Father of saints, mother of oceans

The first time those sounds frightened me I could not have been older than seven or eight. Certainly, I had heard those same sounds many times before. I had been spending time on this beach since I was a baby.

***

This is our beach. This is my beach. This is my second home. Maybe this is my only home. This remote place is my refuge from sterile hospitals, distraught relatives, overly kind neighbors, and death. I am here because my grandfather is slowly dying, and has been for years. This house is owned by his brother. By contemporary standards, it is primitive. No air conditioning, no hot water, no screens on the windows. There are four small bedrooms on the second floor; the first floor is one BIG bedroom with 6 big beds and a dorm like bathroom. The kids always sleep downstairs. There is no internal stairway. To reach the safety of the second floor, the safety of a mother's embrace, I must go outside into the dark. That is always scary. Daytime is paradise. The beach faces north, toward the junction of the Atlantic and the Caribbean. A few hundred meters due west is a little sand bar jutting north into the sea, capped by a 50 meter tall hunk of volcanic rock. We call it "Isla de Carrajo", or "Hell Island". We call it that because walking across the sea urchin infested sand bar to get to the rock guarantees the irrepressible utterance of explicative phases unsuitable for adults. And the sharp edges of the rock tears our feet as we climb up and over to the northern side to watch the large waves crash below us. We are kids; we don't think to wear shoes, not ever! When I am not on the rock, I am in the ocean. I am bound by the rock to the west and north. I keep the house to my east. I am always warned of the undertows to the east of the house and the strong currents and big waves north of the rock. I spend hours each day alone, floating face down, breathing through a snorkel, watching a world of dreams though the distorted lens of my mask. I love observing the subtle patterns of red just discernible at the core of the sea urchins. Some have a big red dot at their center. Others have red tinted spines. Trigger fish, parrot fish, rays, and flying gurnards are my friends and companions as I drift from coral reef to sandy bottom and back. I love this ocean. This Ocean loves me. Night is always a little scary. So many creatures become animated after dark. So many insects, feral cats, and the crabs. There are two types of crabs on my beach: "cobitos", or hermit crabs, and these big flat aggressive things that scare me. At night, I always hear them climbing the walls of the house. They often come through the windows. Occasionally, they even slip through the windows on the second floor. I hate being on the first floor so close to the crabs and other night creatures. But I am always so tired after spending most of my day in the ocean. My skin burns. My eyes hurt. My feet hurt from the latest conquest of "Isla de Carrajo". I wrap myself tightly in a thin sheet and sleep in its safety.

***

My grandfather's brother owns the house. My grandfather's second brother owns the house next door. Juan lives on the first floor of the second house. I always sleep on the first floor of the first house. Juan is the caretaker of both properties.

***

I always heard those sounds. The sounds of laughter ... the sounds of song ... the sounds of life as I drifted to sleep. They were sweet sounds to me as they masked the sounds of six legged creatures scaling the walls. Those sounds meshed beautifully with the waves of my ocean. Together, they beckoned me to dreams. I really liked Juan; he was nice to me. I think he was a large man, but I really don't know. He had dark skin and an infectious smile. It was only after my Mother's sister explained those sounds to me that I became afraid. My mother's sister, my aunt, only 5 years older than myself, my sister. Because she was older and a girl, she slept upstairs. I don't remember the specifics, but she provided my little boy mind with just enough information to allow me to race toward horrible conclusions. And I understood. Those sounds no longer provided comfort. Those sounds no longer masked the sounds of the crabs. I was no longer afraid on the ground floor. I was terrified. The sun finally illuminated my small world. Tenuously, I made my way to the big group bathroom, ever cautious of crabs that may have entered during the night. Tentatively, I stepped outside and walked to the northern most part of the compound.

***

Feathers in the sand, tinted sand, burnt out candles, litter about. This is the aftermath of the scene that once generated comforting sounds. This is the place where Juan leads the prayers to Ogun and Yemenja. This is the place where a little boys dream transformed into his worst nightmare.

***

I am in the ocean again. I am totally absorbed by the alien world just beyond my mask. My fears are to the south. Danger is to the east. The rock is to my west. And to my north is the great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. I am lost in thought and sight and warmth and love. This is my ocean; this is my home. I lose all sense of time and place. I stick my head up for the first time in hours. Fuck! Isla de Carrajo is well to my south. I am a full kilometer north of the beach. I can't actually see the beach, it's proximity is known only because I can still see the top of the rock to my right. I am in dangerous waters and I am alone. I know the ocean loves me; I am afraid, but not horribly afraid. I know not to panic. Slowly I make my way toward shore until I see a large barracuda smiling at me. Now I am very afraid. I swim south with every bit of power my small body can muster, my mind is awash in ominous thought, the sounds, the rocks, the urchins, the blood, my grandfathers impending death ... Juan ... the songs, the prayers, the night, the feathers, the sound, THE SOUND, ... the sound of a heartbeat ... the sound of a drum ...

***

As I drifted to sleep listening to Juan's chanting outside ... as I remembered the barracudas' smile ... as I felt the drum of life in my heart ... as the smell of incense and herbs drifted through the windows ... as my six legged friends scaled the walls ... I was no longer afraid, but I understood fear.