No. 711 Leaching field Subject: Island In 4 parts. Wds 8343 Part two THE LEACHING FIELD By the ® Wicked Mind’s Eye of Captain Don August 1996 Dedicated to George ‘Clam’ Buckley Phd Friend and biologist extraordinary Harvard University Md. Version 1 . 0 by AKA Don A. Stewart Copyrighted August 1996 Bonaire, Dutch Caribbean. Part two Start Unedited. 1996 The climb up into the Santa Barbara hills was a chore for the old car. The Captain brought his over heated jeep to a stop outside the house where he was told the meeting was to be held. He sat for a moment suspiciously looking at the place. Funny, he thought, in all his years on island he didn’t recall having seen this house before. He was rather puzzled because he thought he knew them all. Well! he thought. Every day another new house goes up somewhere. He got out of the jeep and stood looking at the house, shaking his head as if trying to remember something, shrugged, moved to the house, took the steps up to the porch two at a time, and came to a stop among a forest of plants. It was dusk and there was no porch lighting. The vegetation was dense. Vines and broad leafed plants gave the place a jungle feeling, very much out of place on a desert island When he finally found the front door it was hidden deep in an overgrown corner. He couldn't locate a button or bell, so he raised his fist intending a knock, aiming it for a white spot on the door when suddenly the door flung open, and the white spot became Christie‘s forehead. "Hey, Christie, what you doing here? You almost got yourself nailed," and the Captain grinned broadly. Christie laughed a throaty noise and said, "Come on in, Cappy. Lanod and the others are waiting for you. You’re the last one, and we were getting a little concerned." "Who’s Lanod?" queried the Captain. "Christie smiled and said, "Oh, you know him." She took him by the arm and led him through the house and out to the back where there was a tight little patio, sparsely furnished, a table and a few chairs. A simple place like the front with an abundance of plants everywhere. From here the vista was magnificent, a picture window view of the entire southern end of Bonaire, Klein Bonaire, Hato, the Hotels, and Playa. It was dusk, and the coming lights below spread like a carpet of a dark yellow ground cover. It never ceased to impress him, considering that he had known the island almost before it had any lights at all. This view, particularly at this time of evening, never failed to flood him with a warm wave of nostalgia. "Hey guys, look who I found on the door step," and Christie pushed the Captain out and into the patio. " Hi guys," the Captain said, without really looking at any of them. He focused his attention instead on the gathering darkness at the faint line of the horizon to the south toward Venezuela where dull illuminations of spent lightning bounced from the clouds. In truth, not always threatening, but the Captain’s mind’s eye always watched for possible ill winds and water front damage. Then he put his attention to those on the patio. "Well, this is a real summit meeting." Then he looked at Christie, saying. "Even this bueatyful young woman who is dragging me about. Well boy's! What do we have for tonight?" The Captain knew them all except for the older fellow sitting against the wall under a plastic parrot hanging from an oriental silk tree.. He looked American and didn’t bother to introduce himself, of no importance, and the Captain let his mind drift to other subjects. However, he had an uncanny feeling he had known this man some- where in the past, but as a dive master he had come to know literally thousands of tourists. Yet!! Christie pushed him toward a chair and said, "Don’t get smart." She swept the room with her eyes. "I’m the secretary for this meeting tonight, so cool it." She pulled a chair out from under a banana plant, sat down, opened a note book on her lap, readied a pen and waited. The Captain’s humor suddenly turned serious as he studied the four men scattered about the room in an array of disorder. "Well," he said, "This is like being in a school of yellow tails. A lotta bodies hanging around, and you never know exactly which one is going to take a nip at you." As he was saying this he looked at the man under the plastic parrot and positioned his chair so as to be able to watch them all at the same time. "What’s up, boys?" Christie found it spooky, the way that each of them watched one another. Something about this meeting left her feeling a little queasy. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. There were only five men present, far fewer than most of her other conservation meetings. Perhaps it was because the subject matter was rather a little unusual. Unusual subjects, unusual men. They were the most qualified around. Four of them she had met before, The Captain she had known for years, where as Lanod she had just met. Somehow she felt a little distant tonight. As the host and self appointed chairman, Lanod said, "Gentlemen, it is good of you to come. You may or may not know we are now in the eleventh hour. There’s not much time left." The others in the room looked at one another he continued, "Yes, there is again a grave concern for the ongoing existence of our reefs." "Christ, yes," mumbled the Captain under his breath as he asked himself how in the hell does he know this? Lanod was probably the most affluent of the group. Most likely a Pensanado and apparently financially comfortable. This house in Santa Barbara, for example. A ‘do gooder’ by nature and probably working harder now than he had before his retirement. You know, the usual story, a tax payer as well as concerned citizen, especially when his chosen