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272 pages, Paperback
First published April 2, 2020
My mermaid is called Aycayia, or 'Sweet Voice', and she comes from the north Western part of the Caribbean. She is a woman cursed, for her beauty and her song. A Taino legend tells us she was banished, one night, when the Goddess Jagua sent a huracan to sweep her out to sea along with an old crone, Guanayoa who became an old leatherback turtle. This is just one of the many tales of mermaids in the Caribbean.
I didn’t want my mermaid to be captured on FB, Twitter and Insta, for example. I wanted there to be some doubt as to whether she had been caught at all, (everyone goes to the bar and gets drunk after she is caught, for example) and for the news story of her capture not to go viral within minutes….which it would if a mermaid was actually caught today and strung up on a jetty. Also, the Seventies was a time of uprising and revolution, especially in the Caribbean: Bob Marley, Black Power uprisings and of course feminism. Reggie, Miss Rain’s deaf poet son, has learned about deaf poems and has been given ideas about pride and community by a hippie leftie American teacher. I wanted the dawn of a Western and Caribbean social revolution to be part of the book’s backdrop. The Seventies in the Caribbean was a time of radical change in society, political thinking and across the arts. Cuba was communist and the Anglophone islands were no longer ruled by the British; there was self rule, black leaders, and a new era of nation building. And there were still big marlin in the sea to catch, too.
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death

“Every afternoon, around three o’clock, David dropped Aycayia to Miss Rain’s for lessons. There at the table in the grand room with wooden floors, sat an indigenous woman of the Caribbean; cursed to be a mermaid by her own sisterhood, whose people had all but died out, slaughtered by the Castiilian Admiral and his kind; a woman who, as a mermaid, was pulled out of the sea by Yankee men who wanted to auction her off and if not that, stuff her and keep her as a trophy; a woman who was rescued by a Black Conch fisherman [David]; a mermaid who had come back to live as a woman of the Caribbean again. She sat quietly as she learnt language again, from another woman she wasn’t sure she could trust. This woman was white, dappled with freckles, and no matter what she wasn’t, she was of the type who had wiped her people out. Arcadia [Rain] was self conscious, because she only spoke Black Conch English, a mixture of words from the oppressor and the oppressed.
... but there are still a few people round St Constance who remember him as a young man and his part in the events in 1976, when those white men from Florida came to fish for marlin and instead pulled a mermaid out of the sea