My first week in Antigua was uneventful. Many attempted to milk their children’s university tuition out of my accent. I still thought the island unremarkable; quite physically unattractive- to someone like me.  But I, glutton that I was for misery and murderous sunshine, had made up my mind. I intended to stay. Just because.  Now, there was just one more hurdle- the “how”. What would be my story this time around? How?  How would I explain myself to those back “home”? Indeed, how would I explain myself to the people here on this barren rock?

If there’s anything to be said for moving to a new place, it is that it allows you to be creative- if you wish.  You can scratch the surface and produce yourself a decent life. Or, you can dig deep and make reinventing yourself an art begging to be patented. It was during my fourth day on the island, as my cab-driver prattled on  about a long dusty Admiral Nelson, that I made a quick decision on my “how”.

Now, almost three years later, I’m the CEO of several successful companies. I apply mostly a hands-off approach to the running of my companies. This saves me the trouble of having to deal with the malcontents.  Like disgruntled employees who fail to make the cut.  Or, disgruntled native businessmen who squawk daily about foreigners flying in “overnight” and "making it big" on the island.  I pay managers and workers more than enough to worry for me.  Being just with my employees has not won me the friendship of other local employers. But, I believe in giving much to those of whom much is asked.

I have become known for being… eccentric.  There are many rumours about me on this cramped space of an island. I have heard rumours about myself which put me in awe of myself.  There is the rumour that I’m not particularly fond of the local women- that I think them beneath me. A year ago, talk was rampant that I wore a vial of blood and sand around my neck at all times.  Reportedly, I have also been spotted walking the shores of popular beaches, tossing mysterious bottles, with notes inside them, into the ocean. I also host very random meetings with my managers- but never on a Wednesday. And, only at noon, never any other time. And, of course, I don’t wear a watch, but can tell it’s noon by looking at shadows on the ground.

That’s just silly. Whenever I check in on my managers, to put the fear of whatever they fear into them, it’s always dark.  I have long discovered that night forces open people’s minds quite like the sun does the petals of flowers.  When I encounter a person at night, it’s like stumbling upon an open book. And that book is an interesting (or not so interesting) read on that person’s hopes, fears and hows….

(V)Damien