Coming home.

The airline didn’t have enough customs & immigration forms. No biggie. I got to the arrivals hall and they were handing out forms for St. Lucia. To me this is quite laughable. Mind you, dis de START ah season eh an dey dun run out of immigration forms? Lawd SK, wha y’all really doin? You ain tryin’ to represent yuhself good nuh? Next up, despite the fact that there are only so many “big” flights per week, they couldn’t get their act together to have more than three immigration officers working. After nine hours of flying, the last thing you want to do is wait in line for longer than necessary. Following on from that, I thought my bag was lost because it took an exceptionally long time for it to arrive and when I was eventually able to go through customs, is like dey never had to deal wid people dem before. Luckily for me they let me slip through but it was so disorganised. Again, is de start ah season. Y’all supposed to be more up to de times nuh man. It only gon get more busy an yuh dun so slow? There were several complaints from various passengers and I have to admit that I understood their frustration. However, I just need to remember that I am now back in the Windies and although not always, we function more slowly here. I just have to readjust to this lifestyle and it usually takes a day or five. Having collected a pal from the airport yesterday and heard that it was exactly the same, I must admit that it’s a bit disappointing that it wasn’t a one off and they really are that hopeless. It’s not that this angers me because I’m used to these little incidents after a lifetime of them. The frustration stems more from the fact that tourism is our island’s main form of income. In my mind, if we cannot represent ourselves well at the very beginning of the visitor’s holiday then we are not doing a good enough job.

After a few months of being away and not being heavily questioned about where I’m REALLY from, it’s good to know nothing has changed on that front either. Of course, in Europe no one has heard of St. Kitts (or San Cristóbal as I had to refer to it in Spain) so they asked from the viewpoint of geography rather than my melanin challenged skin. All bets were off once I was in Gatwick airport, on the plane and of course back in SKB. I was asked who my people were and where in St. Kitts I live (Frigate Bay is met with a knowing “oohh ok den”). I can laugh about it a bit more because after so many years I expect it but it still grates ever so slightly. It’s as though I’m not actually Kittitian enough. But I should really accept that that’s more of my problem than theirs.

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