Seasons
Photo Credit by Javid Collins of UWI TV. The photo shows a closer view of the ashfall and damage along the coast in the village of Sandy Bay - located in the Windward side of the island.
Marcel opened her eyes slowly. She blinked rapidly, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. She was alive. She was honestly surprised to be awake, yet again.
Light spilled through the window above her head, but not the usual bright shaft that often signaled the beginning of her mornings. This light was muffled in a way, the brightness snuffed to a dull grey hue. She checked her phone. It was 8:30. She dragged herself groggily to her knees and looked out the window. She was unsurprised to see that outside was still enveloped in ash, so much of it that sunlight could barely be detected. It was eerily quiet. No vehicles passed on the rugged gravel road outside her gate. No one passed by on their way to tie out goats, or to go to work. No one dared to be outside in this ghostly atmosphere. She felt like she was the only person left alive. Her heart skipped a beat as she seriously wondered if her neighbors were actually dead, suffocated in their sleep because the ash had somehow gotten into their homes. She had become so much more aware of her own mortality over the past year and some months. She worried a lot more now.
Marcel forced herself to calm down and discarded the ridiculous notion of her neighbors being dead. She lived in a green zone; it was highly unlikely that something so terrible would happen here. At least that is what she tried to convince herself as she loped off to the bathroom.
She turned on the tap to run water over her toothbrush. No cold water came gushing forth and she remembered that there was none. Ash had contaminated all of the major water sources. She felt the panic creeping in again, but swiftly shoved it aside. Be sensible! You have water stored in buckets. Water will come back in time. There’s no need to panic. She removed a bucket cover and scooped out some water with a measuring cup she’d put in there. She brushed her teeth quickly and went to the kitchen.
“No one dared to be outside in this ghostly atmosphere. She felt like she was the only person left alive.”
She went directly to the window facing her front gate and peered out, the eerie feeling amplified by the thick carpet of grey ash that was smothering everything outside. It looked so much like snow. She turned away from the window and set about making some tea, toasted bread with cheese, bacon and scrambled eggs. She usually wouldn’t eat such a large breakfast, but as of late, she figured if she was going to die, she might as well enjoy what she could. Food brought her much comfort.
She scrolled through her social media apps, gathering what news she could from the memes and updates being posted across the globe. She had gotten to a point where she was numb. She no longer watched actual news stations because the constant exhibition of bad and worse news was too much for her tired mind to bear. Covid had reared its ugly head and that had been bad enough. Hopes and dreams disintegrated in no time at all. Days bled into each other and people grew afraid. Then along came La Soufrière around the same time that Covid cases had started spiking in SVG. After months of slow preparation, the volcano had finally showed itself in all its glory and fiery power.
Hundreds, if not thousands of people had been displaced. Shelters had not been prepared. The national emergency management organization was a mess and it seemed like there was chaos all around. Marcel constantly felt like this was the end and she was angry, because if it was, why the prolonged suffering? Why not just wipe them all out and let them go in peace? Her anger was probably irrationally motivated by despair, but she couldn’t help it.
She glanced towards the window again and felt a strong sense of guilt. She was happy to be locked up in her little two bedroom apartment, stocked with water and food. She even had snacks. She had a fan. She had electricity and the internet was working well. She felt a million miles away from the horrors going on outside.
Since I so comfortable, maybe ah should host somebody.
No. whatever resources you have need to last til God knows when. You can’t let some strange person come into your home. You cah trust strangers. You don’t want some nasty person coming to interrupt your peace.
Marcel had struggled with this dissonance since people had started fleeing their beloved homes. She was ashamed of her lack of desire to share, to go out and give of herself the way that some people were doing right now. She would find a way to contribute later, when it was safe to go outside.
Her musings curbed her appetite. She pushed the now cold toast around on her plate and once again thought it was unbelievable that she and other people of her generation were experiencing the madness of this time period. She wished she could go back to 2019 when things made some kind of sense. They were now living in a time when people had to stay away from each other, because contact with anyone signaled potential death.
“Then along came La Soufrière around the same time that Covid cases had started spiking in SVG.”
She remembered how much she and many others had taken everything for granted. Now, they hungered for human contact, family outings, parties, eating out, anything. The change had come so suddenly, she really did wonder if 2020 was indeed a cursed year. Vincentians saw the plague spread across the globe, but stayed confident in the fact that God was a Vincy. “We only have a few imported Covid cases. We doing good. We jammin’ still.” Parties continued, “liming” continued, Christmas continued. Marcel had waited patiently for their luck to run out; this paradise was too good to be true. All the people flying in to escape the horrors of the outside world would soon bring those horrors with them.
So said, so done. The jammin’ came to an abrupt end in January 2021, a year which everyone soon determined was simply an extension of the previous jumbie year.
