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.

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.

The Dominica Ebook

January has been a record month for book sales at Living Dominica. It is gratifying when lots of people find their way to our web page and choose to purchase our book. I suppose when the weather up north is cold and miserable, the book is even more appealing. Thank you to all you book buyers!

It is interesting to me the number of emails we get from people looking at a move to Dominica based on my eBook. We have even heard from people prepared to invest in property sight unseen! I always discourage this and tell them to come down, and get a feel for the island. I think that renting here for a while, allowing Dominica to seep into your pores before buying, is an excellent idea. You have to be comfortable with the differences to make a go of it here.

For instance, one time I was encouraging our daughter to join us in living on Dominica. "But what do I do when it is 3AM and I am dying for a cheeseburger?" she replied. Suggesting that she consider making her own was not appealing. Clearly, she is not ready to live here even though she finds the island dazzling.

If you are not ready to leave behind easy access to cheeseburgers, you are not ready for Dominica.

Dominica is a land of such promise. The natural beauty is amazing, and the people are warm and welcoming. It is an easy place with which to fall in love. But it also will serve up its share of frustrations and difficulty. I recently heard the following from a person who owns a home here:

"I've experienced some of the most beautiful as well as most horrifying times on this unique island which seems to be constantly calling for drama. I still love Dominica and consider her my home, although I am presently living on another Caribbean island. Whenever I visit, which is at least 3 - 4 times a year, and watch from the plane as Dominica's tall green body appears mystically through the clouds, I know I am coming home.

Dominica can give you everything, but also take everything."

I guess that says it all, doesn't it?

livingdominica: you probably know that Dominica's indigenous name is Waitikubuli, meaning Tall is Her Body. Isn't that lovely...

"Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees." Revelations 7:3

Mr. Wizard and the Wall Street Journal

Mr. Wizard had a chat with a writer for the Wall Street Journal. You can read the article here.

Kendra does PMH

Be sure to visit Kendra at Island Med Student as she writes about Princess Margaret Hospital
and her clinical rotations.

We visit a village health center

Mr. Wizard and I visited a village health center with our friend Mr. Rasta. He goes there every day, including weekends, to have his dressing changed, since his tumor is now too massive for him to manage on his own. (Life Goes On is facilitating transportation for his dressing changes, and continue to do laundry for him each week.) I got to meet some of his nurses, see the clinic, and watch them change his dressing.

I was impressed.

The clinic was spacious with a large waiting room with educational materials on the walls and a TV. The exam room was well equipped. Everything was neat and very clean. And the nurses did an excellent job changing the dressing. (I have to admit they did a better job than I do, as they are not as messy I am)

I had the very pleasant task if delivering dressings to the clinic. Some kind readers of this blog, and nurses at the hospital where I worked, sent large boxes of dressing supplies for my friend. It was such a pleasure to get to give the nurses these supplies and Mr. R was very pleased also.

I am, of course, very concerned about the continuing growth of Mr. R's tumor and the noticeable weight loss we are seeing. His appetite is falling off and he is becoming weaker.

Mr. R. is Rastafari and has a deep love of all things of nature. We printed off the Hubble pictures of deep space for him and he marveled at discovering yet another source of nature's innate beauty, beyond the stars. These images spoke to his gentle soul the way they do to me, I think.

livingdominica: Thank you to those of you who went to the expense and trouble of sending supplies down to Mr. Rasta.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Today I changed Mr. Rasta's dressing. (By the way, it sounds like he will soon be heading down to Barbados! Hooray!) Anyway, I bagged up the dirty dressing and took it to the hospital incinerator dumpster as directed by the hospital infection control nurse. Much to my surprise, there was a naked man in the dumpster.

Not only a naked man, but a carambola eating naked man who had painted himself with mud. Sitting there, amidst the bags of hospital waste. Hmm.

Did I mention he was naked, painted in mud, and eating carambola in the hospital dumpster? Oh, I guess I did.

"Say there, friend, that is probably the worst place you could possible choose to sit and eat carambola." I remarked.

"Yes, ma'am." he replied. (Nice manners, this loon)

"You really should get out of there", I insisted, "There is all kinds of stuff in there which can hurt you!" I was a little sharper now.

Even more meekly the waste bin's occupant replied, "Yes, ma'am".

But he didn't move.

So I was forced to hunt down security and get him in trouble. I suspect he will be indoors soon being scrubbed down by some nursing student doing her psychiatric rotation.

livingdominica: life is just full of surprises. And some of them are naked, painted with mud, and eat carambola in a dumpster.

