I find it a great delight to own and wear a St. Croix hook bracelet from Sonya's. I love it when people recognize it. I have spotted a few on others in the states, one from across a restaurant. My sister, wearing hers in Saipan, found a few people there with them. People travel all over the world and have an instant connection with one another when they see these bracelets. They definitely start conversations and produce smiles and shared good memories.
I did not buy my own when I lived there back in 88/89. I expected someone to buy me one, when I had earned it, like an initiation gift. I really wanted one. I wanted to fit in and feel like a belonger who truly belonged. For me to buy my own, however, felt somewhat presumptuous, as if I were to invite myself to a party or similar. None of this is true, of course. Anyone who walks into Sonya’s store on the corner of Company Street in Christiansted can buy one. Anyone in the world can buy one online at http://www.sonyaltd.com/. While I was there, dating sailor Sam I wore his hook bracelet. I gave it back, however, when I broke his heart and went in search of other island adventures. Sam never bought me a bracelet and I never told him that I hoped he would but I did since he was the most likely person in my life to do so at that time.
Months passed and Hurricane Hugo came and left me with Posttraumatic confusion and indecisiveness. I left the island, not returning to get my bracelet for ten years, buying it myself (and one for my daughter, who accompanied me there). I also bought one of the Hugo bracelets, because I had definitely EARNED that one for myself!
During our departure from the island, my daughter and I were asked to unhook our bracelets as we passed through the security scanners. Doing this surprised me and delighted me. The scanner would beep if the bracelet was hooked but not after we had unhooked it. We were allowed to depart, only after temporarily breaking our silver symbolic relationship with the island. The bracelet represents my love of the island. Unhooking it represented leaving, disconnecting, but re-hooking it again symbolized my bond with the island and wearing it everyday keeps that bond sealed, reminding me of some of the best times of my life. I cherish my bracelet and what it represents. I still feel that they should be earned and are much more than simple jewelry.
Two weeks in Barbados
Barbados was another one of those island dream places that I had only heard of from romance novels. Of course, like the other islands, I had an idea of what it would be like but it turned out to be nothing like I imagined. It is a lovely place with very nice people who surprised me with their educated population and overall higher standards than some of the other islands I had known by then. As far as I know, they still maintain this standard of excellence that gives their residents an advantage over those of the other islands as far as progress and individual opportunity is concerned.
Barbados is a British territory and the residents there are known to take advantage of the opportunity to travel to England and attend school, returning to their island home to provide their educated skills and expertise to the job market, affording the islanders better salaries, business opportunities, and lifestyles. It was ironic, however, that they were still an island with very little outside influence such a franchise restaurants, stores, and the offshore banking industry as is seen on some of the other islands at that time. When I arrived there in October 1989, McDonald’s had just opened as the first and only fast food restaurant and, I learned, was the new hot spot where people took their special dates out to dinner. I am certain all this has changed in the 20 years since I was there. They did have many fine restaurants then which I did not have the opportunity to sample and I‘m sure they still do, along with, now, fast food chains too.
I learned about chattel houses in Barbados. I thought chattel was an interesting word for the little houses I saw all over this island. Chattel means personal property. I did not know this until years later when I took a real estate licensure course but the chattel houses on Barbados were exactly that, personal property. The people owned little houses that could be moved. They were built of wood but were about the size of a mobile home, only not as long, not built so cheaply, or on wheels as we are familiar with in the states. I didn’t see one being moved but was told that they could be and that even though they didn’t look like much many of the residents did very well in their employment and had fine things inside and drove very nice, expensive imported (everything was imported) cars. Therefore, in this way, it was impossible to ascertain by the size and location of a home, just how well of its owners were. I found this a very interesting concept. Whenever these people wanted a change of scenery or did not like their neighbors, they moved. Since many people on an island are related, they probably had family all over the island that had land they could move to but I suspect that they did not move all that often.
