24/30 BANANA BOAT

In them days I was a little boy

when two coastal steamers,

the Scarlet Ibis and Bird of Paradise,

painted nation colours of red, white,

black, named for national birds,

pride and beauty of Trinidad

and Tobago,

would arrive and with horn-boom,

boooooom, dock and drop anchor

in the natural deep water harbours

of Parlatuvier

and Castara.

Then strong men, like the short and stocky

sailor called Selassie, looking all dashing

and resplendent, immaculate in white

sailor cap, shirt and short pants

like sailor mas on Carnival Monday,

would come ashore on a white life boat

and tie thick rope from steamer

on coconut tree trunk at high shoreline;

as steamer rode waves'

relentless ebb and swell and coconut

waved and swayed in heavy trade winds,

smelling of sea, sea life and dead sea things,

gulls and terns would screech,

make steep turns in tight formation,

and the rope would belly-sag and tauten

over and over again;

sometimes to show off strength

someone would walk the rope by hand,

Tarzan on jungle vine,

and little schoolboys watching

from schoolyard would whisper,

when I get big

I want to be a sailor

just like Selassie and them.

The boat would load cocoa,

dasheen, sweet potato, yam, cassava,

green plantain and green banana,

untie and with horn-boom, boooooom,

bid farewell and head out to sea again.

But that was a long, long time ago.

Now, we import rice from Guyana,

soursop, zabocca,

yam, dasheen, banana

from St. Vincent and Grenada...

I know we now a Republic

but how come now

we being dubbed by some, a banana

boat Republic?

©2013 by G. Newton V. Chance