My landlord terrified me in those early days. He operated a rum shop situated at Friendship Gap between my sister’s house and the house where I would soon be living with other volunteer school-teachers. He was a large gruff man, and until I got to know him better he scared me! His name was Mr. Stowe.
Shortly after my arrival on Bequia Mr. Stowe tethered a large cow right under my bedroom window. It was a decidedly ugly beast and one had to tread carefully due to the mounds of dung it deposited close to the front steps. I had a hard time sleeping at night due to the chain rattling and the chewing of cud, not to mention the incessant farting! I didn’t dare complain to Mr. Stowe, I was too afraid of him.
One day a sign was posted at the rum shop announcing that there would be fresh beef for sale in the morning. Yes! After so many sleepless nights I was going to eat that cow. When I saw Mac later that day and told him that I wanted to buy some of the beef he got a gleam in his eye and smiled broadly. He told me I would have to get to the rum shop by 6:00 A.M. and ask Mr. Stowe for a nice rump roast, it was best to get there early for the choice cuts of beef. I promptly invited Mac to the house for dinner the next night … I had never cooked a roast but was going to give it my best shot.
The next morning I was up at first light. I could already hear a great deal of commotion at the rum shop so I dressed hurriedly. I entered the rum shop, where Mr. Stowe gave his usual greeting of a slammed fist on the counter. When that fist was slammed in front of you it was your turn to speak, assuming you weren’t too intimidated! I politely told Mr. Stowe that I would like a nice rump roast. From the scowl on his face and his reply of, “A wha??” I could tell there were no rump roasts left. I explained that I wanted a nice beef roast to cook and his face brightened. “you want beef? Have to go out back for dat”.
Behind the rum shop I discovered several men, many covered with blood and bone chips. Some were chopping at the dead cow with machetes, others drinking strong rum as if they were at a party. It was only 6:45 but the sun rises on that side of the Island and it was already hot. I had to wait my turn to buy beef right next to the cow’s severed head, lying on the ground with its tongue hanging out and covered with flies. The beef being hacked into pieces was also covered with flies and my stomach started to churn. The only thing that kept me standing there with my plastic bag was that gleam in Mac’s eyes and the broad smile on his face when he told me to ask Mr. Stowe for a nice rump roast. A Wha??? I was determined that Mac was going to eat those words!
I waited in that broiling sun for over an hour and it was obvious that I was not going to get a choice piece of meat, assuming that such a thing had existed in the first place. Finally it was my turn, and I watched as an ugly bone-flecked blob of beef was weighed and dropped into my bag. Feeling slightly ill from the heat and increasingly bad smell behind the rum shop I made my way home, clutching the plastic bag containing my hard-won treasure. Come hell or high water roast beef would be on the table tonight!