Pittstown Point, Crooked Island, Bahamas

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It’s the Sabbath today, the day of rest. Nappy’s been a good influence on us in a lot of ways, and that’s one of them. He dutifully takes a Sabbath on Sunday (but works like a dog all day every Saturday) or his mother yells at him. We didn’t go to church with him again today, though, to my own chagrin. Next week, as Karl has persisted in saying for the next month. I think he’s still afraid of speaking in tongues.

So today, we hung out and rested at the house with Nappy, who had brought his tile guy back from Nassau to repair some chipped and lifting tiles. Nappy was recuperating from the stress of a visit to the big city, although he had brought us some much-needed gifts--recharcheable batteries so we can start taking pictures again, and flypaper for our ongoing war on boat flies. I wanted to beg for an email visit, but it was not in the cards. I’m still having qualms about our internet piracy, and I fear Nappy may be too. I don’t want to do anything that would compromise our consciences. If only there was someplace else to use the computer.

As I’ve been writing, Karl and Nappy arrived back from one of the long Napster tours around the island, with big news. Karl had to help Nappy measure a dead body! It’s Crooked Island’s first fatality in a year, and why the responsibility falls to Nappy for taking the coroner’s role, I don’t know. I guess he’s the leading diginitary in Cabbage Hill, and also a carpenter. Nappy’s supposed to build a coffin this week. I’ve never even seen a dead body, let alone had to handle one. All of these realities of life and death are so much more real here. I’m worried about things like decomposition. How in the world can they keep a body in this heat? I’m worried about Karl’s health, a little, and people’s perception of a “tourist” doing work like that.

Karl was a little shaken by it, too, I think. It was certainly unexpected for him. I guess things like that take priority over my computer use. So, an unsettling end to our Sabbath, and our prayers for the family of the deceased. He was an old man, Nappy says, who had lived a good life. One can hope for no more.