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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781784980641 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Good Book Co |
| Publication date: | 07/01/2018 |
| Series: | Discover |
| Pages: | 96 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.80(w) x 8.20(h) x 0.30(d) |
Read an Excerpt
The Boy by the sea
By Reynald Altema
AuthorHouse LLC
Copyright © 2014 Reynald AltemaAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4918-5584-3
CHAPTER 1
Christmas
December 24 was supposed to be Christmas Eve. What this meant for Raymond, eleven years of age, was a nebulous idea. All he knew was that the other kids in the neighborhood would receive gifts the following day that someone called Tonton Noël (Santa Claus) would have brought them. The lads would display the toys and would play with them, and as usual, Raymond would have a heavy heart because he would not have any. He had realized long ago that Tonton Noël always seemed to pass by the same homes; he was very selective. Raymond had come to the conclusion that a kid with toys was more likely to have a father as part of the household. Therefore, neither Christmas Eve nor Christmas was a time of celebration for him. It was a day like any other, except he wished it were otherwise deep inside his heart. Christmas was also a day when he usually avoided friends because he didn't want to explain that he did not get any gift; nor did he want to see their treasures lest his resentment grow.
In fact, Raymond had few possessions of his own. He ate on the average one cooked meal a day, and he was dressed in tatters. He had no father. His dad was a fisherman who had perished in a storm when Raymond was three years of age. His mom, Marie, was very poor. She bought and sold secondhand clothes from America at the local market, and there were days when business was so bad she was unable to buy provisions to serve a meal at home.
As he got up from bed this day, he didn't have much to look forward to. He wished the day would go away quickly, and the next one and New Year's Eve, as well as New Year's Day. Both were days of zetren giving (gift giving), and neither was known to be so kind to him. Life had been hard on him. Raymond, through no fault of his own, had been born into a family with very limited means.
His mom loved him though, and she spared no opportunity to show her feelings toward him. His mom's hug was part of his daily fix. A pleasant surprise awaited him this morning; she had made a nice breakfast for him, the kind he liked but she could rarely afford to give him—oatmeal with evaporated milk, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla extract, lime peel, and brown sugar, along with some bread with plenty of peanut butter. Yummy! His usual breakfast was a cup of coffee with some biscuits with or without peanut butter, depending on availability. He knew what it meant for her to give him this type of treat. She would have had to save quite a bit. He never took anything for granted, for he was always in want of something material.
So far as he was concerned, his mother's love for him was beyond reproach, as she doted on him. She made up emotionally what she couldn't provide materially. Nonetheless, he missed not having a dad. This was a void in his life and a sore subject. He never felt at ease discussing this matter with anyone. He occasionally broached the subject with his mom.
"My darling," she once said to him, "you are my life and my everything. Your dad passed away unfortunately. I will fill his shoes as best as I can, but I will never take another man just for the sake of it and let him make you suffer. My heart wouldn't tolerate it."
Those words had always been saved in a special place in his heart. He thought about the idea of a dad at times more than others. Christmastime happened to be one of them. He felt having a dad would have made a difference; all of his friends who received a Christmas present had one. He couldn't understand why nature or fate or whoever decided this type of thing had chosen to make him devoid of one. Much as he tried, on holidays, he just couldn't help thinking about not having a dad. "What if" was a frequent supposition that ran through his mind.
He was at once lucky to be exposed to the best of sentiments from his mom but yet was living the worst financial predicament. Dad, Dad, Dad—the person and the idea kept recurring to him from the time he awakened on this Christmas Eve day. It was torture. He didn't want to share his concern with anyone, least of all his mom; she was doing so much, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings by raising the possibility that she couldn't replace Dad. Besides, she tried to spoil him whenever she had a chance. She saw to it that the day started on a good footing by preparing him his favorite breakfast, a rarity for him. Was it good karma? He would not dare to opine, for he was not known to have good luck. A treat was a treat, and he would take it any day.
Of necessity, Raymond had learned survival from the time he was a toddler. He lived by the sea, in a small, sparsely populated hamlet in a beautiful coastal region in the northern part of a sunny island in the Caribbean called Haïti. The region was not well known even by the natives, but the few who had visited it all called it breathtakingly beautiful. It was called Pointe des Icaques, and its visually pleasing scenery was a natural wonder—a vast expanse of beach formed by fine white sand and rows of coconut trees providing a most soothing shade. The shallow part of the water, aqua blue and very serene, extended for quite a distance. The area was mostly pristine and idyllic and would be an ideal place for a honeymoon. Balmy weather and gentle waves beckoned wholesome relaxation. Except for some unkempt spots, Pointe des Icaques was still in an unspoiled condition.
