Coconut Cove - All Inclusive

 

“I am about to bring you to heaven on Earth. Life is good, enjoy it while it lasts!” exclaimed our driver. He was driving a truck that was made for safari. We–my family of five– appeared to be in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. The truck was completely open on either side, and its makeshift roof was covered in dirty rain water. Revolting rain drops, combined with my brand new expensive mascara, were dripping down my face. Clouds of dust from the highway flew onto my white Ralph Lauren sundress. The fifteen other overeager American tourists claimed the premium seats at the front, while I was squashed in the back–the bumpiest part. With each bump, our heads hit the roof. My half-broken seat belt did nothing to reduce my fear of falling out of the truck. When we stopped at a red light, hundreds of motorcycles whose passengers included women, elders, and children, swooped by us, rumbling with unfiltered diesel smoke that rose into the air. On the opposite side of the road, a bone-skinny dog was barking in desperate need for food. It could barely shelter its whimpering puppies. Store fronts lined with jail-like bars, a man carrying a rifle on his shoulder, and exchanges in the shadows rattled something inside me. This zone of darkness was hell on earth. 

 

A sudden, sharp turn offroad sent my little brother tumbling into my lap and the oversized Russian lady, next to me, with the sweaty purple T-shirt squeezed me. The dust clouds lifted to reveal expansive fields dotted with scrawny cows. Surrounding them were broken fences covered in electrical wire. On both sides of the road, ramshackle houses made of cardboard boxes bent forward. As I peered inside one, I could see a baby crawling on the dirt floor, while her weary mother hung clothes up to dry in the burning sun. I suspected that the father of this family could be one of the plantation workers, who were moving masses of coconuts from a pile to a truck. Wild coconut trees spanned the terrain. Our tour guide exclaimed: 

“Coconuts, they are money, they are food, they are medicine, they are life.” The coconut trees towered over me, their leaves swaying in the wind. 

The man piped in again: “You see, ma’ brotha’ over there, all day long he’s been cartin’ those coconuts back n’ forth. Plentiful coconuts for us is God's work.” As we loaded back onto the bus, I caught a glimpse of my “Hawaiian Tropic” coconut-based tanning oil. It then occurred to me that the tireless labor that made manufacturing these coconuts possible would end up in beauty products such as my own. 

In about fifteen long and tedious minutes, we arrived at the beach. As described, it was indeed “heaven on Earth.” At the entrance, we were greeted by vendors selling baskets full of handmade earrings, scarves, bags, sun hats, and other merchandise. Aromas of coconuts, pineapple and sea water replaced the gasoline scent from the highway. Colorful and floral-patterned clothes hung on hangers made of wood from palm trees. It was as though we were emerging from a mundane black and white TV show and being transported into a vibrant Technicolor film. Turquoise waves crashed against the shore. Creme brulee sand cushioned my feet. Palm trees tilted at the perfect angle, creating plenty of shade. I found just the right spot to set down my towel. As I swam in the warm salty water, I observed the workers serving drinks and cleaning with smiles on their faces. Despite the garbage and crumbs on the ground, they still seemed joyful. The day flew by as we swam, sun-bathed, and played volleyball with the old, broken net. Just as we were about to pack up our things, I heard a familiar voice from the coconut factory worker, “Miss, would you like to have some fresh coconut? Today, it’s all inclusive.”