Subject: Tidbits from Dominica From: art rahmad
by Art Rahmad
INTRODUCTION: Our pal Art, after dropping out of the U.S biomedical-industrial complex, having had various madcap adventures in Moscow, finally ended up on the Caribbean island of Dominica. (He says that’s pronounced “doe-mi-NEE-kah”) His job: teaching at a medical college.
From: r casad <74741.1030@compuserve.com> To: "jeff potter" <potterke@studentp.msu.edu> Subject: Tidbits from Dominica
Hi Jeff and Martha! I finally got my E-mail running so here’s a line of howdy. It’s rainy season now, but I like the rain. Being caught in the drenching rain when its 75 degrees just isn’t all that bad. The natives walk around half naked in the rain, their black bodies looking sleek and slippery. It’s a strange place, Dominica. It was a British colony until 1978. The first government was Labor Party, but they got wiped out with Hurricane David, and the Prime Minister was thrown in prison. There is a lot of interesting reggae which you cannot help but hear. This island is especially pretty, first, because it has mountains volcanoes and rain forests, but more importantly because the governments of both parties have resisted turning the island into a ghastly parking lot in the sea like St. Maarten and the others. Anyway, here’s an update on Caribbean cooking: Number 1 item is breadfruit, served roasted, boiled, fried, in stews, or allowed to get mushy and turned into ice cream or blended with milk, nutmeg and cinnamon. Avocados, fresh fruits by season-jelly mango season just ended alas, but tangerines, grapefruits and pears are just coming in. Limes go year round and they’re three times as potent here. Fresh juices-my fridge has sweetsop and lime, occasionally guava. I get tangerine and grapefruit out and about. Salted codfish is cooked in stews with lentils and plantains, onions, peppers and fruits. When a fishing boat pulls into the docks in Portsmouth, on the spot of the historical slave market, the men blow conch shells-that’s when you know you’d better grab your grocery bag and head down to the wharves. Needless to say, ganja abounds. The sea and the rain and the rainforest and the sounds of my huddled-masses neighbors lives’ all come to me. My exile is, I suppose, not so bad. Love Art
P.S. They have some incredibly delicious and unusual hot sauce here made with peppers and papaya.
From: r casad <74741.1030@compuserve.com> To: "jeff potter" <potterke@studentp.msu.edu> Subject: Re: welcome...again!
Here’s a story for Martha from last night’s dinner: It’s just like she was sitting right there, her ethereal presence plainly felt as I worked my way through ‘colored chicken pot’- chicken braised in hot oil/caramel-hot-sugar, then stewed with yams, peppers, onions, garlic, and cucumbers. Served with rice along with a lentil, carrot, onion, salt codfish stew and boiled green bananas on the side. Juice: tangerine. love Art
From: r casad <74741.1030@compuserve.com> To: "jeff potter" <potterke@studentp.msu.edu> Subject: Re: A little Caribbean dinner on a moonlit mountain
Dear Jeff and Martha: The morning was so sunny, the air so clear, hot and breezy that I decided the occasion warranted a bourgeois extravagance- renting a car for a trip round the island. “Athos,” a baldhead rasta neighbor with extraordinary culinary skills and also a rum tooth, stopped in just as the decision was made. So off we 3 went together, my date miss Dawn, Mr. Adverse Anthony York, and I. Everyone in town knows the family of York, and so in Athos’ company, I was treated to an extraordinary slice of Portsmouth time. “He never say that time is money. Jah never did say that,” Athos told me once. Eventually we drove off in a 4 door Subaru, license number 1492 (yes, it’s really true). To complete the lovely circumstance, the first song we tuned in on the radio (reggae, naturally) went: “Have you heard about Christopher Columbus, they said he was a very great man, the parrots chatter Christopher Columbus, and they said he was a very great man.” Other songs came on during the trip. One went ³Americ-Americ-Americ-KA, you’ve got to break the neck of this appetite,” another went “Everything is on fire, get a bucket of water, wet it down now wet it down now.” Also there were a thousand-and-one sermons by Reverend Bob Marley. The scenic mountain road labelled “to the North Coast,” carried us up through old growth palm stands which rise taller than two telephone poles, yielding the finest and richest cocoanuts of all. An old man named Hegon hailed us for a ride and promptly began a chat with Athos. “And how old do you say those palms be,” Athos asked. Hegon answered in a high, raspy voice, occasionally smacking his lips and shaking his head with a sort of twist and bounce. “I remembered Rufus planted them when I was 7. 1930, just before that big Hitler war.” Hegon asked us to let him out at the village medical center where his daughter, a doctor, educated in Cuba, works long days. Local young men are gathered, as they often are, with nothing in particular to do except anticipate the time when the dollar falls, and the people of the world will be together as one. Some of them recognize Athos, and there are greetings exchanged warmly, York riding in style chauffeured by two little white rats. “Yes the mister be alright, the mister with me.” We travelled home along the Caribbean coast road at sunset. Athos made a fine dinner which we shared until midnight: Salt codfish with onions and spices. Provisions included bread, cole slaw, cucumbers, tomatoes, avocado slices, lentils with garlic, rice with seasoning peppers, fresh pear juice. Dinner Saturday: Fresh Yellow Snapper marinated in lime juice, garlic, spices of unknown origin, and lots of things from the garden, boiled in the marinade. The result was outrageously good, yielding a thin, green gravy, the fish itself turning light yellow. Provisions included avocado slices, lentils with garlic, rice with seasoning peppers, pulenta served with fish gravy, and the always-unique beautiful mixed juice from fruits picked moments before dinner‹ grapefruit, orange, tangerine, lime, pear and cherry. For dessert, cashew nuts. love artster
From: r casad <74741.1030@compuserve.com> To: "jeff potter" <potterke@studentp.msu.edu> Subject: Re: Do you mean Mr. Ultra-Coincidence Man?