*
A knock on the door startled Marcel from her dark musings. She straightened up stiffly in the chair, waiting to see if the knock was a figment of her already overactive imagination.
She got up quietly from her seat and tiptoed to the window. The ash had prevented her from hearing the usual groans of the gate being disturbed, and masked footfalls which would have otherwise been easily detected. She could not fathom who would come out in this fog of probable death to come all the way to her house. Her heart drummed in her chest as she imagined it could only be someone who had come to rob her. Times of crisis such as these often brought out the worst of the worst in people. People who’d had to flee their homes now bore the added burden of having to rebuild their lives, not only because of the destruction the volcanic eruption was causing, but also because the greed and selfish nature of man were taking advantage of their plight.
From this angle at the window she would be able to see who was at the door. She peered through the tiny space she had made and struggled to make out who had come to disrupt her life. The person’s face was covered with a plain blue cloth mask and they were bundled up beneath a thick brown hoodie, long black pants and grey water boots. She couldn’t determine who the amorphous figure was. She would have to open the door.
Or you could be quiet til the person goes away.
What if is somebody who needs help?
Someone else can help them. Mind your business.
The stranger knocked again and Marcel’s panic increased.
“The person’s face was covered with a plain blue cloth mask and they were bundled up beneath a thick brown hoodie, long black pants and grey water boots.”
Art by L.E.M, Intersect Antigua
She was afraid, but her conscience would not let her leave someone out in such dangerous conditions. Simply getting ash in your eyes could cause major problems. She picked up the fork from her plate and unlocked her door. She pushed it open, ready to tear this person to pieces if their intentions were impure.
She paused in confusion when, beneath the mask, and additionally, some goggles, she realized it was the elderly woman who lived across the road from her. She’d only ever greeted her in passing; people didn’t fraternize much in this area, which was odd for her, but who was she to move into their community and try to be friendly? She hardly saw her neighbors anyway. Marcel had been living in this house for five months already and she didn’t even know this woman’s name.
“Good morning,” the woman said. Marcel remembered her manners with a jolt.
“Oh gosh! So sorry, good mornin’. Come in, come in. Why you outside in all this ash?”
The woman did her best to shake herself free of the ash that had engulfed her on the short trip over to Marcel’s home. She took her boots off at the door and Marcel tucked them neatly off to the side of the door.
Marcel seated her neighbor at the clean, oak-varnished kitchen table and offered her some bay leaf tea. She saw that the woman’s black and grey hair was a mess of old plaits, the clothes she wore were worn and hung limply from her tall, round frame. Her skin was shea-butter smooth; it was difficult to even guess what age she could be. Marcel had never really taken the time to look at her properly before.
“You know, I never got your name,” Marcel said, as she went about preparing the tea.
“True you know. Louenda Blugh. I keep forgettin’ to ask you yours. I hardly ever catch you long enough to find out.”
“Marcel James. I ain have a clue who the other neighbors be, but I guess I will learn in time. What you doin’ outside at a time like this?”
“Well, I remember is you alone over here, so I come to check on you, see if you need anything. Bein’ alone at a time like this can’t be good for anyone.”
Marcel paused at the stove with the pot in her hand and a wave of gratitude and shame washed over her. Here she was wrapped up in her little bubble, never once considering going out to check on anyone, and this woman, who was pretty much still a stranger, had taken the time to care if she was all right, had left the comfort of her own home even, to check on her. Marcel felt tears stinging her eyes, but pushed them back and swallowed the lump in her throat. She poured the tea into a pretty yellow mug and handed it to Louenda.
“I really appreciate you riskin’ your life to come over here to check on me. I’m ashamed to say it’s not somet’ing I would’ve done.”
“That’s quite alright. I understand why you wouldn’ want to. You have to take care of yourself in a time like this. I needed some company anyway, so I’m killin’ two birds wid one stone. Sometimes we forget how much we need each other you know. Every once in a while we need a reminder.”
“So true. So why you alone then? Where’s your family?”
“Come have a seat with me and I will tell you all that.”
They both had a lengthy chat, and Marcel even cooked them both lunch. By the time Louenda bundled up again and waded through the ash to return home, they had established a firm friendship and Marcel barely thought about imminent death the entire time she was there. Things were terrible right now, but Louenda had reminded her that there was still a lot of good to look forward to. She was going to be ok. Everything was going to be ok.
““Sometimes we forget how much we need each other you know. Every once in a while we need a reminder.””
She cleaned up the lunch dishes and thought about how much better she felt. She’d thought that she was good by herself, but Louenda had opened her eyes to the fact that she was really alone. There was no one to comfort her or to whom she could offer comfort, no one to share the burden of uncertainty and fear with. Perhaps she was going about life all wrong. This was clearly a season of change for everyone. Maybe she had to accept that and adapt to the transformations to come.