True story - Wayne Roberts: the death of a child - Overcoming Grief!

When I was about 3 or so years old, I witnessed a neighbor, who was much older than I was, became ignited from a strong rum (alcohol) related fire. The young man was Wayne Roberts; unfortunately, Wayne later die. When the incident happened, a distinct voice told me to run, at the time, I did not know, who told me to run; however, I followed the instruction and I ran. Immediately, after I began running, I heard an explosion and moments later, I forgot the details of the event. The memory of that event eventually left my mind totally. However, last year (2016), the memory of that event came back to me. I remember being questioned by two police officers. I was also taken back to the scene of the incident, which was just across the street from where I lived, Unfortunately; at the time I was of little help. I honestly could not remember what happened even though it was a moment ago.

I vaguely remembered overhearing my mother, who was an extremely spiritual woman said: I think God have blocked his (my) memory, to protect him (me) from the trauma of what he witnessed. I get the impression that I was to be ignited in that fire also; but it was the protective hands of Yahweh that covered me then and is covering me now. When Wayne was being buried, I wanted to know what was happening and what was going to happened to my friend Wayne, However, under the circumstances, my mother did not think, it was a good idea for me to be seen. after all there were many unanswered question and most people thought I had the answer. However, there was someone else who had the answers, but no one knew of that person. So Mother kept me inside and allowed me to peep through the window hidden by the curtain as she explained to me what was going on. You see that little coffin; she said, Wayne is in it. That is what happened to people when they die. she explained. 

Mr. Roberts took the death of his son very hard; as a result, this event put a strain on the good relationship between Mr. Roberts and My father. Mr. Roberts though I was responsible and therefore he blamed me for the death of his son, at lease that was what I came to believed. My father on the other hand; could not understand how a 3 year old child could be responsible for the death of a 12 years old. The circumstances surrounding Wayne’s death was never talked about by neither family again.

I can remember clearly, one day, I was in my father’s shop with my father, and I said daddy, I am going over to Mr. Roberts shop to see Mr. Roberts. Enthusiastically I bounced over to Mr. Roberts Shop; I walked into the shop as I always did, and proceeded to go to where Mr. Roberts normally sits. Before the death of his son, it was always a joy for Mr. Roberts when I visit him. He will put me on his knees and asked me question, he will also give me little treats, he will asked me things like, what Mother ( Mother was what we called out mother) cooked today, and why I did not bring him some food; just small talk that a child could engaged in. Sometimes Mr. Roberts will send me upstairs to see Mr. Roberts who will always welcome me. 

However this time, Mr. Roberts was not happy to see me, He looked at me with eyes I have never seen before, and in one motion; with pointed index finger, he swung his right hand over to his left shoulder, making an arc bringing his hand and arm down in front of him, then up to just above shoulder level and pointed me back where I came from, he also uttered some words with a very stern voice. I became frightened and I quickly make an about turn and I left, Mr. Roberts Shop, never to return. My father: Hamilton, was sitting on his bench at the door of his shop, and as I made my way across the street, my father recognized something was wrong with me; he called me to him and asked me what happened; I explained what happened to him. My father put his arms around me, and he said to me; don’t worry, Mr. Roberts is still upset because of Wayne's death. He is still angry; he did not really mean it. Everything will be back to normal soon. the comforting words of my father put me at ease.

That was the last time, I ever felt comfortable going into Mr. Roberts shop. I could remember, some years later, I was attending primary school. I was walking home from school as I normally did. Mr. Roberts was standing inform of his shop, I said good afternoon to Mr. Roberts as I always did when I pass him to and from school. It was then Mr. Roberts said; Pearson, how come you don’t come over to chat with me anymore. I went by to see Mr. Roberts in his shop a few times as I did before the incident that took Wayne's Life; but it was not the same, everything was different. Mr. Roberts shop became very gloomy and I became extremely, uncomfortable being in his shop; a discomfort that came after Mr. Roberts, in a quiet anger; marched me out of his shop. On hindsight, I think it was the sadness I sensed Mr. Roberts was still experiencing at the loss of his youngest son. I know Mr. Roberts made a tremendous effort and many years later, he was still burden with the sadness and as much as he tried, it was difficult for him to be to me the friend we were before the death of his son..

This tragedy may have been the motivating factor that led Mr. Roberts to build another house, a few miles away and move out of his home in the area, and in which his business also was house on the ground floor. May be, It was an opportunity to get away from the place which holds the bad memory of his son’s tragic death.

Apart from the relationship between Mr. Roberts and my Father Hamilton; another thing that suffered was the beautiful relationship between my mother and Mrs. Roberts. From my memory, Mr. Robert’s wife and my mother were very close and did a lot of things together. Mrs. Roberts was more understanding of the circumstances, surrounding Wayne’s tragic death than her husband was. The wife of the two business men and ex-good friends, had to ignore each other, until they were out of the sight of their husbands. However; they were able to overcome the effects of the incident with less damage to their friendship than that of there husbands were. And even the tragic nature of the lost, it did not greatly affect their friendship. I will also say this, Wayne's death was also a lost to my mother, because she was fun of all of the Roberts children. Paul, Patsy, of the other children of the Roberts were closest in age with me and I had become very close and remain close up to today. I must say it had been a while since I have seen both of them.

