Spice Island (Grenada) Impressions: Installment 6

By: aromaproductions on 9:31 PM

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Spice Island (Grenada) Impressions Day nine,

Monday 22, July, 2013

We are up at 5:30 a.m., this morning, as we take an early bus back to St. Georges. The bus becomes more crammed as it picks up passengers along the roadside. There are no official bus stops. My knee is painful as this bus is not as spacious as others we have driven in.  

We are driven over many hills and pass many town and villages along the rough Atlantic coast. 

The coast is covered by huge gray boulders that create a natural wall against the bashing waves. There is little sand and swimming is dangerous. Many fisher boats are out at sea. I can see men pulling in boats with ropes. The fishermen balance themselves well. They hang on to huge nets which flow over the side of their boats. The fish markets are empty and are waiting for the fishermen to bring their catch to shore.

 The “treaveau,”roadside workers, men and women of all ages, are already out cutting grass and picking up litter. There are small groups in every village we pass. This government supported scheme provides work for the unemployed in villages for a minimum wage.

We are finally in St. Georges. My knee is throbbing from the crammed bus, the numerous speed bumps we bump over, and my carry-on-luggage which has been resting in my lap and on my kneecaps. I struggle to get out of the bus. We head to bus section number four where buses to St. Paul’s Parish are stationed and are waiting to take on passengers. 

Arriving home around 8:00 a.m., we begin to unpack and plug in our various electronic gadgets. My I-Phone is hot like it has been sitting in the sun and refuses to work. I think it is burnt out maybe from my photo taking. I dig out my camera which I have been ignoring until now and pack it in my handbag. Does this mean no more Facebook uploads?

 My husband learns from the workers renovating his property that he must buy sand and gravel, and soon after his arrival, he heads back to St. Georges.

I am at home trying to use a new washing machine that can’t move beyond the wash cycle and water is flooding the bathroom floor. I go in search of a mop and while looking around the patio below, I see a snake slithering down the garden bank behind the patio.

There is no need to panic. I am not within its reach.  I locate the mop and I figure out the problem that is causing the flood. Other problems with the washing machine remain. I am desperate, but can’t do much. My husband will have to locate the booklet so I can read its instructions.

My washing is hung. I have figured out a way to wash and rinse despite the machine getting stuck and beeping, like it is crying for help, at the rinse cycle. 

I am surprised that the clothes are not dry by 6:00 p.m., but realize that the clothes were not wrung dry.

I am finally introduced to my young neighbor who lives in the second apartment. Her name is Carville Edwards and she is thirty one years old and works for a shipping company near St. Georges. We chat awhile. She had done her washing too and they are hung up on a line strung up around the apartment’s veranda.  She tells me that the clothes usually take all day to dry. I can understand this as during the day there are sudden rain showers and I have seen neighbors dashing to grab up clothes before they are drenched again. It is probably the same during the raining season in Liberia. The dry season in Liberia, though, offers a quick dry. Clothes hung out can be picked up after a few hours. They are crisp and stain-free because of the concentrated sun.

I walk pass the beautiful murals which depict the history of the Caribs and the Arawaks the original inhabitants of the Caribbean islands. It is a beautiful scene to pass by everyday on the way to the Blue Danube shop.

Today I am on my way to buy roti for dinner again. I think it is our fourth roti dinner. I wanted a different dish after three days of eating fish in Madeys. The fish treat was a wonderful treat when I think how expensive fish is in Switzerland. I usually have salmon once a week. The Blue Danube owner promises that he will have callaloo soup tomorrow. I haven’t had callaloo in donkey years.

I finish my poetry editing, Then read a little more of Americanah and go to bed. I am moved by this book. It is an examination of all aspects of black immigrant life and delves into what might be thought by others as insignificant (finding black hairdressers, finding black hair products, finding shops where you can buy tropical food). It delves into those experiences which leave psychological dents. I am thinking of searching for work, doing menial labor and doing unsavory, immoral things to survive. It takes the masks off the cat and mouse dance that is done with immigration: contracting false marriages and entering unsavory relationships. It looks at the impact of dating other races. It speaks about the trials of finding affordable accommodation and speaks about how non-Black Americans see the world and are seen compared to Black Americans. It looks at how white America and the world see the black race. Americanah puts it out there, lays all bare. Can everyone take it on? Probably not!

 It is 9:30. p.m. Tomorrow I will be up at 6:00 a.m. I wake up like clock-work. I think my body, which is tuned to Swiss time, tells me,” Get up lazy bones. It is twelve noon.  What’s going on with you.”

Day Ten, Tuesday, 23 July, 2013.

I slept well last night spoiled by the air-conditioning in our studio. In Madeys, I had sweated and tossed and turned in the unbearable heat. I am slowly turning red from baking in the sun. Wish I would turn brown instead.

Have had my first cup of tea and I will accompany my husband to town at 8:30 this morning. Steel and lattice for fencing the patio must be ordered. I am going to purchase household items (dish-wash liquid, toilet paper and so forth). But first, I must pick up the towels and bed sheets left overnight to dry.

