Friday, February 29, 2008

Farewell, Dominica...


There are really no secrets on Dominica, or for that matter, amongst those of us who love Dominica where ever we live. So, I will share publicly that I am returning for now to the frozen gray wasteland of my birth.

There is no one reason for my decision, and it may not be permanent. But for right now, it is the easiest way for me to once again have my own home. You see, I have been longing to have my own home again for the two and a half years we have lived on Dominica. We have had difficulties here that few encounter, like a major landslide which rendered our land unbuildable. Anyway, we bought a tiny alternate plot and were poised to build when we did some reevaluation and decided to wait. Here is why:

  • Our finances are diminished and we are reluctant to invest more money before the government pays us for the purchase of our land which they are excavating to keep the road open to Laudat. We have been assured by all in government that they will pay us, since they must have the whole property for the stabilization of the hillside. But they have yet to make an offer of payment for the land. Meanwhile we wait and watch ourselves getting older and sadder. Mr. Wizard is going to stay on the island a while to try to nudge some resolution along. Once our palm is crossed with silver, we will be better positioned to proceed with building.
  • As you may recall, Dominica declined to give me a license to practice as a nurse here. I miss my profession of over 25 years, and I look forward to working a while longer. Already several US hospitals have written me about openings, which is gratifying.
  • I am tired. Perhaps we both are. We know that building a house here will not be easy, and my ability to fight is depleted.
  • Property is so damn cheap in the US, I can go back, buy a small house and have the immediate gratification of painting my own walls without having to go through the fight of building. Maybe eventually we will summer in the US and spend winters here. Who knows.
  • I am concerned about some of the choices currently being made here. Nuff said. Clearly, it is for Dominicans to decide the future of this island jewel.
I feel ambivalent about this decision. I love Dominica. I know I will crave the shades of green, the unique smell of this blooming island, the sight of the sea outside my door. And I love the friends we have here, who have been wonderful. But I am tired of the struggle all the way to my bones.

I do look forward to seeing forsythia, dogwood, redbud, and that peculiar shade of pale newborn green you only see in springtime. Until then, picture me wrapped in an electric blanket set to high, only wandering as far as the next outlet...

livingdominica: Thank you for your kindness and support, Gentle Readers.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

My Friend Francis is gone


I heard yesterday from Kendra at Island Med Student blog that Francis died on Tuesday. I know many of you have followed Mr. Rasta's plight and have contributed to his care. I am so grateful to each of you who helped to ease the difficult life of this special man.

Francis touched my heart in a way few people have done. He was so reluctant to ask for help, so at peace with himself and accepting of the terrible challenges he faced. I learned so much from him in the short time I knew him. He was able to rise above his circumstances in a way I am not. I never knew him to whine and wallow (as I am prone to do).


He was a gift in my life. A living example of grace with a touch of Caribbean/Rastafari sweetness.


The last time I spoke with him, he told me he would always hold me in his heart. I spoke the same words to him. And I believe that we do still hold a special place in our hearts for one another. I will never forget him.


His funeral is today at the Catholic Church in St. Joseph if you are on the island and wish to attend.




Saturday, February 2, 2008

My life with humidity

Mold spore
I thought St. Louis, our home town, was the most humid place on earth, but I had never before lived near rain forest. Up North, however, no matter how nasty the humidity is outside, the inside is always nicely climate controlled. (Of course one reason I wanted to move here was to get out of my climate controlled box.)

Here is far different. Here I clean mold off my furniture. Did your mother teach you how to manage mold on your furniture? Mine did not. My leather shoes begin to grow fuzz. And today I took out a couple of pillows to find the cases covered in mildew. Ugh :(

We have some friends who bag up their most precious things with silica gel. Mr. Wizard is thinking about having lights burn in the closets of Lilliput to lower humidity. (But only after we are off the Domlec .47 USD per kWh electric grid.) Many hours are spent around dinner tables swapping ideas about managing humidity, mold and mildew. I have had people tell me of opening their DVD or VCR players to find them full of mold. The tropics are tough on electronics.

Who knows, maybe the next line of antibiotic is lurking within the the mold of someone's VCR on Dominica. Where, Oh, where might Jonas Salk be?

Of course we all know what mold can do to people's health, and it is so prevalent here it is worrisome. Mr. Wizard is highly mold sensitive and has to take antihistamines before entering some buildings which trigger his allergies.

Keeping house here is far more work intensive than up North. Having open doors and windows are wonderful in keeping the psyche connected to nature, but it also means the house has all manner of things blow through. (I recently found a tiny frog on my kitchen counter who had to be repatriated to the great outdoors.) And because of the humidity everything needs to be hauled into the sun frequently for airing. Having household help is not a luxury here. It is necessary if you do not want everything you own to be destroyed by the tropics, and if you need to perform any other function in the world other than house drudge.

So, today I am bleaching pillows, trying to catch up the masses of laundry, and muttering.

livingdominica: who is afraid to take out her posh red leather jacket an see what the tropics have done to it.