Mango Lovers and Coconuts

"Dear Geno," a reader writes. "My fiancee and I visited St. Kitts last year and spent a week on the lovely Caribbean island. We drove around the island roads, stopped in Old Road and Keys Village, and shared the beauty that you have described in your columns about your Caribbean adventures. I even took her to the casino at Jack Tar Village. My fiancee played the slots and I shot dice and played blackjack. It was great. Now how about telling us of your further Caribbean adventures and what it was really like to live in St. Kitts and Nevis. Robert T., Ft. Lauderdale, FL."

I loved this email from Robert. I hope he and his fiancee are planning a long happy life together and compliment them on their choice of vacation destinations.

There are so many things to talk about when I think of island life in St. Kitts and Nevis. Each morning was like awakening in paradise as I looked to the mountain about 1 mile from my door. The top of the rain forest would always be encased in clouds.

I had driven up the mountain road several times, sometimes with Lynette, the Rastafarian beauty I befriended during my two-year island stay. We would bring along a bottle of wine or some beer and share our time watching green monkeys scamper through the mango trees.

While I liked Lynette, I didn't trust her. Like many of her Rastafarian brothers and sisters, she was a thief. She didn't believe that money belonged to anybody and if she could get her hands on it, she would take it with not an inkling of remorse.

But her family made up for her thievery. Her mother was a marvelous person, a wonderful cook who would make me Caribbean dishes that tempted my taste buds. Lynette had a younger sister, Natasha, who plied me with questions about writing and about America.

Her brother Steve was in his teens and belonged to an island machete gang. When I questioned him about it, he assured me they never killed anybody. They would just nick them to show them who was boss, he said.

While marijuana was illegal, it was sold everywhere. You could buy it in certain bars and sellers would approach you on the pier or near the harbor with their homegrown ganja.

Dr. Denzil Douglas, a physician, was prime minister of the island federation in those days. He was an advocate of marijuana for medicinal and recreational use, but told me in an off the record interview that he could never admit it publicly ''because your American government would label me as a drug trafficker and that would affect tourism on our island."

Once I gave a ride to one of Lynette's friends when I was driving her to the beach where she earned money braiding the hair of tourists. The friend stole a camera from the rear seat. It belonged to the newspaper that employed me. Lynette told me not to worry, that she knew where the thief hung out and she promised to get it back. She managed to retrieve it and delivered it to me at the newspaper the following day.

Lynette stole money to support her young son and to give money to her family. Once she stole $600 from me that I had won at the casino. When I accused her of it, she never denied the charge -- but she never returned the money. This may sound strange...

...but I almost admired her for her attitude. In Lynette's life, her family came first and little else mattered.

I miss island life. The fresh mangoes, the sweet tropical bananas, the coconuts and the Caribbean food satisfied my appetite and made me crave more. If I ever return to St. Kitts and Nevis, I will look up all my friends, including Lynette. She may be a thief but she is a good person at heart and the Caribbean is the Caribbean.