Work Play Tours

My mother came up with the “Work Play” tour idea, and for several years they were a tremendous success. A born organizer, mom arranged transport, lodging and food for groups of enthusiastic volunteers willing to work on Bequia Mission projects during their vacation in the Caribbean. This novel idea appealed to many, and there were always far more applicants than available spaces for the Work Play tours. During the summer months in Canada Mom and Dad screened the applicants, they were looking for people with skills that would prove useful on Bequia, and once they made their final decisions Mom jumped into action.

If memory serves, the tour was limited to 16 people.  Religious affiliation was not as important as a willingness to work, the Bequia Mission was a non-denominational charity.  Well before the applicants for the tours were chosen the projects for the year had been planned, and those with skills that would be beneficial to the projects were given priority.  For example, if the clinics were being re-wired, applicants with electrical expertise were a definite bonus.  If buildings were being renovated, carpenters were an asset.  Choosing the volunteers took a great deal of thought, throwing complete strangers together for two weeks only worked if everyone got along, and without knowing the applicants it was always a bit of a crap shoot!

Mom was an absolute tigress when it came to getting discounts for the tours, she got discounts for EVERYTHING.  She organized the flights to Barbados on Air Canada and the connecting flights to St. Vincent on LIAT, and managed to get discounted group fares from both airlines. The Friendship Rose transported the volunteers free of charge and the Bequia taxi drivers reduced their rates.  Mom arranged accommodation at the Lower Bay Guest House, a very bare-bones establishment with low rates, it wasn’t the Taj Mahal but it worked fine for the majority of the volunteers.  Every meal was organized for the tours well in advance, and no restaurant on Bequia dared refuse my mother’s request for a hefty discount!  Mom’s organizational skills ensured that the all-inclusive Work Play tour gave volunteers an opportunity to have a vacation in the Caribbean at a cut-rate price.  It usually worked fine, but Mom always watched to see which individual would be the stinker in the group, there always seemed to be at least ONE!  Mom was philosophical about “stinkers”, Bequia didn’t suit everybody so it was pretty much a given that one out of sixteen people wouldn’t fit in.

The Work Play volunteers were given ample leisure time, usually in the afternoon when the sun was high in the sky.  They were also expected to work, and they labored like beavers to complete projects funded by the Bequia Mission.  At times these projects were on the mainland or one of the other Grenadine Islands, but the majority were carried out on Bequia.  One year I noticed an elderly volunteer sitting under the Almond Tree every day, and I wondered why she wasn’t with the others. I got my answer when I saw her amazing detailed ink sketches of harbour scenes, they were absolutely beautiful. The sketches were used to make lovely greeting cards, which were sold for several years to raise money for the Bequia Mission.

Many of the volunteers became repeat visitors, signing up for the tours year after year. A few grew to love Bequia so much that they spent several months each year on the Island, donating much of their time to the Mission.  Dr. Eric Rogers and his wife Brenda were two such people, Eric retired from his surgical practice in Canada and became invaluable at the Bequia clinics.  I trusted Dr. Rogers so much that I allowed him to pierce my ears, Vanessa and Rachel had given me earrings for Christmas and wanted me to wear them.  Having no holes in my ear lobes (I had always balked at the thought of piercing my ears) Dr. Rogers offered to help, and quickly punched the holes for me. Unfortunately, he had forgotten his glasses, and one of the holes was quite a bit lower than the other.  It became a standing joke whenever I wore earrings, my parents and the Rogers’ would start to sing a song titled, “One Hung Low!”

One particular occasion stands especially clear in my mind.  It was New Year’s Eve and Mom’s tour had been delayed, the Air Canada flight had left Toronto far too late to make the connecting flight to St. Vincent.  LIAT got them to St. Vincent late in the evening, where it appeared they were doomed to spend the night.  However, Mom was determined to get them to Bequia, and I gasped in horror when she told me that she had chartered La Perla to fetch her tour group.  La Perla was an ancient steel fishing trawler from Poland captained by an old man named Charlie, and the thought of those poor people crossing the rough channel in the middle of the night on that old stink pot filled me with pity.  I was at the Frangi when La Perla arrived just before mid-night with the group of volunteers, who looked decidedly green around the gills!

I watched with amusement as mom rounded up her chicks like a mother hen and plunked them in front of the steel band.  She didn’t seem to notice that the band was having an intense argument; the men behind the pans were hurling insults at each other, and anyone who has ever heard West Indians cursing can imagine the language being used! The fellow playing the drum set kept banging away, and Mom and her group stood in front of the band smiling and tapping their feet to the beat as the incredibly foul language flowed over their heads.  They obviously didn’t understand a word the men were shouting, which was a blessing. I nearly died laughing …. Welcome to Bequia, Folks!