Tobago people

Saturday 17th January 2009, day 181. 10° 40’.81 N, 061° 38’.16 W. Chaguaramas Bay, Trinidad.

A few more snapshots from Tobago:

Curtis James, the island’s ice cream man, who we met when we went to Buccoo Reef for an evening’s steel band music. We’d just finished our supper of spinach soup, sweet potato and spiced fish, and there was Curtis, perched on top of his chiller box, in the back of his open pickup. “Ice cream!” he shouts. “Which one do you want, I got peanut, pina colada, or chocolate?” “You must be yachties”, he goes on. “How do you know?” He roars with laughter and points at Anthony. “Look at him, man! Look at de colour of him! He just de same colour as me.” He has a point. We had a chance to try different flavours a few days later when we were driving along the northern road – he doesn’t need a van with a tinkly tune, he just pulls his truck into a convenient turning, waits for a passing car, then stands up and bellows “Ice cream!” at the top of his voice.

The best dancer at the steel band evening was a little old Tobagan man, with thick black-rimmed glasses and a benevolent wrinkled face. He guided his partners into discreetly flamboyant steps, his hips never quite still, knees never quite straight, every accurate movement softened by a gentle swaying. His neat black trousers and brightly patterned shirt were topped off by a hummingbird-blue crocheted hat with a narrow brim, under which he smiled in a slightly solemn way. Dancing is too much fun not to be taken seriously.

Ayo is a tall, calm Rastafari, with his hair piled high in a large black and white kerchief. He has a shop in Man of War Bay which sells car parts, a few kitchen utensils, beer and fishing tackle. The door is normally open, but he’s not there, as he’s cooking in his café twenty yards down the road. And if you go in and out of the shop in an enquiring way, and poke about a bit in the stores, and generally look as if you might be thinking of buying something, he’ll send a messenger over to summon you to discuss your wants as he stirs his pots. Then he calls out to one of his friends down the street, who helps you find what you need on the shelves to attract local fish (pink, yellow and blue sparkly lures, like Barbie’s vision of an octopus, and Tooth-Proof brand wire for the traces). And then a third friend, putting down his Bible which he was reading in front of his 10 square foot shop, will show you how to tie the whole lot together, throw in some good advice, and remind you with a twinkle that if your luck isn’t in, he can always get hold of some nice fresh fish for you himself.