Early on a rainy Sunday morning, before breakfast, I went to take a walk around the school.
This place is really beautiful! I went to see the baby piglets, and then took the way to the sugar mill ruins to take some photos. But as it started to rain quite heavily, I decided to go back.
On the way back, there was a man on the road. Rastafari hair, dark clothes, and a smile with only two teeth, far away one of the other. But nice!
After exchanging good mornings and greetings, he asked me:
– Where are you from?
– I am from Brazil.
– Nice country.
– Thank you. Your country is really beautiful! And the people are very nice too!
– No, not all the people are nice!
– Most of the people are jealous. I am jealous!
– Jealous?!?! Jealous of what?
– I don’t know.
At this time, I was so curious about what he said, I wanted to ask a lot more, I wanted to understand that feeling of the people, but my poor English did not help me, I was trying to find words to continue the talk, and the words did not appear in my mind… And then he asked me:
– Are you in that school? – and pointed at RVA.
Then he started to talk and talk, too fast for my little capacity of understanding.
– Please, speak slowly so that I can understand you!
And he tried to do it, but he was speaking in his way of pronunciation, and I didn’t understand too. I was thinking so hard, so many questions in my head, and the words didn’t come… oh my God, what could I do?
– Now, I am going to my mountain! – he said clearly. Pointing at the volcano.
– Your mountain? That one with the volcano?
– Yes. My mountain.
– Why are you going there? – I asked and immediately regretted such a stupid question, so I tried to cover – It is raining so much!
He looked in my eyes and said:
– I am going there, because it is mine – and started to talk quickly and with his specific accent again so I couldn’t understand.
At this point I had to turn to right in RVA direction. I stopped. He stopped too. He said good bye to me, giving me his closed right hand in his way of doing it, I did the same, and he smiled, put his hand over his hart and said:
– You are nice people!
– Have a good day on your mountain! – I answered smiling at him. – Good bye!
And I started walking faster, because the rain was getting hard, and I was already completely soaked. But my mind was full of questions.
Who was that man? Why did he say that people of St. Vincent are not nice? Why are they jealous? Jealous of what? Why do they not know why they are jealous?
Later, in my room, I realized that sometimes, he spoke a good English, so that I could understand, and other times, he talked quickly, and with accent, and I couldn’t understand. And immediately a new question appear in my mind:
What was he trying to say to me?
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