Today we walk to the city. It is usually a fifteen minute walk but we take a half an hour. It is so much more picturesque walking slowly down the hill. The view is not a bunch of fleeting images seen from a bus. I stop often along the way to take photos of the St. Georges bay from different angles. I am beginning to think the George’s harbor it might be more beautiful than St. Thomas’s harbor.

  

Please forgive me St. Thomians. The St. George’s Harbor consists of sheltered bays within a peninsular and is made up a carenage and an esplanade area. St. Thomas has no peninsular but has Hastle Island sitting in the harbor area. The view from the hills is also scenic and breath-taking. Beauty comes in so many forms.

I also take pictures of buildings which will become points of references for my daughter when she arrives in St. Georges in late August. She will not have a guide and these points of references I hope will be useful. I have learned in the process, that Grenadians love bright colors.

There is so much joy expressed in a turquoise, orange or bright pink house or office building. They probably say something about the spirit of the people. I do love the subdued blue and white of Greek houses but equally love the Grenadian inclination to paint their houses the colors of the rainbow. It is an outburst of expression.

My camera loves these houses that speak of the Caribbean sea and Atlantic Ocean that surround us.

We begin our search for the least set of steep steps that will take us down into the city. 

There are many to choose from.  Selecting one, we walk down it and find the main bus route into the city. We pass a giant billboard of Grenada's most famous person, Karani James, now a world famous athletic sprinter. He now has a boulevard named after him.

        

We finally enter the city. My husband, familiar with the surroundings lead the way. We are suddenly near the waterfront carenage.  I have to take pictures of this beautiful port, too.

    

I spend the day in and around the city, go along with my husband to Hubbard’s, where he places his order for needed materials.

Then he shows me where the arts and crafts center is located. I buy a handmade doll for my granddaughter, Edith, and other decorative items.

A souvenir of a little Grenadian house which serves as a key hanger.

The center has a lot to offer. After that we patronize a special food market which has homemade tarts (pineapple and coconut), pies (meat, salt-fish, chicken and others new to me) and drinks like sour-sap, cane and passion fruit juice.

After that, we go to the bank, located on the other side of the hill to find out the exchange rate. One hundred $US gives us two hundred and seventy Grenadian dollars. From there I am on my own to roam about the city. First I go to the internet exchange where I spend an hour and a half. The time always flies there.  My time always runs out just when I am in the middle of writing a message. It will not be sent. We are hoping to get a modem tonight and the Internet Exchange will no longer be “eating” my money. 

 Next I browse a shopping mall, opposite the Internet Exchange, to look for cotton dresses and toys for my granddaughter. I find some items that I like. I am happy they are indirectly from China via Walmart Store. It means the standard might be higher, the product more durable, but more expensive, of course. 

After that I have lunch at Andall’s restaurant. The food is good and there are many of seats available. I prefer the seats with a view of the sea.

While eating a black bird flies in and begins to nibble at patrons left overs. I think it’s a black crow and think of Edgar Allen Poe’s poem “The Raven.”I think about the omens of the "other world" and death that are associated with them. Then it flies away and I think the food is not to its liking but it returns shortly with another black bird. 

I imagine their conversation:

      “Hey the food’s great over at Andall’s” says Bird One to Bird Two,      “Come on let’s go and eat up before they take the scraps away.”

“OK,” says Bird Two. “I’ll come with ya.”

 “Chow down on this piece of chicken. Come on. Don’t be shy. It is only good while it lasts,” tweets Bird One.

“Yum, yum,” Bird Two, tears meat off a chicken bone.

“We got to hurry, the cleaning lady’s coming,” tweets Bird One,

They fly away, chicken skin and its sauce dripping from their beaks.

After lunch I rest a bit, take in the view. My next destination is Grand Anse beach, so I hop on a bus and get there in about twenty minutes. I walk down to the long beach, walk up and down taking many photographs and looking for spots that might perfect for picnics. The sea-grape trees are low and provide great shades.

 My photo taking is interrupted by a woman selling handmade spice beads. Her price drops from twenty to fifteen Grenadian dollars as I walk away. I tell her next week. Tell the man selling wood-carved necklaces that bear crosses the same thing. There are no homemade drinks on the beach but they offer a lot of exotic drinks imported from Trinidad and Tobago. 

I pass them all up. Stop at the Grand Anse Supermarket on my way home to buy water, Limocol (for nostalgia’s sake) and jerk seasoning, must have items. I am tempted by arrowroot and Andew Liver Salts. Childhood memories make it tough but I resist.

To get home, I take a bus back to St. Georges, then a bus to St. Paul’s.

As soon as get home I go to Ronald Stewart, the owner of The Blue Danube and asks if he still has callaloo. This is a popular Caribbean dish which has its roots in West Africa.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Callaloo

Yes. He has set aside a bowl. He charges me fifteen Grenadian dollars.  It is my’ husband’s dinner. I taste a little of it for nostalgia’s sake.

Now I am putting my feet up. Time for Americanah. It is a good friend.