Between Two Worlds: A Narrative

In the late 1950s I left a world of simple pleasures, where the pace of life was slow and time almost stood still, and I arrived in a place where my every movement was to be governed by the ticking of the clock. In this new world I had no time to stand and stare, nor to sit amongst the flowers or to count the bees rather than the hours, and I ve lived between these two worlds ever since. Nothing seems ever to stand still. For when I began my journey from my place of birth and native land, there was a rural village with rocks and stones at the seashore. We used these same rocks and stones to build our homes. I remember the palm trees and grape trees. The trees had formed an alliance that protected the land from the onslaught of the huge Atlantic waves. The Atlantic eventually overcame the alliance and swept away the rocks, the stones, and the palm trees. And, as I look back, I ask myself two questions: What has become of my island s people? Their slow pace of life and the simple pleasures that they once enjoyed have been replaced by twenty-four-hour television and gadgets imported from abroad. The old fashioned, friendly buses that carried the people with their produce to the market have been replaced by vans that drive at great speed along narrow winding roads. To pay for these new pleasures, the islanders have exported their brightest, youngest, and most talented people. And what has happened to the place that I now call home; how has it changed? Gone are the British Council s representatives reassuring smiles of welcome to young students at the ports. Gone are the smoking chimneys, the back-to-back urban houses, and their friendly neighbourhoods. Acres of land and fields have been given over to long hypnotic stretches of motorways. Elegant Georgian and Victorian homes have been replaced by large estates, and the skyline is interrupted by high-rise blocks of metal and concrete. But there are many remaining joys that I cherish. These include the stoicism of the people and their humour, the easy access to places of culture, and the deep and lasting friendships that I have made.