1. In 1492 Christopher Columbus discovered the West Indies. After more than 500 years, or, after more than one-third of the number of years between his quincentennial and sescentennial arrival, if Christopher were to ride the waves again on any or all of his three ships, the Santa Maria, the Nina and the Pinta, we would have little or no access to the beach to greet him; and he would be hard-pressed, (or would he), to get past the beach to join us for a welcoming sumptuous meal of fish, potatoes, cassava, corn, tomatoes, squash, beans and pumpkin, followed by a splendid dessert of peanuts, papaya and pineapple, all washed down with a hot cup of cocoa tea.

2. Long before heavy metal could travel long distances high in the sky to take us wherever and whenever to whomever, we would meet and greet each other where land and sea shake hands, hug up, and kiss, and carry on.

3.The relationship between us natives and the beach is very complicated. There is this notion that many of us cannot swim. I can attest to that. I learned to swim when I was 33 years old. This long delay had to do with the drowning of a childhood friend from our village in a pond in Cedar Valley.

4. It was not just that he drowned. It was also that many of the villagers remarked that he was the better of the brothers and that the Lord always takes the good one. I assumed I was the good, the better, and the best one in my family, and hence drowning was also my ordained destiny. Another reason for my long delay in testing the Archimedes principle of the physics of flotation that I had learned at the Antigua Grammar School was that I could not see myself running naked from the beach shouting Eureka. And yet many years later, swimming unalone one tranquil and blissful evening at twilight at Jabberwock, I did precisely that, only that her name was not Eureka and she wondered why I was calling another woman’s name. Also, the pair of black hard shoes I wore to the funeral of my dear, departed boyhood friend was so tight and uncomfortable, especially in the blazing sun, I thought I could not wish that discomfort on anyone else. So, no drowning for me and hence no swimming for me, to tempt fate.

5. Can it be that our new Columbus discoverers think that since many of us cannot swim, then and therefore access to the beach can be limited to a footpath of no more than a path of one foot, twelve inches, if any at all? Access!

6. The beach is a crucial part of our mental, physical and cultural ecosystem. Access is fundamental. Whether we go to the beach to swim or to regard its beauty and the horizon or for a picnic, for a rendezvous, or to walk up and down until there is sand clinging to our feet, is nobody’s business but our own. The beach is not just the beginning; it defines us. The beach is us. You cannot separate the beach from us and claim you love us. In fact, away with unrequited love; all we need is mutual respect. All else will follow, bringing the tail of the tale behind it. Access!

7. You cannot invest in a country by commandeering the beach exclusively and tell the natives euphemistically to “Go to France” … or, trying to be kind, cute and funny, even suggest that we go to Guadeloupe instead, since Guadeloupe is nearer than France. This is our land. We do the telling and we make the jokes. Access!

8. Columbus used the predictable trade winds to successfully cross the Atlantic. The word trade in “trade winds” derives etymologically from an archaic meaning of trade to be a path or a track, it is ironic that our vendors cannot find a proper path or track to the beach to trade their wares. It’s all about how a beautiful place can be developed with mutual respect. To take our beach and do to her what you want, and ignore the rest of her, lock her up, and hide her from others against her will and wish, is tantamount to assault as a prelude to ravishment. Access!

9. Sometimes we need to access the beach just to get away from the concrete jungle of the city. We may go to the beach when our wife or girlfriend says: Let’s go for a drive. Take me out. Out of here. Anywhere. Anywhere away from here. From this obese heat. Take me to the beach where the air has no company. No rivalry. You and me and them here. Just you and me there in the clear, pure beachy air. Access!

10. Our relationship with the beach is historically complicated. Look at the way we greeted Christopher; what we gave him, and what we got in return. And you want to perpetuate that? When the molecules of our ancestors who were thrown overboard into the Atlantic and who deliberately sacrificed themselves in the same wholly water, come in with the tide, how can we wash away the memories of the results of our first encounter and see the same slavish tension of the pluperfect past and conditional past being copied and repeated in our harmful present and our unhealthy conditional future? We shall not accept an imbalanced exchange of gifts again. A drunk you drunk? Access!

11. We go to the beach to hear the lapping sound of sea water. We hear the sounds of our ancestors wailing from Africa and wading on the shoreline. No one. Absolutely no one shall, and hence no one will, deny these sounds reaching the cochlea and vestibule of our ears to calm our brain after work at evening time, or at any time. Those who cannot hear must feel they are unwelcome. We go to the beach because it is there. The beach defines us from the beginning of our history to way past the very end of our existence. Access is primal, primitive, primordial, precious, preeminent, and paramount. Yes, you guessed it: We will pee you off if no proper access. Access!

12. When two people forge a relationship, the outcome is not always predictable. In some ways, it is the joy of discovery, the bliss, the anticipated paradise of love and togetherness, as we find and engage each other, that make us tingle and giggle. When that relationship rides on a dark and malevolent history and we attempt a revisit, a second time around, we cannot be so dumb and stupid to repeat the same mistakes of the past.

13. If we fail to heed the past and go blindly ahead, our spiritual ancestors in the sea and air will roll back and fly back to Africa and come again in the mighty roar of a hurricane from twenty thousand leagues under the sea and huff and puff and blow your concrete houses down if you choose to behave like a big bad wolf. They will open the access for us, and keep it wide open, as wide open as the entire full length of the beach. Who really wants that? Access!

This article was originally published by Antigua News Room. Read the original article here: COMMENTARY: Son of a Beach.