A Scary Moment

So here I am after a scary moment at the Ottawa airport.  The Air Canada agent refused to allow me to board because he said I needed a visa to go to Dominica.  I was dumb founded at his adement declaration.  Smiling all the while, the little sh*t said that the Dominicans had made a mistake on my passport, dating my resident permit 2008 instead of 2018.  True, but I have been using this passport and this permit for 2 years with no problem.   I stamped my little foot, bared my teeth and gave him the evil eye as I loudly announced that it is the Dominicans problem, not his.  Time passed and I was now in danger of missing my connecting flight.  I was prepared to drop my luggage (too heavy anyway) and make a dash for it when the agent next to him told him to let me go. The rest of the trip was uneventful but uncomfortable.

Some advice:  go West Jet to Barbados, not Air Canada to Antigua...then on to Dominica

What a relief to land in Dominica, to see McDowell and have him take over and take me home.

A week later and I have settled back.  Nothing has changed much.  It is hot.  I have cleaned up the apartment.  The back garden became a jungle in my absence, the shelves in the shops are still bare except for the essentials, day to day living is a struggle, but the internet now seems strong and reliable, and I have seen my friends, Mait, Traci, Annika and the ladies in the market have heartily welcomed me home.

Being Home - Going Home

My time here in Brooke Valley is coming to an end.  I am going back to Dominica on July 21. Yes, Canada, Ontario, Perth, Brooke Valley, this old house  is lovely, clean, fast, efficient, pretty, friendly, familiar...all  good.  The variety and abundance is truly awesome. But it is not 'home'.

This stay here has been a miasma of resurrected, long put away memories as I have talked to people and packed up, thrown out and given away much of my stuff.  I have also spent a good deal of time sorting out and organizing .  When Nick and Samantha moved back here to Brooke (from the West), they brought their complete apartments with them, so there were (are) 2 complete apartments being stored in the space downstairs.  Plus Nick did a wonderful job of decluttering this household and its collection of 50 years of accumulated detritus.  I have gone through it all.

I took a friend's advice as I was doing this: handle each piece and make a decision about it and acknowledge the pleasure it gave.  Don't just toss it in a bin.  It is all important. Often it was heart tearing and difficult, but I am glad I took her advice.  Thank you Jennifer.  It took me a full year to clean out my mother's house and much of it ended up in a country auction and the land fill.  I do not want this.

I have not been able to move Hans to do the same, so his filing cabinets and book shelves remain dusty and crumbling monuments to the past and will be a burden on those who come after him. I understand his reluctance though.

I have not   been able to deal well with Rachel's various collections, photos, writings, drawings, cards, notes, diaries, stuffed toys,  a few clothes but I have strongly suggested to Anthony, Nick, Samantha , and Hans to have a ritual, cleansing  fire and send them on their way. They agreed.   It's been 23 years since she died, that would make her 39 today, and as Anthony said, she would not be happy to know that we (I) was hanging on to her through her material belongings. 

I have spent happy hours with a few good friends here in BV; Sarah, Anne, Jennifer, Barbara and Judy in Montreal, .  While I was in Montreal I renewed a dormant friendship with Barry.  I hope this relationship is now up and functioning again. 

I went with Peter and Karen to visit Harold and Jan. Not only was this a pleasant road trip but it was also a trip down memory lane.   It was good to be with them.

I see that Anthony, Nick and Samantha are doing the best they can and are making their way.  Hans is as healthy as he can be at this stage and continues to be wholly engaged in his projects, thinking, reading and writing.

I came back early May to do whatever I could for my family.  My intention was to stay for the BV reunion in August.  That's 4 months.  Can't do it and the family is OK.  I was making myself sick and everyone around me unhappy.  So...off I go.  I'll be back next year for my annual visit.  This being a family there are, of course, things pending.  Stay tuned!

Post Script:  When I googled what to do with unwanted CD's & DVD's google answered, "cut them up and make a disco ball". I'm sill laughing

My garden is gorgeous, Nick has revitalized it and I did a lot of work.  He has good landscaping plans for it.  It is now his to do what he wants, keeping the special peony, iris and daylilies

Avocado

One of the good things about Gardening in the tropics is that you can garden all year 'round.  When the post office opened after the passage of Hurricane Maria the first thing I received were some seeds from Spring and Doug Norman.  All the tomato seeds germinated (planted October 21) and   I was able to give some seedlings away.  They are bearing now. 