A local fisherman called Ti-Joe brought his boat, scaled the fish, and left their remains on one corner on the beach. No systematic cleanup took place, and what one had was a jewel being tarnished by the hands of man.
Raymond's house, a one-room, thatched hut without indoor plumbing, was a stone's throw away from the water. The next house closest to him was that of his cousin, Arnold, who was two years older than he was and, therefore, didn't hang out with him.
The fisherman's house was a short distance away from his. Raymond never cared to go in that direction.
He had classmates, but they lived a bit far from his house, and his mom didn't take too kindly to the idea of him gallivanting and wandering beyond the confines of her property. Besides, all of his schoolmates were better off than he was, and he didn't particularly feel welcomed in their midst, except for two friends—Joël and Bernard—whose homes were also a bit of a distance from his. Although these two pals were just a bit better off financially than he was, they didn't make him feel the difference. He felt comfortable in their presence.
Two other adults played a crucial role in his life. One was his mom's best friend, Josette, who doubled as his marraine (godmother), and the other was his uncle Ola, his mom's older brother, who also doubled as his parrain (godfather). Marraine Josette lived in town, while his godfather lived in the next town over. Raymond saw his godmother on a regular basis. Marraine Josette made mean fudges, and he stopped by her house every now and then, usually on Friday afternoons; invariably, she would offer him some of the delicious treats.
"Fiyeul mwen" (My godson), she would say, greeting him with a large smile, "come and give me a hug. How are you, my darling?"
"Bonjour, Marraine. I am fine," he would answer, whether he was feeling fine or starving.
Marraine Josette had two children, but they were much younger than him; the kids were his frères de baptème (baptism brothers), and noblesse oblige compelled him to play with them. But in truth, like any kid from anywhere, he attached a significant importance to the slightest age difference. That meant the older set would not be caught dead with the younger one. He was a victim of, as much as a participant in, this practice. His cousins, Mon Oncle Ola's boys, who were older than him, didn't care to hang out with him much.
As much as Marraine Josette spoiled him when she could, she was also a stern disciplinarian. She believed in the principle that sparing the rod will spoil the child. She wouldn't hesitate a minute to give him a punishment. Raymond always tried his best to be on his godmother's good side.
Mon Oncle Ola, who lived at the next town, was the closest thing he had to a father figure in his life. During summertime, it was customary that he would vacation at his parrain's place for a few weeks; this was a situation that had its ups and downs. Initially, the problem was that Mon Oncle Ola, who worked as a mechanic, tended to spend a lot of time at work, limiting their quality time together. A fact Raymond didn't care much for was that his uncle had separated from his children's mother, and the estranged couple was constantly feuding.
"If you are not on good terms with me, how do you expect to see my kids?"
"You seem to forget they are mine also and that I support them financially."
This was a typical interchange between the warring factions. Raymond couldn't understand the reason for the rift. Nor could he grasp the concept that two adults who had kids together could be estranged. The consequence was that, at times, Raymond ended up being alone quite a bit when vacationing with his parrain when he was younger. This changed when Raymond grew older and was able to shadow his uncle while he was working. However, and this was the good part, he was fed much better than at home. He didn't have to scrounge for a meal. Oftentimes, even with a full belly, he was empty emotionally and missed his mom; many a day, he shed a few tears of sadness because he missed frolicking at the beach, talking to his mom, and especially her soothing hug. Last but not least, he missed listening to her singing. He felt she had a golden voice. Mon Oncle Ola was always kind to him though.
Lately, vacationing at his uncle's place had taken a turn for the better. His parrain's wife had been spending more time at home, and his cousins Géto and Marco were more frequent guests with their dad and were more willing to play football (soccer) with him. His skills at playing the game probably contributed to their change of heart in inviting him to join them. Regardless, Raymond was now rarely alone when vacationing with his Mon Oncle Ola.
The most exciting part was that Raymond was allowed to watch his parrain work his wizardry at fixing cars. This was simply fascinating; he was forever attracted to fixing stuff. Mon Oncle Ola asked for nothing better than to teach him the different tools and their use; Raymond enjoyed completing even the simplest tasks. Raymond was now pleased, and he wished he had more opportunity to do so.
Going back home was a bittersweet event. He was happy to rejoin his mom, but he also knew he would spend some days on a less than full belly. His parrain would invariably give him a wad of bills for his mom. This previous summer, he'd had a fun time for the month of August, which he'd spent with his parrain.
