A day in San Fernando

Today I woke up refreshed and renewed, because it’s a new day and I am to be glad and rejoice in it.  Being back in Trinidad is different, and takes some getting used to.   I am not getting out of bed any earlier than I did in the states, but rather, I rise later, preparing the kids for school every morning, making their lunches and dropping them off.   This is all an adventure in its own rite.

Today I need to go to the bank.  The branch at the mall opens its doors at ten (10) in the morning.  I like going to this bank because parking is readily available and the tellers are friendly.  They’re beginning to know me here.  I’ve been helped by the same person more than once. I get the smile upon facial recognition now as I enter, and our banter is carefree and easy.  The bank proves to be frigid at times though, they’ve decided to keep the air-condition at an all time low.  Temperatures in there have to be below seventy degrees Fahrenheit.  I cannot survive without a sweater, as I never go to the walk up teller, but instead go through the old DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) procedure, of pulling a number and taking a seat to wait my turn.  I often think of the commercials for condiments that show a woman’s purse being inhabited by all sorts of things.  When I am sitting in the bank, I can readily reach into my pocket book and pull out a sweater, which always seems to amaze anyone sitting next to me.  It seems as though when coming to the bank, your business at hand can never be completed in less than thirty minutes, and at times you are there for hours.  I jokingly posted on facebook about the bank’s atmosphere and received many responses in jest.

After the bank I went to visit a couple, and it is here that my day really began.

I wanted to drop off some reading material, and I was greeted by the husband to whom I will refer to as Uncle B.  As Uncle B, steered me to where he wanted to sit, Aunt B (his wife) came out and offered me lunch.   Who was I to refuse, a nice plate of pelau (a rice dish, cooked in coconut milk and local seasonings, along with pigeon peas, carrots and meat)? No sir-ree, I will be partaking in this food, after all, it was around lunch time and my gastric juices were bubbling.  Uncle B expressed to me that he loved to talk, that he views himself as the life of the party, and that when he starts talking no one else gets a chance edge wise.   Well, I believe Uncle B, loves chatting, and even though in his mind he may dominate a conversation, I see that he is allowed to dominate because his take, opinion, view is interesting in its own rite.  Uncle B, sat me down on the front porch.  Donning his spectacles he began reading the material that I brought, which allowed me the pleasure of partaking in the plate of food that I was presented with.

In Uncle B, I noticed a uniqueness in personality that is not found in many.  Rather, most folks are like me, where if interrupted in mid sentence, struggle to gather their thoughts back to where they left off.   No Uncle B, can precisely pick up just where he left off when interrupted.  Watching him as he spoke, (well remember his was the quest of subject domination, therefore you have to be apt at listening and observing to be in his presence) you can see his mind churning, he thinks about his conversation while he is speaking with you therefore, his speech is slow, not retardingly slow, but at a slower musical beat, like an adagio, melodic and calm, yet with undercurrents as though in his mind there was an allegretto.  This mix of mindful play manifested in his forehead, his eyebrows allowed his forehead to crease and his eyes danced, whilst his lips calmly projected a melody of words not in song but in prose.  Therefore you knew that he already knew what his next sentence was going to be, before he completed the first, leaving no room for interruption.

Uncle B is proud of his offspring, often speaking of his eldest, with adoration and admiration in his eyes.  The eyes, the key to the soul, lit up as he showcased Aunt B’s artwork and spoke of her piano playing.  Aunt B, a glorious beautiful soul, came and graced us with her presence and she too engaged in conversation with us, and watched and blushed as Uncle B spoke of her.  Of course after the many years of time spent together, she knew exactly what he was going to say and when, and even when he seemed to be steering in the wrong direction, her arms akimbo stance, brought Uncle B back to the best travelled path.   I chuckled and enjoyed this play between them, offering a nudge here and there.  Uncle B, reminded me of an Aunt of mine in Tobago, who would solicit laughter whilst keeping her face serious, he has an uncanny knack for that, pretending to not know that his banter is at times humorous, when we all know that he is internally snickering at us.  He says my ability to psychoanalyze interested him and that my writing held his attention when I took people down the journey of who I met when I travelled and the conversations that ensued.  Him having said that, brought me to the conclusion, that what better story to write than his.

He spoke of his days growing up, and the people of his village.  About the local Asian shop and about an ice cream vendor, that he never bought ice cream from, because of the owner’s living conditions.  He spoke about missed opportunities of interviewing his elders, acquiring the knowledge of why they did what they did, and what made them who they were.  We spoke about many a famous person that crossed his path.  Aunt B added to the conversation about her ancestors and the fact that they experienced things in the United States that was not a common experience for a Caribbean person.  Aunt B spoke of slavery and the abolishment, segregation and experiences that she had as a child, visiting foreign lands.

We spoke of their grand children, my children, gifts, talents and generations to come.  We spoke of art, paintings and photography.  Uncle B spoke of his ‘honey to do’ lists and his impression of how he was shaped, molded and commandeered into now not knowing what to do with himself without directional aid.  Of course this raport was met by raised eyebrows, and rolled eyes from Aunt B.  Who said “don’t worry with him”.  Aunt B, spoke of the things she loved of Trinidad and of the many places that she lived and the experiences that she gained in each place.   Her love of the ‘Jose’ festival and ‘moko jumbies’, there was a gleam in her eye when she spoke about the present season we were in and another appreciation that she had, ‘parang’.  