Back then Mr. Roberts who was still overcome with grief, could not understand how his wife could be so forgiving of me, and my parents. Now that I thought of it; I can never remembered, every having a negative or a bad experience interacting with Mrs. Roberts, there was never a time that Mrs. Roberts behavior and or attitude towards me and or the way she treated me had ever changes. She treated me with the same level of love and appreciation as she did before the tragic incident that took the life of her beloved son Wayne. 

Later when, I became a Cadet and later a police officer, Mr. Roberts appreciated it when I visited him in his shop. my visit was never long, but I will often pop into his shop especially when I was in uniform, just to say hi and to find out how he was doing. There was still a strain in his relationship with me but he had come a long way, to the point where I felt a pride he exhibited in me. Today, being a father, I can understand what Mr. Roberts was going through and I can now appreciate the tremendous effort he made over many years to overcome his resentment towards me; a resentment as a kid I did not understood but a resentment that I could now understand. The loss of a beloved child is a terrible thing to experience; especially, if that death is not fully understood.

this is how the whole story began:

I cannot remember the actual period in history, this incident occurred, however I know I was about three years old; Wayne Mr. Roberts son was about nine years older that I was. He treated me like I was his little brother. He always unselfishly shared his stuff with me, and we will play together most of the time. I walked in and out of the Roberts’ shop and home freely. Wayne and I often played in Mr. Roberts Storeroom. We will climb on top of the mountains that were created by the sacks of Sugar, flour and rice. Mr. Roberts did not mind us playing in his storeroom as long as we did not jump around on the flour, for the main purpose; the flower came in white bags, and the material the flower bags were made from a less durable material; which may rip at the seam. 

Mr. Roberts was primarily a wholesaler who offered basic stuff at retail; therefore a burst bag of any product was of no good to him. One day Mr. Roberts was doing his inventory, he had on his reading glasses, and he was sitting by his desk in his shop, where he sits when he is doing serious work or don’t want to be disturbed. Wayne and I were in his shop just doing nothing. It was then Mr. Roberts call Wayne, at that time, when Wayne was summoned I was summoned also. Mr. Roberts send Wayne to check the level on the barrels of rum which he kept in this garage. The exact assignment was to see how many full barrels of rum and how many of the rum barrels were empty. After we did that he (Mr. Roberts) sent us back to check the level of the barrel of rum that was in use. 

There was a third person present when we were checking the level of the barrel of rum that was in use. Wayne tried, I also tried but it was too dark to see anything in the barrel. We knew there was rum in the barrel for we could feel the movement of liquid when we shake the barrel. It was then that the third person who was present, who will remain nameless; suggested that Wayne use matches to check the level. When he was about to check the barrel using the matches, Wayne told me to stand away from the barrel. So I followed his instruction. Suddenly I heard a voice instructing me to run. So I run in the direction of my home. While I was in the process of running away, I was barely out of the Garage, where we were checking the Barrels, when I heard a loud bang that is of an explosion. 

That bang was the explosion that killed Wayne Roberts, The last time I saw Wayne was just before he checked the barrel for the last time.

True story - The Obedient Son (True Story)

                                                                                     Malique Graves Palmer

It was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning; it seemed as if the sun shone brighter than normal. It was a perfect day to go to the beach. Sunday was always a special day for Malique who was only three years old and I; it was the day of the week that Malique looked forward to most, with curious anticipation. Sunday was also the day the enthusiastic child got to spend all day with his father.

The two of us always engaged in lots of fun activities. Malique was sure that his dad had some wonderful adventure planed for the day. After breakfast Malique noticed that I was cleaning the car. The energetic child decided to join me in the task of preparing the car for the day’s activities. Although Malique was of little use in the task at hand I love and I was happy just to have him around, even when he got in the way.

“Daddy, what are we going to do today?” asked Malique as he looked at me with searching eyes. I did not think it mattered what activity I chose; what was important was, he got to be with me.

“We will be going to the beach,” I said in reply to his question.

Immediately a twinkle of excitement appeared in Malique’s eyes. He ran into the house and to his mother, and with a blaze of enthusiasm he shouted, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Daddy is going to take me to the beach, can you help me get ready?” Malique's Mother Maria was only too happy to help her dear son get ready for his adventure.

With all the commotion the young boy was making, you would have thought that the beach was the most wonderful place in the entire world. It was my custom to take Malique to the beach very early in the morning, when I was off duty before school, Yet he was as excited as ever.  

The beach was two miles away, Indian Bay was a small white-sand beach; it was just about 250 meters long. There was not much room for playing, for there was a retaining wall one-meter high with a one-and-a-half meters security wire fence erected at the top of the wall. This structure was designed to keep picnickers off the private property that bordered the beach.

About 20 meters from the shore there were two small islands that acted as a shelter for the beach. Immediately in front of the beach was the smaller of the two islands; this island had a few trees growing on it and there was also a humongous white cross erected in its center the Tomb of Mr. Defraitas. Hence the reason I called the island Cross Island. Cross Island rose about five meters above the level of the sea. This Island acted as a little challenge for people who had just learned how to swim; to swim to and from Cross Island was quite an accomplishment.