I spent two weeks in Barbados. Most of that time I was either on the beach or in bed. I was given a bungalow at the Divi Southwinds Resort. At first, I introduced myself to the marketing manager who ran the operation there and she showed me around and let me follow her, learning how she did her job, which was the same as the one I had on St. Croix only much, much bigger. She had a team of 30 or more OPCs and had meetings, set quotas, had incentives, and competition for bookings. I wished I could go back to STX with my new knowledge and apply what I had learned but there was no job for me there. They had no job for me in Barbados either and in fact, they began to get suspicious of me after I had been there for nearly two weeks and asked me to leave. They did this because they have very strict immigration laws and will not let outsiders come there and take jobs that could be given to Barbadians. I was ready to go. I had done nothing much there except read books. I did not have anything else to do. They paid for my accommodations but not my meals and I had begun to eat very little to save money, I was broke. It was time to go. I had a return ticket that was open dated and would take me back to St. Croix but I planned to use it to see all I could on my way back.
I stopped in Antigua where the Divi Corporation was in the process of opening a new resort. It turned out they were not hiring yet so there was no job for me there but I stayed a week with a friend whom I had met on St. Croix. Justin was a pilot and flew for the West Indies Air all over the islands. He lived there and was dating an island girl whose family had lived there many years. I went to her home and met her family who were gracious and obviously a major part of the upper echelon of the white islander society on Antigua. I believe they had been there for many generations and would now enjoy hearing more of their family history but at the time I was nervous about being the female guest of their daughter’s boyfriend so didn‘t ask too many questions. I will not go into details here about my stay with Justin other than to say we enjoyed seeing each other again and as far as I know, he still had a girlfriend when I left.
Justin’s girlfriend spoke the island lingo/dialect and I picked it up very quickly while I was there. It was uncanny how well I was able to mimic her. I enjoyed this but was not sure what they thought of my newly acquired vernacular, if it was mockery or just plain weird. It is my chameleon linguistics ability. I still have it and only play with it but I think I should have or still could capitalize on it somehow. I can copy many dialects. Australian, Indian, and Irish are easy and of course, the English of England is a favorite. I do hillbilly exceptionally well.
In the islands, I encountered so many people from the North East. I could pick out people from different parts of New York and almost always from New Jersey. It really was not hard to guess because most of them were from there anyway. I still play a little game with the tourist with whom I come in contact with here in Eureka Springs whereby I listen and try to detect where they are from. In the Midwest, there are differences and I can usually get pretty close. People are amazed when I can guess where or from which direction they are from. South Arkansas is easy to detect because my mother is from there and I know it well. Louisianans are a dead give away. Tennesseans have a little more twang than Arkansans but Missourians and Kansans are sometimes hard to separate. Yankees are always a stand out here.
Barbados is a British territory and the residents there are known to take advantage of the opportunity to travel to England and attend school, returning to their island home to provide their educated skills and expertise to the job market, affording the islanders better salaries, business opportunities, and lifestyles. It was ironic, however, that they were still an island with very little outside influence such a franchise restaurants, stores, and the offshore banking industry as is seen on some of the other islands at that time. When I arrived there in October 1989, McDonald’s had just opened as the first and only fast food restaurant and, I learned, was the new hot spot where people took their special dates out to dinner. I am certain all this has changed in the 20 years since I was there. They did have many fine restaurants then which I did not have the opportunity to sample and I‘m sure they still do, along with, now, fast food chains too.
I learned about chattel houses in Barbados. I thought chattel was an interesting word for the little houses I saw all over this island. Chattel means personal property. I did not know this until years later when I took a real estate licensure course but the chattel houses on Barbados were exactly that, personal property. The people owned little houses that could be moved. They were built of wood but were about the size of a mobile home, only not as long, not built so cheaply, or on wheels as we are familiar with in the states. I didn’t see one being moved but was told that they could be and that even though they didn’t look like much many of the residents did very well in their employment and had fine things inside and drove very nice, expensive imported (everything was imported) cars. Therefore, in this way, it was impossible to ascertain by the size and location of a home, just how well of its owners were. I found this a very interesting concept. Whenever these people wanted a change of scenery or did not like their neighbors, they moved. Since many people on an island are related, they probably had family all over the island that had land they could move to but I suspect that they did not move all that often.
