Tony Deyal | No where in the world like Barbados

For our remembrance of John Wickham’s literary home here in the arts and hearts of the Caribbean people. I fervently hope that he is still roaming the universe, seeking and discovering new landings and landscapes, people, and things, to returning with fresh gems from those of us who knew and continue to keep on adding to his literary treasure-house.

As we head to Barbados after a long time away, especially my “Bajan” daughter and son who were born there, I’m once more into the breach, dear friends, once more. I have said it before and now that, despite not having money enough to spare, Barbados is my favourite place in the Caribbean and, in some ways, the world. I used to say in the old days that, if I had money, I would be in Barbados watching cricket.

I’ve always said that, if I had a lot more money, I would buy my own plane, fly to Barbados, and watch cricket. And, if I had lots and lots of money, I would live in Barbados and be part of the permanent flying fish and cou-cou posse. In all the places in the world that I have lived, including Trinidad, provided you could afford it, Barbados is the best. It is like the old joke about how to become a millionaire.

First, you become a billionaire and then you buy an airline. In my case, it is even simpler. Become a billionaire and then move to Barbados. Maybe I am exaggerating about the cost of living in Barbados. I am telling the plain truth, however, in declaring my love for that country. I lived there happily for many years and left there reluctantly.

In looking forward to going back “home” after so many years, I remembered my jokes, stories and humour in the days when my weekly column, having started in Barbados, was subsequently used by Jamaica, Trinidad, Guyana, and other regional and international companies. My first article in Barbados, on April 30, 1993, was “BRIAN LARA - A BLADE APART”. Brian Lara had struck again and, as I lathered up, getting ready to shave, the cricket and Lara were still on my mind. Razor in hand, I mused some more.

Why are cricket bats referred to as “blades”? Perhaps it has to do with the fact that cricket is essentially a war game between tribes and nations with a bat and ball, and, instead of doing battle with sword and lance, we do better with hit-and-run. In other words, if the bat is a blade and our batsmen are swordsmen, how do they compare with the knights of old? Having taken the challenge and compared all the big players, I ended with “Lara’s blade has to be the new Gillette Sensor” but added that he must never forget his “Right Guard”. The Nation News liked it and we’ve been together since then!

For those years, Barbados was key. A Trinidadian walked into a bar on Baxter’s Road in Barbados with a dog on a leash. The dog was an ordinary, shaggy but scruffy-looking, mixed-breed mongrel. The Trinidadian looked around him and then asked for a Trinidad rum. It was a name that the bartender had never heard before and did not want to hear again. The bartender said, “Look buddy, we have the best rum in the world here. If you don’t see what you want on the shelf, we don’t have it.” The bartender had no hesitation that Barbados rum was the best. As he once told an Englishman who asked about the rum, “Sir, the astronauts included one of our rums among the things they took to the moon when they made their famous landing. Commander Armstrong himself made sure our rum went to the moon. Every so often, the rum affects the moon.” When the Englishman questioned the veracity of the statement and cast doubt on its authenticity, the bartender said triumphantly, “Listen, you never hear about the moon in Eclipse?”

My friends in Barbados wanted me to participate in their “Kadooment”. I was not sure how to pronounce it. Then they told me that they were taking me to “Cohobblopot”. I told them flatly that I will not go anywhere I could not pronounce. We laughed together because I did not mean it. For me, Barbados was a small country and flat, but with great people and easy to get around with excellent road maps and signs. However, what I had to learn was that, when someone scored a “ton” it had nothing to do with weights and measures but that some cricketer had made one hundred runs. I found out that “unfair” is a verb in Barbados as in the example, “He unfaired me” meaning “he was unfair to me”. More than anything else, I learnt the proper use and meaning of the words “above” and “below”. In my first visit to Cave Shepherd, I went to the ground floor looking for “T”-shirts and, finding none, asked for a special souvenir type.

The salesperson said that it was “above”. I took the escalator to the next floor and found only books, ladies’ garments, and kitchen utensils. I later learnt that she meant “ahead” or “further on”. But that was my fault because, in Barbados, the signs are strictly utilitarian, purposeful, and focused. My favourites and the ones I used most during the many years I lived there was a sign, repeated everywhere, “To City” and “Out Of City”. I had bought a “Mini Moke”, an exceedingly small vehicle with a canvas top and no doors or windows, which the Australians called a “mule or donkey in poor condition”. I paid Bds$1,000 for it and, when I was told that insurance would cost me Bds$1,500, I realised that the only option I had was to sell the car to afford the insurance.

Fortunately, I found the cash and the beauty of Barbados at the same time. Interestingly, unlike motorbike riders in Trinidad and elsewhere, I never had to park under a bridge or covered space when rain was falling. That was because the weather in those days, and even now, was good and the showers were short and intermittent. What I also found out was that most of the roads were so linked that you could never completely lose your way in Barbados. If there was an accident blocking one road, there were others that you could use to bypass the problem. My greatest fear was being bitten by one of the big dogs jumping into my “MOKE” car and ended in the hospital. I could imagine the dialogue by the Nurse: “Sir (Barbados nurses are very mannerly), what happen?” Me, “A dog bite me.” Nurse, “How that happen?” Me, “Well I was driving my car and somewhere between Coverly and Newton I came to a plantation and a big dog rush out, jump into my car and bite me.” Nurse, “Balls.” Me, “No, ankle.” Nurse, “No the place you get bite. Balls.” Me, not knowing that Balls is the name of the village or plantation and not an anatomical reference, “Nurse, not there, my ankle is where I get bite.”

As I was reflecting on the many great times my wife, our ‘Bajan’ children, and I were treated like family, it suddenly dawned on me, like a bolt of lightning, the extent to which the prime minister, Mia Mottley, made a massive difference then, and even more, now. The Honourable Mottley has been light years ahead of all of us. She has been playing multidimensional chess while the rest of us, from the highest to the lowest, are still playing ‘Snakes and Ladders’.

Tony Deyal took his Moke to the mechanic to change the oil and was told, “Mr Tony, I suggest you change the car and keep the oil.” Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com