island became a victim. He’d become active in many things extremely beneficial to conservation, but spent more hours contemplating his navel than possibly any other man on island. And he was a cancer, with little choice of his destiny. Christie was busy in her note book , then looked up. "Hey!! Is somebody going to call this meeting to order." "Do it, Stew," said the Captain. Stewart, more accustomed to the formalities of meetings, cleared his throat, looked pleased and said. "I declare this meeting open," as he smiled at Christie who quickly jotted it down and thanked him. "Meeting declared open by Stewart, February 30th 1996. Five in attendance on the porch of S. A. Lanod. Agenda is Sewage. Our reefs are under siege again. Christie folded the note book in her lap and said, "Fellas, our reefs are dying, and it leaves me sick that no one is doing any thing about it." She looked down at her lap so they wouldn’t see the gathering tears. Then, ‘screw the tears Pissed, she looked up at them in anger. Curious, the Captain moved forward in his chair, as he rested his forearms on his knees. Watching. Christie screamed at them, "Well what are we gonna do about it? Don’t just sit there. Do something." Then almost ashamed of her outburst, she glanced down at her hands which were visibly shaking. It was bound to happen. Christie felt herself in a witness box, everyone staring at her. No one spoke, only watched. Then her attention returned to the room. "Well!" she sniffled, "We gotta do something." It was Lanod who finally addressed Christie. "I think I can speak for all of us, Christie. " Politely, he waited for her to compose herself before he continued. "Years ago, long before the outside world ever knew that a Bonaire existed, we had discovered the value of an untouched, undamaged reef colony like the one which exists on the undersea slopes of this mountain, which is Bonaire. You might say it was destiny, the karma of this island, that it would one day eke an income from the exploiting of this natural resource. God only knows there was nothing else available." "How in the hell does he know all of this?" The Captain was almost speaking aloud as he pondered this question. "Brings to mind," continued Lanod, the rich gold fields of California in the 80’s. That’s 1880. Gold was a natural resource in a relatively unpopulated, unspoiled part of the country. When first discovered the gold brought madness to that part of the world. You know...gold fever. However, it eventually created a lotta jobs, produced wealth beyond imagination, and brought folks into California by the thousands. New towns and cities sprang up for immigrants of every nationality who had come for their gold, or because of it. Christie, think about it. There’s a very strong similarity here The discovery of a resource and the exploitation of it. The removal of a resource is the same as the destruction of it... in either case, it eventually is gone. "God was kind to us, and for reasons not fully understood, those few who were busily disrupting our resource, actually were turned around and luckily for us these very same people became the guardians of our reefs today." He had been watching the Captain as he spoke "Bonaire has become a hero, a pace setter, whose aquatic attitude has made a world wide impact,, It was Bonaire who first established a truly symbiotic relationship with our reefs. A man/sea concept for the entire aquatic world to follow. "Now, today , Christie, Bonaire, has become the center of universal reef conservation. You might say Bonaire is to reef conversation what Greenwich is to time. Small , unknown, yet every conservationist in the world has heard of us and is now starting to copy our ways." He paused, putting his attention directly to Christie. "About the time you were being born, Christie, so was this attitude concerning the preservation of our reefs which we now call conservation. And like yourself these ideals grew, knowing all sorts of growing pains. It wasn’t everyone who believed in what was being done, and we had opposition. However, these problems were addressed and, in time, solved. So today we not only have a beautiful Christie, but also a beautiful reef which has survived the thousands of suitors who have come a courting. You see, Christie, There has been a lot done already. The loving has never stopped. It has just become overwhelmed at times." "Jeezez, Lanod, "said the Captain, "Where you getting all this stuff? You’ve really been doing your home work." Then as an after thought, "Did you know you sound just like Ronald Coleman?" The hotel maverick, Stewart, the balding fellow in the wicker chair over against the far wall, started to chuckle. "Coleman. Ugh!! Very good, Captain. I didn’t think you were old enough to remember the good old days... And speaking of the old days, it was wild, really wild. I remember when this crazy Captain got in a fight with a couple of Venezuelan spearfishermen when he told them, "We don’t shoot fish no more." To make a point, he also informed them he owned the only air compressor in town. Then the fur started to fly. The Captain got pissed, and he picked up those guns and literally wrapped both of them around a steel post. I want to tell you Christie, it took the Tourist Office some doing to calm this thing down. But the crazy Captain had made his point." STEWART had an impressive tract record. On his third hotel now. Managed two. Built and owned the third. Writes fiction for a hobby and has the reputation of a man who sets goals and gets them done. The Captain jumped to his feet. "Think that was bad? I remember Stew here getting mad at some New York tourists once for ripping up corals, bringing them back to the