ANDY SAYS… ~ One in Every Town

Carrubea Festival happens every Thursday in the commercial section of San Nicolaas, Aruba.   These days bring brass bands and liqueurs from Surinam, singers and cocaine from Venezuela, dancers and costumes from Curacao and the only occasions I’ve had to meet the friend, a man, I internally refer to as Rat Row.  I estimate his years in life to be around 70.  The obvious indicators of Age are the curvature of his cervical vertebrae, fuzzy rings about his irises, the tea stained molar on the back right, rotting canine on the bottom left and the split bicuspid on the top left (ready to drop out with the next chew or hard cough).  Those “teeth” comprise the whole of his easy and frequent smiles, laughs and exclamations.  Comprehending his speech through them is the motivation compelling me to quickly learn Papiamento, one of the local and official languages.  Despite our ignorance, his English and my Spanish are advanced enough for me to discern and amusingly appreciate the fact: 80 percent of his speech involves or leads to recounts of his penchant for sex and gambling.

My new friend and this southern area of the southern-most town on the island remind me of the American South of my birth.   Back home, on the darker bred sides of the railroad tracks, is usually, if not always, a strip called Rat Row.  The Row is where juke joints purvey and the Wine-o’s consume homemade grain alcohol, women ply and men patronize an age old trade, working people come feel good.  Other illicit or un-mentionable commercial activity occurs, though the aforementioned is the most of it.  On Rat Row, as in any social group, there is usually, if not always a person, a staple, who has been around every block, “seen ‘em come and go”and by every estimation knows the way and can hip you to that get down.

My Row spotted me a few Thursdays ago in a sparse queue of pedestrians moving south toward the rising action of the Festival.  Row’s type will always call to attract the new face in town for a “Hey, how you doin’?”  and “What brings you to town?” chat.  For that and the following, Row was endeared to me immediately.  Candid conversance about the simple facts of life is the only conversation for which a Row shows interest and extends patience.  So it is with me.  We introduced ourselves between the houses and red light district on Main Street (Zeppenfeldstraat) behind, what I call Lush’s Row, the bar strip.

From our introductions on a stoop in front of a space for rent to the walk we took passed La Calle de Mujeres de la Noche (“the Street of the Women of the Night”), Row had a story about nearly every person we passed and an answer to tie-in to all the references I made regarding my travels along the coasts of the US and islands from the Pacific and Atlantic to the Caribbean.  I wanted to sit all afternoon, take a longer walk and watch and listen to him recall exploits from every street we passed and read the tales the lines, dents, hollows and ridges his face would tell.  Alas, I knew better than to monopolize Row’s people time.  There is a reason we meet only on the town’s most popular day of the week.  He’s out to see who he can see and be on his way.

I became excited today, Thursday, when I heard “Hey, hey New York con ta bai (“How’s it going?”) Ques nuevo? (“What’s new?”).  I was waved over for an audience.  I had chocolate and interesting news to share.  We smiled, laughed, felt each other’s presence and enjoyed good company.

I look forward to Thursdays in Aruba on Rat Row.