Flow of words

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . I have been thinking. God is like the air we breathe, ever-present and essential, and like the breeze, we cannot see Him, but we feel His presence all around us. Today I am heading to Charlotteville on the 8am bus. I bought my tickets and some extra. I have been on this journey before but this time feels different. I expect a full bus this time as the bus shelter is crowded. An old man with glasses, hat and walking stick dropped his ticket and the breeze blew it away before it could drop to the ground. I rushed to retrieve the ticket for him. The bus was here and I was seated next to the same old man. He was in a talkative mood while at the same time taking his time with his words. The first thing he said to me was, "Life is a journey that begins within you long before the road ever unfolds." I think I get it. This means that life's journey does not begin with movement — it begins with intention. Before the ...

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . Today we stumbled upon a game of night football at the recreational ground. There was a red card and a penalty. Somehow the striker was able to bend the ball into the corner of the net and with what looked to me like help from a strong breeze. I was a neutral supporter and was just waiting for goals to be scored. Tobago has produced the famous Man United player in Dwight Yorke. My friend Chatty says that there is something special about local football where the breeze, the crowd noise, and pure instinct all become part of the play. Maybe we are here watching the next Dwight Yorke in the making, his story just beginning to unfold under the lights. Maybe the next famous Tobagonian footballer will play for the noisy neighbors of Man City. I spoke to a young lad selling juices from a cooler and he had to agree. He wiped his hands on his shorts and looked out at the pitch with a seriousness beyond his years. The ice clinked in...

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . I stood before the road that crosses the Hampden river under a clear blue sky trying to get the best photo of the moment. The branches of the coconut trees dance with the breeze. My walk started in Sou Sou Lands. Sou Sou Lands is a quiet village that is not in a hurry. It was a Sunday morning and there were not many vehicles on the road there. I imagine that people were sleeping late and others were preparing for church. I walked through the back roads crossing the highway at the midway point. Nobody and nothing was in a hurry that morning and neither was I. I was soaking up the calmness and happy to be heading somewhere new to my walking. Little Rockly Bay was filled with the sounds of the sea water coming to shore. The air was fresh. The water in the sea must have travelled far to be here. In total I had walked eight kilometers that morning to and from where I had started. That morning, the road felt less like a line to...

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . The smooth sounds of conscious reggae music fill the hall. The rickety standing fan oscillates breezes that carry the smell of fresh paint. Today we are with a group of volunteers at the community center applying a new coat of paint. The color of the paint for this room is Soca Rose, a rich matte pinkish red. For breakfast we had saltfish and coconut bake. Like a new coat of paint, Tobago does not change what it is, it just reminds you why you loved it in the first place. There was a Pomerac tree in the yard so we helped ourselves to a few of the freshly picked fruits. If we took the time we could have made some pomerac chow by cutting the fruits into pieces and seasoning with shadon beni, salt, black pepper and habanero pepper. The idea alone is enough to make the mouth water. In the yard sit steelpan carriages that transports my imagination to a night at Panorama. In a corner was a bin for adding plastic bottles to recy...

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . I was sweating from the heat and being too close to the dirt oven for comfort. I was a never see come see at that moment. The breezes carried the rising smoke away from us. I was here to experience the well known dirt oven baking. Dirt ovens are remnants of the good old days. I surmise that these things become popular as we long for the good old days. It is a way of experiencing life of long ago today. My mom knows about the dirt oven. The oven is made of clay. Wood is burned inside the oven. There is a small door to the front. The burnt wood becomes like coals. A stick is then used to clean the oven after the wood burns. Then the baking begins. The breads are covered with fig leaves and left to bake. In the olden days people had to be creative with having less technology and less convenience. The baker wiped his hands on his apron, smiled, and said that a dirt oven teaches patience more than baking. He explained that the...

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . I sit on the veranda drinking passion fruit juice. My laptop in front of me. I have reached chapter six of my latest book. Tobago is a great escape to get some writing done. The atmosphere gives you room for thought and being creative. I have about ten ideas for future chapters. I love that I can create memories with my writing. I love that I can express myself. Writing gives me the freedom to be creative. My friend Chatty tells me that my love for beauty and freedom fits the island perfectly. This feels like one of those books I will look back on and say, this is where I was becoming more myself. My friend Chatty tells me that my experience as a writer reminds him of this Maya Angelou quote, "You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have." This quote highlights how my time in Tobago — breathing, thinking, exploring, writing, and simply being creative — is not draining my creativity but invigo...

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . I got up early. I brush my teeth. I had a good bowel movement and I emptied my bladder. There are no bathroom stops along the way and the plan is to walk from Crown Point to Scarborough. I put on my favourite shorts and jersey, comfortable socks and my shoes that have already covered some distance. My smartphone is fully charged and I plan to take photos along the way. Walking is a great form of exercise and great for mental health and well being. Walking has been a good friend to me over the years. I do not run because my body is not strong enough for running. Walking is a great way to explore a country. The smells, sights and sounds. If I am lucky I will pass by a mango stall or other fruit. Maybe even a fruit tree or two that is available to the public. Sometimes I even break off pieces of plants to carry home for my mom to plant. My friend Chatty tells me that walking is an honest, gentle partnership with the body tha...