Water, Water, Everywhere--the Cistern

“Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink. . .” The lament of Coleridge’s Mariner is shared by Crucians. St. Croix lacks fresh water resources save rainwater. Most residents in St. Croix have cisterns to meet water use needs.

A cistern is an underground tank for storing water. Unless one lives in Christiansted or Fredericksted, where city water is available, a cistern serves as the only means of obtaining water for the home.

In the Virgin Islands water conservation has been elevated to an art form. Gutters catch rainfall and divert this fresh water into the cistern for storage.

Typically located under the house in what would be a basement, stateside lies the cistern. Our cistern is a double tank. One tank for usage and one tank for overflow. If a cistern runs dry, which ours did shortly after moving in, one can order water from a water trucking company. A water delivery of 3600 gallons arrived in something akin to a fuel truck. This amount filled up one tank probably three-quarters.

Grey-water systems utilize recycled water from showers, sinks and laundry to water plants and yard. Diverted sewage flows into a septic system—usually the spot in one’s lawn that is the most verdant.

A local plumber told me that septic systems are a foreign concept among the Continentals he has met (i.e. stateside Americans). He said one client even told him that “we don’t have septic systems in the states.”

Gentle reader---everyone has a septic system of some form or fashion. Sewage has to go somewhere. It does not magically disappear when you flush. The city systems route sewage to a government maintained system. I grew up in a rural area which necessitated a septic system: living proof that septic systems do occur (and widely depending where one lives) in the states.

During hurricane season, one covers the cistern in take to prevent contamination by salt water. After the storm and until the “current” (electric power as the locals say) returns one accesses the cistern water from the interior hatch. Our hatch is in our living room. A native Islander called the post-storm bucket and rope method of getting to water, “camping in the cement cabin.”

I am more appreciated of rain than I have ever been. All my household water depends on rain. A late night storm is the most pleasant and comforting sound.

Better than weather reports, rain frogs announce the coming rain with a cacophony of frog cheers. Probably three times the size of any rain frog I witnessed growing up, the local variety, like my little friend in the photo, sport bulbous toes and sticky skins. Nocturnal by nature, their eyes of burnt sienna glisten in the darkness.

The frog in the photo napped in our birdbath for two days until the rains stopped, the sun appeared, and, overheated, he departed for shadier pastures or ponds as the case may be.

Mosquitoes in the Closet

I am from South Georgia, below the gnat line, so I know about bugs. In addition to the non biting but excessively worrisome gnat, I have first hand experience with fire ants, ticks, yellow jackets, love bugs, palmetto bugs, chiggers and ear-buzzing baddie, the mosquito. The tropical climate in St. Croix means no winter and year-round mosquitoes.

The local paper, the Avis, publishes health warnings about the mosquito-born aliment dengue fever. I’ve notice flyers in local businesses announcing dengue fever prevention methods and highlighting symptoms of infection.

I knew about malaria, but I never hear of dengue fever. My fears of dengue fever prompted my husband to serenade me (over and over again) with his original composition “Dengue Fever” sung to the tune of the theme song of that Spike Lee movie Jungle Fever.

“mama got dengue fever, papa got dengue fever,”

In addition to feasting on any portion of exposed skin, a band of mosquitoes had, until recently, taken up residence in our closet. Why the closet, I can’t say. There’s no standing water in the closet and we (the mosquitos’ main food source) don’t spend ample time in the closet. Maybe they chose to congregate in the dark amongst our clothes and plot attacking us in our bed whilst sleeping? Who knows the deep murmuring minds of mosquitoes?

“Chuck got dengue fever, Gus got dengue fever. . .”

Our early combative efforts against the closet dwellers consisted of guerrilla style fumigations: fling open the closet door, spray the swarm, jump back and quickly slam the door. One day while house cleaning, I took them on full force. I closed myself and my wind-tunnel vacuum with hose attachment in the closet and attempted to suck them to their deaths. I felt somewhat Jediesque as I swung my suction-powered saber at the X-wings dive bombing me. After about fifteen sweat-filled minutes, I ceased. I found a number of the dusty storm troopers’ corpses in the filter compartment.

“he got dengue fever, she got dengue fever, everybody got dengue fever. . .”

Hooray for Dial Up

Dial up. Ah yes, in the continuation of my previous blog about the taken-for-granted conveniences, high-speed Internet access is not a given. Absent from the St. Croix market are corporate big boys, such as Verizon and Comcast. Satellite television and Internet access through Dish; for example, is available at a cost, a much higher cost than stateside. Dishes are purchased out-right by the subscriber at a cost of $400-$600. A satellite service representative on island advised me that because of satellite positioning, two dishes would be required to access all channels. Seems St. Croix is betwixt ping points.

This curious position reminds me of a television commercial of my youth produced by the local celebrity Red Holland. Red hosted and starred in a show for outdoor sport enthusiasts aptly titled “Outdoors with Red” that aired every weekend and daily in the wee hours of the morning on WTVY, the ‘voice of the wiregrass.’ Typically, Red shot his own sponsorship commercials, too. In hawking satellite systems (a brand new product at the time), Red held an oversized galvanized washtub above his head and yelled, “Come on in, satellite!” pivoted 90 degrees and yelled “Come on in satellite!”

Since Dish equipment costs outweigh the enjoyment I receive from viewing and surfing and I learned at a tender age that washtubs on the roof are not a sound source of television reception (much less high-speed Internet), I went with plan B (line-of-sight wireless), then C (antenna on the roof wireless), then D (DSL) which was only partially successful resulting in Dial Up. Our house is located in a canyon and until upgrades on local towers are implemented, no reception is available. The DSL available in our area proved so popular that no more space exists on the modem. Pending modem upgrades, subscribers are offered dial up. Of course there are hot spots on island. I have checked email adjacent to the Carambola Golf Course, outside Paint N Things in the Gallows Bay Shopping Center and while waiting at the airport. After a month of exercising my Internet options and coming up with only one option, I’m relieved to check email in the privacy of my own home rather than the paint store parking lot. Dial up is really not that bad, not a slow as you may remember. My colleagues, Chuck and Gus, prefer it as well.

I wish to goodness that Red Holland had a website to link to, but all my searching has come up with nothing except some Alabama transplant in New Jersey inquiring about where to find copies of the show and waxing nostalgic about "the chicken song" and a Florida sport fishing poll that had Red's show rated as #8 in a list about 30 of viewers' favorite shows. I think everybody in the panhandle voted. Here's a link to his former station WTVY.