![]() So protected by reefs and barrier islands, we needed five waypoints to safely navigate the entrance. Thankfully, we are anchored off Georgetown in Kidd Cove, one of the Bahama’s more protected harbors. In a momentary lull of wind and rain, I can hear small, short waves knock against the hull in a too fast rhythm, jerking the boat from side to side. The tropical low, not quite a hurricane yet, is still a force to be reckoned with, but I hadn’t been prepared for anything like this here. For the past few days, we’ve been watching a tropical wave grow into a tropical low off the coast of Panama, nearly a thousand miles southwest of us. Initially, I’d been skeptical, worried we’d be caught in a storm as it was forming, but so far, we’ve been lucky. I don’t have to be here and this is hardly my idea of fun. I curse my decision to hitchhike on a sailboat in the Caribbean during the start of the hurricane season. Clouds collapse back into the open space in an avalanche of air, whose shockwave shudders through me. ![]() I huddle inside myself as another river of white hot electricity tears a hole in the sky. Please don’t let lightning strike our mast, I plead silently, hoping the next bolt won’t choose our sixty foot aluminum lightning rod as the perfect pathway to ground and blast out our communication and navigation equipment or blow a hole through the hull. Rain pounds the deck like the footfalls of a thousand soldiers as gusts strong-arm the boat over on her side. In the darkness that follows, I hug my knees to my chest trying to shut out the storm, I squeeze my eyes tight and plug my fingers in my ears, but the lightning looks like the light of day through my eyelids and the thunder rumbles through my body in a terrifying tremor. The sky breaks open with a terrible ripping sound and slams back together again as the bolt’s bright flash momentarily floods my cabin. *Dada Does Dominoes was published by Word Riot. I hope I’m not pushing his patience.Īnd then, somehow, in that last hand luck combines with my new knowledge of sets of seven. Raz just dealt a hand and I mouth, “One more game?” raising my eyebrows to punctuate the question. His cadre of white-haired sailors are nowhere in sight. Late in the evening George catches my eye from the balcony and motions with his head that he's ready to leave. That's you, Dada.”įor the rest of the night it's, “Good one Dada,” and, “Come on, Dada.” I have an aunt named Glenda we call Dada. After consulting his hand a minute, he says, “I know. My government name is Terraz, but nobody goes by their government name.” Clarence and I straighten the table and while we all wait for sauced-up Jamie to put two and four together, Raz says, “Y'know, all the people around here have two names. Rather than fight to be heard in a conversation about rough passages and anchorages with bad holding, I can lay down a domino without reproof, accepted at the table just for my willingness to play.Īfter shuffling and reshuffling his hand, Raz triumphantly slams down his play, popping dominoes into the air and scattering the long backbone of our board. Never mind the two years I’ve spent hitchhiking on sailboats and the 10,000 nautical miles I’ve sailed. These Caribbean men accept me more than the three American sailors on the balcony whose interest in me is inversely proportional to their age the older the man, the less he cares what I have to say. Mindful of the five six-dotted dominoes currently resting on the table, I play the six in my hand to make sure I can play it at all. I'm not exactly sure how to use this information. “Now that one’s catchin' on.” And laughing, adds, “watch out boys.” “How many of each number are there?” I ask the table. George, or so we'll call the captain of the sailboat I’m hitching a ride on, is three sailors deep in conversation on the balcony, while at the domino table I only just begin to understand that strategy has something to do with counting. Money exchanges hands amongst players as well as spectators during betting games in South Caicos, though tonight we're playing for pride. Here in the Caribbean players mean business. “Ah, tryin' to cheat again?” Raz says as he and Clarence throw up their hands and shake their heads dismissively.īefore coming to the islands I hadn't played much dominoes, and when I had, never took the game seriously. Not wanting to leave the errant domino squatting for long, I snatch it up, “No you don't,” and hand it back to Jamie. Looking for an ally, I eye Raz across the table who’s studying his own hand too closely to notice. His fingers fumble the delicate procedure. After loudly slamming down his first and only legal play, mumbling something in the South Caicos Creole I can only sometimes understand from sober lips, he attempts to place a second domino near my end of the table. Jamie is so drunk he's unable to hide his cheating.
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