the greening of Taba

"The greening of Taba

In the beginning

there was not even a signpost

and we could pretend

we’d discovered it

ourselves.

You fishmen went through

your ritual tasks

and slowly sunk in,

orange black monsters

dissolving

into a trail of air bubbles.

We sat on the coarse shore

in the shade of

our peaked caps

squinting away the colourless glare,

bravely alone on the throbbing expanse

not counting

the hippy village.

With the tenacious logic

of a child who knows,

Benjamin refused to paddle,

in case every stone

was a stone fish.

So we gulped by the clock

and anointed with oils

and tried not to think

of the lady who paid

so much out on divers

last year, dear.

But rather we chose

to wax philosophical

in silent communion

with centuries’ worth

of spice caravans

and merchants of Solomon

who breathed in this view

as we do.

Now, verticals have invaded the place,

uprooted palm trees

tenderly gripped

by dripping black snakes

and discreet shades

on the beach in the spot

where you ought to sit,

and they have built

a five-star hotel

selling the sun and

constricting the spirit,

resplendent by floodlight

with imported sand

and plenty of signposts.

The place is sandwiched

by two border posts

and swarming with diligent

newspaper men

who’ve come to see

what they’ve written about

and tourists who wish

they’d chosen Barbados"