1976 Dominical Costa Rica
Talking about the old days,
as old people tend to do,
I remember Costa Rica in 1975
the year I stopped my engine at the beach,
and said to my 4 year old daughter, “We’re here”
An entire beach,
as far as the eye could see,
wild untamed, uncivilized and majestic.
I knew I had finally arrived to the spot
that it would be my home for the rest of my life.
Everything was new and primitive and exciting,
No electricity , no running water,
unless you brought your own via gravity from the nearest creek.
We boiled our beans twice a day on wood stoves.
made fresh rice daily and maybe an egg was laid or a fish was caught.
A trip to the nearest town was a sojourn.
Although only 25 miles away, it took
hours and hours, to traverse the harrowing roads,
the mudslides, the rockslides, the bus breaking down.
Passengers smoking with the windows open, chickens clucking.
We buried our own dead, cured our own sick
no doctors, no banks, gas stations or supermarkets
One small general store sold dry good supplies
and once a month we went to town to bring in the rest.
We were a population of 63 adults; I did the census on horseback.
We walked or we rode horses, only 3 cars in town
We watched the sunset, the whole community
sitting on rocks watching that sun descend then sizzle in the sea.
For us it was the greatest show on earth.
We helped each other, laughed together, cried at funerals,
birthed our calves, and had the blessing to live so remotely,
We counted on each, so united in community.
That pioneer spirit was in us all, it showed in our eyes,
and it showed in our lives.
Karima Hoisan
Jan.12, 2024
Costa Rica
Digital Rabbit Hole 