Whenever you travel you tend to meet people (or rather characters) who make an impression on you. These impressions are not always good or bad, or even definable. Sometimes it’s purely impossible to describe the effect they had or the way you felt around them. Today was one of those days; one of those encounters.
The night before Nicola told me that her teacher friend, Edith, her man, Jimmy and Nicola’s beau, Will, were planning to go to the beach for the day and had invited us along. I felt that my time in Saint-Pierre had seen me use up my weekly quota of beach bum fun and I was still between two minds that morning. Nicola and I had planned to go over to Trois-Ilets on the boat anyway so either way we would end up on sandy shores. However, I had also mentioned to David the previous evening that I hoped to be back for the international gospel concert in the Parc Floral later in the evening in Fort-de-France. As it happened, I ended up picking herbs not flowers, and listening to sea shells instead of cow bells…
I was up reasonably early to start planning for my first real week of work in Chateauboeuf. I had just sketched some characters to stick on the world map – to show the children where in the world English is spoken, when another character appeared. It was Edith. Nicola had expected her to ring when she was leaving Fort-de-France but instead she rang when she was outside our house! We hurriedly packed our beach bags, locked up and scurried up the hill to the car where Jimmy greeted us.
Edith was not what I imagined. Nicola had brought her up many times. Mostly it was talk about how Edith despised the other English teachers and how they saw her in a similar way. I had also been told that her 25 year-old, crack-pot daughter had run away from home some years before. From all this information I had made Edith up to be a brooding being who had lost her daughter to drugs and was wrongly judged and misunderstood due to her family situation. To a certain degree she is but she’s also a total contradiction to my initial thoughts. The way she landed unexpectedly and unplanned at our door and the way she swanned into our house showed me a different side. She spies some bottles of Guinness on the dresser and instantly says, “Oh! I just love Guinness. I have to have a Guinness. Nicola! Will you not offer me one?” She gets one and then proceeds by saying that Jimmy loves Guinness too. Nicola has gone back to packing and doesn’t hear her. I have, and I appear to distract her from my stash of stout. Her friendly, yet over-enthusiastic mannerisms border on childishness and her keenness and insistence could be mistaken for bossiness. Like everyone she’s a multi-faceted, adaptable being I guess.
It was not only her attitude and manners which I had misjudged. Her appearance also caught me unawares. For some reason I thought she was black. She’s actually from Brittany in France and has what I deem as a desirable olive complexion. She’s also older than I thought, though I put that down to her dress sense and her hair. Her hair was loosely tied on top of her head and it hung down like a drooping palm tree; I notice streaks of grey behind dyed golden strands. She’s wearing an airy, tent-like pinafore dress and a cardigan which ties under her boobs. I immediately think of an illustrated children’s book I saw in Ireland. On the cover there’s a lady who looks exactly like Edith. The similarities don’t end there. Edith tells us that she is an “international woman”…, of mystery no doubt. She states that she will explain all later. In short, she has travelled around the world and experienced many different nationalities and cultures – and cults. That’s all pretty innocuous; until she tells us she’s a medium. Do you know what that Irish children’s book was about? A witch.
From our house we journey to Cluny, a suburb of Fort-de-France, where Edith and Jimmy live. They have been going out for nearly four years. They met at a gym. And the day they first hooked-up Edith’s gym membership was replaced by Jimmy’s companionship.
We’re given a tour of their flat; it’s infused with incense, herbal teas and plants. Edith gives us all chores to do as we prepare our lunch to bring to the beach. Nicola does the salad. I sort the spuds and Jimmy gathers the cutlery and cooking utensils. Edith supervises, manages…bosses us about?! At 11,00 we’re ready to hit the road and head to the beach at Diamant. But first we go to collect Gethin in Fort-de-France. If only Gethin knew what he’s getting himself into as he slips into the back of the car with Nicola and I. The poor chap has injured his left hand in a rugby match. It’s pretty swollen and he can’t bend it back but he doesn’t complain once all day. Au contraire. He revels in recounting Saturday’s match telling us how he creamed the opposition leaving one of them out-for-the-count. I don’t think he’d think of tackling Jimmy.
Jimmy is Martiniquais. He’s a Jack of all trades. He welds, tiles and does other odd jobs. Edith is vigorously protective of him. He can not read or write and she explains that he has been ‘manipulated’ all his life. Even while we are in their house some guys appear in the back garden and start to climb a coconut tree. Jimmy says nothing but Edith tells them to bug-off as its private property. They move on and Edith explains that it is people like this who continuously ‘manipulate’ Jimmy.
At 31 Jimmy is 22 years younger than Edith. Edith’s former husband, who fathered her daughter, was 32 years her senior. He is no longer alive. I’m later told that Jimmy and Edith went to Russia for IVF treatment though it wasn’t successful. They plan to adopt a Russian baby. For the moment however, their black and white Russian-named cat, Nouska, and their grey kitty, Tétine, are Edith’s babies.
If Edith’s appearance and eccentricities can be compared to those of a witch then Jimmy could be compared to a Caribbean pirate. He is short and stout and has a huge gold hoop ear-ring in one ear. He has a wicked laugh – as in it’s a cute little chuckle. Jimmy would eat the world if he could. Throughout the day he munches away.
