Genebase.com: how I learn how to swim
Personally, I have few stories to tell about my father. His life was an enigma to me. I know little of what he did for recreation, his religious belief or even about what moved him. However, one incident that does stand out is the first time I saw the Ocean.
I was about 4 years old. I remember Nassau seeming big and grand. I remember down town seeming far. And I remember Long Warf being clean with sand for miles.
I vaguely remember how we got to the beach. I assume we caught the bus, as walking would have taken forever. I remember seeing wooden sloops anchored off in the distant. Years later I would learn that they were Haitian boats, here to trade. I remember them being painted brightly; bright red bottoms with blue trims and yellows.
I remember being proud that day. Oddly, when I reflect back, I still feel a sense of pride. It was my day out with my dad. It was a special day. He wanted to teach me how to swim.
I remember always swiming in the bathtub at home. Wasting water they use to call it. My mother always recant stories about how I use to put my head under the bathtub’s water and hold my breath for long periods of time. But this outting with my father was the first time that I actually seen the deep blue. I was amazed.
I can still remember him taking of his shirt and mine. I even can vaguely remember the conversation. Impressive aye? I just bad like that I guess. I tend to remember a lot of useless stuff. Anyway, the proudest moment I remember was when my father jumped into the water and swam to the wooden sloops and touch one of them. To me he was like superman with out the cape. I remember the sloops being near the wall at Arawak Cay. I remember the water being deep. I remember him not putting his head in the water as he swam, zoning in on this target. And I remember it being my time.
Yeah right. I remember being a quiet child. Not asking too many questions, just sucking my thumb and observing. I remember my father asking, “you see that now you do it.” Amazingly, I remember looking straight in his face and staring blankly without saying a word; yet thinking ‘this man must think I am stupid, that water deep.’
I remember being waist deep in the water watching him swim. Waist deep in the water talking to him while he propelled his hands in a swimming motions showing me what I must do. And I remember being oddly silent as I watched him. Then, I remember him swiftly lifting me up without warning and flinging me into the deep ocean. Later, I found that this is how he learnt how to swim. I remember sinking to the bottom of the water, hitting sand, eyes wide open, not panicing but watching.
I remember holding my breath and I remember thinking: I remember thinking to myself I aint ga move. I ga stay right here until he save me. And that I did. It must have been at least 12 seconds I stayed under water. Impressive I think for a 4 year old. Nevertheless, my father realizing that I was not swiming, nor attempting to swim, but actually doing nothing, just laying flat beneath the ocean, waiting on him to do something, panic and saved him. I wonder now if I had drown how would he have explained that to my mother.
Anyway, I remember him finally yucking me out, asking if I am alright, wiping my face and me silently nodding my head and saying, I was holding my breath waiting on you to save me.
And this was how I did or did not learn how to swim.
http://www.genebase.com/user/2012171?module=fact&type=lifestory&by=canewry
