What Do You Want?
Quest
Jack and Hannah Ormerod and Lucia, Delphine & Fin
Wed 22 Jun 2016 13:00
We love a day that starts with a 'What do you want?' It's just about as direct as it gets. We're sitting in Herve's car, the electrical supervisor at Grenada Marine, catching a Saturday morning lift to ballet. Good fortune! His daughter, Alexandra dances in the same class as Delphine. A man comes up to Herve's partner's side and she rolls down the window. 'What do you want?' she says. He says something, she says something, it all gets sorted and we go on our way. The girls are clustered like peas on the back seat, I'm on the pop-down seat in the boot surrounded by electrical stuff and somehow the conversation rolls on to politics. Looking back, it's no coincidence that the conversation goes in this direction. Herve's partner, Caitlin is versed in politics. We don't even mention Grenada, we talk about America. Grenadians have strong links with America. Almost anyone you meet has family there, working or studying. Much more so than with the UK which I find a little strange since Grenada was a British colony not so long ago. I'm definitely getting old. Come on! America is closer and easier to make a decent living in, according to our taxi driver, Bertrand, who I'll get on to later. Bertrand is a mine of Grenadian values, information and drives the smoothest, slowest ride. Ever. Right now we're in the car with Herve and his partner and Lulu pipes up, 'Who do you think should win the U.S. election?' I try not to wince. The last time I'd heard this question, my mother had asked it to a group of weary Americans six weeks ago when we were coming back from visiting the chocolate factory. There had been a collective moan on the bus that day. Today there are no moans. Instead, Caitlin takes a prolonged inhalation. She's ready. 'I don't think women should be political leaders,' she says. 'Now that's not to say that I don't think they have strong roles. Everyone knows that women have the strongest roles but I think they work better when they support strong men. Strong women supporting strong men.' Now, I know something about this, I think and pipe in about how everyone knows Michelle Obama is smarter than her husband. 'I'm not a big fan of Obama.' Oh. That was unexpected. In fact, Lulu and I are frankly shocked by this. We are committed fans. After all, he also has Portuguese Water Dogs. This is the extent of our political savvy. Two of them! We can't get enough of those YouTube videos.. 'He needs to better protect his people,' Caitlin maintains. By this point we are already parked up on the steep hill outside ballet. We're not getting out of the car though. No one has moved. Herve stares forward and even the children are supernaturally still. I better not move either. 'He can say that we should go out and act normally after we get attacked but would you want to go out and act normally in these circumstances? These are not normal times. Now Trump,' she says, 'yes, he's crazy. But have you seen his daughter? I like his daughter. Strong, loves her dad. No matter what he says, to have a daughter like that means he has to be doing something right.' She stops, satisfied, the ballet clock now ticking but I'm still five steps behind, piecing her theory together. 'You mean that politicians can be judged by their children?' Caitlin nods quickly. 'Because parenting is the one thing that, as a politician you can't hide?' 'Exactly,' she says. 'Are there any terrorist threats here?' I ask, feeling a little silly. Still, I have to ask it. It's a question. 'No,' she says, a little surprised, 'of course not.' We go and dance and shop and at the end of the day, Bertrand drives us home. Since we've been in Grenada Marine, we've had this same Saturday routine: dance class for half the day, then bus to mall and supermarket and taxi treat home. Frankly, I'm addicted to it. Bertrand owns a hulking Toyota saloon with a name that no one in the English-speaking world could guess. He bought it online in Japan and says that the 140% import tax to Grenada was still cheaper than the local Toyota dealer. Well, that's the icing on the cake because riding in it is akin to a brief stay in a very nice, impeccably clean hotel with hot towels and an amazing view. That's the Bertrand experience. He drives like he's in a permanent school zone, only slightly unpleasant when we get to the odd straight bit of road and about 50 cars overtake us, all beeping their horns. When this happens, Bertrand sighs through his nose. 'There were three people killed on this road this year.' As we click our tongues in reply, he points out the exact location for each death. 'Here,' he says, going past a kiosk of a building with people sitting on the porch. 'Was it here?' he asks for the next casualty, 'No, here,' he corrects himself at the bottom of a blind hill. We all wince. Bertrand could have been the guy with the white chalk job. 'My boy's in America,' he says, 'managing a construction firm.' 'Does he like it?' Jack asks. 'Oh yes, very happy.' He slows to stationary before turning into the tiny road that leads down to the boatyard. 'He sent home an outboard engine last week to start a little fishing co-operative.' We know from our first drive that Bertrand's village is in the north. The waters churn there with productivity. Leatherback turtles nest on the northern tip and are nesting right now. A number of rocky islands rise up through the sea's surface. There is an underwater volcano too. Her name's Kick'em Jenny and she's said to be one of the only volcanoes in the Western Hemisphere that can explode without any warning. Like every other boat, we skirted past her exclusion zone on the way down to Grenada and while no methane bubble rose up to grab us in a Bermuda Triangle-style disaster movie, there were proper choppy waters. That day, some of us produced interesting gas bubbles of our own. We pass the last house before the boat yard and Bertrand stops to have a chat with house's owner. It turns out that this is Kerry's Dad. We know Kerry. He has a seriously white, gap-toothed, beatific grin. And he's a dominoes champion. Every day Kerry climbs the ladder to Quest with fresh bread. His Dad has a bakery business and indeed, it is good bread, crumbly and hand-kneeded. The two men finish chatting, we're back on our way and Bertrand drives through the boat yard as if it's one big speed hump. We're almost asleep by this point. 'It seems to me,' he says, waking us up, 'that everything might be cheaper if you go to places like America. Still, it doesn't mean you look after it any better.' We nod. Bertrand stops and presses a button that makes all his car doors pop open at the same time. Very cool. Love from Quest and her crew |