Dear Jeff: A CIA boat pulled into St. Rupert’s Bay (the Port around which Portsmouth is built) yesterday. I say confidently that it is a CIA boat not so much because of the really noticeable preponderance of communications antennae including a mini-AWACS, not because of the extra-reinforced part of the very flat deck where helicopters might land, nor even because of its ultra-deluxe, air-conditioned, 6-story cabin nor its complete lack of containers (it’s attempting to pass as a light cargo ship) nor the occasional optical tracking blips which are visible at night nor even the all-night ultra-bright lights which define a well-lit perimeter of at least 200 meters for no apparent reason. No, for me the dead give-away was the fake rust on an otherwise pristine, battle-ship grey hull. That and the fact that the natives have never seen anything like it. Oh boy. In the thick of things again. Love Art
From: r casad <74741.1030@compuserve.com> To: MotoBroil@aol.com Subject: Re: Art Bulletins
Dear Ross: Delighted to hear from you! I am sincerely NOT being cynical when I say my favorite student is a 63-year-old bankrupt farmer from the U.P. whom the students call “Farmer Kerry.” He is a Mormon who, after he lost the farm, worked for a while as a janitor, then as a truck driver. This man is actually not stupid at all. If you ask him why on earth he is doing this, he’ll look out contentedly over the edge of his thick glasses, and tell you “the Lord told me to.” I asked him once if he realized that the industry he sought to join was nothing less than the moral equivalent of the Mafia. He nodded his head grimly and said “I think I’m going to be sent to Africa.” Farmer Kerry was my special assignment from the Executive Dean. If he failed any more courses, he was finished. So before every test, I’d go through marathon “socratic method” sessions with him. They were very effective. He passed every course and even got a 94 on his Biochem II final. I guess there’s no need to tell him that I, well, you know, had a real good idea what was going to be on the test. To say that the student body is colorful is to say the least. There are a lot of children of exiled Iranian aristocrats, first generation Vietnamese-Americans too mild mannered to compete in the cut-throat pre-med credentials steeple chase. We even have Ph.D. holders in Physics, Pharmacology, Chemistry, and Biochemistry who have recognized that the strangle hold of the Physician Scientists over biomedical science is now so complete that the only way to maintain self-respect is to join them. love Art
From: r casad <74741.1030@compuserve.com> To: "jeff potter" <potterke@studentp.msu.edu> Subject: Re: Urgent Bicycle Questions
Dear Jeff: **Urgent** I sent Chris Russell a message on his AOL account a long time ago. I don’t think he has checked it. Now I am in need of emergency bicycle repair advice concerning my 3-speed hub. Can you please get him to message me? your artster
P.S. Culinary update: Saturday night dinner lobster marinated in coconut milk, syth (weird spice), curry, onion, garlic and seasoning (mildly hot, pepper, boiled in marinade, served split lengthwise. Provisions included roast breadfruit straight from the fire, and a fresh juice.
From: r casad <74741.1030@compuserve.com> To: "jeff potter" <potterke@studentp.msu.edu> Subject: Re: Some tidbits from Dominica
Dear Jeff: Sorry for long delay in answering. My extra special hugs and best for Martha – I think about her whenever I eat something delicious. You are, of course, perfectly at liberty to do as you please with whatever rants I may happen to send your way. I’m just now trying to think about what to write – I do have a lot of thoughts. I’m getting older and wiser and calmer and working, as you say, on my soul. Lord knows what will happen next. You can come visit whenever you want. Love art
