"Everyone's singing Mary's Boy Child as if they're auditioning for Caribbean Idol, and someone's auntie is halfway through a bottle of Mount Gay before 11am. But my weirdest Christmas was when I was about 19 that magical age when you're convinced you're grown, but you still have braces. My mum had taken me back home to spend the holidays with family. I was excited because 1) I needed a break from university,"
"2) I could finally escape the British winter, and 3) I was ready to find a husband. Enter Dwayne, my grandad's neighbour's grandson. He had the kind of Bajan confidence that comes from growing up near a beach and being told since birth that you're handsome. He wore his flip-flops as if they were designer shoes. He was 24, shirtless, and could open a coconut with a machete. We were all at the Christmas beach picnic, the air smelling like ham, pepperpot and sea salt."
Christmas in Barbados mixes tropical heat, flip-flops, tinsel on palm trees, Soca music, and rum-fueled family gatherings. A 19-year-old narrator returns home from university seeking rest, warmth, and romance. Dwayne, a 24-year-old neighbor's grandson, displays confident, beach-honed charm and practical skills like opening coconuts with a machete. At a beach picnic the narrator tries to impress him, accidentally drops a tray of raw flying fish into the sand, and then attempts a slow-motion sea entrance to attract attention. The mishaps become a public spectacle amid the smells of ham, pepperpot, and sea salt.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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