Dance of life

Culture Matters

Tales of Christmas past

DARA E HEALY

GINA LAY in bed thinking about her life. The fan whirred comfortingly. The white curtains wafted back and forth in the cool breeze. She looked around the familiar room, tastefully designed with a mixture of antique pieces and modern comforts. A miniature Christmas tree sat on the dresser, lights blinking on and off in their predetermined rhythm. The house breathed softly as her family slept. She closed her eyes and drifted off into the world where she felt safe.

As she daydreamed, the curtains on the stage parted and the African drums began a low rumble. As Gina began to ripple her body in sync with the drumming, the crowd roared their approval.

She heard someone come in. “You dreaming about Alejandro again.” Without opening her eyes, Gina smiled and said, “Alejandro the Gorgeous? No, I was thinking about when I was on stage in Cuba. I met Alejandro after that. I had gone to London for Christmas. I remember I was running for the bus and this hand reached out and grabbed me before it pulled away. It was Alejandro. I think we fell in love instantly. We spent the entire Christmas together. Of course, I dragged him to Baker Street to pay respects to Sherlock Holmes and to all my old haunts.

Gina beamed with the memories. She shifted slightly on the bed to get more comfortable. “But it did not last?” “No,” said Gina. “We started planning a life together. That was one of our stupid arguments, deciding which part of the world to grow old in together. He wanted to see where I came from as well. He had not even heard about Trinidad and Tobago, but he knew about Carnival and steel pan.”

Gina fell silent as her breathing became more difficult. She kept her eyes closed as she talked. “So, what happened?” “Alejandro used to joke about how many children we would have. He would say three, five, ten? And I would say none, I do not want to get fat. Then one Christmas, he was serious. ‘Querida Gina, children are important to me. Family is important to me.’ We looked each other in the eyes and knew. The love affair was over. I had to think of my career. I let my beloved Alejandro go.”

“You lost touch with your family here too?” “Yes, you could say so. I had a lot of cousins, but, well…we did not have much in common so I never bothered to stay in touch. They did not contact me either so I guess we are even.”

“And yet, you are here now.” Finally, Gina opened her eyes. Looking down at her was her younger self, Gina the famous dancer, beautiful and vibrant like she used to be. Gina coughed uncontrollably for a few seconds. “I wish you would leave me alone,” she said when the pain eased up. Gina’s younger self said, “I want to know why you are here?” Gina took a sip of water from the glass next to the bed. “Well, when the virus started attacking I was in New Orleans. Dancing of course. It was so strange, with everything happening, all I wanted to do was come home. I had not thought of this place as home for a long time.

Gina shifted to find a position that would help her breathe better. Suddenly, she became irritated. “Why are you asking me all this? You already know the answers!” Gina’s younger self leaned forward and whispered, “You know why.” Gina laughed bitterly. “I always seem to be losing something at Christmas. Anyway, I started craving our Christmas food – the black cake, pastelles, ponche de crème. And I missed the parang too, whisking my skirt around, doing samba moves.”

Gina started to lose consciousness. “I realised I missed my family. And I wondered what my life would have been like if I still had Alejandro. And our children.” Her younger self looked at her. “No regrets. You are home now. You can tell them how you feel.” Gina reached for the pen and paper by her bed and wrote a simple message – “Blessings to all of you this Christmas. I love you.” As she put the note down, the coughing made her knock over the glass of water and bedside lamp.

Gina laid back and closed her eyes. In her fading mind, she took her final bow to the sounds of a roaring crowd and her family bursting into the bedroom.

Dara E Healy is a performance artist and founder of the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN