This Island Life

I adore the island right now. It's empty, save for "us" who actually live and work here. The kids have returned to school this week, which means that there is a little more traffic in the mornings than there was two weeks ago. In the evenings, or on the weekends, town is nearly empty. Some of the bars and restaurants- ones like Woody's or Quiet Mon, which keep nearly 24-hour schedules at the height of tourist season- are dark many nights now, or have as patrons the employees who don't happen to be working that shift. I recognize, and am recognized, by many people as I walk down the street. It's nice to finally feel like I fit into the place, even in such a small way.

This time of year is bitter sweet, however. Since the economy depends completely on the service industry, the lack of tourists pouring off the ferries means that, for the next couple months, times are lean. It is also hurricane season, the height of which will come in mid-September. So far we have gotten some violent outbursts from Faye, Gustav, and now Hannah, but have narrowly missed the full brunt of their aggression. But St. John has exploded into green vines and screaming frogs, which often drown out the whirring of fans or even the television. The mosquitoes are out with a vengeance as well- "Dengue" is on everyone's lips as black clouds swarm us. This afternoon Kate and I were searching Francis Bay for signs of the early 18th century-era Betty's Hope Plantation, covered in military issue "100% deet", which only discouraged the bugs for a few moments. by the time we ran into the ocean to escape Kate counted 38 welts just on my back, as I scratched furiously at my arms and legs. Even locals contend that this is an especially bad year.

Genips are in season, and we did spend a few minutes sacrificing ourselves to the insects so we could pick them. They are usually high up in the trees- Kate stood on the roof of the truck to cut them down with the machete. They are exceptionally sweet little green fruits, about the size of a globe grape, but with just the slightest bit of meat wrapped around a large, inedible seed tucked inside the leathery shell. I adore them, as do most people around here. It was mango season when I got back three weeks ago- Jane was nice enough to bring three to me the night I came in, most of the trees on St. John had already been stripped bare. Mangoes are actually related to the poison ivy family- it has very small concentrations of the same poison in its skin, which can get you in trouble if you eat more than one or two a day. Bananas are also still growing like crazy outside my window, and must not be seasonal. I have been practicing making fried plantains- I'm pretty good with the Lesser Antilles sweet version, and am now anxious to try my hand at the Cuban-style savory type. I have a whole list of Caribbean foods that I'm going to subject friends and family to when I get home in the fall.

I've been trying to learn about the flora and fauna on the island, but its daunting. I've mentioned many of the more hazardous plants that I had to learn quickly so I could stay out of their way- christmas bush, catch-n-keep, stinging nettle. But there are other plants that have other significance, like tamarinds and gregre trees. Both are hard wood, long lived trees, the tamarinds producing a funky little bean-type fruit that is tangy and slightly sour, but very tasty. It is an introduced plant from the Old World, and is found in India and West Africa. Here, many people are ambivalent about it since they can be the dwelling places of jumbies, as can gregres. I was speaking the other day with Eleanor, the leading botanist for St. John. She not only knows her plants, she knows specific plants and trees, their life histories and how they have intertwined with human histories. We don't get growth rings in the tropics, so it is nearly impossible to age trees here, but based on size she speculates that some of the tamarinds here are 400 years old, which begged the question for both of us- who planted them? And why?

Dog Days of Summer

It has been over a month since I last posted any comments- not only have I been busy (which is a constant, and not much of an excuse, I know), but I had been working on another post which was only tangentially related to my research. Several weeks ago now, the United States House of Representatives issued a formal apology for slavery and Jim Crow (H. Res. 194). In that apology the Congressman who issued the legislation commented on the need to "rectify the lingering consequences" of these two institutions. Issued in the middle of the summer, as the Olympics began, on the heels of the major party conventions, and all the other events that have demanded the attention of America, it seems to have been quickly forgotten. But the promise "to rectify" the wrongs done shouldn't be so easily set aside. I have my own ideas on how to begin rectifying, how the conversation needs to change. One of the consequences of these peculiar institutions is just how damn difficult it is to begin discussing, and I found myself having trouble finishing the brief essay. So I have decided to set it aside for now and discuss research related topics, living it to simmer on the back burner for later.

After a brief visit to Central New York I have returned to a quieter St. John. Most of the tourists are gone, and as we get deeper into hurricane season more and more of them are trickling out. We have already had one "tropical wave" this week, Faye before she became a depression, which is less scary than it sounds. It was a massive rain storm, complete with wind and thunder and lightening, which I could see through my eyelids as I tried to sleep. I woke up the next morning to a river running through my neighborhood, tearing up the already cracked and crumbling cement on the road. Mangrove swamps washed out at Cinnamon Bay, taking a large portion of the beach with it, and some of the bays were brown with run off for a day or so. But it filled up our cisterns and turned the island green, so now we just wait for the next one.

John and Jess both straggled back on island a few days after I did, and within a couple days of each other. Although I love my little purple farmhouse with my husband and flocks of random pets, having roommates this summer has really been a lot of fun, and a constant learning experience as I have had to remember how to share space and food, and try to suppress some of my more annoying habits, all around people who never met me before I moved my stuff in.

Research continues at the National Park. I'm still spending quite a bit of time wading through files and old reports, although mostly I have been identifying what might be important, photocopying it and adding it to the pile to be gone through back in NY. I have moved on to GIS data, and had a productive conversations with Chuck, a local historian who seems to be an endless font of knowledge. More field work needs to be done, but this week we have the Secretary of Interior visiting, so we've been preparing for that as well as doing all the work we normally have- today we moved Mandy's 12 boxes of artifacts into the curation facility.

So, I guess I've just been easing back into island life, and will have fun and exciting news in the (very) near future.