - so what good would computers do? This in answer to why everyone did paperwork "long-hand." Well, lucky for me, I knew all about manual record-keeping, so I adapted quite easily and didn't miss electronic typewriters and computers too much.
It took a bit more time to be accepted by some of my fellow ex-pats: they were a tougher crowd to infiltrate. Perhaps because some of them were still feeling the sting and the bruising of having to jump through the particular hoops that the island and its citizens had placed in their path. Yep, some off the ex-pats were going to make sure that I was not about to have it too easy. But, in the end, I didn't care. And ironically, when I returned after a fifteen year absence, many of the more bitter "guests" from overseas were no longer on the island, some having moved on to "greener pastures" while others had succumbed to burnout, scandal, or homesickness. Of course the sturdy and adaptable - the ones who "get it" - those wonderful ex-pats are still there - and they have been joined by others, as the sister-isles of St. Kitts and Nevis, develop new hotel properties, restaurants and other forms of economic "drivers" to replace the recently defunt sugar industry. And there are numerour folks who are building homes in Frigate Bay, my old stomping grounds, rendering the hills above both North and South Frigate unrecognizable.
In the end, it only took eight weeks and a power failure to learn not to care about what other folks thought of me or my work. A Kittitian co-worker, sensing that after two months on island, I was finally at my limit with the delays, miscommunications and obstacles that are part of island life, and fearing that I might pack my bags and disappear as so many others had, took matters into his own hands. He drove back to the hotel after work hours and invited me to go for a drive in the hills around Frigate Bay. Now mind you, it was pitch-dark out there, but there was a crescent moon and a plethora of stars in the sky. And there were very few houses and even fewer roads than there are today, in the hills behind the hotel. Momentarily skeptical about where he would take me: as it was, the roads were really dark with few or no street lights, when the power was ON; I put my trust in this fellow and off we went. Off-roading around Fort Tyson, Frigate Bay and Half Moon Bay.
We finally stopped at the crest of a hill and got out of the car to enjoy the star lit night. The moon reflected off the Caribbean Sea as we gazed down on South Frigate Bay. There were so many stars in the sky that it almost looked like the angels had unwound countless bolts of rich black velvet fabric, upon which they had then strewn layers and layers of glitter dust, crystals and diamonds! And then looking down toward the Salt Pond, I thought I saw those stars reflected in its stillness. But when I refocussed my vision I realized what actually lay before me - in the grasses of the hills about Frigate Bay, and for what seemed like miles, where nested tens of thousands, perhaps millions, of fireflies! It took my breath away. For a moment, I was in complete awe, having never witnessed such a sight. The fireflies glowed and flitted around and settled down again in the gentle night breeze. And there were so, so many of them!
When I took in this magnificent panorama lit only by the cool glow of the billions of stars in the sky and the warmer, closer, yet more ethereal glow of the fireflies, I forgot about all the people-politics and the heat, the humidity, the recent rains and other stresses of the day. And it hit me: My friend was sharing something very profound and personal with me. This was his St. Kitts. Simple. As God made it. This tiny, green, volcanic little island, surrounded by sea. And my friend showed me that if I was really lucky, the island would accept me and the sign came when, at night the power and magnificence of the sea was completely dwarfed by a carpet of stars in the sky and a carpet of stars at my feet.
Acceptance into the fabric of this little island was hard-earned. But it was sweet!
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