Erikkson’s only thoughts were for Doudoune, he had enough money squirreled away to ensure them both a comfortable life for the rest of his days. He had managed to sequester over a million dollars from the crooked deals he had managed to put together for his Baltic and Russian friends.
However, it was not his plan to start a new life with Doudoune in Guadeloupe, it was far too expensive, further it was part of France, by extension part of the European Union, of which Sweden was also a member. It could become very uncomfortable for him when the Bottens Handelsbank caught up with his fraudulent transactions, as it inevitably would.
Cuba was his dream, where they could live for a fraction of the cost of that in Guadeloupe. Things were changing there; it was already ‘after Fidel’. In Cuba he could live like a king and set up his own business without too many questions being asked, he could drink Cuba Libra’s and smoke fine cigars. He even saw himself as a latter day Hemingway, cultivating a short white beard.
Marie-Jo’s father was Cuban. It was twenty-five years since he had met her mother at a Caribbean nations’ cultural exchange in Haiti. After their marriage her mother, a Guadelopean, had lived in Cuba until her daughter, who she had always called Doudoune, was fifteen. By that time life in Cuba had become hard, very hard, with the decline of communism and the penury of just about every essential and the perpetual need for dollars to buy the vital necessities.
The situation suddenly became worse when her mother fell ill and as her health declined and she had no choice but to return Guadeloupe where she could get the right kind of treatment, she left Cuba with Doudoune leaving her husband in Havana.
They returned to the grandparents in Pointe-à-Pitre and for a time life took a turn for the better, then a little more than three years after their return Marie-Jo’s mother died. Her grandparents persuaded her to remain in Guadeloupe rather than return to her father and the uncertainties of an impoverished Cuba.
Marie-Jo grew into an attractive young woman and had no difficulty finding a job at the casino, in nearby Gosier, as a croupier, where she was expected to complete her salary with tips from the clients. Like many casinos they decorated their tables with attractive young women croupiers as a magnet for their male clients.
The problem was that working in the casino she made the wrong kind of friends, dazzled by money she mixed with French metropolitans and foreign tourists who spent their evenings in the casino playing roulette and blackjack. Many were not only after kicks at the tables but also sought an exotic adventure with the attractive young French black girls. Marie-Jo half reluctantly indulged them in their fantasies in exchange for presents and money, enjoying the luxuries her grandparents could not afford, fashionable clothes, perfumes and jewellery.
In the tradition of many Cubans, Marie-Jo had been brought up as a devotee of the Santeros, believing in Chango and Santeria spirits. It was said back in Cuba that her paternal great-grandfather had been a babalawo, or a priest in an Abakua secret society. The Abakua societies were religions, which had their origins in the Congo, certain in Nigeria. These and others such as Regla de Ocha and Palo Monte were called Santeria.
These religions had been brought over in the ships from Africa by the slaves transported by the Spaniards to work in the sugar plantations of Cuba. The slaves continued to worship their Orishas, or gods, in the secrecy of their wretched huts whilst praying in public to the Christ in the splendour of the baroque catholic churches of their Spanish masters.
Similar such African religions had followers throughout the whole of the Caribbean and Guadeloupe was not an exception, where the descendants of the African slaves believed in everything that was of a supernatural nature and continued their ancestral rites and practices.
At the end of the twentieth century the majority of Cubans were Catholics and believed in the Virgin of Charity, but many followers of the Afro-Cuban religions were the same Catholics who had turned in desperation to the Santeros in their moments of need, in death and sickness, matters of love and marriage, money or work, in school or examinations, as well as in business and politics. It was even said that Fidel Castro regularly consulted the Santeros.
In fact many Cubans were said to believe in Santeria, Palo Monte, Abakua or Christian spirits, all at the same time.
For many babalawos, Elian a young Cuban boy shipwrecked and landed in Florida, symbolised the child who possessed a mystical power. Elian could give protection against sickness and death. Elian was the chosen one.
The saga of the shipwreck boy was of great interest to the Santeros. His survival in the sea during two days and nights was miraculous and the family drama surrounding his return to Cuba became a subject that enflamed popular Cuban passions. Marie-Jo was not an exception; she followed each turn in the legal and political drama avidly.