Burning tires in paradise

We spent our weekend working downwind of a neighbor's burning. Here the common practice is to throw a tire in the mix of burning brush to support combustion. So house, laundry and our lungs were filled with burning tire smoke for two solid days. I had a two day sinus headache. And that doesn't even compare to the environmental impact of this practice. Who cares about global warming and air pollution? Throw another tire on! Never mind that 85 % of a tire is carbon--making them another source of greenhouse gas emissions. Never mind that burning tires emits serious levels of carcinogens and mutagenic material into the air. According the EPA, our neighborhood should have been evacuated or we should all have worn respirators this weekend.

Mr. Wizard has fought this battle more than once. He has argued vehemently with hired workers that they are never to burn tires on our land, and he has met consistent incredulity. "But that is what we do here..." He has to repeat the mantra frequently: no tire burning, no tire burning, no tire burning...

Here on the Nature Island, not only do we have the inevitable pollution of a refinery imminent, but we have the ongoing and time honored practices of tire burning, noise pollution, and general littering to cope with. There is a disconnect here between the goal of preserving the island and all things natural, and the reality of entitled destruction. Sometimes it seems to me that the island is honored only as long as an eco tourist with dollars is listening.

Please, Dominica, don't just pour your energy into developing a tourist "product". Pour your energy into education and environmental protection. Into changing the prevalent destructive practices. Into saving this green jewel before it is too late.

And stop the refinery. There is no such thing as a non-polluting refinery, Friends. A frequent argument for the refinery is that it will bring jobs. But it will also cause jobs to be lost! When the resident whale pod moves on because of polluted waters, whale watching will die here. When the reefs are destroyed, the dive industry will die. When the air is full of refinery belched emissions, the entire tourist industry may die. When the first environmental "accident" occurs and there is a spill, the fishing industry will be seriously impacted.

livingdominica: who is so hoping that the neighbor is done burning. cough, cough, wheeze...

Morning Meditation

Mr. Wizard and I have a very inconsistent meditation practice. But we do continue to try to incorporate meditation and prayer into our daily lives. One of the things we had hoped to find on Dominica was the time and space to expand these practices of spiritual unfolding. Unfortunately, our ability to be "too busy" and our procrastination followed us to the island like all the other character flaws we developed into full flower while living up North.

But this morning we did sit in meditation on the back veranda. I had a lot of difficult getting quiet, but I was able be present in the moment as we sat. Each breath was moist as soft rain fell making a dull pitapat on the leaves in the garden next to me. Birds sang their morning celebration song. The pug snored softly in his meditation.When I opened my eyes, a mist was rising from the verdant green hills before me and the living presence of this island was immanent. Of course humanity is immanent also, and a car screeched down the road, its driver probably late for work.

These are the moments which make me glad I am exactly where I am. The idea of listening to the furnace or A/C hum instead of hearing the birds and rainfall seems unfathomable. The image of hiding from the elements in a box, rather than being connected daily, seems an impossibility. All of the easy comforts of the Big World cannot make up for the prison life of house and job we once knew.

livingdominica: and glad she is here, today anyway.

My least favorite present was from DOWASCO

DOWASCO is our water company. And yet again, we have no water service.

The sound of the jackhammer is filling the air, but the workers say they have not figured out the problem yet. We are in our second? third? day without water. It seems like a lifetime, since we are also feeling unwell at Chez Miller. And additionally, we have a new, leaky puppy who requires lots of attention and mopping up.

That means lots of water hauling. And the laundry is piling high.

Oddly enough, I heard the Minister over the utilities pontificate last night on TV about how DOWASCO is poised to provide service to the entire island. How will that happen if we do not have consistent water to the areas already served? Oh well, it was a lovely speech. But they all are, these speeches extolling the grandeur yet to come.

I think I'll go back to bed. My misery index is up. I am sure the power will go out next just to complete this picture of tropical bliss.

livingdominica: I should have written Santa asking for consistent utility service.

It Ain't Easy Here

Gentle Readers,
In case you missed this reoccurring theme, let me once again mention that life is tough on Dominica. Tough enough to make people flee, leaving behind everything they own.

Let me explain.

I got a call this morning shortly after 6 AM (!) from an expat woman I have never met, who was having a panic attack. She sold her house in the US, bought land in Dominica, ordered a car from Japan, and brought down a shipping container of her belongings. She has lived here just 2 months, and is ready to walk away from everything in order to return to the states. She hates it here. It is not at all like an island vacation.

