Growing Up On A Caribbean Island

by Shanin Tia Speas, 1996

St. Croix, where time itself seems to stand still, was a great place to grow up. Growing up on the island, before satellite TV, we were typically 3 - 5 years behind in almost everything. If I did get to watch TV, I only had the choice of two stations. One of those stations was PBS, which was only on long enough for the essential shows like Sesame Street and Electric Company. The other station showed both English and Spanish soap operas during the day and prime time programming at night, before it would go off the air at 11pm. I grew up listening to Motown, greats like Diana Ross and the Jackson Five, and, of course, the island essentials of reggae, calypso, and the sweet melodies of the steele drum bands (most of which were made up of prison inmates).

Not only was it rare to have a television, air-conditioning was also rather scarce. Not many people had it. Some of the fancy condo�s, hotels, and stores, yes, but, rarely homes. We simply didn�t need it. I grew up in open-type houses, some screened in with wooden lewers - similar to a Florida room. And others just simply open. Each attempting to maximize the cool ocean breezes that blew for about 9 months of the year. Yes, I endured three months a year of stifling warm weather; light cotton sheets and big fans were a must! The picture on the right was taken during Christmas, a rather cool and windy season on St. Croix. Yes, that was our Christmas tree, made from the fronds of a coconut palm. It was tough to believe in a Santa Clause when you lived in the islands.

My school, Good Hope, was also not air-conditioned. It was housed in a beautiful old Danish hotel on the south coast of the island. My fondest memory: sitting in my fifth grade classroom, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks while reading from my favorite books and laying on the plush carpet of the reading room. This was our treat for finishing our individual assignments - we worked at our own pace. My elective activities included double Dutch, swimming, choir, modern dance, and tinikling (a dance where you skip between two bamboo poles being clinked together in a steadily increasing rhythm - in, in ,out). Every week on Friday afternoon, my schoolmates and I were forced to sit in an un-airconditioned auditorium/pavilion to watch the latest newsreel, catching us up on "current" events. I am a little hesitant to use the word current. I have one particular memory of watching a bit on the President Nixon resignation and Watergate scandal. It was 1979! Though, I could be mistaken. It could have been a history lesson we were watching, one could never tell. And we neither cared.

The groceries on the island were expensive and not always of the highest quality. My mom and I would often stop by the open West Indian markets on our way home to pick up items for dinner. We would sometimes indulge in such treats as Malta India (a non-alcoholic malt beverage), Johnny cake (a local sweetbread), fresh Danish butter and cheeses, guava paste, and tamarind balls (the bitter fruit of the tamarind seed rolled up with lots of sugar). I didn�t eat many sweets growing up. I was thrilled just to get a box of Chicklets (which I chewed up within a few hours). My friends and I would gorge ourselves on whatever was in season; guavas, palmagranits, sugar cane, gynips, mangos, and seagrapes. YUMM!!

I spent much of my childhood on the water, living on sailboats of and on since I was a baby. What I don�t miss were those wet and salty dingy rides out to our boat in the harbour at night, after I had already taken my shower. Living on a sailboat was an experience of space efficiency and family closeness. Many of us kids growing up in the islands got to experience it. I learned to swim before I could walk; I had to. The ocean was my friend, I knew everything about it. Up and down the shoreline I would walk, studying tide pool after tide pool. I stayed in and around the water. I would plead with my parents when they were trying to drag me out of the water, "pleeease, just a little bit longer?!" It was never just a "little bit longer".

We drive in the left hand lane on St. Croix, one of the many leftovers from the days of Danish rule. It was there that I first learned to drive and after a visit home, I still find myself confused back here in parking lots and intersections. No worries, though, Cruzans (people from St. Croix) tend to adapt to life in the right lane. (My mom, however, may be an exception.) Cruzans are also known for their friendly nature. They will often nod and say, "hello, good afternoon," when you pass by in the street. And everybody knows everybody and they all have to stop and chat about �dis an� �dat an� e�ryting else, even if they�re in the middle of da street! Cruzans have little tolerance for being rushed. Relax, don�t be in such a hurry, mi�son, the locals will say. When you live on St. Croix, you just have to have patience. My friends claim that I am probably the most laid back person they know, as far as allot of things go. Well, that�s what they say anyway.

Something you find similar about anyone who was brought up in the islands, is their propensity for conservation, especially with water. There are only two ways to get potable water on the island, from the sky and from the ocean. A small reverse-osmosis plant serves town residents, while other residents rely solely on rainwater and how much of it their cisterns could hold. I grew up on short showers, limited trips to the laundry mat, the faucet only running when needed, and no watering of lawns, unless, of course, one was wealthy, which was not me. It still drives me crazy to see the water running while people are brushing their teeth, walking around, scrubbing dishes, and doing whatever else it is that they do - being wasteful. Electricity was not always a given either. WAPA, St. Croix�s Power plant, was not very reliable (still isn�t as a matter fact), and four hour interludes without power during peak periods were commonplace. Like I said, don�t rush 'dem Cruzans, mi�son.

Being islanders we just couldn�t worry ourselves with these minor "inconveniences" in life; like driving on the wrong side of the road, having to wait and wait, losing power for no reason, conserving every drop of fresh water, living without air-conditioning, and staying out of the fast track. It was the island way of life, a small price to pay for Paradise. I once had a roommate in college who was from Jamaica. It was scary how similar we were in our values and perceptions of the world. Much of which we attributed to growing up on a Caribbean Island.