Living in The Bahamas - WORKING IN N. ELEUTHERA

WORKING IN NORTH ELEUTHERA

My boss, Howard Barrett, entered my office one morning at the Ministry of Works. He asked with a smile, "England, what you say?" I enjoyed his musical Jamaican lilt.
"All is well. How are you?"
"All is well. How are you coming along with Chippingham Drain?"
"It's coming along. I finished surveying and started designing a pond at Chippingham Park."
"A pond? What's a pond for? We're trying to fix a flood, not make a fishing hole."
I laughed. "Retention ponds store floodwater, so it doesn't go into houses. Trust me on this one."
He looked at me with cocked eyebrows. "If you say so. You're the expert."
"You know, this area is next to the sea. I won't be able to stop hurricane storm surges. Back home, this area would be floodplain where new housing couldn't be built."
"Right, but we don't have floodplains here. Just make it better."
Behind Howard, I saw a tall Rastafarian hat in my doorway.
A deep voice called out, "Peanuts for a dollar?" as a Jamaican peanut vendor made his morning rounds, selling bags of fresh roasted peanuts still in the shells.
"Yeah, man," Howard responded.
"Dark or light?"
"Dark," Howard said. "You know they're better burned."
"Light," I replied. "I like to taste the nuts, not smoke."
We paid for our bags of warm nuts, then proceeded to crack and eat delicious midmorning snacks, throwing our shells on the office floor as we talked.
"Listen now. Can you survey?" Howard asked.
"It's been a while, but yes. I can still survey."
"Good. I need for you to go to North Eleuthera tomorrow with the Ministry's Architect. He's repairing schools damaged by hurricanes last year, you know. They need your help to make inspections and do some surveying to rebuild schools and parking lots."
"Sure, I can help."
"Very well, then. Check out survey equipment tonight. You leave first thing tomorrow."

I joined Ministry staffers Timothy Johnson, Architect, Mike Rolle, Mechanical Engineer, and Mellisiana Bethel, Quantity Surveyor, at Pindling Airport the next morning with my surveying level, tripod, and rod. After a fifteen-minute flight on Bahamas Air to eighty-five-mile long Eleuthera Island, we landed at North Eleuthera airport. After renting a car, we drove to Lower Bogue High School to inspect six small, older buildings being repaired, as well as one large, new building under construction. Five months ago, an eight-foot storm surge from Hurricane Francis submerged these buildings under three feet of water, inflicting heavy damages. The 2004 hurricanes devastated many facilities, putting a severe hurt on the government's budget. Most government buildings on these outer islands wouldn't be restored for another year.
My assignment was to use Timothy's preliminary plan to survey and prepare a grading plan for a new school parking lot. After Mike and I used a tape measure to layout parking lot dimensions, I shot survey elevations around the building, using Mike to move a survey rod to specific locations. Later, at my office, I would complete a parking lot design that ensured water would drain properly. When we finished surveying, we walked through the small seaside village of Lower Bogue to inspect a damaged dock. Our Civil Engineering Department built and maintained most large docks throughout The Bahamas as part of a lifeline of supplies brought in from Nassau. This battered dock was constructed of fifteen-foot square, six-inch thick concrete blocks. Powerful storms had broken up or floated away most of these monstrous slabs. I took photographs and measurements to enable our office to prepare restoration plans.
Next, we drove to the local Ministry of Works office to instruct staff on how to inspect future school repairs. I was the first American engineer to work in Eleuthera, astounding the staff with my presence and assistance. They had many questions for us regarding Nassau news, politics, the status of supply requests, and damage repair schedules. We represented an infrequent personal contact with their far-away central government.
We proceeded southward through Upper Bogue to Glass Windows Bridge on the only road connecting central and north Eleuthera. Southwest winds blew waves into a naturally shaped funnel under the bridge, leaving the ocean no place to go except upward fifty feet. Tremendous waves battered the bridge, sometimes washing away cars or persons unfortunately caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Hurricane Jeanne had destroyed two lanes of the bridge, leaving only one damaged lane, which was shifted twelve inches horizontally with a slight tilt. Looking down at calm seas underneath the bridge, I could not conceive of waves coming up over me. Mother Nature was harsh in these rugged islands.
The only drinking water line for North Eleuthera had been a pipe suspended under the bridge until Hurricane Jeanne washed it away. A temporary twelve-inch water line was now lashed with a rope under the bridge in some places. In other areas, it lay on the roadway where any car could hit it. I knew restoring that bridge was beyond my ability.

