By Maureen Rampertab

A flower in the wild

THE sunset: a collusion of brilliant, rich colours, a backdrop to stately coconut palms and smooth-flowing, black- water creek in the conversancy backlands.
A stunning tropical scene!

Vahin sat in the anchored engine boat, in the middle of the expansive creek, camera in hand, captivated by the beautiful scene.
In the quietness of dusk with only the soft sounds of the wind and the emerging nocturnal animals, he felt as though he had found his own little world. The untouched natural exhibits of his surrounding astounded him, for he had lived almost all of his life in Europe, away from such raw beauty.
Since leaving as a young boy, his travels had taken him to several different countries, but never once back home.
All he knew of the tropical South American country were stories told by his grandfather. These included stories of colonial rule under the British when his grandfather was a young boy, of sugar plantations and of pineapple and citrus farms.

There was always a yearning in the old man’s voice whenever he spoke of his homeland and Vahin had always listened with interest.
“I will visit one day,” he had told him, not sure at the time that he would, but it had brought a comforting smile to his aging relative.
It came as a great surprise to Vahin when the old man passed and left him one of the family homes and some acres of land.
“What would I do with that?” he thought to himself, “My life, my future is in Europe.”
The pain of losing his grandfather was great and time did little to alleviate it. There was still an emptiness in his heart months after the funeral, which prompted Vahin to return home.
He had planned his visit to his birth home with doubt in his mind, wondering if it would be worthy of his time, could he relive his grandfather’s adventures or were things too different?
Now as he sat there in the boat, in the embrace of beautiful nature, he understood his grandfather’s deep love for this place.
He smiled and said, “Bless your dear old heart, Grandpa, you have gifted me something of heaven”.
Vahin was about to put down his camera as the shadows of dusk descended when he heard the distant barking of otters and saw them on the horizon coming his way.
“This is amazing!” he exclaimed, capturing them on camera.
Then something so unexpected happened, it stunned him!
In the otters’ midst, like an illusion, a girl emerged from below, long black hair cascading down her shoulders with water glistening on her smooth dark skin.
For one mesmerising moment, he saw something of pure beauty, but as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared.
“What the —” he exclaimed, scrambling for words, almost dropping his camera in the process.
He attempted to follow the otters in the hope that the girl was close, but they had also disappeared.
She surfaced slowly, her head barely above water, behind a huge fallen coconut palm as she watched him leave.

“Who is this handsome stranger? Why is he here?”
She was a simple farm girl and the black water creek with the aquatic animals was her playground.
In his room that night, Vahin could not sleep, the vision of the girl was imprinted on his mind, but he questioned himself, “was she real”?

His grandfather had told him, that in the wild there are untold riches and that if he had ever found a “flower of the wild” he needed to keep it in his life forever.

“What did he even mean by that?” Vahin wondered, “What flower in the wild?”
The family house Vahin inherited overlooked the creek with an inlet running behind, en route to the citrus and pineapple farms. The forest stood on one side as a silent guardian and the caretaker’s house on the other. It had been a guesthouse in colonial times. His grandfather, an astute businessman, had bought the property when it went on the market.
Vahin looked at the house and pondered, “It’s an important part of history, maybe I can restore it as a vacation home.”
He stayed that night at the house to get the feel of a place he never lived in, one that he now owned.
The caretaker and his wife, an Indigenous couple, made sure he was comfortable.

The next morning, sitting on the veranda, sipping a cup of herbal tea, and watching the sunrise, he thought: “The peacefulness and natural beauty of this place is priceless.”
Hours later, he was dragged away from his thoughts of balancing his life between Europe and Guyana, by the sound of a loud splash in the creek. He stood up in a flash and looked across the water but was disappointed to see young boys playing. He exhaled slowly; disappointed that it was not the mystery girl.
For the next few days, he travelled across the creek from the house to the mainland, as he began formulating restoration plans, but not once did he see the girl. He was beginning to think that maybe she had been an illusion, and just to be sure of that, he anchored his boat in the creek and waited for the sunset. The crimson glow seemed to glitter across the water and from a distance, he saw the otters coming but she was not with them.

He shook his head silently, deeply disappointed. He turned to start the engine, but his hand froze as he saw her sitting on a sand bank, looking at him. The world stopped for him at that moment as he looked at her.

Was she one of the riches of the wild his grandfather had spoken about?
He started the engine and turned the boat, wanting to talk to her, hoping she would not swim away and disappear again. As the boat drew closer, she stood up on the bank, poised to plunge in the water.

“Wait!” he called out to her, “I just want to talk to you.”
She stopped and turned and when he was close enough to talk to her, he said, “I am new here, don’t quite know anyone and I would really like for you to be my friend.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and then she smiled a little with a slight nod of her head.
He smiled, happy for this small start, for he had found something unique that he knew he would never want to let go.
His flower in the wild.

PHOTOS

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File names:

-Flower

-In the wind