I have read that 40% of people expatriating to any country will return home within the first 2 years. I believe this number is probably larger on Dominica since most everything here is a trial fraught with difficulties, delays, and shortages. (Good friends of ours have had their construction project halted due to there being no cement on the island!)

This panicy woman phoning at the crack of dawn is not the first person I have met walking away from their Dominican dream in despair. So let me state again for those of you dazzled by the dream of island living:

• Do not invest more than you can walk away from.
• Rent first to make sure Dominica is for you.
• Try an experimental mini-move if you can, without dismantling your life completely.
  
• Proceed with caution in all matters, using an attorney for all transactions.
• Build a support systems of other expats, so you have people with similar experiences with whom to problem solve. Your Dominican friends just will not understand the Culture Shock you will inevitably experience.
• Do not move here anticipating that you will easily generate income to support yourself.
  
• Please call me only during regular Living Dominica office hours of 1:00 PM to 1:15 PM. (Someone else called us recently at 11:30 PM because they were experiencing their first Swarm)
  

Most likely I would have run back to the states already if Mr. Wizard did not have the tenacity (read stubbornness) born of his Germanic heritage. I would probably be up there shoveling snow and wishing I were down island again. Nowhere is perfect, but the grass does always appear greener where ever I am not located. So I perfectly understand the impulse to run away from island life.

livingdominica: I recently had business cards printed which gives all my various contact information and clearly states in bold:

You have to be a little crazy.

Thoughts on the Volcanoes

Dominica is home to one of the highest concentrations of volcanoes on the planet. Some experts say 8, some list 9, but all agree on one point: we are overdue for an eruption here. And of course the area of densest population around Roseau (where we live) is where some of the worst volcanic risk exists. We have heard that the merchants of the island have bought up property in Portsmouth just in case it should become again the capitol city. Even for a Queen of Denial like myself, it is enough to give pause.

Mount Pele today.
In 1902 Mount Pele erupted just next door in Martinique, killing 30,000 denial prone people like myself in the "Paris of the West Indies", Saint Pierre. The mountain had been rumbling for quite a while, spewing ash, and the streets were awash with panicked snakes, centipedes, ants and the like. Still the people stayed at the foot of Pele, until May 8, 1902 when a pyroclastic cloud with temperatures to 1000 degrees C descended, covering the town and harbor.



Blessing of the dead in Saint Pierre.


The Wiz and I visited the Mount Pele museum last year and stood slack-jawed staring at the artifacts fused and warped by the intense heat. Looking at old pictures of the streetcars and the opera house in Saint Pierre it is a bit understandable how this sophisticated European community felt it could never happen to them.

Dominica is just 30 miles from Mount Pele, so the eruption had a great impact on this island also, including this observation by our most famous daughter, Jean Rhys:

At her home at the corner of Cork Street and Granby Street, now Independence Street, the 11-year-old Gwen Rees-Williams, later in life to be known as Jean Rhys, was taken to a window by her mother and was shown the glow to the south and the falling ash:

'My mother woke me and without saying anything led me to the window. There was a huge black cloud over Martinique. I couldn’t ever describe that cloud, so huge and black it was, but I have never forgotten it. There was no moon, no stars, but the edges of the cloud were flame-coloured and in the middle what looked to me like lightening flickered, never stopping. My mother said: ‘You will never see anything like this in your life again.’ from Mount Pele and Dominica

So, here we are looking at property at the foot of Morne Anglais. Hmmm.

livingdominica: I just may change my name to Cleopatra since I am the Queen of Denial...

We live at the end of the rainbow

I took this from our veranda this morning
Here is a link to some other gorgeous pictures of Dominica. Enjoy!

"Help Yo Brother"

Most of the taxis and minibuses here on Dominica have names at the top of the windshield. Some of the names are funny, like "Flash de Bobs", some are rather sweet like "Humble African". But I saw a new one today: "Help Yo Brother".

And that is exactly what we need to do right now.

Please, if you are on the island and are able to give blood, go to Princess Margaret and donate a pint for my friend Mr. Rasta. He has been having increased bleeding from his tumor and has already had two units, but he needs more. If you call Life Goes On (449-8593) they will give you his proper name so that you can tell the blood bank who you are donating to help. PMH accepts donations in the early am hours.

Mr. Rasta would be very grateful for your help, and I am sure he would like to meet you if you donate for him. We discussed today me asking you to come donate for him, and he was glad to have anyone know he is in the hospital who is willing to help.

I am sprung from sturdy peasant stock, so I gave my pint yesterday with no difficulty. Mr. Wizard, however, has some lurking aristocracy in his background and was flatly refused. He has a wee little thing with his heart that people fuss over. Humpf. Sounds like an excuse, doesn't it?

