Osheen's Tale

The dawn of another beautiful Caribbean day was just underway as Osheen pushed away from the dock. With the sun still just below the tree-covered mountains of Jamaica’s north coast, and the sky shining a fairy tale silvery blue, the sea hadn’t yet taken on the brilliant turquoise and navy of midday. It was silvery with pinks and blues and greys, and disturbed by nothing but the gentle ripples of a calm morning.

Osheen couldn’t think of a better time to be on the sea than this peaceful time of morning, before Mo’ Bay burst into life with shops and tourists and the daily tourist excursions started to bring on the wakes and disturb the sea life. He was off to fish the morning away and would be back again in the evening, as the sun was setting and the kingfish were feeding among the coral.

For as long as he could remember, Osheen had been going out to fish every day to help support his family. As a boy, his uncle and he would push off in the early morning, so he could still make it back in time for school. But more often than not, he was late anyway. And now, he had his own little boy, just two. Too young yet to follow his father’s footsteps. And likely, he never would.

This was to be Osheen’s last early morning of fishing. Times had been rough. It wasn’t good enough any longer to catch a few fish. Tourists weren’t buying – they stayed at all-inclusive resorts these days. And the price he got from selling at the market was just not enough to support a family. He settled back in his boat – lines out over the side at his favoured fishing spot, and he lay, dark strong face to the sky, to think about the future.

This small battered boat had been around for decades, had been his sanctuary. But he wanted better for his son. He smiled as he thought of little Al, who with his almond skin and dark curly hair, was getting into everything these days. And Marie, her smile lit up the room when he walked in. What a wonder to be loved.

But he felt the pressure, too. Where was Jamaica-no worries? Marie was cleaning houses still, but couldn’t work as much with Al in tow. He couldn’t sit still for two seconds – always making more mess to be cleaned up. They hadn’t been able to make their rent on the other place. So they’d had to move to a small one-room apartment, and the neighbourhood was rough. Marie was away from her family and friends. He knew she didn’t like it.

So, Osheen had been to see a friend of a friend who knew the manager of the Jack Tar Village Resort. His mind went back over their conversation of yesterday, ending with “Tuesday morning. No problem, mon.” He had a job as a security guard at the resort. He’d get regular pay and work twelve hour shifts at the edge of the property along the beach. Now, he stroked his boat with love and loss. He would well it to afford the uniform. He’d already made the deal.

With determination in his eyes, he set out toward a cove around the peninsula. Today, he would visit the private beach where he had taken Marie when they were dating, where he had proposed, pulling the small diamond ring out of a shell. But as he rounded the bend, he saw his mistake. There was construction going on – a new resort – taking over all the history, his and long ago – no more peaceful evenings of love in the moonlight. Not that they had been back since Al came along.

“Irie,” he said under his breath, and sighed as he turned the small boat and rowed towards home. No catch. No rest on the beach. No more.
* * * * *

Osheen had been at his job for three months now. The three of them had moved back to the old neighbourhood. Marie was happy and only working two days a week. Al was starting a nursery school next week. Osheen got to look out over the sea he loved every day, but when the pinks and blues and greys came out in the early morning or evening, he had to turn away. And when he did see a lone fisherman out on the calm waters, he mourned again the part of his heart left at sea.