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 follow and more like a companion, guiding me gently forward. Each step settled into a rhythm that matched the morning itself—steady, unforced. I was not counting time or distance then; I was simply present, aware of the light on the road, the breeze on my skin, and the ease in my chest. It felt good to walk without expectation, to let the island set the pace and trust that arriving was not the point—being there was. On my way back, I stopped by the doubles vendor on the road beside the Lowlands mall. Thankfully it was not a case of hurry, hurry, come for curry, all the curry done. Doubles is a nourishing and convenient and tasty and affordable meal. My friend Chatty thinks that doubles is comfort, culture, and joy wrapped in soft bara, best eaten hot with a little mess and no rush.
A lady tourist with a bright floral outfit from another hemisphere started a chat with me. She was visiting Tobago for the first time. She told me how Tobago already felt gentle to her, how the island seemed to breathe differently, slower and kinder than the places she was used to. She said the people reminded her of home and the breezes made everything feel softer, more forgiving. It was her first time tasting doubles, and she laughed at how simple food could carry so much flavor and warmth, saying it felt like something meant to be eaten outside, in the open, among strangers who did not stay strangers for long. As I approached the point where I started, time had paused, and I paused with it. I should have been tired from such a long walk but I was not. I wanted to remember this morning forever. I had walked as if the island itself had whispered: take your time.
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