Day 7 - L'escalier Tete Chien made me Hope they Nock Bethan's Face in - seriously that is an amazing pun, read on.

Day 7

Trouble in paradise. The first roberry added to the sense of adventure on this vacation, which was the upside of the situation when we ignored the 1500 or so dollars we lost on it. Now things are starting to get ridiculous. This morning we set out for the Carib territory, which is the reservation that the true natives of this island live on. The Caribs are a people that moved here from south America long ago, and it is evident in their features. They are lighter in complexion. And their eyes have a strangely asian quality. They certainly do not share the recent African decent of the rest of the population. After witnessing a spectacular waterfall which plunges straight into the ocean, we stepped back and headed through the winding stone road between wall-less thatched roof huts back to the car. We drove along the coastal road until we reached our next destination: Escalier de Tete Chien. This feature is a lava tube which hardened while cascading into the ocean, so it has a step like quality which descends into the furous blue sea below. The tube has the winding quality of a boa constrictor, which is where it got it’s name. The local creole refers to a snake as ‘lal tete chien’, which is French for ‘Dog’s head’. Why the snake bears a resemblance to a dog’s head, and why it is so called in French Patois is beyond me. When we arrived, we simply pulled over and parked on the side of the road, which invariably is in front of someone’s dwelling. We were stopped in front of a an old roofless, windowless, and doorless concrete building, with arched doorways. In the doorway stood a small aluminum pot, on the floor next to a bucket. This was the modest home of a man named Hope. An old wrinkled man who was obviously well beyond his years in appearance, wearing tattered clothes, whith skin so dark it almost had a purple sheen, and the ropy veiny build common to almost all the men in these villages. Hope offered to watch our car, and we told him (honestly) that we did not have any money for him, as we had forgotten our wallets at our accommodation. He smiled and told us it was alright, he would take charge of it nonetheless. We thanked him and headed down to the jungle and meadow path to the stairway. We spent 45 minutes or so exploring it, and watching the violent sea smash into the tortured rock angrily, only to languidly slide its foam backwards off the rocks into the turquoise water. After we climbed back out to the car, I saw hope sitting on the path. I thanked him for watching the car, and he walked with me back, talking of how it was good to have someone watch it in light of the risk of break ins. He told me sometimes they just smash the glass, with no qualms. I shook my head. My parents caught up and we prepared to get into our car after thanking Hope again. That’s when pap exclaimed that there was glass everywhere over on his side of the car. “Yeah” I replied, seeing different shades of the same little crystalline squares where I was standing. “Oh my god, someone broke the window out.”
We looked inside the car, one backpack was missing. My Father’s. The thief had emptied it, and taken only the pack. He also took the hiking shoes pap had in the car. My parents were so upset trying to get to the bottom, asking “you must know who did this, someone must have seen it.” That eventually it seemed like half the village was crowded around us, there on the hot street.. Palm trees swaying in the breeze, tall women staring quietly, little children shyly clinging to their legs observing us from the security of their mothers. Hope pointed to an old man who said he had seen the act, and eventually we decided on driving to the police station with Hope in our car. The police, as last time (although this time it was a different force on the other side of the island) were genuinely disappointed and apologetic. An officer was dispatched, who returned with one suspect in custody. His name was Nock. Nock was a young man, my age, dressed like a gangster. He was one of the poor souls in the youth of this island who are going to take it in the wrong direction. He was just released from jail, and as his first order of business as a released criminal was to return to his previous occupation. Looking into his eyes as the officer escorted him from the pickup up the steps of the station, I saw a kid who didn’t care because he had no reason to. There is a political division on this island between those who see the great picture of the impact tourism has on the island, ie the single greatest source of sustainable income they have, and those who simply want to make a quick buck at any expense. Nock will be held for 72 hours maximum without charges, and the police are after Bethan, his accomplice. The officer promised he would return our bag to us, but we know chances are slim. Bethan is hiding, and he will sell the items when we leave the country. This is a downward cycle in an unstable economy, and unless Dominica makes some great changes to the infrastructure of its social system, and educates its people with an awareness of their place in the world, the drug trade which is just starting to take root will mushroom out of control, as it has on most other Carribean islands. This is only a small taste of what is to come here. Being robbed twice in 3 days does not make for good tourism. Along with the money and items they stole, they took our sense of security and our desire to be here.