He also comes out with Créole expressions which crack Edith up; it’s sometimes hard to tell if she’s happy on life, happy in love or just high. On our journey we learn some Créole phrases: Fou-fou maman. Brenez Bouin-Dà. Ko-Ké Maman. Moiun, Pà-kà fumay. Of course some are too vulgar to translate, and they’re probably not spelt correctly but you can probably guess their meaning. Gethin also teaches us some Welsh curses: Dos e fuck de nine. There’s a glaring clue in the middle of that one. While we’re driving along the motorway Jimmy exclaims that the vehicle in front is sliding like a tomato… Elle glisse comme une tomate. Edith is in stitches; so much so that we have to make a pit-stop. I help Jimmy fill the tires with air while Gethin is on the point of letting off some hot air. The cashier asked him where he’s from and even though he repeats that he’s Welsh, from Wales the guy tries to pick a fight by telling him he’s English, not Welsh. We learn a few more choice Welsh phrases during the rest of the journey!
The traffic is dire as tout le monde (everyone) is off to the beach this fine day. We make the best of the slow traffic by stopping at road-side stalls to buy Poulet Boucané (smoked chicken) for our picnic and coconut ice-cream for our road trip. The ice-cream tastes closer to marzipan than coconut. We even stop at a wheat-free store – Paul’s, with the intent of buying gluten free bread for Nicola, Jimmy and Edith who all happen to be wheat intolerant. However, by the time we get their at 12,30 it’s closed.
We soon get to Diamant. Edith and Jimmy bring us to their usual spot along the Grande Anse (cove). We have a perfect view of Le Rocher du Diamant out in the ocean and the undulating hills of Petite Anse, where we can see people parachuting. The water is clear, the sand sparkles and we have plenty of shade from the sun. Jimmy overturns a big rock to reveal a bed of charred coals which he rearranges to create a cooking area. We hang up the hammocks, lay out our beach towels and start to set-up our picnic. We’re told that in Diamant there’s a small Rasta community. Edith tells us she’s a Rasta too; as well as a medium. The beach is a hub of activity. Down in the cove people are out on jet-skis; though our spot is more secluded with less water-sport activity.
However, there is other activity going on behind us. A group of crack heads are to be seen in the trees behind us. As time goes on we become less of a novelty and they start to ignore us. Edith tells us to curse them out of it if they approach us. But they don’t.
We’ve got ratatouille niçoise and a pot of crabs heating on the hot coals. The picnic rug is awash with fine food; potato salad, green salad, rice, poulet boucané and a variety of dressings and sauces. We dine well and lie about in the sun savouring the heat. It’s at this point that Edith decides to take Nicola and I aside for a heart-to-heart. She tells us about her daughter. She is living with a ‘devil man’ who fed her coke habit and formally used her for prostitution. Edith tells us that her daughter is still sleeping with this man but that she is off the drugs and the street corners. Later on, as we splash about in the sea we give Gethin the condensed version. As it happens, our beach zone is not too part away from where Edith’s daughter supposedly lives.
With the weird world aside we take in the seaside sounds and sights. We stroll, swim, splash, sunbathe and stuff ourselves with more delicious sweets and savouries. Will, who is Jimmy’s best friend and Nicola’s beau, turns up mid-afternoon. He is a tall, fit black chap. He tells me that he attended the primary school I am teaching at. The reason for his tardiness is that he was helping a friend to fell a tree. Will is a surveyor. He’s also a bit of a farmer; he owns a single cow called Sabrine. Hold on… Isn’t Sabrina a witch’s name?! Will’s sound. He’s not as eccentric as Edith or a shy a Jimmy. Though like most men he’s got a certain doggedness about him. He’s definitely a shark in the sea. He chases Nicola about in an amorous fashion; though she seems to be lapping it up too. When he’s not playing games with Nicola he’s hanging out with Jimmy by the hammocks. You can hear them chuckling together; sharing jokes and spliffs.
It’s far too late to make tracks back to Fort-de-France for the concert so I contact David to tell him I’m content here. We stay on the beach until darkness falls. I have to get home to prepare for the rest of my classes so I’m a bit anxious to get back soon. However, in true Caribbean style, by 21,00 we’ve still not moved from Diamant as we’ve decided to have drinks at ‘Cap 110’ – the restaurant where we had our dinner with the other assistants at our Induction course. There’s a Bière Lorraine promotion on so we avail of that while listening to the bongo man in the corner. About half an hour later the heavens open so we decide to head home. Nicola goes with Will while Gethin and I stick with Edith and Jimmy. Jimmy and Will have both been drinking so Gethin and I have a right ‘oul rant about drink-driving on the way home. Unfortunately it’s our only way home so we’ve other option but to sit tight.
We drop Gethin off in Ducos; near Rue du Tunnel and the Jesus Christ statue. Jimmy wants to stop at MacDo’s (MacDonald’s) before heading to Tivoli with me but Edith states that I still have work to do so Jimmy has to go hungry for another half hour. I do indeed finish off my class planning and I’m in bed by 11,30. Nicola arrives in the door a minute later. We’re tired and tanned yet we talk for a while, analysing Nicola’s choice in Martinique men. Last year an American assistante, Cheryl (USA), went out with Will. And she was friends with an Irish assistante, Margaret, who happened to teach in Edith’s school. It’s funny how things come full circle, though I’m a bit circumspect about the coincidences and similar pattern of play. I hope Nicola doesn’t have too much saltwater in her eyes…
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