On election night at the British Virgin Island’s tiny Jost Van Dyke, a large crowd assembled at Foxy’s Tamarind Bar. Huddled anxiously around a big screen hauled from his house for the momentous event, the raucous group was loaded with opinion and sharing freely. Everyone there, for that special night, was a polished, political analyst. Obama shirts were the unofficial dress code; hope, the sanctioned mood. When the polls finally closed at 1:00 a.m., Eastern Caribbean Time, the place went berserk . Drinks flowed and spilled as a high-fiving, back-slapping, hugging, kissing, dancing euphoria hit. Tears ran down every face. So much excitement on an island with little more than tourism to tie it to America.

Now nearby in the U.S. Virgin Islands, a similar scene unfolded. The Virgin Islands are a US protectorate; it’s citizens can receive certain national benefits but can not take part in an election. Bars, packed with televisions and wanna-be voters, spilled their throngs into streets that took on the energy of a full-on carnival. The celebrating never stopped and the next day, November 5th was sanctioned as “Obama Day.” Small festivities erupted, long held emotions poured out and the students of St. John’s Julius Sprauve School took the opportunity to strut their patriotic stuff. Their student body, kindergartners to 8th grade, left their ball field and headed to town for an impromptu Barack Obama parade. Dressed in school uniforms they marched through Cruz Bay with hand-made signs, banners, hats and portraits, cheering and chanting the name of their next president. Smiling and tearful onlookers cheered back.

A bit farther from the United States on the Dutch/French Island of St. Marten, signs of jubilation were still present two weeks after the vote. May’s Super Center ran a newspaper ad proclaiming, “Celebrating President Obama, 30% off Store Wide Sale!” alongside a photo of the new first family. Their customers could enjoy new curtains, comforters, large or small appliances along with the chance for change. Locals wore his image on an eclectic array of t-shirt styles and it was impossible to walk a block without overhearing his name even through the complicated ensemble of languages found on that melting pot of an island. When Obama wasn’t a spoken word , it was sung by one or another of the Caribbean’s most noted stars. Cocoa Tea’s election lyrics begin, “Well this is not about class, not for da race nor creed, make no mistake it’s the changes, what all da people dem need. Let me shout out…Barack Obama, Barack Obama…” and on it goes with a hip-whining reggae tune.

But the biggest surprise we just encountered in our two week, 7 island tour came in Antigua, well known for it’s own political history. For close to fifty years the island was run by the Bird family. First by V.C. Bird, known as the Father of the Country (or Daddy Bird,) and later by his son, Lester Bird (aka Baby Bird.) Now, the elder Bird was well loved and respected but adoration for his son carried a two-sided blade. Bruce has jokingly painted signs in his Antigua paintings that read “Lester love Antigua,” but some locals would say, “Lester love Lester.”


V.C. Bird looking pretty spiffy these days.

In the capital of St. Johns, a pretty hefty statue of V.C. Bird was erected that for years sat in all it’s concrete glory until the elements turned it a nasty shade of green. Much money and time was spent power-washing Mr. Bird until some serious paint spruced him up to his present day image. Good thing, as he’s got some modern day competition.


Without consulting his people, Antigua’s Prime Minister changed the name of the island’s highest mountain from Boggy Peak to Mt. Obama. Signs throughout the island proclaim, “Antigua for Obama!” and t-shirts are flying off the presses with the man’s smiling face surrounded by the words, “Antigua Love Obama.” Everywhere we went, all we talked to were upbeat, hopeful, looking for a change. On a local bus the driver and I chatted about the election. A lady seated behind me joined in saying, “See dis?” She held up the book, The Audacity of Hope and said, “I read it whon day. Dis man vary smart. I hope he can change dis world. I hope he is de change we need.”

Yes, mon. We hope so, too.

Jan

Labels: Caribbean islands, sailing

In a calm moment, the camera came out to record a moment at sea.

The flavor and memory of a sail are influenced by numerous factors, the obvious being weather. Bad weather whips up knarly seas…causes uncomfortable conditions…creates sea sickness…and down it spirals. Good weather, on the other hand, is what drives sailors to make the next voyage.

Which way you meet the weather is the second most powerful influence. Heading into it is appropriately called beating; traveling with the wind, running; and something in between, reaching, is the best of all.

Entertainment on board surely adds or detracts from a sail. Satellite TV and DVD’s are options for some but on Woodwind, the ship of simplicity, we stick with books and they most certainly paint a passage with genre. We’ve had a multitude of spy-sails with V.I. Warshawski and Hercule Poirot along as crew. Any trip with Oprah’s book picks causes us to pull into port with a higher I.Q. One of my favorite memories was a horrific passage from Martha’s Vineyard to Bermuda but I loved it because Ann of Green Gables came along for the ride.

The several hundred miles we logged this past week began with a few days of Virgin Island’s hopping in sweet conditions accompanied by brainless reading. Midweek we started a three day beat from the BVI to Antigua in mild wind but no matter how you twist it, a beat is a beat. Pounding along, sooner than later, things will wear and they did. Running lights went out, the GPS shorted, ropes frayed, a block exploded and finally the bob-stay popped. And then the wind got mean. The last forty miles, from Nevis to Antigua, took twenty-four ugly hours.

Oddly enough, the memory of the last passage will not be the bashing or days of discomfort. Instead, it will be a remembrance of the read. Our literary crew included Barak Obama (Dreams From My Father) and Daniel Schorr, (Come to Think of It.) With them we drifted back in time to events and decisions that led our country and the world to the place we are today; a place of hope.

We share that hope and take it with us to foreign countries. We also hold the hope that the next sail is downwind!

posted by Jan


Jan