What about your saucepans
Ten years in the life of a British woman
living in the Dominican Republic

The Man from Barahona

This is a preview to the chapter The Man from Barahona from the book What about your saucepans by Lindsay de Feliz.
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One evening I was out with Neil and Fred, two of the dive instructors, in Chocolate Bar in Juan Dolio. The bar was full as usual, music blaring out and I wandered through the crowd talking to students I had been diving with that morning, sometimes stopping to dance with Dominicans, but I knew I shouldn’t stay up too late as I was diving in the morning, so decided to leave.
“Neil, Fred I’m off now,” I shouted above the din. “See you at work in the morning!”

“Wake me up please,” Fred shouted back and I grinned and began to walk out of the bar to hail a motoconcho. Behind me I heard someone speak, trying to catch my attention, “I Danilo. I take you home on pasola (scooter)?”

I turned around. In front of me stood a Dominican man. He was not overly tall, the colour of Cadbury’s milk chocolate with very short, dark hair. He was wearing a tight, sleeveless T-shirt, which showed off a fabulous body, very muscular and well defined, without an ounce of fat. As I looked up at his face he smiled, and he had the most dazzling smile, with a little gap in his front teeth. He was gorgeous.

“Yes, I would love a lift home. Thank you Danilo.” What harm would it do? I climbed onto the back of his yellow pasola, put my arms around his waist and off we went on the ten-minute ride back to my house.
Gracias,” I said, as we pulled up at the front of my apartment building.
“You are welcome,” he replied smiling. “Tomorrow I come for you.” I laughed. “I am working tomorrow, I don’t get home till six.”
“Tomorrow I come for you at six o’clock,” he said determinedly, his eyes fixed on mine.

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