Two years ago, while we were passing through this area en route further north, we anchored off this island for one night. We didn’t go ashore, but we enjoyed meeting several people who came out in dugout canoes. We gave a T-shirt to one of them, an older man named Willy. It was a souvenir shirt from a race we had run some time before in Salt Lake, the “Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.” The village on this island is quite small, only around a hundred people, but they impressed us with the level of education and achievement there. One villager was in his last year of medical school in Cuba. Another was a member of parliament. Yet another was a pilot, after earning a masters degree in Australia. We couldn’t stay to visit the village that time, but we hoped we would come back some day.
Well, we anchored in the same place yesterday afternoon. As is invariably the case, a dugout came by this morning. We both immediately recognized the older man, Willy, but not because he was wearing a very faded “Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure” T-shirt. Once again, though, we cannot linger. The weather forecast is such that we need to leave tomorrow.
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