Ah, Saturday!
Amma and I have another wonderful day planned together. Only today, it’s not just us. We are taking Dan, Lucy, and Emily along with us.
It’s 9am and I’m standing at the foot of the Baobob House driveway with my foofy hair parted in two and tied in two low ponytails.
Amma and I have made an ambitious itinerary for the day. It entails a snorkel at the pier then breakfast at Polly’s before 11am because at 11:00, we have a recital to attend at the art gallery!
So, with our itinerary in mind, Amma commends my timeliness while the others trickle, slowly, into the car.
At the Feather Leaf, you become strong quickly – it’s an active lifestyle here and so when Amma comments about some tasks I accomplished yesterday it reminds me of a time back home in Buffalo with my ex boyfriend.
I tell her about the time when Aaron and I were furnishing our first apartment together. We had hardly any furniture, the apartment was bare and we had a small budget. One day out thrifting at the ReUse store nearby, I picked up several cabinets and upcycled them into an entryway piece before he got home one day.
He came home to see my new creation and his first reaction, and I quote: “who helped you bring this inside?” He was insinuating that perhaps I had not done it myself and that someone had helped me. Not in a malicious or negative tone either. So I kindly reminded him that he was in a relationship with a very determined and independent woman and that I, alone, had loaded the cabinets in my car, carried them into the house, and built the entryway cabinet.
Amma concludes: “determined, independent, and strong woman!”
And speaking of ex-boyfriend. We talked finally.
It was a couple or maybe 3 weeks ago. We talk for over an hour, catching up, sharing tidbits about our present lives. I felt a sense of familiarity seeing his face and hearing his voice through the phone.
He is doing well. As am I. We are doing our very best, in fact…carrying on without the other.
I think he believes I’m thriving in my new life without him. I do my best to remind him that this is not a vacation and this is my real life. Real-life comes with obstacles. And we agree as we are doing our very best, the longing is there.
He is supportive, still. Even though deep down I believe he holds it against me for leaving.
Despite this, I still water my love for him as if it’s a plant. True love never dies, maybe. Only time will tell.
Today, all we can do is speak our truth to one another. There’s no guarantee or possibility for future planning right now which for me, is difficult to navigate but not impossible. There’s no “him coming out here to be with me” and I am not returning to be with him. The prospect of continuing on one day feels nice but right now, the “how” remains to be seen and so it’s left open-ended.
Several minutes later, the rest of the crew arrives to the car and my fingers are burrowed into the roots of my hair, braiding it back in a weaved constraint that will temporarily subside the frizz.
Everyone appeared shocked and delighted about today’s agenda, with the recital and all. So a little late, we arrive to the pier in Frederiksted and scurry into the sea with fins and snorkels.
Emily is our tour guide today, I note mentally. Born in Florida and a newly certified rescue scuba diver, she knows her fish better than any of us. She names the triggerfish, the trumpetfish, the peacock parrotfish, the Sargent majors, and spots some turtles. There are so many species I am learning a couple new ones each time I go.
And during the snorkel, I unintentionally lose all track of time as my face is submerged in the water, immersed in the world below me.
I spy a lone cuttlefish and call the other over and we gaze at it for a minimum of 5 minutes.
Next, we spot a sequence of squid; six of them that are gliding like synchronized swimmers. Similar to a flock of birds, they maintain a ‘check mark ‘ sequence as they move swiftly through the sea.
It’s like swimming in a huge aquarium – different species everywhere you look.
My ears in the water are still a little messed up by the way. I have been practicing free-diving during the snorkel but I’m still having trouble equalizing my left ear. It’s a lingering token from blowing my eardrum on a night dive 5 years ago. But I take it in stride and each time try to retrain my eardrum how to equalize.
For now, I don’t really feel the need to go deep into the ocean. I am happy with remaining near the surface, simply snorkeling and existing with the sea life around me.
At 10:15am we resurface with just enough time to grab a bite to eat before the recital. The recital that we are heading for, is at the Caribbean Museum Center for the Arts, just down the street from Polly’s and the pier.
The children are reciting their piano and African drum skills they’ve been practicing for the last semester of lessons, taught by teacher Elizabeth Robb.
Amma’s friend, Ginger, is singing a song at the end, hence how we learned of the event to begin with.
It is such a beautiful venue, by the way. Upstairs, it is an all-white art gallery with chairs pointed toward a piano that is framed by windows on either side and accented with a huge vase of “Lobster Claw” plants. It’s fantastically beautiful. And the kids, they are just as sweet. The first performer, maybe 5 years old, plays relics of the Scooby-Doo theme song and it is so imperfectly perfect and wholesome that I melt into my chair and cry for a minute.
One after the other, we watch little humans walk up to the grand piano to play their skits. They are as young as kindergartners and as old as 5th graders (with the exception of Ginger).
It’s just. so. adorable.
After the recital, we wander around Frederiksted to visit some of the souvenir shops. They are filled with fun objects, and more so, culture and facts about the island.
I pick up a book and read a poem: The Madras That Binds All Ahwe.
Madras…”what is it?” I wonder aloud.
The store associate explains it as a fabric of the island. It’s a fabric that unites people and history with the land.
I dig a little deeper to find it is a calico-like colorful fabric; one that resembles what I know to be “flannel”.
It originated from the city of Madraspatnam in India (now called Chennai) and was brought all the way to the Caribbean in the 1600s by Dutch and British tradesmen.
It is used in cultural costumes here the way the Scottish tartans are used to make kilts.
And “tartan” I learn, is another new adjective for fabric that means “plaid”. Tartan is a madras pattern. I am learning real culture here.
The poem, I remark, is beautiful. And I am a little disappointed with myself that I had only previously associated kind patterned with rednecks in upstate New York.
Or Fall apparel – apple picking clothing.
I learn in this little souvenir shop just how much cultural significance clothing plays and how now, in America, it is watered down and reduced to “fast fashion”.
My mind expands once more, now as a citizen of the world, humbled to be learning so much outside of the world I lived in before.
It’s true that now, the US Virgin Islands have their own unique madras as of 2019.
In June 2021 it was presented by designer Debbie Sun at the Frederick Dorsch Cultural Center in Frederiksted, St. Croix. Here is the madras below:
In the past, back in India, madras used to be worn by peasants. Now they are celebrated and worn by all citizens. It’s funny how things like clothing and lobster climb the ranks of delicacy over time. Lobster used to only be fed to slaves and prisoners. Now it is a fine experience we pay top-dollar for.
Walking into the next souvenir shop, I find a few fun items that spark joy. Here they are:
The remainder of the day is spent at the pool and Dan and I have a meaningful conversation over ideas.
We both quote the brilliant Eleanor Roosevelt:
Great minds discuss ideas:
average minds discuss events;
small minds discuss people.
And I have an overwhelming sense that I may have indeed, begun to find the right people.
You find so many activities!
What she said!