On the South-East of Cross Island were the second and the larger of the two Islands. This island was very high rock. This high rock was about 40 meters from the shore. It was a very large, barren, and dense volcanic rock that had many ridges and cracks. This rock stood about thirty meters above the level of the sea. To swim and climb to the top of the big rock was an experience, but the challenge was to jump and plummet into a free-fall landing into the deep blue sea that spread out like a carpet below.

Finally it was time to leave for the beach. The duo got into the car and off we went. The beach was half an hour away. I was as excited as my son was. I anticipated having tons of fun at the beach with my son. It was my plan to start Malique’s swimming lessons when we got to the beach.

At the beach my son and I had tons of fun; we frolicked and swam, they built sand castles or what they called sand castles, which was washed away by the wave that regularly bathe the shore and in whose part they were erected. Malique had his swimming lesson. All of the activities wore out the young child; he was tired. I saw an opportunity to go for a little swim on his own.

Malique was sitting on a stone; he was exhausted but excitement still gleamed from his eyes. I walked up too and spoke to the tired child.

“Malique,” I said, “I am going for a swim. I want you to sit on this rock. I don’t want you to move, no matter what happens. Do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” the shivering child said.

I knew that Malique could not swim, and if he ventured into the water unsupervised he could drown. That would be a tragedy. The death of a child is one tragedy no loving parent would like to have in his or her family. I had to make sure that my son understood me before he ventured out for his swim.

Malique sat on the stone and watched as I swam back and forth. Malique wanted to join me in the water, but he was too tired to join in the fun. I swam to Cross Island and back, and Malique made no attempt to leave his very comfortable seat on the rock.

All appeared well Malique sat on the rock and he looked quite comfortable, he did not once attempted to come into the sea. I decided to take a swim out to the high rock and climb to the top of the rock. I jumped from the top of the rock into the clear blue water below. I did this several times. This activity was very exhausting. Finally I climbed to the top of the high rock and took a seat to rest. From this position on the top of the island I had a clear view of my only son sitting comfortably and undisturbed on the stone. Malique could also see me from his seat. I could imagine that Malique hoped for the day when he could join me on the top of the high rock.

While on the top of the High Rock, I noticed that something strange was happening on the beach. I noticed that everyone was running to and fro, but eventually everyone ran into the water. Screams could be heard coming from the beach. 

From where I was perched, I searched the beach with worried eyes and I wondered what could be happening. I began to panic because I was concerned for Malique's safety. My heart pounded with fear; I feared for the safety of his beloved son. I knew there was danger on the beach but I was totally unaware of what the danger was.

 I looked at his son and noticed him still sitting on the rock looking in the direction of the people as they ran and screamed. I was tempted to jump off of the large rock, but I still did not know what the danger was. It would have taken me a few minutes at the least to get to his son. The swim seemed as if it would last an eternity.

Just then I saw a large vicious-looking Rottweiler running along the beach unleashed. Now the powerful, angry and ferocious bark of the dog could be heard, and there was a man running frantically behind the dog with an unattached leash in his hand. Now, there were only two people on the shore: they were the man with the leash in his hand desperately chasing the dog that have gotten off of its leash and Malique. I was petrified  when I saw the dog ran toward the helpless little boy: my son, who my responsibility. As a result, I felt a large lump in my throat, that made him feel as it I was suffocating. I was not suffocating but I was terrorfied by the thought of what could probable happen.

 I helplessly felt my heart pounded harder and faster than ever before. Although no harm has come to the child as yet; I blamed myself for anything that might happen to my defenseless son. I was helpless and a sense of hopelessness overtook me. If I was there, using my bare hands I would have ripped that vicious dog to shreds to protect my son, but there was nothing that I could do from where I was. There was nothing Malique could do, there was nowhere for the frightened child to run. If he ran into the sea he would drown, since he could not swim, and if he followed the last instruction I gave him, he would be mauled by the vicious dog. It was a hopeless situation. I knew that Rottweiler and children were not a good combination, as this breed of dog is known to be very aggressive toward children.

Just then I said, “Lord Jesus, you are the only one who can protect my son. Please keep him safe.” I never once took my eyes off the events that were unfolding on the beach, even whenI uttered the prayer for his son’s protection.

The vicious dog ran faster and faster toward Malique and as he got closer to the unattended child, who was still sitting on the rock, the frightening growl of the angry dog could be heard even louder. The people in the sea watched with horror as the ferocious dog approached the helpless child. When the fierce dog got close enough to launch an attack, he stopped, looked at the child, smelt him, then turned away and went toward the sea and continued to bark at the people in the sea.

I breathed a sigh of relief and dived from the top of the high rock with his hand outstretched and pointing down at the sea. The anxious father hands made contact with the sea water first, then his head, shoulder then his whole body was swiftly submerged into the deep blue see. I hurriedly swam to the shore, dispensing every bit of energy I had in my effort. When in anxiety I got to the shore, the dog had already been put back on his leash and was removed from the beach. I was thankful that Malique was safe. I ran up to where my son Malique was. he was still sitting on the rock where I left him, as if nothing had happened.