As a practical matter, at home, he oftentimes ended up being by himself. He had no siblings. His mom worked all day long and came home at sundown. Today would be no different. He had been let out of school two days prior for Christmas and New Year's break. And though he did miss companionship, he enjoyed the respite from the monotony of school. How he hated school!
Raymond slept on the floor of his and his mother's thatched hut, using a few pieces of rags on a mat. Next to his home was the home of his mom's sister-in-law, Tante Nicole, who was a bit strange. Tante Nicole didn't socialize as a rule; she didn't speak to Raymond's mom much or anybody else for that matter. Raymond couldn't understand why. His aunt puzzled him; her behavior was off, he thought, definitely different from that of the other adults he knew. She was his father's sister for goodness sake! Her son Arnold, a bit older than Raymond, was gregarious but tended to stay with other youngsters closer to his age.
Many of the neighbors shared the tract of land, and everybody knew each other. Though most of the time these neighbors got along, as Raymond got older, he witnessed interactions among them, such as the relationship between his mom and aunt, and that puzzled him. He kept wondering about grown-ups who always chastised the young but seemed to need some chastisement themselves for their odd interactions at times.
Past Auntie Nicole's hut was that of the fisherman, and it was the biggest house in the neighborhood. Raymond rarely set foot there. He was afraid of the occupant. There was something about the old man that gave Raymond the creeps.
Raymond's world revolved around the beach. It was a source of leisure as well as a feeding ground. From an early age, he began to play on the beach, and he'd taught himself to swim and had become as comfortable in the water as any of the wide variety of fish teeming in it. In fact, there was an abundance of fish. He liked to watch them both from a distance and up close. The different types of fish he saw in the water fascinated him. They had all sorts of colors and shapes. He had been trying to keep track of the species that he saw by cataloguing them in his head. He was very visual and had a photographic memory. During his off days from school, sooner or later, one could always find him at the beach, regardless of the weather. The one exception was a storm, especially when associated with thunder, which he was terribly afraid of; he also feared the large waves that he'd seen on a few occasions. Yet he couldn't help it; he kept finding his way back because the water, the beach, represented his refuge, the one place where he felt at ease.
He felt free, just like the surrounding fish. His survival instinct had sharpened to the point that he fed himself and his mom on a regular basis. Among the plentiful trees on the beach and the surroundings, he had found three perennial saviors—the coconut, the almond, and the breadfruit—from which he could find nourishment. The coconut was at the top of the food chain with its nectar and pulp, which quenched any thirst and satiated any hunger respectively. On a regular basis, he would climb a coconut tree and grab the fruits. Once he brought them down, he could peel the top of the coconut off with a machete, pierce a hole in it, and drink the cold nectar. Next he could pry it open and eat the pulp. The nectar of the coconut was routinely used as a source of drinking water in his household. He always made sure there was a good supply at home. In addition to being eaten raw, the pulp could be grated and used as a condiment for cooking. He collected almonds on the soil and from the trees and painstakingly pried the shells open to get the nuts. He very frequently used the combination of almond nuts and coconut pulp as lunch at school, unbeknownst to his mom, or so he thought. The breadfruit tree bore a large fruit that fell on the ground all year round; he collected it whenever he found one. It could be cooked in a lot of different ways. His resourcefulness helped him well and bespoke of a bright mind.
Other fruits in season would fill his and his mom's need for additional sustenance; for example, mango and avocado could be plentiful during a specific time of the year. He had become adept at gathering these fruits and could climb the trees whenever needed. If his mom had no food at home, he could use a rudimentary net that he made to catch fish for dinner. Depending on whether or not cooking oil was available at home, the fish could be steamed, fried, or roasted. One thing was for sure, regardless of the recipe, it was always very tasty because his mom was an excellent cook. At least this was one of the rare pleasures he had and one that he always looked forward to.
On a typical day on the beach, Raymond did plenty of swimming and, when tired of that, he had the option of either gathering food or engaging in another pastime of his, the collection of pebbles and seashells. This was an activity for which he devoted a considerable amount of time. He was picky; he searched for and gathered shiny, flat, or oblong pebbles, as well as seashells without any imperfection—the brighter the color, the better. Over the years, he had accumulated a sizable portfolio that included some interesting specimens of each, with no two quite alike. He kept thinking about a way to turn them into art objects, the way he saw some of the artisans do. He sometimes thought about selling some of his beloved pieces to the artisans, but he realized he would not get much for them since the artisans could gather similar items just as well as he. In the meantime he had a weakness for them and spent quite a bit of time amassing them. Regardless, they were for free, and they were all he could call his possessions.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Boy by the sea by Reynald Altema. Copyright © 2014 Reynald Altema. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse LLC.
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