I'm not sure I can manage to keep to the left as they do here in Antigua. So I've decided to drive with Edgar when the bus doesn't agree with where I'm going.
Edgar is a careful driver. It's very pleasant to sit at the backseat, sometimes in my own world, sometimes in his. In the frontwindow he has a little flag, green and yellow, for Dominca. What ever I see through the window, I see it together with the flag. I see mongooses, donkies, the bay, the hills, a child in a garden, perhaps its mother leaning against the balustrade.
- You won't regret it if you go there. Very lush. So green. Fruit trees everywhere. All kinds of fruit. Coconuts, bananas, mangos, lots of mangos.
We pass through the sunburned landscape, reach a village just outside English Harbour.
Cars are parked in both sides of the street, a crowd slowly enters the church, nicely dressed people, some have just arrived and kiss hello to the right and the left, others finish a cigarette just outside the entrance. The sun breaks through the cloudes.
- There will be a lot of drinking tonight, Edgar says.
- It's a wedding, right?
I lean to the side, hoping to get a glance of the bride. I once sneaked in at a wedding in Italy. It was one of the most touching weddings I've ever been to.
- No, it's a funeral. After the church they will meet somewhere and have a party. They will drink all night.
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