Before the Hurricane I had planted, in pots, 2 large avocado seeds.  They were sprouting nicely on my veranda.  Then Maria hit.  She brought down a piece of twisted galvanized roof on them, but the piece got caught on the wall and so sheltered them. The day after the storm  I climbed over someone's old wet mattress and broken furniture that had been deposited on the veranda  to rescue them .  The leaves were torn, I nursed them, and they survived. One of them was a big, creamy, purple avocado. By December I saw that the roots were coming out of the bottoms of the pots. They had to go into the ground.  Usually we would take them up to McDowell's farm and plant them but the road is still clogged and not easily passable so I thought I would plant them in the back yard behind the old house.

Well, I didn't plant them myself.  I couldn't lift the pots, and I wasn't sure how close to the Bay I could put them, so I went into the Bar to find someone who could carry them for me.   There was a little old gnarled farmer from Pennville, (a garden gnome actually, big ready smile and one tooth, lower right) who was happy to follow me into the yard.  He found a huge dasheen plant behind the house that Maria had planted, fix it up, took its sprouts and put them in the ground, saying, "Oh, look, she has babies, I will plant them for you".  Now I have 3 dasheen.  Anyhow he quickly dug holes for the avocado trees (avocado are called pear), explaining why he choose to put them where he did. "Don't do anything (duh do nuffin')" was his advice, "She knows best".   Then he stood back, looked at them and said to me in a very serious voice, "She will be sad for 2 days because she doesn't know where she is now.  We moved her, but then she will find herself and stand up straight."

Dasheen

Avocado - 1 meter high. Will bear in 7 years

Tomato - I have a dozen plants

We have almond trees growing like weeds in the back.  His pronouncement on them was, "Dey doh give no profit, dey belongs on de beach".  True , but they do provide wonderful shade.  When the beach gets cleared up we will put some there.

This almond tree was 5 feet tall before Maria.  The hurricane cut it down, It is now 2 feet and will soon be tall and wide spread.  The bare tree behind is a St Peter's Tree (Flamboyant) and will be flaming red at the end of June. 

The Aftermath - 3 months later

The Aftermath

Now comes the hard part. The next months will be difficult.  They will be difficult because the shops are empty and savings have been used up and we are tired.  Jobs are scarce, few tourists are expected.  Most people are still living under leaky tarps and there will be no mangoes, bananas, or citrus this season.  Also the building materials, and the builders needed to withstand another force 7 hurricane, are way too expensive or simply not available.  

For the weeks following Maria there was so much to do.  We were overwhelmed. Just drying out was a big deal.  Although the days were warm and sunny, every last thing was wet and getting moldy.  Whatever Maria left for us was sodden, grimy, muddy, tattered and ugly.  But that is what we had and it became treasured. Keeping clean was a challenge. I was constantly amazed at how well turned out, pretty and well presented the women were.  How did they do it? I was always frumpy and dishevelled! Then there was the frantic scramble to communicate with family and friends, around the Island, in the other Islands, in the UK, USA, Europe and Canada. We managed that as best we could.  Messages were sent with people leaving the Island.

I have no home, but I am here

15% of the population left quickly. Ross University evacuated 2000 people within 3 days. Hundreds of children have been sent to Antigua and Barbados to go to school .The Sister Islands were quick to respond.  We had drinking water right away.  Relief food packages began to arrive soon (distribution was so badly organized it was almost not worth the effort, here in the North).   The international aide people were here, mostly medical personnel, I think.  The Jamaican army and the Antiguan police were here as looting and malicious vandalism were rampant.  Keep in mind that the local police also lost everything in the hurricane and were in no shape to do their jobs as they would have liked. They too had families, homes, aged parents to look after.

The memories I have of those days are of lines of drying clothes everywhere, helicopter noise  over head, the Bar over loaded with drunken men, hard physical unending work, no music, what's for supper, worrying about those with no roof, staying safe and long lines everywhere.  And it was ugly. My life became very small and preoccupied with work, cleaning and standing in line.  However, not once did I lose heart because I knew Anthony was on it, organizing, trying to make contact, doing what needed doing, and I knew my friends were behind him, and out there behind me too.

Portsmouth found itself quite quickly. Clean up started right away.  We had running water (not potable) and central Portsmouth had electricity by mid October.  By early December we had internet!  Portsmouth is busy and a happening place.  It is not what it used to be, but it is in amazingly good shape all things considered. The small 'mom and pop' shops were (are) the sustaining force. 