“Are you Okay, Malique?” I nervously asked him, trying his best to reflect the level calm my brave and obedient son now exhibited

“Yes daddy,” the child answered, with a sense of calm in his voice that was seen on his face and that which his demeanor now reflected.

“Were you afraid of the dog?” I calmly asked.

“Yes daddy” Malique replied.

“Why didn’t you run like every one else?” the father asked, anxious to hear his son’s answer.

From the way Malique looked at me, I could have tell the lad was puzzled by the question “Daddy, you told me not to move from here no matter what happened,” the lad replied with a naïve childish innocence.

 I then held my obedient son close to his heart and squeezed him. Under his breath I said thank you Jesus.

True story - It Pays to be nice! St. Croix Experience

                                                                                  Pic of the actual Boat - different operator

While on the Island of St. Croix visiting friends, there was not much thing to do, but there was lot to observed. Being one who loves and enjoy nature, I will enjoy the beautiful scenes that unfold before me; scenes such as the boats floating by, the birds as they get their morning meals, the changing patterns of the tides and the human activities of people going about their business. This was not only relaxing it was very enjoyable.

I can remember the very first morning, I went to that dock in the little town of Christiansted. The boat man or the ferry operator (a native of St. Croix) made his way from Island on the Cay and came to where I was sitting and as his custom is, he asked me if I am going over to the island. As the ferry operator he was expected to take the hotel staff as well as guess of the hotel and patron of the popular bar to and from the little island on which the Hotel was built. This island is about fifty meters from the town of Christiansted.

I politely informed the ferry operator, I will not be using his service today. He proceeded to take the few passengers who had assembled on the dock to the luxury island. Each day from Monday to Friday I will religiously travel to that very spot. At times the boat operator and I will exchange a glimpse, a nod of the head a passing mumble but rarely did we never had a meaningful conversation.

It was Wednesday 26th November 2008, the day before thanksgiving; My friend went to work and I was left alone to enjoy the day doing whatever I felt like. I went to the dock as was usual, while there, I noticed the same ferry operator performing what was his regularly expected duties. However, today he had very unattractive bulky looking vessel; with which to take guess, workers and bar patrons to and from the island. 

When the boat operator docked, I bid the boat operator good morning, and then I inquired about the regular vessel. Ferry operator ignored my greeting as well as, the question I asked. As a matter of fact, he refused to turn around and acknowledged my presence. I repeated the question louder, I was of the impression the boat operator did not hear what I said. Once again, he did not answer and neither did he acknowledge me. The man who was busy as he fiddled around with some item, which in his mind, helped him justify ignoring me. A few passengers came; as a result, he got them boarded and he went about his assignment as normal.

On his return to the dock where I was still sitting, As is his custom he manuvered the boat close to the small whaft, he got off at the stern of the boat and he used one rope to hold the boat to the whaft. This was convenient for the purpose for the following reason, the boat is never at the dock for any significant period of time and the island provided shelter for the small dock and the wave was not as such to negatively affect the boat.

I took the liberty and I repeated the question I asked him earlier. Not being as smart as other people are, it was only after I asked the question for the third time that I realized the ferry operator was ignoring me. The Ferry operator was excercising his rights; and there was noting I could have done about it. As a result, I smiled at his strange and impolite behavior. Once again he was trying to justify ignoring me by fiddling with the ropes on the vessel. He stood on the whaft as he continued to fiddle with some rope that was attached to the boat.

After I realized the ferry operator was ignoring me, I turned my attention to something else. I do not know what caused my attention to return to the ferry and the ferry operator, but when I looked in the direction of the ferry; I could not believe what I saw. I noticed the bow of the boat has swung way from the dock; the ferry operator was dangling from the molding that join the deck of the boat to the hull. The Ferry operator was holding on that ledge with both hands, his he was facing the boat and both of his feet, up to his knees were dangling in the water.

 I quickly rushed over to where my impolite friend was in distress; I momentarily glanced into his eyes, which revealed absolute fear, could it be that the fairy operator was unable to swim? The fear in his eyes, alerted me of the seriousness of the matter that confronted the ferry operator. The ferry operator needed my help but he was too ashamed to asked for help.

The bow of the boar was not to far from the whaft, as a result, I maneuvered myself as to take hold of the helpless ferry operator by securing my hands under his arm pit. I did this by stradling the whaft and the ferry with my legs and holding the fairy operator under his arm pits with both of my hands. Even before I have securely griped him he let lose his grip of the boat and I was left to carry the weight of a man that was no less than two hundred and forty (250 lbs) pounds. I tried my very best, utilizing all of the force I could have generated in an effort to hoist the ferry operator onto the dock; but unfortunately; not even the adrenaline that such events cause to be excreted into the blood of one in a similar situation did not provided me with the required strength that was necessary to pull this man to safety. With the belief that he was unable to swim, I know I could not allow him to fall into the water.

