At least there is always the beach

So what else has been happening?  Well,  we have just witnessed the most interesting election in this small country’s history.  A fiercely fought election campaign resulted in a landslide victory for the opposition, the PLP (Progressive Liberal party – don’t be misled by the name, it is a left wing, ‘party of the people’ which had ruled for 25 straight years until two terms ago when mounting corruption made the people turn against it).  Rather like New Labour it has used its time out of power to renew itself and done a cracking job at winning around the young and popular vote.  Consequently the old Government was really caught napping and went from thirty odd seats to seven.  Perhaps the London PR agency the PLP employed (don’t know who yet) also had something to do with it?

I went to one of the rallies, which has to be on a theatrical par with any large-scale event I’ve ever been to.  Imagine a hot evening and about 10,000 loud and brightly attired Bahamians, in high spirits, drinking gin out of coconut shells and eating anything that could be battered and fried whilst dancing to very loud rap music.  Booming music blasted out for a gaudy stage and every so often a wave of rash promises would come from some candidate or other who would then sling a load of mud at the opposition (libel seems a rarely used legal device).

It was a blast.

A strongly partisan affiliation with a political party is a required part of the culture here and is followed with the same fervour as some football supporters follow their chosen team back home.   On Election Day, supporters from each party camped out in force in front of the polling stations. Just about everyone wore specially printed tee shirts, badges, hats etc.  Cars sported flags and banners and bumpers stickers.  (The winning party’s supporters are still proudly displaying their flags and stickers).  On my road every single tree had one or other candidate’s picture nailed to it (not the most environmentally friendly nation unfortunately) so I feel like I know my local MP already as I’ve seen him grinning at me for weeks.

After the election we got caught up in the victory celebrations, which were loud, good humoured and  passionate.  As the motorcade of vehicles snaked across the island it was accompanied with supporters with brooms and rakes (symbolically sweeping out the old crowd) and rather large women wearing nappies and torn tee shirts (a sight to see) representing the young and unseated leader of the losing party.

My ‘cream cracker’ (white Caucasian) friends are mostly amazed at my fast level of integration and the fact that I will drive ‘over the hill’ (OK only in daylight) and have my nails done at a central salon where I am the only non-Bahamian.  What they fail to realise is that the Nu U Nail Salon is actually the source of all gossip and information in Nassau.  I was reliably informed about the landslide victory about to happen plus updated on the extradition order of the largest drugs lord here long before it was in the papers.

What I’ve learned is that Bahamians love to talk (or ‘sip sip’ as gossiping is know). They love to bear witness and eulogise which is why funerals regularly go on for four hours or more.  The words ‘fire’ (and I’m seeing daily bush and forest fires now in the heat), ‘accident’ (yep, still see daily accidents – hardly surprising when you see overtaking on blind corners by open back vans with 10 or so workmen hanging on for grim life) or ‘parade’ are rallying cries to the average Bahamian.  No one dreams of doing without TV and even small wooden hovels that have no running water invariably have a large satellite dish outside.  Bahamians are also great readers and the local scandal sheet The Punch is required daily reading.  Unlike the UK papers they happily call people liars and thieves and print their names, where they were seen with their mistresses etc. for all to sip sip about.

Equally, people aren’t afraid to tackle the newspapers.  Today’s Tribune has a front page story which reads: “Minister of Foreign Affairs, Fred Mitchell has accused The Tribune of manufacturing a ‘crises over freedom   of the press’, in a warning to the party’s political machinery to beware of the “lousy, slimy lies being told by the papers editors”.  Obviously the honeymoon between the new Govt. and the press is over.  The nation’s love of reading all about it isn’t and newspaper sellers happily emerge each morning and evening at most street corners waving the papers at cars as they slow down.  It is perfectly acceptable behaviour to stop your car, hold up all the traffic and have a chat to the vendor about what the really juicy news is as you hand over your dollars. I am now on first name terms with Lindon of the two gold front teeth and Queen Neferatiti Gold necklace fame whose patch is near my home.

Well the Internet is certainly a fascinating thing. Whilst buying DVDs on Amazon I checked out Carmen (recommendation from Daisy last night for a flamenco DVD) and under it I found lots of Carmen Electra’s striptease plus ‘nude women’s wresting’ and ‘the mating habits of the earthbound human’ which gets a five star rating so obviously someone likes it.

Daisy and her new love are coming round. I’m off for my first sailboat trip with him from Smugglers cove to Governor’s Harbour tomorrow – I am the greenhorn crew and have to admit I’m pretty excited.

We had supper last night at their home.  Daisy told us of her three marriages: one for the children; one to learn to play golf and one for keeps.  She had a prenup agreement with no. 2 who was 25 years her senior. It included that she would agree to play golf, which she did, and discovered she had a passion and skill for it.  Sadly his children didn’t like her and after a few horrid dinners when ‘gold digger’ was hissed before pudding it all went sour.

Her fiirst husband took her child so that was very messy.

M. was married previously for 30 years and was a teacher in Yorkshire then, bam!  He came one day and his wife had served him with divorce papers.  He lost everything: the marriage; the house;  his kids. He has not seen his children for six/seven years and came here because his brother has a huge house in Tarpum Bay and took him in and let him live there.

He met Daisy through an Internet dating co.

Daisy claims she was offered a free trial and that she filled in her details whilst on a girls night in back home in Canada.

M. was looking for a tall thin cello player. Daisy convinced him he was just looking for himself and she was the one for him (she is not tall, nor thin, nor plays the cello).  M. is passionate about Bach.  He can tell you every detail about him including how Bach re-tuned the piano to be able to play any composition in any key.

As the evening drew in M.  sang me a folk song/sea shanty whilst Daisy made popadums and curry.  Their little clapper board sea side house was a magnet for mosquitoes and we sprayed the screens with OFF as the mosquitoes homed in and M played melodically into the night.  He was reminising as he played and told me of a 6 ft boa that bit him a few months earlier whilst they were sleeping at the side of the house when building it (oh yes, they built it themselves).  It made his finger bleed and swell up.  I swigged back some more rum, sprayed a little more OFF and laughed.

Life in Eleuthera

Life in Eleuthera