A traveler's tale: high adventure with broken, rented Jeep
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My pals JD, Scott and I flew to Cat Island, The Bahamas on the eighth of August. It become JD's and my eighth visit and Scott's first. We rented the identical cottage on the seashore wherein JD and I had stayed normally previously. We flew over in a single-engine four seater and have been staying for per week. Three men and their tools in a small aircraft left no room to convey food from domestic and the plan turned into to move local for the week. We'd devour what Cat Islanders ate.
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Cat Island is about 40 miles lengthy and four miles extensive at its widest. It's domestic to a thousand people who scratch out a living through anything way they are able to. Grocery options are restrained to say the least. There are 4 or 5 trendy stores dotted along the King's Highway and that they sell whatever the weekly mail boat brings and some thing produce can be coaxed out of the rocky, thin soil. Fish and lobster are plentiful, though they're alive and swimming loose. This is without difficulty remedied through handing a Bahamian child a $20 invoice.
A well positioned $20 ensures a equipped supply of seafood and an equally geared up supply of the testimonies of Cat Island.
I'd made arrangements multiple weeks earlier to hire a jeep from a pair who run one of the overall stores, Simon and his spouse Neda. "Jeep" is a frequent time period on Cat for something with four-wheel power. The jeep in query changed into a Mitsubishi Bighorn, this is a Japanese SUV supposed for non-US components of the sector. Bahamians force at the left and my Bighorn had a steering wheel at the right, all of the better to better immerse me in contrary-passed using. The Bighorn had a diesel engine and earlier than I agreed to take it, I made Neda guarantee me that diesel gasoline turned into available. She brushed off my worries with a fast-fireplace set of instructions on a way to get to the simplest diesel pump on the island. She saved pointing south and I figured that given that there's handiest one road at the island, all I needed to do was drive south and I'd find it.
Having a vehicle was a God ship while it got here to hunting and accumulating. The three folks agreed that I'd cook for the week and admittedly, I changed into looking ahead to it. Making the rounds of the overall stores turned into a remarkable possibility to test my kitchen mettle. It's notable the meals that can be crafted from a bag of rice, a few cans of peas, a handful of bird peppers and a cassava or . Giant spiny lobsters and nonetheless flapping yellowtails don't hurt both.
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Toward the give up of the week, I knew that I wanted to shop for a tank of diesel and determined that Thursday afternoon was going to be my gasoline run. Thursday afternoon arrived with little fanfare and I could not lure either JD or Scott to come with me. That turned into exceptional, I was searching ahead to stopping alongside the manner to kick round a number of the 18th century ruins that dot the island.
(my image from a previous grocery run)
I pulled onto the main street and headed south. I'd forgotten to take my digital camera and I turned into kicking myself for my oversight. Most of the pics that accompany this publish are from Flickr and Picasa due to the identical oversight.
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Cat Island has very little development of any type on it and the power traces that run alongside the King's Highway have best been there for the closing ten years or so. There are cell towers now and Bahamas Telecom has finally united the those who stay alongside the 40 miles of paved road. This is brilliant for the islanders, however iPhones don't paintings. Needless to say, I become phoneless for my fuel run.
Cat Island has a excessive splendor to it, the rocky scrubland that clings to the nation-state stands in stark counterpoint to the almost fluorescent blue water that laps in opposition to the shoreline. Life for Cat Islanders is tough and getting with the aid of with little or no seems to be a primary manner of lifestyles. Poverty there is very real. I've visible growing world poverty in other nations, however theirs appears to be of a distinct stripe. Unlike the poverty I've witnessed in other parts of the world, nobody on Cat seems to lack primary necessities. The overriding air of frustration present inside the slums of Cartagena or Kingston is thoroughly lacking. The harsh landscape and isolation continues Cat Islanders at the outs on the subject of the benefits of dwelling inside the evolved global, but in alternate they get to hold and hold a sense of own family and network.