hotel, and piling them in front of their rooms. It really stank the place up. Stew told them, "No more," but they didn’t listen. So when they returned from snorkeling the following day with an arm full corals, they found all of their clothes and stuff stacked in the old V/W bus. No kidding. He had emptied their room and then made a reservation for them on the next plane off island. Of course he had ripped their bill up, but you know, I honestly don’t think he gave as much a damn about the damage to the reefs as the stink the coral made in his hotel." Adams , the horticulturist said, "I never heard about that!" "Wouldn’t think so," said Stewart. "You weren’t around in those good ‘ol days." Lanod looked over at the Captain thinking that he should be in Hollywood. A real California fruit cake. , An aquatic madman. Big sailing ships, deep oceans, and of course all the stuff that swims in it. Lanod wondered the truth of it all. He claims to have been in love with a Maidmer. You know, Maidmer, half fish and half woman, with the fish on top. A real reef ’oholic, self appointed conservation- ist. Hung up his spear gun in the early 60’s. Installed several dozen dive site moorings and named half a hundred of them. Then orchestrated diving procedures that guaranteed the on going health of the reefs. A true sentinel to ‘Earth’s last frontier’. Like a string of fire crackers, you never knew when one was going to go off next. The host offered hard candies around. Stewart took several and popped one into his mouth. The others opted for beers. "There is a great concern," Stewart said, rolling the candy around in his mouth. "on everybody’s mind about our recent problems with the reefs. I personally have heard of numerous... problems, that is... A lot of problems, yet none of them have been really defined. However, it is speculated that a toilet is somehow involved. What few solutions that I’ve heard... Well, quite frankly, I think they all suck." Lanod, was quiet for a moment, then jumped back into the conversation with renewed vigor. "It wasn’t by accident that I asked you here tonight. We need to do a little serious brain storming. All of us. We all know that the latest threat to the reefs is Water, pure and simple... The juices of . Fecal effluents. Really... This could be the Last Straw. When is it going to stop?" He looked around the room for support, then directly at Stewart. "Your toilets, Mr. Stewart." "Christie here is Amigo di Terra. A girl I consider with a good head," Lanod looked at her and smiled. "A little Calamity Jane leaks out of her every now and then, but!!" He returned his attention back to the group. "For example, this thing of hers with Klein Bonaire and the intended low rent housing development and the probable destruction of its reefs has become an exercise. What kind of a democracy are we if lawful property owners can’t develop their own domain. It’s zoning we need, gentlemen. Pure and simple zoning, combined with owner’s consideration of his neighbor, the reefs. That property should be zoned... Green." "Green! What’s that?" asked Adams. "Green," said Lanod, "is green-zoned. You know... Natural... Back to the future, and forward to the past. It was suggested to me yesterday that the Government buy the island, then rent it to goat herders for their flocks. Well!! That’s an idea. However, for the records, I’m sorry that it has come this far. I naturally would like to see Klein Bonaire remain primitive, but like taxes, if we are part of the community, we live with their decision. "However, Christie’s real challenge, the challenge of the future, is the Mountain, and it always will be. The mountain top in the sea. Our mountain, Bonaire, the peak, and its fragile clinging reefs. ."Lanod sat in silence for a moment watching Christie. Then, added, "I’m asking for her involvement in this new challenge." "What new challenge?" questioned Don the practical engineer who had been sitting quietly on a cushion in the corner. Lanod looked over into the darkness of the corner and said. "Oh, there you are. I was wondering when you were going to surface?" Don’s been around for a long time, In fact just as long as the Captain has. He fancies himself an engineer (of sorts, he says.) A little shy, he keeps to himself a lot, but he has a non stop brain brimming with new ideas. Years ago, before doing lots of other things, he spent his life in the factories, inventing all sorts of good things and the machinery, to make them. Has one patent to his credit, and he just loves mechanical problems. Financial problems are admittedly not his forte. For the last five years he has been busy designing and building irrigation and septic water systems. Automatic computer controlled watering devices and stuff like that. "Why isn’t the Marine Park here? " the Captain demanded, a trace of anger in his voice. ‘A firecracker had just gone off’, and the porch went quiet. Stewart shifted his weight in his chair and, obviously annoyed, looked down his aquiline nose at the Captain. "We," and he motioned with his hand toward Lanod, "felt it... a... little premature for the biologists to enter." He was lost in thought for a moment, then, "They’re in the wing, waiting... No, no, not really in the wing because they weren’t invited." His voice dropped. "There will be time for them later.’’ He slouched down in his chair, his brows coming down, his mind mulling. Then, "Frankly we find the biologists, well ,we feel that they sometimes get in their own way. They can bog down a meeting faster than a bucket of water over a squawking hen. Let’s just forget them for the moment and hear what Lanod has to say. Okay!" End part 2
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