I spent two weeks in Barbados. Most of that time I was either on the beach or in bed. I was given a bungalow at the Divi Southwinds Resort. At first, I introduced myself to the marketing manager who ran the operation there and she showed me around and let me follow her, learning how she did her job, which was the same as the one I had on St. Croix only much, much bigger. She had a team of 30 or more OPCs and had meetings, set quotas, had incentives, and competition for bookings. I wished I could go back to STX with my new knowledge and apply what I had learned but there was no job for me there. They had no job for me in Barbados either and in fact, they began to get suspicious of me after I had been there for nearly two weeks and asked me to leave. They did this because they have very strict immigration laws and will not let outsiders come there and take jobs that could be given to Barbadians. I was ready to go. I had done nothing much there except read books. I did not have anything else to do. They paid for my accommodations but not my meals and I had begun to eat very little to save money, I was broke. It was time to go. I had a return ticket that was open dated and would take me back to St. Croix but I planned to use it to see all I could on my way back.
I stopped in Antigua where the Divi Corporation was in the process of opening a new resort. It turned out they were not hiring yet so there was no job for me there but I stayed a week with a friend whom I had met on St. Croix. Justin was a pilot and flew for the West Indies Air all over the islands. He lived there and was dating an island girl whose family had lived there many years. I went to her home and met her family who were gracious and obviously a major part of the upper echelon of the white islander society on Antigua. I believe they had been there for many generations and would now enjoy hearing more of their family history but at the time I was nervous about being the female guest of their daughter’s boyfriend so didn‘t ask too many questions. I will not go into details here about my stay with Justin other than to say we enjoyed seeing each other again and as far as I know, he still had a girlfriend when I left.
Justin’s girlfriend spoke the island lingo/dialect and I picked it up very quickly while I was there. It was uncanny how well I was able to mimic her. I enjoyed this but was not sure what they thought of my newly acquired vernacular, if it was mockery or just plain weird. It is my chameleon linguistics ability. I still have it and only play with it but I think I should have or still could capitalize on it somehow. I can copy many dialects. Australian, Indian, and Irish are easy and of course, the English of England is a favorite. I do hillbilly exceptionally well.
In the islands, I encountered so many people from the North East. I could pick out people from different parts of New York and almost always from New Jersey. It really was not hard to guess because most of them were from there anyway. I still play a little game with the tourist with whom I come in contact with here in Eureka Springs whereby I listen and try to detect where they are from. In the Midwest, there are differences and I can usually get pretty close. People are amazed when I can guess where or from which direction they are from. South Arkansas is easy to detect because my mother is from there and I know it well. Louisianans are a dead give away. Tennesseans have a little more twang than Arkansans but Missourians and Kansans are sometimes hard to separate. Yankees are always a stand out here.
Haiti, my personal experience
In Honor of The Haitians I’ve met
I spent a little over two years living on Haiti’s closest island neighbor, Salt Cay, in the Turks and Caicos Islands. We were just 90 miles away from the large island of Hispaniola which is shared by Haiti with the Dominican Republic. We visited the DR on three occasions but never once did we even consider going to Haiti. The Dr and Haiti are, most definitely, two dramatically different countries who just happen to share the same rock in the sea.
Steve and I rented a car and drove all over the DR but not to the Haitian border. I always wondered what it was like, if they had a wall and gates, or guards with guns and dogs. I was certain that it must have been heavily protected because the Dominican Republic was a beautiful land with a contented population of Spanish/native people who, although mostly lived simple lives, were secure in their economy, their population, and government. Haiti, as is known, has not had such good fortune.
I saw very few Haitians in the Dominican Republic. My experience with Haitians is limited to the few that I met while living on Salt Cay and some that I saw on Grand Turk where we did our grocery shopping. The Turks Islanders saw themselves as better than the Haitians and the Dominicans but they put the Dominicans above the Haitians. To them the Haitians were at the bottom of the social structure in the islands. There were quite a few Dominicans working for Turks Islanders and even fewer Haitians. They would trade with them however.
One of my most memorable experiences while living on Salt Cay were the times that I went down to the old dock at the White House to buy produce from the Haitians who came in their hand made boat to sell what they could to this small, isolated population that I had become a part of. They would anchor offshore and the goods were brought to the dock in a smaller row boat that they had pulled along with them behind their simple boat. Their sail boat’s mast was obviously nothing more than a stripped tree trunk, and hand sewn sail was made from bed sheets and old clothes or other cloth. It struck me to see them that they truly must be as poor and industrious as I had heard for, here they were, sailing over 90 miles to sell to these other poor islanders.
I never spoke to any of them. Only one or two of the men from salt Cay would do the business with the Haitians then handle the remainder of the sales for their neighbors. The Haitians, both men and women would simply sit quietly and wait for the large baskets to empty and to collect their money. I thought it a poignant sight to see the Turks Islanders buying clothing from the Haitians. Even though they believed themselves to be better off than the Haitians, they needed whatever goods they could get, however they came to the island. The Haitians probably obtained the clothing from missionaries.
The women of Salt Cay were known for their fresh home baked breads and most of them baked their bread in charcoal ovens heated by fresh charcoal they bought from the Haitians. It was some time after I had been on Salt Cay that I learned that the deforestation of Haiti for the making of charcoal had had a tremendous impact on the terrain of the island and its surrounding coral reefs due to erosion and run off. The charcoal was also the main source of fuel for the Haitians themselves, that and wood fires for cooking. They have altered the landscape to such a degree that their loss of soil has been no minor contributor to their pathetic economic plight. One would think that the island nation could feed its own and be a prosperous exporter of tropical foods otherwise.
Our employer on Salt Cay, an architect who built a historically accurate plantation style resort, had a furniture manufacturing plant in Haiti before we went to work for him. He had been hired by the Divi Resorts to build several resorts and his visions included building very much in the style and décor of the original inhabitants of the Caribbean. To fulfill his dream he needed to furnish his rooms with fine mahogany furniture so he found a cheap source of labor and lumber in Haiti and set up a factory there. He told us several stories of his trips to Haiti that we can never forget.
Mr. Lovelace, who has his own book, The Carnival Never Got started, told us that on his first trip to Haiti he became frustrated with the young man who was there, perhaps his bellman, or any boy who wanted to make some money. Lovelace said he became angry and with this the boy offered to let him beat him if he wanted to. It was another way he could earn a dollar, apparently. This was but a small example of the poor and pathetic that he experienced there. He also told of an idiotic trip that he and his wife took into the mountains to witness a voodoo ceremony. They had no idea where they were being taken and for all they knew they could have ended up as sacrifices or killed for the cash in their pockets but said they saw the show and it was strangely entertaining. They were safely returned to their hotel room.
He also told us of some encounters he had with the infamous ruler at that time, Baby Doc, Jean-Claude Duvalier, who, with his tonton macoute (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonton_Macoute) were known for their ruthlessness, dictatorial heavy handedness, and the fact that many people of Haiti had simply disappeared for the slightest suspicions or violations. Mr. Lovelace had actually been invited to attend a dinner or function of the government although he didn’t realize at the time who had invited him. He was given an escort back to Salt Cay on a government plane on one occasion, along with a load of his finished products. He said it all happened by chance and he had not sought the assistance but it had been handed to him, most likely, because he was a business man who had created jobs on Haiti. He was fearful and did not wish to become involved or embroiled in any disputes or dealings with them.
Mr Lovelace also told of a kind and seemingly very educated man with whom he shared a flight to Miami with once. He said he was most impressed with this islander and when he asked him where he was from he was shocked to learn the man had been educated in Haiti. He had never before or since met another like him but knew from meeting him that there is more than meets the eye regarding what we know about Haiti.
I was most impressed with, and made it home to Arkansas with, some beautiful artwork created by Haitians. My favorites where paintings that were nothing more than bed sheets stapled onto a hand made wood frame and painted steel sculptures that had been hammered out of the steel cut from old barrels. They used vibrant colors in most of the works I saw. I detected a recurring theme with much of the art; crowds of colorful food, clothing, bright sunshine, and the severe contrast of their dark colored people.