To do so, would have immediately change the situation, transforming it from a simple slip into a fatality; which may have resulted in the lost of a husband, a father, a brother and a friend to God knows how many people. So I held onto my friend for quite a while. The force, I was putting on my legs, which was on the boat and the other on the whaft, which I did to keep the man from falling into the sea, cause the ferry to slowly move further away from the whaft. 

This created a new dynamic, to the already strange situation. However, there was a Caucasian man: a tourist with his female companion, standing some distance away from where we were. They were observing the beauty of nature like I was. The man saw me struggling with the man, whose feet was still dangling in the sea, but now he was now dangling from my arms. The Caucasian tourist quickly came over to where I was to render some assistance.

Together we tried, to get the boat operator back onto the dock, but even with the added help of this fellow it was a difficult task. Both me and the new help was pulling away but we were not getting any where. There was no change in the situation. Then I heard my help start counting, immediately and without any further discussion, we both pulled on the count of three. With the coordinated force of my helper and I, acting on the count of three, we managed to get the ferry operator onto the docks.

When he was safely on the dock, I went back to my seat and resume what I was doing before I went to the ferry operator’s aid. While there; I noticed the man who had just been rescued still sitting in the place and position we left him. For about ten minutes he sat there in silence, not looking left or right but he sat in what appear to be a contemplative mood. Then without any warning, he looked in my direction and said “thank you Sir thanks very much.”

The ferry operator left the docks with a new set of passengers and later returned carrying more passengers from the island. Once again he looked in my direction and said thank you once again

True Story - Allan Smoking weed? Or is it fake weed?

Growing up on a small island we had many interesting stories to tell. I can remember when I was still in Primary School, my friends and I would hang with the Most Coarse Rastafarians. There were Ito, Ita, Jobi and many others most of whose name I cannot remember. When they were not in the hills, where they have secluded themselves, they will move from Montrose, Bottom Town (Rose Place), The Slum (Paul’s Lot or Avenue) Harlem Edge and the other neighborhood in and around the Kingstown area; burning fire on all who represented Babylon, shaking their dread, Reading the scriptures; hailing King Selassie and burning Cali weed.

They never encouraged us to smoke or use any illegal substance (weed). However, my friends Garfield Mayers AKA Bread-head, Nigel Sylvester Nie Blue, Curtis John AKA the pip, Anthony Culzact AKA Bangalang, Arnond Culzact AKA Bam, and others, we will all grow what we called a summer Natty (Natty dread), which we were proud of. However our Summer Natty Dreads were cut on the last Sunday of the summer holiday, the day before the new school year began; when we all sported new haircuts to attend school, the next day; which was the first day of the new school year.

We all admired the Rastafarians and the movement they were a part of, although my friends and I wanted to be as real as we possibly could be to the real Rastafarians, Bread-head, and I who were best friends at the time, were not ready to use Marijuana.

Then Bread-head told me of a discovery he made, I cannot remember exactly how Bread came up with this discovery, however; Bread discovered that the dry papaya Leave when burn smells like Marijuana when it is burnt; I tried and discovered that Bread-head’s discovery was true. As a result, we purchased cigarette wrapping paper, we collected our portion of banana bark (The Rasta’s substitute for Rapping Paper) and we had our portions of untreated tobacco AKA high leave which the Most Corse used to mix their ganga with.

We will go to the Rastafarians camp where ever they were hanging out reading the bible and smoking weed. My friends and I, sporting our Summer Natty, gain acceptance with the Rastafarians. We talk the Rasta talk, and when they began to smoke we will break out our stash of fake weed AKA dry Papaya leave and light up with the Most Coarse Rasta. They wanted to know where we at our age got money to by weed from, but that was our personal secret. At time they (The Rastafarians) will try our fake weed and rate it as being good stuff; only if they knew what they was really smoking.

Consequently, news got back to my father that Bread Head and I are often seen on Nine Steps smoking Marijuana. I can remember my father called me into the shop, which he was tending, and he asked me if I smoke Marijuana, I looked him square in his eyes and told him no. He told me that people have told him they have seen me and Bread-head on Nine Steps smoking weed. He told me the people will not lie on me like that. At that age, it did not even dawned on me that, my father and the people were referring to the papaya leave or (fake weed) all I knew was the thought of smoking weed never entered my mind. So when I had the encounter with my father and I was accused of smoking weed, It honestly never entered my mind that they were referring to the fake weed Bread-head and I could be often seen smoking on nine steps whilst we pretend to be Rastafarian.

Because my father knew I was simple and brutally honest he believed me when I look him in his eyes and told him I don’t and have never smoke marijuana. However the youngest of my sisters who was about four years older than I was, became upset that I was not dealt with by my father who was a stern disciplinarian. She accused me of lying to our father and became very upset. It never crossed. It was recently, the memory of this event came to my mind, it was only then I realized that the accusation of me smoking weed was really me and Bread pretending to be smoking weed what was really fake week AKA papaya leave.