I rarely go into the old house that was once our pride and joy.  The art gallery and gift shop were devastated, the house is gloomy, damp, dilapidated, smelly, leaking and now serves as storage for cases of empty beer bottles.  It's just way too distressing.  The patio has been cleared and I have managed a small garden.  Spring and Doug sent some seeds and the tomatoes are growing in an old chest freezer!  I see baby animals all around; the post-hurricane generation - baby iguanas, chicks, lizards of all varieties.  The parrots, hummingbirds, banana quit (sikiye), bullfinch, and the ubiquitous brown pelican  and the magnificent frigate birds are fishing.  I saw a flock of egrets the other day.  I haven't seen any moorhens.  They tell me that the corals suffered but not as bad as it could have been.  The ocean is still dirty, but certainly clearing up.  I am continually surprised at what was left standing, what small thing was spared and what succumbed and was lost.  The bouganvillaea, oleander and hibiscus are blooming!  I can't find any poinsettia, but I am sure they are there.  Among other things, we lost our sour sop tree, but the sour orange, right beside it, stood the battering, and even hung on to some fruit.  Amazing.

Maria's Patio

The Patio

Dominicans like to use the word 'resilient' to describe themselves.  Absolutely no question: they are that in spades. But there is another dimension to this resilience and it is a bred- in -the -bone, quiet determination to survive.  Dominicans will not succumb to hardship, devastation or evil forces. 

                                                          

By Christmas it will be 3 full months.  Those who went through Hurricane David in 1979 say that Maria was worse, but recovery is faster.

HURRICANE MARIA September 18, 2017

HURRICANE MARIA September 18, 2017

I can barely remember it. The photos don't even evoke an emotion.  I can tell the story though and relate the events as they happened.

So, the day of September 18, 2017 was quite normal. People were talking about the approaching hurricane, but we were expecting a category 2...heavy rain, high wind.  Some preparations were being made: the fishermen were bringing their boats way up, vulnerable windows were being boarded up. We were filling buckets and containers with water and getting our candles and torches ready...and feeling snug and smug.  McDowell and I thought we were in a hurricane proof house.

The wind started to rise at dusk, 5PM. McDowell called me and asked if he should come home now, or stay until the usual 9PM.  His friend, Charles, told him to close and go immediately, and it is a good thing he took his friend's advice.  By the time he got home, an hour later, the wind had become mean and the rain fierce.  He was worried; I was nonchalant because I didn't know any better.

We lost power, almost right away.  The noise was amazing. The windows and door began to gush water, not leak - gush.  We could hear people calling and crying out. There was a strange smell to the air.  My ears were popping  from the pressure.  Then the window in the apartment next door broke and the wind threw all the furniture in there against the adjoining wall.  Everything: TV, kitchen table, chairs, over turned the 'fridge, broke the bed.  Meanwhile the water was rising in our flat and we were scurrying around trying to hide things from the water, rescue our documents, and cover books, save our digital equipment.  By 10PM it was clear that we were not going to rescue anything, and better think about ourselves. We looked up and there was a gaping hole in the bathroom. The galvanized roof had gone elsewhere and the rain was pouring in. So we sat in our sodden chairs, in wringing wet clothes and opened out our umbrellas and laughed. I don't know when the big tree at our gate came down, but I expect it was early on. Even if we wanted to get out we could not have.

The force of a hurricane is unimaginable. The wind makes the sound of a band of howling banshees.  The wind is without mercy and will find every little hole.  It sucks out windows, overturns huge cargo containers, tosses cars around like nerf balls.  The wind strips bare every stately mango, tears bananas from the ground, snaps  tops off of tall coconut trees, flattens the citrus and avocado changing the landscape from lush green to that only seen in movies about the apocalypse. People are utterly helpless in the onslaught.  Their homes come crashing down around them as they try to find shelter from the rising water and the raging wind. They huddle in terror for hours under beds, and in closets.  Children are swept away by the violent river waters.  Lives are lost.

The morning after was still, eerie really.  No birds chirping, no lizards singing, no roosters crowning, no dogs barking, no goats bleating, no people talking.

McDowell slashed our way down what was left of the stairs with my little cutlass and we started our walk into Portsmouth not knowing what we would find climbing over broken posts, wire everywhere, twisted and torn galvanized roves. Half way there a friend of McDowell's called out to him and told him his Bar was standing and had most of its roof.  He didn't mention the old house.  Somewhat relieved, we slogged on.  The Indian River complex was a mess, Jo-Jo's was flat, Simple's house had vanished, Malvin's house as bare, Maford's house only had 4 walls, sort of.  The Pik-Nik was up, but roofless, Miss Olive was standing and the Douglas building was in ruins.  We could see that the back of the Peter house was gone, but the old thing still stood.  McDowell checked his Bar and only a little flooding and wind damage was evident. But it was the back, the Patio that was shocking.  What was our pride and enjoy had been swept bare and detritus, debris, broken pipes, horrible smelly things heaved up by the sea, pieces of galvanized sheeting, rocks, wood, and who knows what else deposited in its place and hip deep. 