We continued driving southward along a rugged coastline, inspecting schools in the remote villages of Hatchet Bay and Gregory Town. This shoreline along the eastern edge of The Bahamas lay exposed to vicious Atlantic storms. With no reefs, beaches, or resorts attracting tourists to this rough section of Eleuthera, life here was impoverished and difficult.
In Gregory Town, a new wing of their elementary school was under construction, including a new foundation. The contractor was required by his government contract to buy a new laser theodolite survey instrument for construction surveying. When we walked through the site, I noticed that a crew had started digging a foundation but had now stopped, looking confused. Their foreman approached me in small steps with his head down.
"Boss, do you know how to use this thingum? I want to dig a foundation, but I don't know how. There be no surveyors here."
"Sure. I'll take care of you." I had not seen this type of survey instrument before, but I figured it out. Basic skills of engineering and surveying don't change, just some of the tools. For several hours, I gave the foreman a surveying lesson, laid out his foundation, and marked his grade stakes to ensure proper construction. He was most grateful for my help.
This also served as a learning opportunity for my other Ministry colleagues. Few Bahamian contractors knew how to read plans or perform construction surveys, so part of our job was to inspect construction, performing necessary surveys to ensure water would run downhill and pipes were installed at correct elevations.
After we finished surveying, we toured an elementary school full of happy, energetic students. When I took pictures of those kids with my digital camera, they swarmed around me ecstatically to see pictures of themselves, probably for their first time. They begged me to stay, but we had to keep moving. We drove southward through sparse villages along a rocky yet stunning coast with high cliffs.
"Why aren't there fishing boats around here?" I asked Mellisiana.
"That terrible ocean tears up boats and docks. My grandfather used to have a boat here, but a storm took it. This side of our island has deep, rough water. However, the north side by Harbour Island with pink sandy beaches is shallow with a few boats."

We drove along a deserted road through a five-mile-long valley with dozens of dilapidated, concrete, grain silos. Fifty years ago, this area had been a teaming agricultural region that supplied food throughout The Bahamas. Most Bahamian islands consisted of rocky, coral limestone, with little topsoil to grow crops. A rare abundance of black dirt blessed this valley. When farming surged in Florida in the 1960s, inexpensive imported food from Miami drove Bahamian farms out of business. These fallow fields had turned into grassy pastures on rolling hills. Empty silos served as haunted sentinels of a bygone era, reminiscent of an eerie underworld that could have sheltered Hobbits.
We arrived at Governors Harbour airport at three o'clock. Its two-room terminal was empty, except for two Bahamas Air employees in a back office. Once again, my Ministry shirt worked its magic.
"Excuse me, how are you?" I asked them.
"Okay, okay."
"Can you help me?"
"What's up?"
"I flew into North Eleuthera this morning on Ministry business. I'm supposed to fly out of there today, but I'm not going to make it back there on time. Can I fly out of here instead?"
"No problem, mon. Leave your ticket with me. Be back here at four-thirty. Your flight is at 4:55."
"Thank you, mon. You're a great help."
Next, we drove ten miles on a quest for lunch. First, we stopped to visit Mellisiana's parents to sample fresh, warm fig bread. We went to several restaurants searching for lunch, but they had closed after lunch.
"I grew up here," Tim said. "I know someone who'll feed us."
We went to another closed restaurant. He walked into an adjacent house, returning in a short while with a laughing friend who opened his kitchen for us at three forty-five.
"Are we going to make it back in time for our flight?" I asked Mike.
"Don't worry, mon."
We ordered delicious grouper fingers, Mac-and-cheese, and salad. I had learned to appreciate these staple native foods. At four-fifteen, I asked for a tab. We left a leisurely ten minutes later.
Anxiety on my face caused Mike to say, "Not to worry, mon, we make it fine."
We raced back on an empty, two-lane road and dashed into the terminal. Tim came in with me to retrieve my ticket from an attendant.
"Thanks for your help today," Tim told me. "We're staying over to visit our families. We don't see them too often. See you at work tomorrow."
With a wave, he disappeared, leaving me with a rowdy crowd of Bahamians waiting for a flight to Nassau. At five o'clock, our plane landed, disgorging its passengers. I was stunned when passengers around me immediately pushed past the gate attendants to stamped across the runway to our plane. Grabbing my equipment, I followed behind the mayhem, wondering how this would work. Nobody asked for IDs or tickets nor made luggage inspections. Within five minutes, all passengers had boarded. Even though our tickets had seat numbers, people sat wherever they wanted. People had not finished seating when our stewardess pulled the plane door shut, signaling our pilots to start down the runway. Anyone could've boarded this plane with no ticket. I have no doubt some did. Our stewardess sat bored in the front seat. She didn't check seat belts, luggage, or tickets. Halfway through her recorded flight safety routine, she turned off her tape as we lifted off. Eighteen minutes later, we landed in Nassau, back in civilization. I truly loved that my profession enabled me to help people on this far away island.