A Message From Sono

January 18, 2014

Well Sono, we got your message.

I am staying with my friend Kathleen.  This afternoon I was upstairs in the shower, she was downstairs in the kitchen.  The radio was on.  Suddenly she ran upstairs calling to me, “Come immediately, Sono just sent me to get you.  He is sending you this song.”  I ran down stairs and it was Rita Coolidge singing Close the Window, Calm the Lights. 

Here are the words Sono sent to me this afternoon.

Outside the rain begins and it may never end
So cry no more on the shore
A dream will take us out to sea
Forever more forever more
Close your eyes and dream
And and you can be with me
'Neath the waves through the caves of hours
Long forgotten now
We're all alone
We're all alone

Close the window
Calm the light
And it will be alright
No need to bother now
Let it out
Let it all begin
Learn how to pretend

Once a story's told
It can't help but grow old
Roses do
Lovers too
So cast your seasons to the wind
And hold me dear
Oh, hold me dear

Close the window
Calm the light
And it will be alright
No need to bother now
Let it out
Let it all begin
All's forgotten now
We're all alone
oh-oh, we're all alone

Close the window
Calm the light
And it will be alright
No need to bother now
Let it out

Let it all begin
Owe it to the wind, my love

hear Rita sing it on You Tube.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCKO57ZbHSY
Boz Scaggs also gives a moving rendition

Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Today, as I walked by Glanvillia Bay, the fishermen were just coming in.  I burst into tears and embarrassed everyone...including Sono, no doubt!

SONO'S SEND OFF

Lambert "Sono" Emanuel

January 1, 1954    January 8, 2014

We buried Sono today, January 15, 2014,  under a brilliant double rainbow with the parrots flying overhead.  “For true” as they say in Dominica.  He was buried in the public cemetery, in a field of lemon grass in bloom, on a hill surrounded by his beloved mountains.  His son and brothers and neighbours carried his coffin to the grave.  I stood with his daughters while they lowered his body and shoveled in the red Dominican clay soil to cover it.  He is gone from us now.

Who is going to tease us and call us names? Who is going to say “Stop dat” and "Foolish"? Who is going to fry fish for me?  Who is going to play hide-and-seek with me in the middle of the night?  Who is going to sing reggae love songs to me? Who am I going to read to?  Who am I going to wait for at the Bay?

There was some confusion about which church the service was to be in, but it got straightened out and about 100+ friends and family gathered to celebrate Sono’s life.  Hymns were sung, prayers were said. He lay there through it all, in a shirt, tie and jacket – clothes he didn’t own and would NEVER wear in life.  The detested colour purple was everywhere.  There was no reggae music.  He would have hated the whole thing.

But he would have loved the turn out.  The people who knew the sea as he did came, the people who knew the soil as he did were there, the people who lived through difficult times with him and his children were there, and childhood friends were there.  His brothers and sisters, some of whom came from other islands, were all there.  His children were there. He would have been so proud to see my women friends there, both as a tribute to him and as a support for me.

Guyva, Marian, Lynthia

Sono's sunset

Lambert "Sono" Emanuel

I was on the Glanvillia Beach, looking out over the Caribbean Sea, in my usual quandary, when a tall, handsome, vibrant man suddenly appeared at my back.  Without a word, he picked up a piece of turquoise blue beach glass and handed it to me.  His presence had an instant impact and I immediately felt safe.  Later he told me that 2 weeks prior to this he had dreamt that he saw a mermaid with silver scales on Glanvillia Beach.  This was the start of a relationship that was intense and powerful. Sono and I had 5 filled, wonderful years together. 

Sono was born in the Portsmouth area on January 1, 1954.  He proudly says he was the first baby born in Dominica on that date at the crack of midnight!  He grew up in Portsmouth, Lagoon and Clifton and spent some years in Roseau where he made and sold “sweeties” (candy). He spoke Patois, Creole and French fluently. He was a shipwright, a fisherman, a man of all trades, but foremost a sailor.  He was 13 when he built his first boat and went on to build many more, some of which are still in use. He was one of the young men who revolted against the infamous Dread Act and fled into the bush, and survived the ensuing persecution.  This is a period he would never talk about.  He owns a wooden house in Glanvillia where he raised two of his children as a proud single father.  He was an active member of the St. John’s Fisherfolk Cooperative.

Sono was a talker with a quick and easy wit.  He could tell a good story and he would joke at every chance - as do most Dominicans I have found.  Even on his bed of pain and misery in the hospital he would tease the nurses.  How I used to love listening to him and his friends recount elaborate and embellished tales of their adventures at sea, replete with actions!   He was kind and overly generous to the underdog.  He had an amazing memory. Now that he is gone much history has gone with him.  He could recount the genealogy of any Dominican.  I often derided him about his accounts of who’s who, but it always turned out to be correct. He had a special bond with very young children and animals and a deep respect for the old people.  He was quick to anger, loud, not a man to cross, proud and impatient and stubborn, but  for all his ‘ways’ and for all his foibles, he was a good kind, loving man.

Although a man of the sea he was connected, in that unique Dominican way, to the land.  He knew every plant, its medicinal use and where to find it. He knew every creature, every lizard, and every insect.  He literally could call the birds out of the trees. He was proud of being the sure footed ‘goat’, the Capricorn.  He named one of his boats “Capri.”

He practiced his guitar regularly and loved roots reggae.  He knew them all and had a good collection.

He also had a side that went unappreciated.  Under the quips lay a thinking, reflective man.  Clearly he had struggled with the existential questions we all deal with and had come to his own conclusions.  He mostly kept them to himself.  He lived them, he didn't talk about them.  They became integrated into his being.  As well,  other dimensions to what we know and see and believe to be obvious were a natural part of his day to day life and activities.  He was in contact with the Creator, in whom he had an abiding belief. 

On July 25, 2013, on his way to the airport to pick me up he had a catastrophic car accident.  His neck was broken, C4, C5, C6 were fractured.  He died on January 8, 2014 not only as a result of this accident but also as a result of the appalling lack of medical care and services, and ignorance.

Sono and Marian at Red Rocks Beach