True story - A dangerous Hike - St. Andrews Mountain (S.V.G)

Several years ago, I took a large group of children on a hike to St. Andrews Mountain as part of my Adventures Hiking program. It was a very rainy day and the kids were all excited. It was a difficult hike up the hill, there were problems getting their footing, hikers were slipping back, it was difficult. Too the kids it was a dangerous experience but I knew it was safe. I got them to help each other up the mountain and we all made it out of the trail (wooded area) fine and in good time all things considered.
When we were out of the wooded area, the children were happy. We then walk up the hill, using the paved road to the very top of the mountain. when we got to the top of the Mountain, it was priceless to see the look of awe on their faces. They got the opportunity to see St. Vincent and the Grenadines from a different prospective. They got to see Vermont on the leeward course, and what I believed or “seems like” Argyle on the windward the Grenadines islands and so much more.
We sat and enjoy the beauty of the view, while we had lunch; after which, it was time to make the long journey down the extremely steep, pave road, which the children seem to enjoy. On our way down the pave road, some of the hikers suggested we use the pave road via Lowmans Leeward on our journey back to Kingstown. But I pay them no mind.
Then we reach the path to the wooded area of the hike: the mountain trail. We rested there for a while, then I give the instruction, its time to go. I had two young members of the St. Vincent Cadet Corp on the hike also. When the troops realized that I have decided to use the wooded path on the journey down the hill, it was pandemonium, some of the children began to cry, some called their parents and told their parents that I am trying to kill them while others insisted that they are not going down the wooded path and I cannot make them walk that path.
I said to them, in stern serious tone, your parents give me the responsibility for each of you; if anything happen to any of you I am responsible. I further said we are all walking the wooded path down the hill and we all walked the wooden path down no exceptions. There were children from all over Kingstown including Bottom and Town Paul’s Avenue, there were children from the leeward and the windward side of the island; there were also Primary and secondary school children on the hike.
So I led the way down the hill, and with no exceptions all of the participants of the hike followed. Before we reach the difficult area, I put them in particular order for the difficult journey down the hill. I have been watching them over the past week, I knew their strength and their weakness and who worked best with whom. I reassure them that it was not as hard as it seems, then I give them safety instructions as I always do; however, my words were not enough to quiet their anxiety, to chase away their fears or to stop the tears.

My instructions to the dismayed hikers were as follows:
1. Take your time; get a good footing before you move your entire body down.
2. In very difficult areas, help the person inform of you and the person behind you.
3. Let the person behind you know where is the best place to hold on to and to put their feet in other words coach them in to how best to move from the level you have just come from.
The journey down was long and difficult one; however, very soon the hikers stop focusing on the danger of the journey and they began to focused on their safety and helping their fellow hikers along the journey, each person providing help where they could and asking for assistance when they needed it. They were still apprehensive but they move and spoke with a confidence, I have not saw and or herd from none of them before, not even the cadet.
When the feet of those children touch the street at what marked the end of the wooded trail, I heard a big eruption, of voices, a grandiose shout erupted from among the hikers; I was shocked and very overwhelmed at what I say next. They were hugging each other, giving each other high fives, patting each other on the backs, while they all danced in the street. There were no music yet they danced. They all felt the pride and the joy of accomplishment. The music was the courage they all employed to overcome their fear; even the shy, was fearless and publicly did their version of the dance of accomplishment; they all had faced their fears, the put in the efforts and they all had triumph over that which they were afraid of.
Some of the hikers came to me and said, Mr. Palmer, I am happy that you made us walk the trail. while when asked, others said, expressed their joy of not walking the pave seemingly safe path. These children had never felt the way it felt to watch danger in its eyes, tackle it and win. They have tasted the trill of Victory.

A tree Called Topple - (Peace Be Still)

Hello my name is topple, I am a mighty oak, I was planted and reared to be a part of a mighty ocean going vessel. A Big ship if you please.  I will get to see the world and great men will see the world because of me.  I was tall and beautiful, with very deep roots. Birds, and other animals made their home in me, Lions and other animals found a shade under me on hot days.  My trunk was large, and my branches almost touched the skies. At least that is what most people say when they stood under me and looked up at me. Well I must say, I was taller than all of the other oak in the field. I could see for miles and miles in all direction, there was nothing to block my view.

It was time to be harvest the ship builders was here to buy the timbers to construct the massive ocean liner. A red tape was wrapped around me. I noticed that all the other oak trees were being cut down all around me. I guess, because I am the biggest of the trees, the cream of the crop, they are leaving me for last. May be they are going to have a special tree cutting ceremony for my harvest. That is awesome, I thought. I waited and I waited, the days passed by, the trees were made into timbers, they were loaded on to wagon and they were taken away, yet I remained uncut with the big red tape around me. What does this mean? I asked myself.

Later, I discovered, that the farmer, decided that he wants to keep me, I was the biggest oak he have ever grown or have ever seen, and it would have been a shame to cut me down. Do you believe that? I was planted to be on a big ship, I grow bigger than any of the other oaks in the field, I was going places, I was going to be important, and because of the selfishness of this man, all my dreams, my hopes and aspiration are shattered, by one man’s selfish actions. As a ship I may have been given the opportunity to carry kings, and queens, governors and other important people. But now I am stuck.

One day the farmer got an idea, I am going to build a fishing boat with my mighty oak tree. I am not a boat builder and neither am I a fisherman but, I planted this tree and it should be used for my pleasure. I am not a boat builder and I don’t have the right tools for the job.

