Savannah

1

Meriam Jabbari emerged from the taxi. She couldn't help marveling at the breathtaking view on the drive uphill. Now, the tops of the coconut trees looked even tinier. Scattered around the Icacos lagoon, they spread out in the distance beyond the Southern Main Road, toward the sparkling, smooth blue sea, the Columbus Channel. She asked the driver, Mr. Bean, to wait until she got help. There's no such thing as being too careful, she thought. Just two weeks ago, news of an attempted kidnapping in the vicinity shocked the entire southern district. She stood on the road outside a large intricate wrought-iron gate and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. Next, she smoothed out her navy-blue smocked short-sleeved dress. She noticed an asphalt road that led upward beyond the gateway, to the side of a nearby lodge, and disappeared through a field upon which grew mango, chennet, and plum trees.

There was a small white buzzer on the thick yellowish-gray stone post near the gate. She pressed it and waited before pressing it again. Almost five minutes later, a middle-aged Afro-Trinidadian man of average build emerged from the nearby lodge and walked toward the gateway.

"Mornin'," he greeted as he drew closer, an enquiring look in his eyes.

"Good morning. I'm here about the ad for the live-in caregiver," she informed him.

He nodded and opened the gate. She thanked the driver and reminded him to pick her up later before turning and proceeding through the gateway.

Meriam had called yesterday in response to an advertisement in the Cedros Chronicles. The ad sought a live-in caregiver and part-time tutor. Four years ago, she graduated from Point Fortin College with six CSEC subjects. A year ago, she completed a six-month geriatric care course at the La Brea Community Center. Through the years, she applied for countless jobs and always considered her lack of "work experience" the primary reason for her failure.

She always tried to make the best use of her time. Each year, she gave lessons to students in the village. She enjoyed painting, sewing, gardening, crocheting and cooking. Her mother instilled self-sufficiency within her. Meriam remembered the countless times she'd say, "One never knows what tomorrow may bring."

"Just follow me. Ah go' show you de way to de house. By de way, I'm Carnoe!" he said, his eyes soft and pleasant.

"I'm Meriam," she said.

As they walked, she noticed an array of local fruit trees near the roadside. She saw pommecythere, pomerac, sapodilla and others that were unrecognizable. There were other shady trees, their downed flowers carpeting the ground. Soon a majestic house came into view. She could guess what it was.

"This is Savannah House," he informed her, confirming her thoughts. He appeared weary, perhaps from the long walk, Meriam reasoned.

Savannah House was statelier than she ever imagined. It was the most prominent building on Savannah Estate. The estate measured two hundred acres on which cocoa and coconut trees were inter-cropped and organic fruits and vegetables cultivated. The factory would soon begin production of an assortment of products. These include coconut oil, candles, soaps, mattresses, cocoa, and chocolate.

"Wait 'ere. I will get Mr. Bastian."

He marched up the stairs to the open-air porch and pulled on the golden handle of the ornate front door. He opened it and entered.

Meriam marveled at her breathtaking surroundings. A majestic pine tree showed its arrogant head south of the colossal mansion. Large, ornate windows peered through the enormous tree. An ancient-looking mango tree blighted with parasites stood at the north, and a sapodilla tree at the west. She noticed that most of the other trees further north, east and southwest were coconuts inter-cropped with cocoa. It was a most picturesque scene to behold.