A Village is a Family

I had never given much thought to the size of my extended family, as far as I was concerned it seemed normal to have 3 aunts, 2 uncles, 5 cousins and 2 grandmothers. I didn’t see my cousins very often and therefore never got to know them well, they didn’t live close to us so Christmas was pretty much the only time we got together. I can recall meeting a second cousin when I was quite young, an event that left me rather confused. How did this strange cousin fit into my family, and what did “second cousin” actually MEAN?

I moved to Bequia in 1977, a small island where everyone seemed to be related. When I met people for the first time, they would explain in quite a bit of detail who they were related to, a courtesy I definitely appreciated but found hard to follow! For someone who struggled with the concept of second cousins it was pretty daunting to say the least, especially with half-brothers and half-sisters thrown into the mix. It was very hard for me to keep it all straight, VERY!

When I married Mac in 1979 the “keeping it all straight” situation went from being daunting to downright bewildering. I was suddenly part of a seemingly huge family, a fact that was pointed out to me on a daily basis;

“My grandpa cousin to Bluesy, so we family now”

“I have to call Miri ‘Tantie’”, so we family now”

“Mac and me is third cousin, so we family now”.

I was quite intimidated at first, afraid that I was expected to keep my new family relationships straight. Mac laughed at my nervousness but I didn’t find it funny, I was afraid of offending my new relatives by not understanding how they fit into the family tree. Was I now related to EVERYONE on Bequia?? It sure felt like I was!

I learned a lesson about island families not long after we opened the Pizzeria. I was still fairly new to Bequia, and definitely new to the restaurant business! Those first several months were pretty crazy, it was “sink or swim” and I was determined to at least stay afloat. I was relieved when the tourist season came to an end, it had been a wild ride and, although I had stayed afloat, I was ready for a rest.  With the dining room now quiet I could invite some friends for dinner, a luxury I hadn’t had time for since opening the business. One of the first people I invited was my good friend Harold, the Frangipani’s bartender. My exact words when inviting Harold were;

“Come to the Pizzeria tomorrow evening and bring your family”.

At that point in time Harold and his wife had 6 children, so I saved a table big enough for the 8 of them.

Harold and his family arrived, their freshly scrubbed faces beaming as they mounted the steps to the Pizzeria. My smile of welcome faltered when I noticed the long line of people following Harold, people my guest proudly introduced as they filed into the restaurant.

“Dis me cousin, dis me uncle, dis me tantie”.

The introductions went on and on and ON. Harold had indeed arrived with his family, his very LARGE extended family. It was entirely my fault, the invitation had not been explicit enough, and I now had a dining room overflowing with people. Perhaps if I had told Harold to bring his wife and children for pizza the table for 8 would have been large enough, it was certainly not going to hold what seemed like half of Paget Farm!  A fine time was had by Harold and his “family” that evening, and the lesson I learned has served me well throughout the years. On Bequia,  a village is a family, and unless you want to feed the whole village be careful how invitations are worded!