This life couple has a natural appreciation of the arts and vitality around them.  They appreciate, dance, drama, painting, drawing, music, writing, poetry, and all that our confusion of cultures have to offer.  What a blessing to be in their presence.

What a glorious afternoon, it is now time to depart to pick up my beloved children from school.

Here are a few pictures taken in and around San Fernando!

© 2013, Odette M. Lawrence and NorDean Canvas. All rights reserved. The use and/or duplication of this material without the express and written permission of this blog’s author and/or owner are unauthorized and strictly prohibited. 

Off Mosquito Creek

Off the proposed board walk (Black and White)

Off the proposed Board Walk

San Fernando Wharf

San Fernando Wharf

Union Hall, San Fernando - Hibiscus

Union Hall, San Fernando, Rain Kissed Lime

Union Hall, San Fernando, we liming in black and white with some vignetting

Union Hall, San Fernando, rain sprinkled leaves

 

Saying Goodbye again and again.

Today I went to say goodbye to a friend of yours

I looked at life knowing death is part of its course

Thinking of my beliefs and the very source

Hoping in your mind, you left with no remorse

I sat and listened as is mine to do

To the children voice their praise

You know all I had were thoughts of you

Of the similarities in many of your very ways

The descriptive way they leaned to prose

Of colonialism and how y’all snubbed your nose

Sternly admonishing us, keeping us on our toes

Whilst keeping us a step ahead of our foes

I observed the men in the room

Those with children, stoic, expressionless

Like my camera lens I zoomed

Into their hearts, some so bottomless

Lacking of emotion, void of life, opposite of wives

Who showed every emotion, we were the prize

But we knew you would give your lives

To save us from guns, jabs or knives

I hope if any had a chance

To make amends they would do so now

Because this road is no circumstance

Everyone’s destiny the same, a solemn vow

Every home coming we attend, a reminder of our fate

Replacing you not an easy feat

But to which we have to step up to the plate

So as you walk on heaven’s streets

Please say a word for all of us

With every intention that again we should meet

Even though this just seems so unjust

Mourn we will, cry and smile, you’ll see

Every single day that passes

To our children we must be

Everything you were and hope it surpasses

And exceeds expectations, So that your life your legacy

Will live on in all your babies, and grandbabies  

And generations to come, in love and jubilee

As thank God and give praise and glory

For yes one day this too will be me

--Odette M. Lawrence

  a.k.a. NorDean Canvas

© 2013, Odette M. Lawrence and NorDean Canvas. All rights reserved. The use and/or duplication of this material without the express and written permission of this blog’s author and/or owner are unauthorized and strictly prohibited. 

Mi amor, mi papa! 12/6/1934-8/28/2011

To whom do I owe the pleasure?

As I travel along the highway
Reflecting on this day
Thinking of you and your smile
And the things you use to say
The things that made you laugh
Your abilities and your many crafts
And when I'd answer your quotes
How you laughed and called me daft
In my reflection I see your face
In my actions some of your ways
In my heart a permanent place
Your strength, and your bowlers pace
Today above all others
I think of you and my brothers
Thankful that I still have my mother
But for a father there is no other
Your teachings will always be
A formidable part of me
It has helped shape my destiny
I am thankful for my history
Oh daddy how I miss you
Do you see the things I do
The words you said 'I'm proud of you'
And most of all 'I love you'
These are the things I savor
As with your loss I labor
But in those words I found favor
Trying to keep it all together
My light my joy is in knowing
That to us you were never owing
Time nor mercies unspent
You did it all your life well spent.
So today as I travel down this road
In my heart lays a heavy load
I had to pen these words to you
Saying daddy, today I miss you!

-- O. Lawrence
Aka NorDean Canvas

© 2013, Odette M. Lawrence and NorDean Canvas. All rights reserved. The use and/or duplication of this material without the express and written permission of this blog’s author and/or owner are unauthorized and strictly prohibited.  

Tyrico Bay

Who says ‘beach’.  Feeling hot, hot, hot.  I want a sea bath.  Let’s go……

Well here we are on summer vacation, school is out, the place is hot, the mood is right.  My brother says that he has to go into Port of Spain to do some business and would like to know what we had planned for the day, since we were back to another day of schlepping Sherry (my daughter) to summer camp.  We had nothing planned.  He suggested Maracas or in particular, Tyrico Bay (knick named Indian bay by the locals).

After the popular Maracas Bay on the northern coast of Trinidad lies a bay called Tyrico Bay which is approximately nine (9) hundred meters long or half (1/2) of a mile.  This beach is best visited in the early morning, before it gets crowded as it is a small beach, and subject to many families with small kids.  The sands at Tyrico Bay are a greyish brown hue, quite beautiful.  The beach is manned by life guards between 11am and 5pm daily.  I do not know where the name ‘Tyrico’ came from, and my research didn’t afford information on such.  I wonder if it was of Amerindian origin, as many place names on the island are.

Tyrico Bay doesn’t have high waves, the water is very calm, waves maxing at three (3) feet.  My niece and nephew being three (3) and six (6) years old respectively would benefit from the calm waters, and so would my ten (10) year old son.  We agreed to meet at the beach and packed a cooler full of drinks, a Publix bag full of snacks, towels, sun block, and a fresh set of dry clothes to wear afterwards.  We donned our swimwear.

On the drive in, we stopped at a local vendor and bought a few bags of pineapple chow.  Almost ripe pineapples, sliced and seasoned with shadow beni or bandania (culantro), chives and pepper (if this vendor used salt, you could barely taste it, perfect for my HBP).  We got to Maracas, and met my brother, parked on the side of the street waiting for his wife and child who were using the facilities at that beach.  They came out and together we drove less than five minutes to our destination, Tyrico Bay.

We parked, by backing up under some foliage with the front of the automobiles facing the ocean.  This was indeed an ideal spot for changing our clothes afterwards.  I, with camera in hand, proceeded to the beach.  The water was clear, and even though it was already around eleven (11) in the morning, there weren’t many sea bathers.  The football (soccer ball) was taken out of the car and a little warm up session began, believe it or not this session included all family members from three (3) years old to seventy seven (77), fun times.

I noticed some folks setting up a tent on the beach, they had parked right below a coconut tree, and I thought to myself, how brave of them, because if a coconut fell out of that tree unto their car ‘crapeau smoke their pipe’ (local saying meaning no one can help them).  The tent was constructed and oh my goodness, out came two (2) massage beds and they too were assembled and placed under the tent.  The tent was adorned with mosquito netting, and a sign promptly went up offering massages and facials.  I did not see anyone venturing near the tent to receive any of the offered services, I only hoped that they were successful.

Along the beach came a young man selling beautiful bead and sea shell necklaces.  Alas, he had no change, else I would now be wearing an astonishing all white coral shell necklace that caught my eye.

We went into the water.  The water was crystal clear, calm, warm and very salty.  I wanted to show my son the things that I did with my father when I was his (my son’s) age.  Hmmmmm, who will help me.  Both my husband and brother swam away, saying “NO, you’re too heavy”.  How mean, I am not a ‘fatty bum bum’.  I wanted them to stoop so I could climb on to their shoulders and jump off making a bomb splash.  “STRUPES” (sound made whilst sucking your tongue against your teeth).  I finally persuaded them and my husband allowed me to use him first, up up and ‘woooooooooooo’ splash.  Simple delight marked my son’s face as he witnessed my splash and he wanted to try it, so did my three (3) year old niece, she has no fear of the water even though she is not yet able to swim.  We allowed them both to do it over and over again, alternating between dad and uncle.   They enjoyed this immensely.  My six (6) year old nephew on the other hand was not having it.  He preferred to lock his hands around my neck and tell me about how far out I was going, not caring whether my feet were touching ground or not.  “Aunty would you please go back in, closer to the shore aunty please”.  I complied, just a little, because geeeeze his hold was tight, he is “cough cough”, choking me.  Eventually I deposited him on the shore and he ran to his mother. One day I will get him to do it all, one day I surely will.

We enjoyed the water and reluctantly came out, because we were hungry, and the time to go back for my daughter Sherry, was fast approaching.  My brother, in his sheer brilliance creates all sorts of conveniences and when we go to the beach, he has these barrel type containers filled with water that he brings along.  Well he typically does this when he is travelling with his pickup and today having his car, I didn’t realize that he had a smaller container available with water.  He has outfitted this with an aquarium pump, which is connected to an invertor, connected to the car’s battery, a hose with a shower head, is connected in this barrel and serves as an outdoor shower for washing off after being in the salt water.  This convenience is really best for beaches with no facilities, and our parking location served ideal for rinsing off and changing to make our trek back down.  

Well this region is known for a particular food.  Bake and shark!  Bake – is a form of bread, but in this particular instance it refers to a fried bread.  The flour is typically kneaded using butter, and baking powder, and then rolled out into small circular like flat cakes, and placed into a cast iron pot of hot oil to be fried, the baking powder allows it to rise, and it will consistently do so if there is oil on the top as well as the bottom of the bake.  A variety of things are eaten with these fried bakes, but the Maracas region is known for the ‘shark’ filling.  Well the shark is typically fried shark, seasoned with local seasonings, breaded with corn meal or flour and fried.  There are a variety of condiments offered to put into your bake and shark, including, pineapple, shadow beni, tamarind sauce, ketchup, pepper, mango chutney, mustard, tartar sauce, onions, lettuce, tomatoes and more.

We stopped at one of the many vendors at Maracas Bay, I had bake and shrimp instead of shark and filled it with condiments, it was absolutely delightful, and quite frankly my mouth is watering anew typing this post.

It was a wonderful day and we have some shots to prove it.

--NorDean Canvas

© 2013, Odette M. Lawrence and NorDean Canvas. All rights reserved. The use and/or duplication of this material without the express and written permission of this blog’s author and/or owner are unauthorized and strictly prohibited.