DAY 8: BE WE LIMING?
We are sitting eating breakfast at a roof restaurant in the middle of Port Elizabeth on Bequia. Port Elizabeth is a horseshoe bay with small coloured shops, cafes and restaurants running along its boundary. In front of them is a small road and a smaller footpath divided by colourful shrubs. In front of that running down to the beautiful turquoise sea is what could loosely be described as a beach, but the sand has been compacted by the passage of many vehicles over the years so it looks more like a sandy scrub. This is where 'liming' goes on.
For the ignorant or uninformed 'liming' is a word particular to the Windies. I have alluded to it already earlier in this diary but it is here where we can see it, from our lofty vantage point, in its truest form. There are countless groups of individuals, usually, but not always male, sitting or lying around, on upturned boats, car bonnets, beer crates, boundary walls, in fact anywhere which affords them the opportunity to do nothing. True, some chat amongst themselves, some shout pointless questions at passers by in their incomprehensible dialect, or just simply stare as we wander past doing our utmost to look as if we are 'liming' too. But we can't. We have tried but we can't. Merlin desperately wants to. He has taken the word into his rapidly expanding vocabulary. I asked him this morning what he wanted to do after breakfast. His answer was predicable, 'just lime' he said. And so we do. Up here in this rooftop restaurant. We are liming. We have had breakfast, I am writing this, Test Match Special in one ear, listening to Australia try to score 299 to win the Fourth Test, Merlin is texting and Trish is reading. But we aren't really 'liming'.
We are frauds. Why? Because down below us a group of four or five professional 'limers' are stationed under a tree, one is on his back on an upturned flat bottomed boat, feet up on the lower branches, baseball cap peak over his eyes, arms folded behind his head. He could, actually, be dead because we had breakfast here yesterday and I saw him then, in exactly the same repose. His mates seem oblivious to this possibility and they joke and high five each other at intermittent intervals. A green pick up arrives and the driver, an exact clone of any one of the group gets out and immediately goes into 'lime' mode as if the effort of driving his truck down here was a totally stressful and taxing experience that he had in fact been putting off for some time. He doesn't even shut the door in an act of defiance, a solitary finger raised at the working world. The sound of reggae is coming from somewhere. A few of them move slowly with the beat but soon give this up as too much effort.
I am reminded of the villages we will pass through on St.Vincent on our way up to Rosehall later this week. The terrifying ride in The Vinccy Van (probably one of the only things that does move quickly in these parts). The van will tear down the main streets straight and true scattering dogs, cattle and human traffic alike. There are always 'limers' who are sitting on the walls, cars, crates and three legged chairs watching us arrow past. And they are there again, days later, in the same location watching us speed through in the other direction. They are unmoved, unimpressed and not unusual for this is the land of 'The Limer' and we cannot hope to follow. We are perhaps too busy feeling guilty for not 'doing something'. Even on holiday. I mean I am typing away on this keyboard for example. No wonder I attract cursory glances from those who meander past below. Merlin has turned to 'Bubbleshooter' to take up his spare time and Trish, doing the best 'lime' of the three of us, has migrated to a huge cushioned chair at the back of the restaurant and is looking like she is going to fall asleep. The staff have too disappeared. The early morning breakfast 'rush' is over and they too need to 'lime'.
A thought occurs to me. There are two mobile networks in The Windies. I know that from my SIM card experience in Barbados. One is 'Digicel' and the other is 'Lime'. I am thanking whoever it is that has watch over us that I chose the former rather than the latter. I am also thinking how 'Lime' can be integrated into UK Immigration and Border Security. Perhaps a simple Limigration and Border Security would do. That would certainly put me off any type of queue. Imagine our prostrate friend below, attending a desk at Heathrow for example. A queue of hopefuls not moving slowly forwards. Perhaps he could bring some if his mates and they could all man stations. Brilliant.
Meanwhile time passes below and I think the flakey 'limers' on the balcony are the only ones who know it. After all, we do have a ferry to catch.
Lime on!
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