Changing Latitudes: Fishing for Happiness

Happy New Year Everyone!

I've made it through my first holiday season in Antigua which sent me celebrating all over the island with all sorts of awesome people! There were sailboat races and beach parties, showers with turtles and domino sessions with boys on the block. There were lazy days and late nights full of merriment. Through it all, there was lots and lots of food. Ridiculous amounts of food. Okra fritters and fried chicken, curried goat, callaloo, and my host mom's famous Trinidadian chrismas cake......just to name a few. Of course this was all washed down with healthy portions of rum. Rum with coke, rum with sorrell, and rum with rum. Twas the season!

While it was great spending time with local friends and fellow volunteers all over the island, the holidays reminded me how little I am actually in my own village with my own neighbors. Integration is a word that is drilled into us during training. We are told that our safety and security, as well as the richness of our experience, is dependent upon it. I agree whole heartedly. Of course some of this integration refers to the island community as a whole, but some is more specific to one's immediate community. This is where I struggle. It is difficult to make friends and feel part of a village that I spend very little time in. Sure, the kids yell 'techa!' or 'Miss. Davis!' as I pass through, and the adults know me as the white gyal they say hi to every morning, but except for a few people, that's as far as it goes. Working in town 4 days a week, I find myself sucking my teeth (a standard behavior in the Caribbean) at volunteers lucky enough to work 5 days a week in the village that they live. By the time I get home from town, darkness has set in leaving no time to go off socializing. So....... while I usually shy away from New Years resolutions, as I rang in 2011 with a bottle of champagne and sand between my toes, I resolved to spend more time in Swetes, the quiet village I call home. Since I can't stop going to work, or make the sun set any later, this means finding a balance on weekends between time away and time at home.

That being said, you can imagine how thrilled I was on New Years day when I ran into two of my favorite neighborhood boys on the bus ride home. Levi is in one of my ninth grade health classes, and Joquan is in grade five. Squeezing myself between them, I began my inquisition on what they'd been up to over the three week holiday break. In typical adolescent fashion they responded with "nothing.." They decided they would rather talk about me...like what beach had I just been to? (The sand in my hair gave me away) By the time we got off the bus near our village and began our walk home I found out that these two boys were not just friends, they were brothers! They live with their father, a Rastafarian goat herder, in a small house at the end of the road. Levi mostly hangs out with the older kids on the block, while I often see Joquan riding his donkey down the road or helping his father with the goats. Before we parted ways that New Years afternoon, the two boys asked me if i'd ever want to go pond fishing with them. "Of course!" I replied, "When?" They told me maybe next Sunday. 'Perfect', I thought, as I logged one week from tomorrow into my mental calendar.

That next morning, intent of taking advantage of my last day of vacation, I lazed around in bed until finally getting up to boil some water for the day. Just as my kettle began screeching I heard another high pitched sound coming from the road. "miss daaaaviiiiiiiiss!!!" Still in my pajamas I opened my door to find Joquan perched on a post staring at me in disbelief. "You aren't ready!?!?!" "I thought you said next Sunday!" I replied. No response.....just a disappointed fifth grader with his jaw dropped in astonishment that this white lady would still be in her pajamas at 9:30 in the morning. "Ok Ok, give me 10 minutes" I said. I quickly brushed me teeth, slathered on some sunscreen, threw a 3 day old pb+j and a bottle of water into my backpack and headed out the door. Joquan looked disapprovingly at me as I exited my apartment in flip flops and shorts. "No shoes?" "Ok Ok, give me another minute," I said as I ran back inside and changed into jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt.
"Now you look like you are going into the bush!" he exclaimed, with a giant grin plastered on his face.

Walking down the street I learned that the boys' cousin Marlow was a farmer in Body Ponds (a forested area with several large ponds in the middle of the island). Any part of the island remotely forested is considered 'bush' by Antiguans. Marlow would be taking us fishing near his farm. As we neared their house I was properly introduced to 3 or 4 extended family members, two donkeys, a herd of goats, and one horse. Marlow insisted on calling me Miss Davis despite me introducing myself as Jen. Getting anyone who knows me from school to call me by my first name is a lost cause. We piled in the jeep and headed out of Swetes and down a long bumpy country road. As we arrived at Marlow's farm the boys scattered to find me all sorts of goodies. Within minutes I was being fed my first cacao fruit, guavas, and various nuts found on the ground. As we sat in the dirt eating and waiting for Marlow to take care of a few things, Joquan told me of his dreams to one day live out in the bush and farm his own land. He loves the peacefulness and the fact that if you are a farmer you always have food. "You never have to beg because you hungry, " he said.

When Marlow was ready we headed out to find a good spot to fish, stopping along the way to dig up some bait. Levi quickly fashioned us a few poles out of palm frawns and we began to fish. The boys caught dozens of fish while I continued to come up empty handed. "When the fish bite, yank like you taking your purse back from one tief!" they said. I hope a thief never steals my purse because Im not very good at yanking. I finally caught the tiniest pond fish in the world and the boys erupted in congratulations as I began jumping up and down like a crazy person. Today these boys were my teachers, and I was their student. I threw the poor little fish back, which was apparently not the right move. Throwing back your first fish is bad luck, but I explained to them i'd caught many fish in my childhood so it wasn't REALLY my first fish. After catching my second fish, I decided to sit back and watch, handing the bait to the boys when they needed it and taking in the beauty of the day. The fish eventually stopped biting and the boys moved on to climbing coconut palms. Once they'd collected a dozen or so coconuts we sat down an feasted on the juice, jelly, and meat till our bellys were full. The rest we carted back to the jeep so Marlow could use the milk to make coconut rice. As we trudged up the hill against a warm Caribbean breeze with a buckets full of fish and coconuts, Joquan looked back at me and said "Miss Davis, this is what I did on my vacation".
I told him I couldn't think of a better way to spend vacation. And I meant it.

Marlow insisted on loading me up with goodies from his farm before driving me home. My backpack was bursting with cassava, sweet potatoes, seasoning peppers, sugar cane, green papaya, and water bottles full of fresh coconut water as the three boys dropped me off at my apartment that afternoon. "Will you come fishing again Miss Davis?" they asked.
"Next Sunday?" I said

Ah, Happiness...