On our way to Grand Sous, we would dutifully greet every passerby and household with the requisite, singsong, BONJOU! When folks stopped to talk to us and found out we were going to Grand Sous, they would issue dire warnings, tell us their heads hurt and hearts would stop if we went on, because they would be worried sick about us. “Only put your feet in, please!” urged the well-meaning grannies. “The water is deeper than the banyan trees high” “The current is strong like hurricane!” protested the old uncles. Several months ago, a boy died there, struck by another high jumping youth who cracked his head open, horribly, their heads hit under the murky water. The local superstition that it was somehow cursed and our extreme caution, absolutely no current, coupled with our ability to swim well, created a place where we had a little paradise, mostly to ourselves.
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