It is the tradition here for family to provide food and linens for hospitalized patients, as well as all of the little things a Big World hospital automatically provides. The Wiz and I are trying to fill the gap since our buddy doesn't have much help.

So I have been cooking vegetarian food of questionable quality, doing laundry for our friend, etc. Here, more than anywhere I have ever lived, the village really cares for a person. When those social supports are lost the effect is devastating. This is a much more interdependent world than where I lived in up North. Even my marginal vegetarian cuisine is appreciated.

I do hope some of you will give a very special gift this holiday, and go give blood for Mr. Rasta.

livingdominica: One Love. One People.
or "Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers..."
whatever truth speaks to you.

No Car, No Water, No Joy Redux

Good Morning!

We have no water. You might recall we have been here before. Last night we had a substantial storm with enough rain for our local water utility to turn off the water. We have been told they do this to avoid sucking muddy water into the pipes. The next time someone tells you it is fine to drink the pipe water here, please recall this and the fact that Mr. Wizard and I experienced incapacitating diarrhea back when we believed everything we were told.

We have a whole house filtration system now, but of course that doesn't work to filter water hauled in buckets. So our table top Berkie comes into play at these times. These filters have been in use since the 1800s and have an interesting history. (You will note that we use a similar filtration system to the one Queen Victoria used. I do hope you are suitably impressed.) Of course the Berkie only makes about 6 liters of potable water at a time by slooow drip method.

So life just became much more labor intensive with having to carry water for everything. It also means heating water on the stove for bucket baths. For the uninitiated, a bucket bath is performed by wetting down the body, scrubbing with soap, then rinsing off. My mother called this a "spit bath", since although it will remove dirt and odors, it does not produce the lovely clean feeling of a real shower.

And as we haul water for our flushes and baths, we are also in automotive limbo. Mr. Wizard's ancient Beast of a vehicle is yet again broken. I am daily supplicating him to buy another vehicle, but I believe he will never get rid of the Beast. He firmly believes having the most disreputable looking vehicle on the island communicates immediately that we are not rich.

But I am fully prepared to own a smaller, nicer vehicle. If you are on the island and have a very reliable small 4X4 for sale, please contact me quietly and I will work on the Beast's owner.

livingdominica: just another day in paradise.

Coming Home

Plaza las Americas, San Juan Puerto Rico

This morning I woke again to the sounds of birds and rain falling. With my morning coffee I enjoyed a rainbow over the Caribbean. Ah, Home.

We did have a good time in San Juan, but it is all too much. Too much noise, congestion, traffic, and consumption. Too much competitive undertow. Just like the world we ran away from, screaming.

The world I live in does not require makeup, high heels (also known as high hells by anyone who has worn them) and smart outfits. Of course there are some who dress to impress here, but more commonly we are barefaced and comfortable in sandals. I am certainly not up to San Juan standards any longer. Maybe I never was.

Imagine what it is like to our ears, grown accustomed to the background sounds of nature, to enter a store at Christmas time. First we are bombarded by the banks of huge TVs all blaring away, and behind them, the stereo systems hip-hop. Then we meet the animated Santa's shouting Ho!Ho!Ho! I want to cover my ears.

Masses of cleverly displayed goods designed to entice and create desire for more are piled everywhere, the abundance overwhelming. Too many choices, too many new and exciting things to try. The eyes are dazzled and strained. No gifts of natural materials are to be found anywhere. No handcrafts, no artistry. Everything is a product of manufacturing and packaging. Merchandising is King.

When I look at clothing I wonder where all the natural fabrics have gone. No cotton, no linen is in the stores I visited. Have these become specialty items? Everything is synthetic, either in black or a retro print from the 60's. Everything I touch has the slick feel of petrochemicals. I spent a whole morning searching for a simple cotton shirt.

Each item we purchased was encased in masses of packaging, often several times larger than the item itself. Masses of waste pile high as we remove packaging in order to pack our purchases for the trip home. How much additional cost, both economic and ecologic, does all of this packaging embody?

I have become a 3rd world girl. I want less. Less is more. These days, the mercantile emporiums induce abhorrence in my unaccustomed mind. It is all too much. It is all a great reminder of why we love Dominica.

As I packed to return home to Dominica, I listened to a BBC program about happiness. According to the experts, money and possessions do not make us happier. (Imagine. Mr. Wizard and I were able to figure that out without experts.) Here is a link to the BBC Program, where you might enjoy the clip about the recipe for happiness. I was impressed with the graph showing that more money does not make us more happy. Of course, any farmer on Dominica could have told us that.

livingdominica: give me the simple life.

