28 - Lower Bay Bequia December 1987

LONGITUDES AND LATITUDES - part 2

Jean-Marc was happy to return to his birthplace but was sad that his parents had never come back to the islands. They were fondly remembered and numerous photos taken by Jean-Marc's father and grandfather appeared in the guidebooks. The little cottage where he was born had now become the island museum, but it was in poor condition and Jean-Marc hoped that, one day, he would make enough money to restore it. But, of course, money was not Jean-Marc's "forte", he was too busy helping others.

The little house in Lower Bay was just behind the beach, the large terrace overlooking the sea was Jean-Marc's favourite place for playing guitar and singing. Often the birds would come and listen, and sing along.

In the islands, at least in those days, there was still only two hours of electricity each day in the evening and refrigerators worked with gas bottles, the people live with the sun. At dawn each morning Jean-Marc would go down to the beach to buy his fish and return to work on his songs on the terrace.

That morning Nolly Weldone was with the fishermen and was insistent that Jean-Marc come with him. They crossed the island in Nolly's jeep and took a steep track above Spring. Nolly parked in a clearing, took his machete and said, "come on man, I'm goin to show you de house where our dear ancestor live".

Jean-Marc obediently followed Nolly as he cut his way through the undergrowth on the hillside. The house was gone, just some stone foundations sticking out of the ground and, with erosion over the centuries, part of the house had obviously fallen down the cliffside. But the view was fantastic, you could see the whole island.

A distant memory stirred in Jean-Marc's mind, more than déjà-vu, he was certain that he had seen this view before.

They descended a trail down the hillside and came to a place covered in thick vines and with water trickling down the rock face. "This was where he worked" said Nolly, "and the only fresh water on the island".

Exotic plants grew everywhere, giant bamboo stretched 15 metres or more towards the sky. "The things that Denis told you will now come to pass. Call me when you see the signs".

The return to Lower Bay was subdued, Jean-Marc was uncertain about what Nolly was referring to, and he had not seen or heard from Denis since the Los Angeles encounter 4 years earlier.

The very next day Jean-Marc fell sick with a high fever. The next morning he struggled to the tiny hospital in Port Elizabeth, he sat in the crowded waiting room while the doctor was obviously making love (very loudly) to his wife upstairs. The doctor, a little man from India, came in to see his patients, half an hour late and a huge grin across his face.

"Dengue Fever, can you get to Barbados or Martinique?" enquired the doctor. "I'll try" said Jean-Marc, he though he was going to pass out. Stumbling out the hospital, Nolly was waiting, "hey man I told you call me when you see de signs". Jean-Marc collapsed into the jeep.

Three days later Jean-Marc awoke in a cabin somewhere in the hills behind Lower Bay. The room was full of marijuana smoke, beside him a bowl of brown soup was half-finished. The fever had gone, he slowly got out of bed and wondered what had happened and where he was. He took a while to gather his thoughts but eventually realised he felt more or less okay. He stumbled down the hill towards the beach.

Nolly was waiting at the bar with Lucie, both smiling, he said "you should've died man, that Dengue is bad".

One month later Jean-Marc and Lucie returned to their apartment in Paris, the front door was ajar, there had been a burglary. Strangly nothing seemed missing except some cash from the mantlepiece, Hungarian and Polish money from Jean-Marc's trips to the East, banknotes which he had been unable to exchange in France.

In the middle of the otherwise empty dining table there was a scrap of paper.

Unpacking the St Vincent and the Grenadines Guide Book out of his suitcase, Jean-Marc looked closely at the detailed map on the first page. The longitude and latitude apparently corresponded to somewhere on the hill just above Lower Bay.

The next morning a letter arived in the post.

"Dear Sir,
Due to your non-payment of your TV licence, a seizure was made by officers of the law at your place of residence. The proceeds of the assets seized, mostly foreign currency notes, has far exceeded the overdue amount owed. We therefore inform you that your have a six year credit with the TV licence authority and you will not need to pay the licence again until the amount for 1993 is due."

Jean-Marc's luck had turned.