There’s a strange sort of midway bustle to this island.  It’s not the sleepy hollow I had half-expected it to be- not that I expected much of anything from it.  It seems stuck between going somewhere and going nowhere. Or more accurately, it seems forever at odds with itself; wanting to be modern and yet still, in some ways, not very modern. An island fighting for balance- like almost every other thing, if not every thing, in this world.

My landlady, who is a Dominican by birth, once told me that it is often said that her native island- Dominica- would be an island Columbus would recognize if he showed up in present day.  According to her, the island has changed that little. Antigua is not like that. She really likes it here- she says it’s livelier if not prettier here. She has better friends here. She thinks she prefers the men too.

At the house, I’ve grown used to the blackbirds in the mornings and the crickets, frogs and other critters at night. (When I first moved to the island, I was convinced that the island’s night and day creatures had heard about my sensitive ears and had gathered closely around my bedroom window to ensure I was kept in a state of non-sleep.)

During the days, sometimes a breeze- slight or heavy makes the trees rustle. There’s also, every now and then, some neighbour making his or her way from or to work or errand.  I never see him or her- just hear the faint noise of a vehicle. And, the faint noise of passing vehicles has as its main competition the not too infrequent and just as faint noise of a passing aircraft.

In the city, where I spent most of my time marveling at the pace at which things get done in Government offices, I’ve grown used to the bustle of lower market street. On weekends, particular on Saturdays, the public market seems to just burst alive. Then the din is a mixture of a street preacher shouting words through a megaphone, music from the boys selling pirated compact discs and the general clan of people conversing loudly about politics, how long they haven't seen this or that person or just haggling over the price of produce.

On Market Street and surrounding streets are the various business places- many of them clothing stores- some with their wares hanging on the outside to lure the customer in. I’ve observed that the further up Market Street you go, the less noisy it gets. Unless, of course you take a left down into Redcliffe Quay where a cruise ship or two sits. Then you find yourself amidst tourists, taxi-men and vendors of all accents.

The sounds, sights and smells of the island have become so very familiar to me. It’s almost as if I’ve lived in Antigua all my life and know no other place.  After a year or so on the island, I had memorized every scent, sound and sight of almost every corner of the island.  I could have driven myself blindfolded to those spots brochures continuously peddle- the Shirley Heights…Fort James…Fig Tree Drive or just any scenic route in the countryside.

It has little to nothing to do with any special allure of the island.  It’s just how it has always been between me and a place. I become very easily tuned into and aware of my surroundings and often have to rouse myself into recognition that I have not been in that place for that long a time.

(V).Damien