The Colour Box

My colorful life in Antigua- How sad I feel when I think of all that blind people miss in observing a world filled WITHOUT color. I have a favorite color, blue. In Antigua blue surrounded me- the sky was an ever changing shade of blue, afternoon blue skies mixed with reds and orange and pink in glorious displays of sunset colors. But blue I discovered was also a favorite color to paint houses. In many neighborhoods in my current country colors are regulated- even down to the shade of white. Oh, the bright turquoise wooden houses often with colorful shutters of another tone. Looking down on an Antigua village as our plane descended, I enjoyed observing the vibrant display of roof colors as well. Of course, the blues of the Caribbean Sea changed hourly as the clouds passed over or the sea churned with a storm. In California I had grown up with a year round display of flowers, but I discovered in Antigua greens in the crotons that changed even within the same plant. I seem to remember that James Michener’s book The Caribbean began with a description of crotons. Each flower in my garden was a feast for the eyes. Then there were birds and shells that demonstrated the master of artists – God.
The island’s fish were another clear example of God’s creative hand in adding a riot of colors. When snorkeling the florescent colors of coral and sea fans became another feast for the eye gate.
People were also wonderfully diverse and colorful. Skin shades were as colorful and as varied as the plants and flowers. When we would periodically return to the USA “white” people seemed to look almost ill they could be so pale.
There were other ways my life in Antigua was colorful, through sounds. Though sometimes confused by expressions and accents people used I enjoyed hearing people banter. Once I recorded a conversation I overheard because I was fascinated by it, though I could not understand the local dialect. An Antiguan friend then explained I had a recorded a “curse fight.” OOPS. And the children walking down the street at Christmas with their iron band, creating music from anything metal gave me a thrill. Of course, the “pans” (percussion instruments made from 55 gal. steel drums) remain a favorite – whenever I hear one now it brings tears to my eyes. I can vividly remember the first time I heard a steel band playing a distance away. I wondered how an entire orchestra could be on a beach. I adored the sound of tree frogs at night – unless one of those tiny creatures decided to interrupt my slumber by parking on my windowsill. For a number of our years in Antigua we lived in the country and the sound of cattle and donkeys was a welcome change from freeway or traffic noise.
Our first week in Antigua I vividly remember a woman walking past with a tray balanced on her head selling bananas. She did not just walk past she called out in a distinctive and rather delightful voice, “Ripe fig- Ripe Fig”- I soon learned bananas were referred to as figs, and avocados were called pears.
But perhaps my favorite colorful vocal memory is the dear petite and elderly woman who walked the streets selling the local newspaper literally singing, “The Workers Voice is calling you, hello- hello- it calling you – The Workers Voice, The Workers Voice.” I once asked her if I could record her singing and selling. She agreed if I would first buy her an ice cream- which I gladly did.
We lived in a village house during our nearly forty years spent on the island of Antigua; attending a small local church pastored by a West Indian Pastor. Most of my friends and acquaintances were folks from the islands, Dominica, St. Vincent, Montserrat, Dominican Republic, as well as Antigua. What a rich colorful time those years were for my family, and that influenced me to write of the colorful beginnings of Antigua’s schools. Many of my favorite memories of sights and sounds crept into “The Colour Box.”