Then we looked in the house.  Our pretty art gallery and gift shop and its precious contents were lying sopping on the floor.  The wind had striped the paint off the wall.  But the building itself, over 100 years old stood, shaky and crooked to be sure, but together. Since we now had no place to stay, we moved in there and camped among the cockroaches and the mold for a week. 

Because McDowell had a stock of beer, rum, cigarettes he was one of the first people to open up in Portsmouth.  We cleaned up inside as best we could and opened the Bar. Business was brisk.

I found a small furnished apartment just steps away from the Bar. Clean and dry.  We moved in and that is where we are now. 

Hurricanes IRMA and JOSE

For those of you who like to follow this kind of thing, Dominica is 15.41 degrees north (of the equator) and 61.37 degrees west (of Greenwich). The Commonwealth of Dominica is one of the Windward Islands in the Eastern Caribbean, lying between Guadeloupe to the north and Martinique to the south. It is the Leeward Islands, to the north of us, that Hurricane Irma battered.

At 5 PM today, Thursday, Hurricane Jose was at 15.5 N and 52.4 W. It is predicted that Jose will veer north and west of us and head for the  islands of Nevis, Barbuda, St. Martin already ruined by Irma.  Probably on Saturday. 

It is remarkably quiet here in Portsmouth in spite of the hurricane watch. The sea is surging, but not roiling. It is hot and humid and rainy with occasional gusts of wind. People are going about their daily business. School has started, everything is open, and we ready for whatever.

Nothing much happened to my tropical garden when Irma passed except  the sour sop tree got a sea blast and lost all its leaves on one side. But the fruit hung on! Amazing

The good news is after losing all their wickets on the first day of a five day cricket match, the West Indies are still in a strong position by taking 4 English wickets by the end of the day.

By the way, Dominica is pronounced Dom-NEEK-a

The Ocean gives back all the sh*t we gave it

All boats are on shore

The Sour Sop Tree got a sea blast, but the fruit hung on

Irma's Apartment and Irma the Hurricane

Today started HOT, sunny and steamy.  McD and I had our usual Saturday planned, plus a hurricane watch.  'Irma' is headed this way and picking up speed.  I really don't think we will get a direct hit, but we will get buckets of unending rain and high, angry seas for a good 36 hours.  But you never know with these things. 

By the time we were ready to leave Portsmouth and go to Picard it had become overcast.  We decided to go to Jack's Chinese Restaurant for lunch.  Jack's is a little hole in the wall, mostly out of doors, great food and  family run.  I play with the 4 year old while mom cooks, dad (Jack) delivers orders on his scooter, Grandma feeds the baby and grandpa is around to do whatever needs doing.  It started to pour rain, people, locals, students came and went and got their fried rice and Coke and left.  We had spicy beef and broccoli and kung pao chicken and lots of rice.

 A couple came by on their rented scooter.  It was still raining hard.  They hesitated.  I called them in and they came.  Actually I had passed them on the Indian River Bridge on my way into Portsmouth in the morning and exchanged a greeting them then. They are a very friendly, youngish, couple from France visiting Dominica via Martinique and Marie Gallant (Island). They had come over with a fisherman in his boat and landed in Anse Soldat, in the dark, last night.   They gave their order, vegetable fried rice, fried Tofu and something else.  Since there is only one table they sat with us and of course we talked. 

They wanted a place to stay.  I called Irma, my landlady, as the apartment right next to me that Anthony and Imelda had stayed in, was now empty.  Irma said, sure, she would meet them in half an hour at the apartment. It was still raining hard so Jack, the young restaurant owner, offered to drive us all home and to take McDowell back to work in Portsmouth.  They will stay there for a few days and wait to see what the weather does by Monday.  Daniel, the 4 year old cried when we left so I told him to go tell his mother he was going with dad and to hop in the car.

When we got to the apartment the rain suddenly stopped and the sun came out full force.  I called Martin at the Yellow Cab to pick the couple and their luggage up in Anse Soldat, (they were going on their scooter), and bring them back. OK. No problem.

About hurricane Irma - the people don't seem in the least worried in spite of the disaster in Houston, bygone hurricanes and dire warnings.  The Americans are going to evacuate the 15 Peace Corps workers on the Island.  It seems like it is headed toward Antigua.  If it gets into the Guadeloupe Channel though it will cause damage to the banana and plantain trees in Destiny (McD's farm) take the beach away and wash away my meager garden.  We expect the roof to badly leak in the Little Old House so we will do our best to secure that.  McD will fill Anthony's big blue plastic barrel with water.  We will know everything by Monday - maybe! The weather shifts radically and suddenly here in the tropics.  The sun is so hot and the Ocean is so warm and the air so still and humid.  Perfect conditions for a fierce storm - but what do I know?