Elian had unleashed an epidemic of prophecies, which announced his arrival as a sign that a dramatic change in Cuba was about to happen, and many hoped the end of Castro’s regime.
The Santero followers amongst exiled Cubans, said that Castro was having problems with Eleggua, the leading Orisha in the African Yoruba pantheon, the one who opened and closed roads and who often appeared as a child. Others said that child-saviours from universal chaos always arrived by the sea.
Marie-Jo believed that in any case Elian was predestined and was an omen that would transform her life for the better. The moment was propitious and she had decided to seize it before it was too late. Erikkson had told her of his decision to start a new life in Cuba the same day as Elian had been picked up by the American coast guards, which was surely a sign.
The problem was to untangle the meaning. Her Orisha had made a prophecy which told her of a new life with a new man. Was the new man Stig? Was the new life new because of the wealth he represented? Was the new life in Cuba?
The Orisha had told her to choose the right moment, to look for a sign.
She had been recruited by Courtauld as a hostess for a party organised for Erikkson twelve months earlier. It had been a great success, Erikkson had been seduced by her charms, lavishing Marie-Jo with money and gifts.
It was four months since he announced he wanted her to live with him, she agreed and they prepared their plans to settle in Cuba, they would build a fine house in Marie-Jo’s name as required by Cuban law. They planned to build the house a few kilometres outside Havana, in a small town favoured by the privileged classes.
They would disembark from the Marie Galante in the George Town in the Caymans, where Erikkson planned to make transfers and withdraw money from his bank accounts, they would then take a flight to Havana. Erikkson insisted to Doudoune on the need to keep the plan their own closely guarded secret.
Their cruise to George Town was expected to take five or six days depending on whether they sailed by night or not, or if they decided to make stopovers along the route at Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic or at Castlemain’s hotel in Montego Bay, Jamaica before the final run into George Town.
“What’s the weather say?” asked Courtauld.
Barton shrugged noncommittally.
“Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“That storm over Caracas.”
“It’s not coming in our direction.”
“Not really, it’s heading west towards Central America but you can never tell, it could swing around and head north to Cuba.”
“We’ll not be far from shelter if it starts to look rough, don’t worry, we’re going to have a great few days.”
The Marie Galante was about one hundred or so miles south-west of Port Rico when Barton informed the passengers that the weather report’s latest forecast indicated that the tropical storm present to the south-east over the southern Caribbean was veering westward in their direction, he told them that according to his estimations they had a good twenty four hour advance which gave a decent margin of safety.
He nevertheless quietly informed Castlemain, as the yacht’s owner, of the two possibilities open to them. The first
was to run ahead of the storm directly to George Town, it would not be too difficult as there was a good wind. The second was to head to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic to hold up until the storm had passed, this solution would lose them at least two days.
Castlemain did not like the second solution suggesting that San Juan was nearer. He was surprised by Barton’s point blank refusal, his excuse was the difficulty with the US Customs. He nevertheless accepted Barton’s proposal, counting on his experience, to head westwards in the direction of Santo Domingo, he figured it would save them time. Not only was Barton relieved at the decision, considering his illicit cargo, but so were Doudoune and Erikkson, who unknown to the others did not very relish the idea of landing on US territory. They were in the majority more concerned to press ahead and settle the business that awaited them in George Town.
That did not prevent Doudoune from being very frightened by the thought of being at sea in the storm, not only was she was superstitious, seeing a bad omen in the storm that seemed to be pursuing them, but she was also afraid of the sea, and with good reason, she like all other inhabitants of the Caribbean islands knew the terrible damage a tropical storm could wreak.
They felt the heavy swell of the sea under the yacht, a forewarning of the coming change in the weather, and decided to retire to their comfortable cabin, leaving the questions of navigation to the seamen. Erikkson tried to calm Doudoune, but his efforts at consolation were of little success, finally he persuaded her to take a light sedative, after which she slipped into an uneasy sleep whilst he turned to the bottle of Absolute Vodka that he had in reserve in the cabin’s bar.
Chapter 9
Pat Kennedy
Offshore Islands Page 8