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Bahamians look to Cat as the place where Bahamian culture is kept alive. Indigenous music, called Rake n' Scrape, reaches its zenith on Cat as does the Bahamian art of story telling. Cat Islanders are the descendants of slaves abandoned by English planters in the late 18th century and their African heritage is a large part of the Bahamian identity. Undergirding a lot of life on Cat is an under the radar belief system called Obeah. Unfortunately, no one's real willing to talk about Obeah with someone who looks like me. That's OK, I'm a patient man. I'll hear about it one of these days.
I drove approximately ten miles south, through the settlements of New Bight, Freetown, Moss Town, Old Bight and turned into headed toward Bain Town after I determined the fuel station. The gas station become a single pump in front of a corrugated tin garage and both were set adrift in a automobile parking space made through scraping returned the scrub and letting the dirt swirl. No one turned into round, or so it seemed.
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I grew to become off the ignition and were given out of the auto. A teen aged boy got here ambling throughout the lot and I known as out to him, "You have diesel?" He walked as much as me, pointed to his ear and shook his head no. Being a smart examine, I discovered that he changed into deaf so I took out my pockets and pointed to the fuel pump. He nodded then stopped and checked out me, questioning. I showed him a $20 invoice and he started pumping. When he turned into completed he took my money, smiled, and ambled again throughout the lot.
I were given lower back into the automobile and grew to become the ignition. Silence. I tried it again. Nothing. "Shit. Now what?" I concept to myself. There I was, ten miles from where I become staying. I had no cellphone and I become pretty actually in the middle of no wherein. Before I had the hazard to craft a plan, a boy of round ten rode up on a rusty bicycle.
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"You goina dissipate dat stahtah. Turn de key 1/2 manner and let it sit. Den turn it da whole manner." I laughed and checked out him, "You certain understand your engines young man." I attempted his inspiration and the engine very almost grew to become over. His face lit up like a lantern, "Try it once more guy! I'm a mechanic!" I attempted it once more and the engine failed to turn over.
"Pop de hood," he instructed me. So I popped the hood. "Do it again," he shouted. I tried to crank the engine once more to no avail. "It's ya battry." He ran throughout the lot and into the tin constructing. He came returned a moment later and he changed into wheeling a massive battery charger. Following right behind him become his deaf older brother who became unraveling an orange power twine as he walked. In a be counted of moments, they'd the charger linked to the battery in the SUV. "We got it now," the 10-yr-old boasted, "we got it now."
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Just then, a lady of about forty came barreling across the lot. "Jacob! What dis? Did you inform dis guy you wuzzah mechanic?" My ten-year-vintage savior appeared down at his ft. His mom persisted, "Ya'd a boy, too younger!" She then checked out me, "I'm da mechanic. We get chu goine again, we got it."
A greater not possible-looking mechanic I cannot believe. I learned her call is Patsy and she turned into certainly the lads' mother and he or she became certainly a mechanic. Patsy become carrying two-inch acrylic nails and the maximum complicated, braided hairdo I've ever visible. She barked multiple orders to her son Jacob and he bumped into the garage. He again along with her toolbox almost right away and she or he proceeded to troubleshoot the engine of my rented SUV. She labored with the velocity and talent of a general practitioner. Not one of those acrylic nails a lot as were given bent as her arms fluttered from one capacity trouble to the next.
She discovered that the oil hadn't been modified or delivered to in months, "perhaps by no means!" and I informed her that the auto was Simon and Neda's. "Oh I know dis jeep," she assured me. "Dey don recognise how ta take care a dis jeep." She yelled to Jacob again, "Biy, get me m'cellphone." Jacob bumped into the storage and got here back with her smartphone. She referred to as Neda.
Great gobs of Bahamian patois stuffed the air and hung there like taffy as she berated Neda for now not preserving her car and leaving me stranded. I could not observe their verbal exchange with the aid of the words Patsy used a lot as her inflections and her quantity. Based on that on my own I knew I by no means desired to get on Patsy's terrible side.
