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Wayne, "the kid" and me on Cat Island, Bahamas. |
“The name’s Sean.
Sean Connery,” he said, his hand outstretched to shake ours. “This fund raiser is to support my
efforts for the work on this church.”
He did not look like any James Bond I’ve met, as they’ve
yet to cast a black man in that role.
We’re not sure if “Sean” was pulling our leg, that was his real name, or
he was just drunk, as we smelled alcohol fumes when he spoke. He gave Wayne a tour of the church, a
historic monument but quite dilapidated now. Meanwhile, I bought a lunch of fried snapper, crab grits,
dirty rice and a little corn.
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His first shot... |
“Let’s go,” Wayne urged, re-appearing after his tour. Sean
continued to bend his ear with a mix of earnestly spoken but slurred and
heavily accented words. He was difficult
to understand, far more due to the alcohol than his accent.
The closed service station a block away was the first place
we could find where I could sit down and eat. It was shady and clean at the raised concrete diesel
island. Promptly, a cute little
boy dressed in his Good Friday best, who looked like he was about four years
old scampered over to say hello.
Then sat down next to me.
Close, nearly hip to hip.
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Better... |
“Food,” he said, pointing at my now open Styrofoam
tray. “Want food.”
“Did your parents say that was okay? Where are they?” I asked, hoping for an
easy solution to eat in peace.
“They said to come over and say hello,” he replied, nodding
to a family clustered under the service station building’s wrap-around
porch. They were too far to engage
with ease.
“Food,” he repeated, again pointing.
I shared.
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Still a little trouble but hey, it's good anyway! |
Then his older sister came over. Did I need to share with her too, I wondered? Then the rest of the family? Or was she going to urge her brother to
come with her?
Wayne, knowing I was hungry after our walk there,
intervened. “Hey, could you take
our picture?” he asked her. Promptly,
she did, smiling, then gave back the camera and left. Wayne handed the boy the camera, and mugged for it. He took several shots, struggling a
little with pressing the shutter heard enough and keeping his fingers out of
the view frame.
Eventually, I finished my food, left and slowly, the boy
lost interest and wandered back to his family.
We were relieved he didn’t hit us up for money, like the
12-year-old who persistently and aggressively did last year in Vieux Fort, St.
Lucia. Then, failing that, demanded
we take him with us back to the United States. “My parents don’t like me. They would like to see me go,” he insisted. There was no question that wasn’t going
to happen.
The little guy by the fish fry, however, was kin of
charming. Did we do the right
thing? What would the right thing
to do have been?
Location
Location
April 20, 2014 BAHAMAS. We’re in Eleuthera, Davis Harbour (N24.44.044
W76.14.451). We sailed 56 miles,
mostly with the wind, 14-20 knots, SE with2-5+ foot waves. It was a bit rolly. In the interim? We sailed from Rum Cay (N23.38
W74.50) to Conception (N23.51.033
W75.07.298), Conception to Hawk’s Nest (N24.09.453 W75.31.414) on the Southern
tip of Cat Island, then up further New Bight (N24.17.234 W75.25.145), then Old
Bight (N24.15.230 W75.23.957), seeking to top off our diesel fuel. Due to Easter weekend, purchasing
diesel fuel was not an option. We’re left Cat Island largely unexplored due to
its lack of Westerly protection; Eleuthera offers shelter to more comfortably
weather the Westerlies due in on Sunday.
Most likely we will not revisit Little San Salvador as originally
planned as it would’ve required motoring there, then finding ourselves
relatively unprotected from Westerly winds, then motoring to Eleuthra. Instead,
after exploring Eleuthra, we’ll head up to the Abacos, then back to Florida for
hurricane season.
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