Where The Heart Is

In St. Lucia, many people are very close to their extended families, and as strange as it may seem, siblings often times don't leave their parents' home until well into their 20's or even 30's. Though this happens purely for economic reasons most times, the habit ensures that strong bonds are built within the family. It also ensures that culture is passed on through generations since it is not uncommon to find three generations under one roof. But along with the great bonds that are built comes a greater sense of loss when someone goes away or passes away and so is the case with my now deceased grandfather.

I never really developed a true appreciation for my grandfather until about my late teens. Of course, he was always there and it wasn't a change in him that made me appreciate him more, but rather a maturation in me. That is why in my mind, the most sentimental item my family possesses. Papa, as we all called him, was a talented guitar player, he would tell us stories of him playing at weddings and other functions in his younger days. He didn't play much as he grew older, but whenever he did, it was always a treat. His fingers danced along the guitar strings as if he had never stopped playing. He had even tried to teach me once, I was a little surprised to learn that he actually knew the notes he would strum, as I am sure that music did not form part of his curriculum at school. Eventually papa did end up giving the guitar to me. Of course I always valued it, but since he is gone, I treasure it now more than ever.

The St. Lucian homes built during and before the earlier half of the 1900's had a very peculiar aspect to them. They were built with the kitchens as a completely separate entity to the rest of the house. This was because prior to this a lot of meals were prepared on pit fires. In order to prevent the rest of the house from smelling like smoke and at the same time prepare it in a sheltered environment, this was the only option. The trend continued even after gas cookers became more common My grandparents' home is one such example. The old kitchen isn't the most aesthetically pleasing thing you'll ever see. A brick wall enclosure with a dark blue exterior with a light green interior. The inside is equipped with a refrigerator, stove, and all the other stuff that would generally go into a kitchen. Added to this though, is a dining set and a few extra chairs at various locations around the room. During the day, this room functions as any normal kitchen, with regular food related activities taking place in it, but around six o' clock in the evening, the kitchen takes on a whole new identity. All members of the immediate family that live in close proximity to the house all gather in and share interesting events of the day or jokes that they might have remembered. The laughter is always loud and heartfelt and sometimes, so too are the arguments. This old kitchen has inadvertently become a sort of catalyst for bonding within my family. This kitchen in the past has also served as a reception area in the past.

As a predominantly catholic country, a child's first communion is quite a momentous occasion, equipped with cake, condiments, meats and all sorts of food and drink. Mine was no exception. That was the first big party I ever had. And all the hustle and bustle was taken care of from right inside that 10 ft x 12 ft enclosure. I guess that what makes my particular little corner of the world unique is clearly not luxury, but rather the joy we find within each other.