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Patsy placed a quart of oil within the crankcase, showed that my battery changed into charged and then waited till I had the car running before on the point of send me on my way. "You take dis jeep lower back to Neda, she goine a get chu new 'un. Don prevent 'til ya get dere." I stood there, thanking her profusely and started digging through my wallet for some money. She noticed was I changed into doing and stopped me. "We cool man. Dat's how we do it here on da island. We appearance out fah eachaddah." She then turned on her heels and marched back throughout the lot. I signaled to Jacob to wait. When Patsy became back interior and out of sight, I handed a $20 to Jacob and got that electric smile again. "Tank yah suh!" he beamed and then took off on his rusty motorbike.
I pulled again onto the street and headed north to Neda and Simon's keep. I surpassed one automobile as I became driving and after I'd gone approximately three/4 of the way there I became feeling pretty incredible. I changed into cruising along at about 60 kilometers an hour and as I crested a hill the engine died. I coasted to a prevent and maneuvered the jeep off to the aspect of the road. I knew I become a couple of miles from Neda's and I knew too that it was nearing the end of her day and I doubted she turned into going to maintain her keep open for me to get there. It become too some distance a distance to stroll in a short time frame, so I popped the hood. I hoped that seeing a popped hood alongside the side of the motorway might be a signal that I was in problem. I leaned towards the jeep and waited for someone to power beyond.
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About 15 minutes later a beat up Astro van with the word "Taxi" hand painted on the side pulled over. I walked over to to the van and the driver asked me if there were some kind of trouble. I explained that I was trying to get to Neda and Simon's to return their jeep. He told me to get in and we were on our way. There were two Bahamian woman in the back of the van, Miss Olive and Miss Olivia. My latest hero and driver was Mr. Curtis. Simon (whom I should be calling Mr. Simon) is Mr. Curtis' cousin. Miss Olive and Miss Olivia were (Miss) Neda's sisters. Complaining about Neda and Simon's ability to maintain their rental jeep wouldn't have gone over well, so we talked about Father Jerome instead .
Mr. Curtis dropped me off at Neda and Simon's keep in very quick order and I passed him another $20. I suppose this changed into the maximum pricey gasoline run I'd ever been on. Anyhow, Neda changed into status behind the counter of her store searching ashamed. I defined that their condominium jeep had died about three miles down the street and that I became equipped for her to "get me new un." She slid a vehicle key across the counter. "Dah tuba," she stated. "Tuba" is Bahamian for Trooper. I thanked her and left. The tuba grew to become over as anticipated and I drove lower back to the cottage.
(my photo of the King's Highway in Smith Town, just north of wherein we live)
I'd been long gone for almost three hours at that point and I changed into giggling to myself over what a first-rate journey that had been. I thought too approximately how in another way I would have treated that scenario had I been at home. I would have had a in shape and a half and could have avoided whoever the rental enterprise became for existence. But due to the fact I was a stranger overseas and the people I'd rented the automobile from needed the income their condo motors generated to hold food at the table, the situation turned into extraordinary completely.
As it is, Patsy, the deaf boy, Jacob, Mr. Curtis, Miss Olive, Miss Olivia and even Mr. Simon and Miss Neda showed me more approximately their island and their culture than any vacationer brochure ever ought to. Cat Island is a pocket need it is clean to skip by using. In doing so even though, it is smooth to miss that it's a pocket of essential kindness and decency. In the absence of an American subculture born of cynicism and reality TV, the humans I met that day had managed to maintain alive the pleasant of themselves. I experienced actual hospitality and it changed into almost shocking in its comparison to my normal manner of drawing close the world. So I'm left with the concept of the way does thoroughly American, constantly reachable, deeply cynical me can integrate some of what I noticed that day into my existence now that I'm home? We'll see.