Little House

Mac and I had been living at my parents’ house in Friendship, but once my teaching stint was over it was time to move closer to the restaurant. I had to start making bread by 4:00 A.M. at the latest, and if I had to walk from Friendship to the Pizzeria I would have to get up at a ridiculous hour.  Angels’ Rest had been a blessing for us but we needed a different alternative, we didn’t have any money but needed someplace to live.

Nolly came to the rescue by offering us the use of his Little House.  Built by his friend Kenny, this was a very cool but rustic guest cottage located behind and down from Nolly’s house. Set in a clearing below a rocky cliff, the tiny house was like something out of Hansel and Gretel! It was simple, with an outdoor shower and toilet, and we would stay there until we were able to find somewhere more permanent to live.  We just needed shelter and a place to sleep, and the Little House was conveniently close to the Pizzeria.

The tiny cottage, built of stone and lovely Guyanese wood, was charming but not terribly private.  It was close to a right-of-way used as a shortcut into the Harbor, so people were passing at all hours of the day. Friends took to dropping in once they knew we were occupying the Little House, and while I was happy to see them I needed to sleep!  They would sit with Mac, smoking Packaloulou (weed) and chatting while I curled up in a corner and slept, a habit of mine that everyone grew to accept as normal.

I wasn’t crazy about using the outhouse, I was fearful of what might crawl out of the dark hole I had to perch myself over. Knowing that centipedes like dark places I would shine my flashlight over and in the hole before sitting down, and tended to rush my business in order to get it over with.   I always had to use the “honey house” before making the trek down to the Pizzeria in the wee hours of the morning, and I longed for a proper bathroom.  Creeping along a trail with a steep drop on one side to get to the toilet was one thing, having to do it in the pitch black another!

Each morning I would edge my way along the trail with my flashlight, then wend my way through the deserted coconut wharf to the restaurant. I grew to enjoy that pre-dawn time, the peacefulness allowed me to think about and plan the day ahead. By the time I got to the Pizzeria at 4:00 A.M. I would be ready to start kneading, hoping that Graham would make an early appearance to help with the massive mounds of dough!

I was grateful for the use of the Little House and grateful for the meals consumed at Momma’s house.  The money we were earning making bread each day had to go towards buying supplies and equipment for the Pizzeria, not rent and food for ourselves. I was too busy to worry about where we would be sleeping as long as it was close to the restaurant.  Some day Mac and I would live in a real house, but for now we had to make do with what was available.