They are an industrious people, that much is true. Those who found their way to the Turks Islands were workers. They were given the lowest jobs but where known for their hardiness. Aids has been and continues to plague their people and they were blamed for much of it which also spread on the Turks but it is more of a widespread island cultural issue than can be attributed to one nation or people. All of the islands have promiscuity issues. The prevalence of drugs and aids, are issues on all the Caribbean islands.
The world is saddened by the knowledge that the Haitians have been so poorly governed. Saddened by their desperation after each hurricane and when they are in the news for taking the smallest of boats to Miami in hope of finding a place where they can live in peace and make a living. Now they find themselves in the worst condition ever with the attention of the entire world hearing more of how overpopulated, crowded, poor, and desperate they were, even before the earthquake.
Prayers and money are not enough. Haiti needs a system, a strong leader, and the support of her people to work together to rebuild. They need the money that is being given to them to be put to work to restructure the way they provide for their people. They need jobs, better education, and birth control. It is my hope for them that the powers who pull together to help them rebuilt can also institute this new plan and provide a vision for their future rather than simply solving the immediate crisis and moving on.
I can’t help but wonder if a wealthy coalition of celebrities, corporations, or governments pulled together if they couldn’t do this for this nation. Of course, anything that is done would have to be turned over to Haiti and her own people to operate for themselves and with that begins the problems that plague most of the small island nations, corruption. It’s what keeps them the way they are.
I spent a little over two years living on Haiti’s closest island neighbor, Salt Cay, in the Turks and Caicos Islands. We were just 90 miles away from the large island of Hispaniola which is shared by Haiti with the Dominican Republic. We visited the DR on three occasions but never once did we even consider going to Haiti. The Dr and Haiti are, most definitely, two dramatically different countries who just happen to share the same rock in the sea.
Steve and I rented a car and drove all over the DR but not to the Haitian border. I always wondered what it was like, if they had a wall and gates, or guards with guns and dogs. I was certain that it must have been heavily protected because the Dominican Republic was a beautiful land with a contented population of Spanish/native people who, although mostly lived simple lives, were secure in their economy, their population, and government. Haiti, as is known, has not had such good fortune.
I saw very few Haitians in the Dominican Republic. My experience with Haitians is limited to the few that I met while living on Salt Cay and some that I saw on Grand Turk where we did our grocery shopping. The Turks Islanders saw themselves as better than the Haitians and the Dominicans but they put the Dominicans above the Haitians. To them the Haitians were at the bottom of the social structure in the islands. There were quite a few Dominicans working for Turks Islanders and even fewer Haitians. They would trade with them however.
One of my most memorable experiences while living on Salt Cay were the times that I went down to the old dock at the White House to buy produce from the Haitians who came in their hand made boat to sell what they could to this small, isolated population that I had become a part of. They would anchor offshore and the goods were brought to the dock in a smaller row boat that they had pulled along with them behind their simple boat. Their sail boat’s mast was obviously nothing more than a stripped tree trunk, and hand sewn sail was made from bed sheets and old clothes or other cloth. It struck me to see them that they truly must be as poor and industrious as I had heard for, here they were, sailing over 90 miles to sell to these other poor islanders.
I never spoke to any of them. Only one or two of the men from salt Cay would do the business with the Haitians then handle the remainder of the sales for their neighbors. The Haitians, both men and women would simply sit quietly and wait for the large baskets to empty and to collect their money. I thought it a poignant sight to see the Turks Islanders buying clothing from the Haitians. Even though they believed themselves to be better off than the Haitians, they needed whatever goods they could get, however they came to the island. The Haitians probably obtained the clothing from missionaries.
The women of Salt Cay were known for their fresh home baked breads and most of them baked their bread in charcoal ovens heated by fresh charcoal they bought from the Haitians. It was some time after I had been on Salt Cay that I learned that the deforestation of Haiti for the making of charcoal had had a tremendous impact on the terrain of the island and its surrounding coral reefs due to erosion and run off. The charcoal was also the main source of fuel for the Haitians themselves, that and wood fires for cooking. They have altered the landscape to such a degree that their loss of soil has been no minor contributor to their pathetic economic plight. One would think that the island nation could feed its own and be a prosperous exporter of tropical foods otherwise.