Mr. Rasta

I am heartsick today because I am seeing a dramatic increase in the size of Mr. Rasta's tumor in the last 10 days. I have been haunted by how much it grew from Thursday to Monday.

The good news is that a North American organization is planning to underwrite hospital care for him in Barbados. But another possibility appeared yesterday with a Parisian ENT visiting the island saying he might be able to provide the necessary intervention here. This would allow us to care for Mr. R here during his convalescence, rather than have him go through this on his own off island. I am hoping this works out. But either way, help is on the horizon.

Mr. R is gentle person who rarely asks for anything, but he does more than anything want and need his tumor removed. The enormity of this tumor is mind boggling. It reaches from his chin to the nape of his neck, and extends from his ear to his shoulder. The smell of it keeps him isolated in his little shack. And I see that it is bigger each time I change the dressing. (By the way, someone donated dressings, so yesterday we had proper supplies for the dressing change. Thank you!)

livingdominica: Yesterday Mr. R touched his heart and said, "Thank you for everything you do for me." He meant that for you, too.

Cold is a relative term

This morning, the thermometer read 73, but there must be a wind chill down to at least 70, because I had to get out a thick robe and wool socks. Yes, it is true. I have now become so adjusted to life in the tropics that low 70's are chilly for me.

Lisette blogged about being cold in Dominica on Storm Carib. It makes me feel better that I am not the only one bundling up at temperatures which used to feel warm to me. Isn't it interesting how our bodies adjust to living in a different climate?

I remember our first visit to Dominica some years ago, during January. We blissfully shed our coats and sweaters and donned shorts, even though the proprietors of Crescent Moon, our lodging, were dressed in jeans and jackets. It is all what our bodies are accustomed to, I guess.

I was horrified the other day when the Wiz told me our hometown in the US had a current temp of 28F. I cannot imagine how that would feel to me these days!

Of course this climate effect on personal comfort works the other way also. In fact, we have had to establish a strict "No Whining" rule for Northern dwellers who choose to come for a visit during the hottest part of the year. We issue a sweat towel and a water bottle upon arrival and curtly inform guests we do not want to hear about their misery. After all, we warn people not to come for the hottest weather since all of our friends are A/C wimps. We do not have A/C and cope with upper 90s and humidity with aplomb.

livingdominica: NOT dreaming of a white Christmas...

Dominica's Stockfarm Prison

We learned recently that not only is there overcrowding up at the prison here on Dominica, but they also have no books. Now, I cannot imagine anything worse than being in prison without a distraction like reading. The days must be endless. The boredom must be killing. Not at all like the prisons in the US with Cable TV and classes to take.

Anyway, as you might remember, Mr. Wizard and I moved to Dominica with 29 boxes of books. So, we have decided to donate about half of our library to Dominica's prison. We have been going through the books and quibbling. While the Wiz likes to hang on to positively everything, I am the opposite, so the scene goes something like this:

Wiz: "Aw, I can't let that go, that is the Illustrated Bob Dylan, and I've had it longer than I've had you!"

Me: "You are going to deprive some poor prisoner of the Illustrated Bob Dylan? You need it more than some guy in Stockfarm?"

Of course, the prisoners in Dominica may not even know Bob Dylan, which leads to another thought. Our library reflects our tastes, so up to Stockfarm goes not only novels, but also books on Zen, Organic Farming, and Metaphysics. These will probably be of no interest to the prisoners, but oh well. Anything to read has got to be better than nothing. At least that is what we have been told.

One might ask why someone who paid to haul all those books to Dominica would be willing to part so easily with half of them, even if the cause is good. Well, here is the secret. I have an aging brain. I read a book, and very quickly all the details are lost. It may seems vaguely familiar when I pick it up again, but I can still enjoy it completely and not have the surprise ending spoiled. I figure at this stage in my life, I really only need 5-10 books in order to be endlessly entertained in perpetuity.

We also found some games to donate, and I suspect they may be a bigger hit than the books. Dominicans play Dominoes a lot. Drive through any village and you will probably see men hunched over a table feverishly slamming dem bones. Domino play can be very dramatic and for some reason women do not seem to play. I have always speculated that this is because the women are working while the men play.

I found a set of Dominoes buried in a chest and I was so glad. Maybe it will help some of the non readers to pass the time.

I also think comic books might be a good thing. So if you have a pile you don't want, send them on down and we'll get them to Stockfarm.

livingdominica: and now I won't have to dust so many books...