Tobago 'blue food' lime

Thought I share a personal experience with you. Last week I was invited to a 'lime' in Tobago, traditional that is, 'blue food' where the men did all the cooking. For the uninitiated 'blue food' refers to dishes using the root vegetables such as dasheen (aka taro). It's called 'blue food' because some of the vegetables turn varying shades of blue and indigo when cooked.

I was very much looking forward to the trip. I love the ocean and the thought of the white sandy beaches and blue water was all I could think of, anything else was a bonus. I had been fortunate to be invited to take part in the lime, which also featured a rhythm section – a percussion band, in this instance fuelled by hard liquor. I suggested that the boat would be exciting way to travel, I was right. I hadn't slept the night before and hadn't had any breakfast but ate some had some saltfish as soon as I got on board. Not a good move. It was very salty and oily and I could feel my guts start to quiver almost immediately.
As we headed out to sea it started getting rougher and rougher. It was almost impossible to walk upright and in a straight line, it was more of a drunkards dance, staggering from side to side. Sometimes we hit a big wave and there'd be a collective sigh. It was exciting. The crew started handing out sick bags and a lot of people were using them. My guts were playing up and reluctantly I headed for the toilet. I really wasn't thinking about what was awaiting me, my attention was on the motion, (bowel not nautical) my need to as the Yanks say ‘take a dump’ had clouded my mind, or should I say not to do so until it was appropriate, had become my main preoccupation. When I got to the gents it was packed, and the toilets were all taken, men were vomiting into the washbasins, urinals, even the waste bins. I think most guys would have used a urinal at some time in their lives, so you'll know that you've got to be pretty desperate to stick your head in a urinal, the smell alone can kill!

An in all it was quite a spectacle and the background noise or maybe more accurately the sound effects were quite startling. It's a bit hard to describe but it was like a scene from a sci-fi horror movie, the air was filled with ghostly guttural sounds. I was fascinated to see two guys sharing the waste bin, one short and the other much taller, vomiting one after the other. I was certain that I'd witness the spectacle of one of them spewing his guts over the head of the other but it was like an elaborate dance, with background music, as they took turns to throw up, in sequence and with precision timing.

By now my pressing need to use the toilet had turned into a full blown emergency; in my darkest moments I saw myself losing control and the unspeakable happening, it was not a good picture. I looked at the waste bin and reasoned that it would be the lesser of two evils; I would have to use it and hoped that the others could understand why I was driven to take such drastic action. But before that eventuality, I quickly darted out of the gents and asked one of the crew if there was another toilet I could use, I was told that was it. She didn't seem sympathetic and I wasn't in a position to argue, just concentrate on maintaining the clench reflex. I returned to the gents. Luckily one of the toilets became free; I jumped in ahead of the others. Sanctuary, saved from a fate worse than death, ok a bit dramatic I know, but at the very least it would have been acutely embarrassing. The toilet was a mess, the lock was broken and there was sick everywhere. I had to gingerly but speedily positioned myself on the loo and let nature take its course, relief turned to apprehension when I realised that the huge toilet paper dispenser was empty, I nevertheless pulled at it in the hope of retrieving something. Lesson number one; always travel with a pack of tissues or wet wipes.

I searched my pockets over and over again but to no avail. I could see the napkins lying on the table in the cabin area, if I'd only stuffed a couple into my pockets, no good thinking about that now. I was left with but one option, cash money. I selected the softest of my one dollar notes; it would have to do, needs must. It wasn't perfect but it did the job and I was able to leave decency intact. Thing is though it didn't flush. I tried to slip out quickly but of course someone was waiting to use it. He quickly went in and backed out as though he'd stumbled upon a decomposing corpse. Poor guy, I felt a bit guilty, but hey shit happens.