THE SAND OF CLAY ROUGE
We finally made it to shore and I look up at the sky and say “thank you God” seven times. After we disembark from the little boat, Toto and Pepe tie what’s left of the miracle boat to a large boulder and we walk inland attempting to reach a road. As I am walking on the shore of Clay Rouge, I lag behind the trio because I’m so weak and tired, but also for an opportunity to enjoy the beauty of Clay Rouge. I am enthralled by the colorful sand of Clay Rouge. I bend down and pick up some sand in my hand and let it slowly fall to the ground. It leaves a red color in my palm. I have seen pink, brown, grey and white sand, but never have I seen red sand. I am mesmerized by the beauty of Clay Rouge. I am now far from the group and decide to pick up the pace, until I hear the sounds of children laughing and yelling. I turn and see a big, beautiful black dog with white markings on his legs, tail, chest and face running behind me from a distance, as if trying to reach out to me. I decide to sit on the sand, waiting for my new acquaintance. Before he can catch up to me the dog runs inside a coconut grove that lines the seashore for shelter from kids that pelt it with rocks. I see the dog, peaking out as if searching for me, but every time he shows his head, the kids continue to throw large pebbles at it finally causing the dog to run away for good. I missed the opportunity to get acquainted with a new friend thanks to the little kids insensitive conduct.
“Why are you hurting the dog?” I yell at the kids.
“Because, it’s a bad dog,” a young boy screams back.
I could hear all the other little kids laughing.
“Dogs are too good to be bad,” I yell back.
“This one is bad and can eat us little kids because he’s a werewolf,” responds one boy.
“He’s speaking the truth. Our mamas told us so,” adds a teenage boy.
I can’t help but feeling sad for the dog. I continue walking, hoping to catch up with the group.
“Come here Tilou,” yells Toto.
“I’m coming,” I shout back.
“Why are you so far away from us,” screams Pepe from the distance.
I see Gran walking back to join me, realizing how far away from them I am.
“Tilou! Try to walk a bit faster little one,” she says. “I wish I could carry you because I know you’re not well, but Gran is so weak, and you know the old knees are not what they once were. Nowadays, they’re afflicted with arthritis. I wish someone could carry me to my destination,” she laughs.
“You know I would carry you Gran if I could,” I say.
“Someday, you will.”
Almost immediately, Clay Rouge’s beauty seems to have neutralized the fear and the anxiety of that fierce trip. We start walking on the seaside to reach the large, big red dirt road that joins all of the houses on the small island.
TO BE CONTINUED:
