Blackfish Crips and Coconut/Waternut

Living in the bustling state of New York, I grew used to conveniences at my fingertips. I took such things for granted, because they were always there, and I never saw it as something that, in some ways, can adversely affect my health. If I needed something in the pharmacy, bank, or supermarket, it was right there, almost like a comforting blanket of accessibility that wrapped around my daily life. When I felt like working out, the gym was close by, and there were scores of fast-food restaurants around me, making it all too easy to indulge in unhealthy choices at a moment’s notice.
Stepping out to life in the Caribbean may seem like moving to a less developed lifestyle, but in some ways, it may be a blessing in disguise. I may not have many businesses close by, but that only forces me to walk more, reconnecting me with the simple pleasures of life. I may not have access to a gym, but I mentioned in an earlier post that I got in the habit of walking back and forth in my hallway 50 times per day, which has become my way of incorporating exercise into my routine. So, I get my steps in, and I also get additional exercise from walking to the store, the beach, or around the city to do my shopping, allowing me to soak in the vibrant surroundings, the colors, and the sounds of life. I eat more homecooked foods because there is no Domino’s Pizza or McDonald’s, or Wingstop close by, so I know what I am putting in my body, making conscious choices about my nutrition.
Not only do I eat more homecooked foods, but I eat healthier options as well, finding joy in having meals prepared for me from scratch, with locally sourced ingredients. My salads are made from fresh, organically grown vegetables, and so is my meat, often acquired from local butchers who take pride in their skills. Although I spend a lot of time in front of my laptop writing, I always make sure to get up regularly and move around the house, stretching my limbs and refreshing my mind. I spend time visiting relatives and engaging in hearty reminiscences of our life in days of old, sharing stories that connect us to our roots and heritage. I embrace the country as it is today, understanding that times always evolve, but I try to maintain some of the old customs, which enrich my life with a sense of continuity. Most importantly, I remove my American lens from the way I view the Caribbean, striving to appreciate its uniqueness and cultural richness.
My view is not that of a tourist who visits the Caribbean via a resort or who gets driven around by a tour bus. I see nothing wrong with that indulgence, but the Caribbean is most beautiful in its natural form, when you live in a town or village among the people or jump into a minibus to get around, feeling the sea breeze and the warmth of the sun on your skin. There is also something special about stopping at a stand in the local market or along the road to buy some fruits and vegetables or drink some coconut water straight from the nut, experiencing the true flavors of the region. Let’s also not forget the roast corn the vendors sell by the roadside, a simple yet delightful snack that reminds me of the joy found in local cuisine.
This past Friday, I attended the local Fish Fest in the fishing town of Barrouallie, which turned out to be a delightful highlights in my new life. There was a live band playing infectious rhythms, and vendors selling a myriad of fish and local dishes around the town, filling the air with tantalizing aromas that beckoned everyone to indulge. There was a sea of people from all over the island who converged on Barrouallie, coming together as a community to celebrate the abundance of the sea. My main interest was eating some blackfish crips, which are a local delicacy, native to that town for ages, evoking a sense of nostalgia as I savored each bite. The oil from the blackfish crips, which is rich in omega-3 fatty acids, is said to have great medicinal value for everything from the common cold to cardiovascular issues, enhancing my appreciation for the food I consume and its connection to well-being.
The Fish Fest was not an event in my days growing up in Barrouallie; it was clearly developed to showcase the town’s tradition while creating an economic outlet for local vendors and fostering a sense of belonging. This was a moment for me to sit and hold onto traditions while embracing healthy changes, realizing the balance between preserving our heritage and adapting to new realities. Differences are healthy; it’s not better or worse, it is just different, reflecting the diverse experiences that shape our lives. Change is good if we are not abolishing our traditions but rather finding ways to showcase and highlight them, like this vibrant festival that celebrates our culture while weaving in the threads of modernity.