What about the Sun? I don’t mind the sun as much as I thought I would.

There was raucous laughter on the other end as I delivered the line. The call had come some two years after I moved to Antigua. A family member was doing what he considered his duty; questioning my choice to live in the Caribbean.  He had just returned to his hometown and heard the rumours, but just couldn’t believe until he heard it from my mouth or received some solid evidence that it was indeed so.

The thought that someone like me would actually choose to live in the Caribbean and on a very dry island at that- puzzled him.  Was this some elaborate joke?  Who recommended this? Was I being held against my will and could not say? This wasn’t about some woman, was it? Should he rally the troops to come and get me?

We are a very old family and not very fond of the sun.  There are many terrible things we would choose over a bright sunny day.  You could say it’s a matter of tradition and genetics. My mother used to wonder why anyone in their right minds would expose themselves to the sun unless it was absolutely necessary.

My mother’s pale skin was her greatest trophy.  I remember the manner in which family jewels would glitter triumphantly around her beautifully pale neck and wrists. I also remember that she and my grandmother were forever at odds on the topic of sun exposure. It was strange how of the two of them, my grandmother was always the rebel.

The sun really isn’t all that bad here.  That’s not to say I’ve grown fond of the yellow monster. I doubt I could ever be a sun lover. I just know that there are hotter places on earth. Here in Antigua, it’s just hot and sunny most of the year with five to seven days which make you wonder.

Really, I don’t have to be shy about my dislike for the sun. There are some natives who dislike it as much as I do. Indeed, if it can be imagined, I think some dislike it more than I do.  This was another topic on which my Dominican landlady made sure to educate me.

She showed up one day, a year after my move to the island and four months before I moved out of her place.  She tried pouting prettily as she protested that she had not seen me in months.  Seeing me squint in the sunlight that was, for no good reason, generously bathing the patio, she assured me that she too thought today extremely hot.

I commented that the sun seemed intent on giving me a tan- whether or not I wanted one.  She suggested I would not look half bad with a nice tan. She herself didn’t need one and normally took care to avoid the sun when it is this hot.  She didn’t want to get any darker. Not that she had any problems with being dark.

Somehow, that opening sentence led her to share her treatise on the island women- some of whom, she informed me, do take to bleaching their skin.  She wondered if I could believe such nonsense- women so dissatisfied with the colour they are, that they would take to altering it by using chemicals.  I expressed as much shock as I thought appropriate.  They use these chemicals, she told me, then they run around avoiding the sun. Can you imagine that- living in the Caribbean and hating the sun?

I told her no- not in a million years could I imagine living like that. 

(V).Damien