A what! I said Topple the Mighty Oak in a fit of confusion. A fishing boat; He saved me to build a fishing boat!  He said in disbelief. I could have been a big ship, seeing the world taking very important people to and from their destination, being painted and polished on a regular basis. Now all I have to look forward to is to being permeated with the obnoxious smell of fish night and day for as long as I exist.

So Farmer Mc, and his friends got together and the used the Topple the Mighty Oak and they made a very beautiful boat, it was well painted and it floats. However it lack proper balance, and it often toppled over, if the conditions on board are not just right and it is difficult to keep the optimum condition in the boat in bad weather. Because of Topples lack of adequate equilibrium, Topple was seldom used, for fishing, or carrying anything of value. Topple spent most of her time moored along the shore; with the other boats that were not in use. The only difference was, Topple spent more time moored along the shore than any other boat.

I have seen Jesus on many occasion, he have used the boat that was next to me to preach, I have heard him preach on many occasion while he sat or standing on the boat next to me. I have seen the purity within this man Jesus, I have heard the wisdom in his words, never a man I have heard speak with such clarity, wisdom and authority like this man Jesus, I was there when he told peter to cast the net on the other side. Peter reluctantly cast the net and, that day was the most bountiful catch I have ever seen. There are always debates as to if Jesus is the son of God. I needed no other evidence; from what I have seen and heard, I know Jesus is the son of God. I like it when Jesus Come by, because something excited always happened. I was moored, right here, just outside Capernaum at the shore of the Sea of Galilee, when he called, (ooooooo), I have heard so many wonderful work that he did, only if I could have followed him around and listen to him and see all of his mighty works. That would have been amazing.

Each time the Jesus is around, that old Devil comes by, he sits on me, because for the most part, I am always empty, and he eavesdrop on what Jesus have to say. While the other boats get to carry Jesus, I get to carry this old devil. Why don’t he go and sit on some other boat. Once I overheard the old Devil saying, he is waiting patiently, for one day he will bury Jesus in the sea. He spoke with such hatred and bitterness it make my main keel shuddered. 

One day, while sitting empty at the Sea of Galilee, Jesus did something he had never done before, he came and he sat in me and he began to preach to the multitude. It was an honor to have the Son of God on board, but I was nervous that, I may capsize and humiliate the Son of God, disturbing his trend of thought and his words. If this should happen then the people may laugh him to scorn. Oh Lord why me, I am dishonored already why do I have to be placed in such a situation where I will bring dishonor to the Almighty Son of God.

When Jesus finished preaching, Topple give off a sigh of relief, he was happy that Jesus adventure of using him went off without incident. This short experience made Tipple’s existence worthwhile, he hoped to have carried important people, but he have never ever in his wildest imagination, believed that he would have been used by God himself, in the flesh: Jesus. At lease Jesus will now go onto his next assignment. It was a distinct honor to have been used by Jesus.

Topple was shocked when Jesus say to this disciples, let’s go into the other city across the bay so I can preach to them also. Oooo no! Topple said to him-self, he cannot be serious. As the disciples boarded the ship, they got prepare and began to make their way to the other side. Topple became very concern, He can see the devil in the distance, with a happy look on his face. It was them Topple remembered, what he overheard the Devil said. Topple knew he was going to be used to accomplished the Devil’s purpose. Why me he asked. 

Jesus was very tired, he had been walking, teaching, preaching and healing the sick all day; as a result he found a comfortable place in the back of the boat and snuggled himself into a corner of the boat, to where he became comfortable, very soon after the boat leave the sure Jesus fell asleep. Everything was going well, Swamp was trying his best to stay balance and afloat, after all he was transporting the creator himself. When the ships were midway over to the other side, a boisterously wind began to blow, the bellows began to get higher and higher.

Topple was convinced that this was the doing of the arch enemy of Jesus: the devil. And he (the Devil) was trying to take advantage of Topple’s in ability to maintain his balance and right side up. This is not good he said. Topple began to rock back and forth, as the disciples try their best to make it to the safety of the shore, they row and they used bucket to throw the water out of the boat. The wind got stronger and stronger as the minutes ticks on and the waves get bigger and stronger as topple did all in his power to stay balance. Under normal circumstances topple would have already turned over, but this is a different case. Topple has charge and custody of the life of the only begotten son of the creator of the heaven and earth. What good would he be if he is unable to stay right side up and afloat at this critical moment. Topple was determined to do all in his power to keep Jesus safe; he was not going to be a tool of the devil in his plans to destroy the son of God. The wave beat Topple on all side and each time he was about to capsize he found a way to maintain his balance. Topple did not know how long he will be able to maintain his balance but he was going to try.

It was chaos on board; the disciples were frantically fighting to get me to shore, and to prevent the boat to become full with water. Instructions were being shouted at and to each other; you can hear the heavy breathing of the exhausted disciples as they to the fight against the tempest they were force to confront. I have done all I could have done to remain afloat and right side up, the Disciples were torally exhausted, and could do no more, and the other people in the other boat had, had enough they too were about to be swallow up by the angry wave.

