Commentary

I see blue these days

YOU KNOW, IN these times when natural disasters take pride of place, I have a new level of respect for people living on small islands. By small I mean, if-you-can-throw-a-stone-and-not- drop-it-into-the-sea-from-any-given-point small.

Living in Jamaica, which is a very big small island, all my life and spending time on the major continents, gives you a feeling of security, especially in these days of tsunamis.

In Jamaica, there are people who have never seen the ocean because for one reason or another, it's too far away. If you live in Mandeville, for example, you will travel for hours before you are able to see the ocean.

Here, in Saint Maarten, however, things are a little different. Five minutes in any direction and you're looking at deep blue sea. Where I now live, for example, if I walk 50 metres to the south of my apartment building, I am looking at waves crashing against the seashore. Another 300 metres in the opposite direction and I am looking at monstrous cruise ships docked at the pier. It's a far cry from living off Waterloo Road from where I had to drive for at least 15 minutes to get to downtown, or 25 minutes to Portmore, St. Catherine, to even get a glimpse of the ocean.

So, if we should get hit by a tsunami, you guys would never hear from me anymore - which some of you might be saying is not such a bad thing.

Let me explain to you what I mean. Geologists have been tracking the state of degradation of this piece of land along the African coastline, which they estimate could fall off into the ocean somewhere between now and the next 100 years. When this happens, they believe it will create a tidal wave about 700 feet high that is expected to reach the east coast of the United States within nine hours.

COMMON AS PROSTITUTES

If that happens and I am in Jamaica, I know I can get to the Blue Mountains with time to spare, or into the areas of the Alps or even Mocho, and once I bring enough food and medical supplies and warm blankets, I should be good until the waters recede. Here, I am not so sure. The highest point here is just over 1,000 feet which doesn't give me much room for error.

And it doesn't even have to be a tsunami. We live in a time when hurricanes are as common as prostitutes on Holborn Road at nights, and you never can tell which one has your island's name written all over it.

Back home, you can head for the interior and hope for the best. Where my parents live in Trelawny, the hills often provide enough protection for the house where they have lived for the better part of three decades. 'Gilbert' and 'Ivan' at their best could only effect minor damage to the roof. I am not so sure anyone here can make that claim.

Every day when I check the weather channel and see that there are more areas of low pressure coming off the Atlantic coast of Africa, I worry. Because when I look around me, all I can see is the sea.

When I go shopping in town, the sea is right there behind the stores; if I go to have dinner at a restaurant, the sea is right there; if I go to watch a soccer match, I have to drive by the sea. It's everywhere.

Islands like these are beautiful places to be. They are delightful tourist destinations, good for fun and frolic, but these days when the seas get angry almost every week and at a moment's notice, when I see blue these days, I get really worried.

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