There is an island where rivers run deep...
Where the sea sparkling in the sun earns it the name 'Jewel of the Antilles'...
An island where the poorest of peasants labor...
And the wealthiest of the grands hommes play...
Two different worlds on one island!
...And on this island, We Tell The Story.
I am a 'theatre person'. I have always been a 'theatre person'.
'Theatre is my passion!' (recited oh, so dramatically) became my mantra in the seventh grade - a mantra borrowed from my beloved drama teacher during one of her mid-rehearsal outbursts, "LEARN YOUR LINES, PEOPLE! WE ARE OFF-BOOK! YOU ARE RUINING MY DREAMS! THEATRE IS MY PASSION!"
I worked with her all throughout middle school and high school, with the exception of a one-year hiatus in the tenth grade to more "practically" hone my craft at a new charter school in my town. The teacher hired on to direct was a professional actor in the community.
Because I, also, was a "professional actor" (I was in one show once that paid me $20 per performance with a month-long run in the T/Th/S cast), I believed I was on first-name basis with him, while the rest of the peasants in class called him, "Mr. T". Teacher's pet was a favorite role of mine to play.
Mr. T was one of those handful of people in my life that believed in me long before I ever believed in myself. A few years ago, I drunk messaged him during a Chicago performance of Hamilton about how grateful I was for his presence in my life during those golden years of my theatre career. Quite yes, during the performance, while muffling sobs about how beautiful the show was and how deeply I missed that magical world on the stage.
"One of the best I ever taught," was his reply.
Drama and alcohol do not mix well, my friends. But stay with me, we'll get there.
My favorite Story to tell is one that is often called the greatest Story to ever be told. It is one in which the Author loves His reader so much that He lays down even His life for them so that they might be able step on-stage and into the Everlasting Story with Him themselves.
My second favorite Story is like it, but instead of One All-Powerful God named Yahweh, there were four:
Asaka, mother of the earth...
Agwe, god of water...
Erzulie, beautiful goddess of love...
And Papa Ge, sly demon of death [cue: lightning and evil laughter]
I performed in two productions of Once on this Island during my theatre era, once with Mrs. M in the seventh grade, and once with Mr. T in tenth. The Tony award-winning musical is a stage adaptation of the 1985 novel, 'My Love, My Love: Or, The Peasant Girl' by Rosa Guy. It is described as the Caribbean re-telling of The Little Mermaid, with a dash of Romeo & Juliet.
"The story begins on the night of a flood. Many huts washed away! Many peasants drowned by Agwe's angry waters! But one small girl was spared. An orphan, plucked from the flood by Agwe...
Sheltered in a tree by Asaka...
And sent on a journey by the gods. A journey that would test the strength of love...
Against the power of death....
On this island of two different worlds!
The Story of Ti Moune!"
***
The hero's journey is set into motion as Agwe sends another storm that causes the handsome Daniel Beauxhomme, a wealthy hotel owner from the other side of the island, to crash his car in the witness of our beloved peasant girl.
"Help! Someone come quickly! A car has crashed! A boy is hurt!"
His eyes open for a moment...
Eyes from another world, grey as the sky.
Ti Moune rushes to his aid, convicted by the gods that her life had been spared so that she could save his. For weeks she nurses him back to health, and they fatefully fall in love. Feeling cheated out of a kill, Papa Ge comes for the life that was rightfully supposed to be his, but TiMoune intercedes, offering her own life in exchange for Daniel's.
Ti Moune: "Take mine for his!"
Papa Ge: [shocked] "What?!"
Ti Moune: "Take my life. My soul for his."
Papa Ge eventually comes to redeem the exchange offer, and Ti Moune willingly obliges, laying down her life at the gates of the Hotel Beauxhomme as she watches Daniel deny knowing her at all and walk down the aisle to marry his betrothed.
Harsh, right? But I suppose that's the Power of Love.
The gods are so moved by her act of selfless love, that they bestow upon her a final blessing: a Resurrection. She comes back to life as...
"A Tree!
A Tree that sprang up and cracked the walls of the Hotel Beauxhomme, so that its gates could never close again...
A Tree that lived forever, sheltering peasants and grands hommes alike...
A Tree that watched over Daniel for his lifetime...
A Tree in which their children played..."
The final act of the musical is called 'Why We Tell The Story'.
Jesus has spared my life, both physically and spiritually, many times. He continues to spare my life every day, even the days that I stare blankly at the ceiling fan and ask, "Y Tho?" I imagine some days He might wish to drop mangoes on my head. He knows, however, that what I need, and what I was spared for, is simply to Love and be Loved.
What is Love?
Too long I've asked myself this question, when I should have been asking all along, "Who is Love?" There's a Story I know about Love. And I love to tell it.
Why?
Life is why...
Pain is why...
Love is why...
Grief is why...
Hope is why...
Faith is why...
YOU are why We Tell The Story.
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