It was then I heard someone said call Jesus. Then the shouted get Jesus, the Disciples began to call Jesus, but the noise that was created by the storm made their calls barely audible. Then someone shook Jesus and awoke him out of what appear to be a peaceful, comfortable sleep. Jesus awoke, and saw all of the commotions. He stood up right in the boat undisturbed by the violent rocking of the vessel on which he stood. As he looked around, hear the violent whistle of the wind, he saw and heard the crashing sound of the mighty waves, he heard the frightening sound of the thunders as they spoke with voice only Jesus could understood, and he look as the dark night skies were lighten up by the brilliant flashes of lightening; as the lighten flashed Jesus read the secret language that was written on the skies by the lightening. And he also heard the scream of terror coming from his disciples and the others.

Although Satan called the elements into war against Jesus their creator, the element took the opportunity to give praise, honor and glory to their King and creator. the Wind in its strength whistle the Glory of Jesus, the boisterous waves stood up as high as he could then fall on his face before his king, the Lighten shown with all its glory as he wrote Jesus praise upon the night skies, the thunder sang Jesus praise like no other could, and the dark clouds, worshiped by bursting into rain.

When Jesus stood up, he understood the praise that nature offered him their best. With knowledge that nature’s praise of him was frightening became a threat to his friends, Jesus spoke and in kind words: He said Jesus was at peace even in the storm. Then Jesus said Peace Be still.  Asked the element to stop, their praise of him, at least for now.   

The Lost Son - Part 1

There was an extremely rich man, his name was Mr. Asud. Mr. Asud build and own an entire cities. later he got married to a beautiful lady, who bore him a son that he called Junior. When Junior was seven years old, His mother took him and they move to a faraway city. Mr. Asud, haired many men to try and find the other members of his family. But they were nowhere to be found.

It was clear that Mrs. Asud did not want to be found. she disappeared completely; and was nowhere to be found. Those who were hired to locate her, did not know where she was. When the child was 12 years old, his mother die and the child became a ward of the state and was put into foster home.

Two years later, Mr. Asud dies, without ever learning why his wife left him and without ever locating the other members of his family. However, he left a will, leaving everything that he owned to his long lost and only son. Because he had no other known relative, the Court appointed Mr. Asud’s massive wealth in the care of his Lawyer: Mr. Aspro, who was also entrusted with the responsibility of locating and bestowing upon Mr. Asud’s only son, all the wealth that made up his father’s estate.

One day Mr Aspro’s servant came back to him with some news. Mr. Asud’s son was located, he learned that the child was in a faraway city, his mother had die and the child had became a ward of the state and was placed in foster care, he spoke a different language and his name was changed to: Yatim.

Mr. Aspro was not very happy to learn that Yatim was located. So he paid his servants a lot of money, to keep Yatim’s locations a secret and had them vowed never to speak about it again. Mr. Aspro also give his servants high paying Jobs as a reward for their silence, which they all accepted.

Yatim always cherished the fun memory of the days before he left his father’s home, with his mother. He felt secure and loved, he never understood why he had to leave the security and love of his father. But now he was confined to this foster home. When Yatim became grown and left the foster care, he found it hard to make a living. He was poorly educated, and was deemed unemployable. He knew he was more than an orphan and wanted better for himself, but did not know where to turn and how to achieve better.

One day, when Yatim, was in deep though, he was forced to asked himself two very important questions. Who are you? Where are you from? Suddenly he was flooded with some bits and pieces of memories of those years of his life before his tenth birthday. That have been washed in the back of his memory almost erased, by the difficult times, he had to endure after his mother death; leaving him an orphan all alone in a strange world.

It was then Yatim decided to go in search to find out who he really was. Yatim began to asked questions, of the people who may have known his mother; he also began to review the piece keepsakes that his mother left him at her death.

Soon, word reached Mr. Aspro that Yatim had become curious and is searching for answers as to who he was and where he was from. Mr. Aspro became very concerned that this orphan will discover who he was and will return to claim his inheritance. So he came up with a brilliant plan.

As a result, Mr. Aspro went in search of and located Yatim, He informed Yatim that he was the executor for his father’s estate. He also informed the young man, that he was searching for him for many years but was unable to find him. He told him that his father was riches and die leaving a will. Then Mr. Aspro handed a copy of the will, to Yatim. It was written in a language he once knew how to speak but have lost the skills to communicate in.

It was then Yatim was told of his inheritance; well not quite. Yatim was told that his father leave a very large house on a very large and productive farm for him, with servants in a faraway City. Yatim with a copy of the will which was written in a language he did not understand and the keys to a house and a vault of money that made him a rich man. Mr. Aspro made arrangement for Yatim to move to this faraway city, to take possession of his inheritance and to take control of the farm, money and his servants.

Yatim was very thankful and extremely happy, to know he had a father who loved him and had prepared for him even in death. He was correct he was more than what he had. So Yatim followed the instructions of Mr. Aspro and he went and received his inheritance. Yatim got married, and his wife bore him a son; Yatim love his son and he called his son’s name Mirath. Yatim was a good father and as his father did for him, he ensure that he prepared an inheritance for his son: Mirath.