Our employer on Salt Cay, an architect who built a historically accurate plantation style resort, had a furniture manufacturing plant in Haiti before we went to work for him. He had been hired by the Divi Resorts to build several resorts and his visions included building very much in the style and décor of the original inhabitants of the Caribbean. To fulfill his dream he needed to furnish his rooms with fine mahogany furniture so he found a cheap source of labor and lumber in Haiti and set up a factory there. He told us several stories of his trips to Haiti that we can never forget.
Mr. Lovelace, who has his own book, The Carnival Never Got started, told us that on his first trip to Haiti he became frustrated with the young man who was there, perhaps his bellman, or any boy who wanted to make some money. Lovelace said he became angry and with this the boy offered to let him beat him if he wanted to. It was another way he could earn a dollar, apparently. This was but a small example of the poor and pathetic that he experienced there. He also told of an idiotic trip that he and his wife took into the mountains to witness a voodoo ceremony. They had no idea where they were being taken and for all they knew they could have ended up as sacrifices or killed for the cash in their pockets but said they saw the show and it was strangely entertaining. They were safely returned to their hotel room.
He also told us of some encounters he had with the infamous ruler at that time, Baby Doc, Jean-Claude Duvalier, who, with his tonton macoute (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonton_Macoute) were known for their ruthlessness, dictatorial heavy handedness, and the fact that many people of Haiti had simply disappeared for the slightest suspicions or violations. Mr. Lovelace had actually been invited to attend a dinner or function of the government although he didn’t realize at the time who had invited him. He was given an escort back to Salt Cay on a government plane on one occasion, along with a load of his finished products. He said it all happened by chance and he had not sought the assistance but it had been handed to him, most likely, because he was a business man who had created jobs on Haiti. He was fearful and did not wish to become involved or embroiled in any disputes or dealings with them.
Mr Lovelace also told of a kind and seemingly very educated man with whom he shared a flight to Miami with once. He said he was most impressed with this islander and when he asked him where he was from he was shocked to learn the man had been educated in Haiti. He had never before or since met another like him but knew from meeting him that there is more than meets the eye regarding what we know about Haiti.
I was most impressed with, and made it home to Arkansas with, some beautiful artwork created by Haitians. My favorites where paintings that were nothing more than bed sheets stapled onto a hand made wood frame and painted steel sculptures that had been hammered out of the steel cut from old barrels. They used vibrant colors in most of the works I saw. I detected a recurring theme with much of the art; crowds of colorful food, clothing, bright sunshine, and the severe contrast of their dark colored people.
They are an industrious people, that much is true. Those who found their way to the Turks Islands were workers. They were given the lowest jobs but where known for their hardiness. Aids has been and continues to plague their people and they were blamed for much of it which also spread on the Turks but it is more of a widespread island cultural issue than can be attributed to one nation or people. All of the islands have promiscuity issues. The prevalence of drugs and aids, are issues on all the Caribbean islands.
The world is saddened by the knowledge that the Haitians have been so poorly governed. Saddened by their desperation after each hurricane and when they are in the news for taking the smallest of boats to Miami in hope of finding a place where they can live in peace and make a living. Now they find themselves in the worst condition ever with the attention of the entire world hearing more of how overpopulated, crowded, poor, and desperate they were, even before the earthquake.
Prayers and money are not enough. Haiti needs a system, a strong leader, and the support of her people to work together to rebuild. They need the money that is being given to them to be put to work to restructure the way they provide for their people. They need jobs, better education, and birth control. It is my hope for them that the powers who pull together to help them rebuilt can also institute this new plan and provide a vision for their future rather than simply solving the immediate crisis and moving on.
I can’t help but wonder if a wealthy coalition of celebrities, corporations, or governments pulled together if they couldn’t do this for this nation. Of course, anything that is done would have to be turned over to Haiti and her own people to operate for themselves and with that begins the problems that plague most of the small island nations, corruption. It’s what keeps them the way they are.
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