The bus is full of Cape Verdians, crates of eggs, boxes of fanta laranja, the stereo is playing loud music, and I am at the back squeezed between two young men who are doing their best to give me space, while every time we go over a bump I bang my tall bleached head on the ceiling of the van, and every time we go around a corner I lean just a little bit too close to the boy on my right, causing him to take furtive looks at me in the darkness and wonder what this white woman is doing on the 100 escudo bus from the local village where there are no tourists. 

I had a business meeting at the airport, and feeling confident of the ways of the town, thought I would save myself 9 euros each way by taking the bus. Fine, on the way, in broad daylight, and knowing where the bus runs from. When I came out of the airport, it was dusk, and chilly, and I was just wearing a thin summer frock and sunglasses. Still, not prepared to give in and go the tourist way, and get a cab, I confidently started walking towards Espargos, thinking that I would hail the town bus, or ‘aluguer’, as it passed me by. What I didn’t bargain for, was that Espargos was in actuality quite a bit further than the 300 yards it looked, and that there was no path, and every time a lorry passed it would cover me in hot dust and almost blow me off the road. 

Still, I persevered and was shortly joined by a female dog who crossed the highway to join me (this is the only tarmac road on the island), most keenly, almost getting run down, and then leapt up at me gleefully. Not being a dog person, I was unsure how to react, so asked it politely to get down please, which it eventually did, and then followed me, at a respectable distance behind. By now, it was actually dark, spooky, the town was but a distant glimmer, and two aluguers had passed me by, before I had time to realise and hail them down. I started talking to myself, loudly, and panicking slightly, after all we were only about 1 mile from where the only major crime on the island had ever been commited, 2 weeks ago,  a ‘crime of passion’…

The road had suddenly become a normal carriageway, not a dual carriageway, which seemed to excite my dog friend, so now I was shouting ‘get out of the road please, bitch’, to the dog, as well as being frightened, and wondering why I hadn’t just got a cab, for the sake of 9 euros, and it was a business meeting after all…. My sense of adventure had got the best of me.

Finally, in the distance, I spotted a garage, and decided a cigarette would be in order, if not vital …. In the queue I spotted a friendly face, one of the cab drivers from Santa Maria, and tried to ask in my most casual voice, which came out as a hysterical whimper – ‘ hi, are you going into Santa Maria?’ He wasn’t , but obviously sensed my distress and offered to take me to the ‘bus stop’, hence my position in the back of the bus between the boys and eggs, music and fanta…
Another exciting adventure in the life of…

May 2007
I left the house at 9.30am, the normal time to set off for work, unless I have an early appointment. I took 2 bags to the bins, there are communal bins around the town, you have to take your rubbish and then it is collected daily by the bin lorry.

On the way, a tiny Cape Verdian girl waved and shouted ‘ola’ from the top of an unfinished apartment block, where her mother was hanging out the daily wash.

I continued into ‘town’, past the Correio, where I poked my head around the door to ask for any post, I received a shake of the head from the post lady, nothing today, she seems to know the names of all the estrangeiros without you having to tell her. Coming out of the post office was one of the girls from the local shop, we had a brief chat, in a mixture of English, Portuguese and Criole, before she went into work and I carried on the walk to my tiny beach office. As I rounded the corner to walk past the primary school, a young Cape Verdian boy, probably about six, was happily chasing round with a tyre, wearing only a T-shirt, nothing else at all. He was smiling happily to himself with his game, and gave me a wonderful grin. A few minutes later, one of the Senegalese, who I don’t think I have spoken to before called out to me.‘I want to see a photograph of you 20 years ago, you are so beautiful now…!’ This cheers me immensely, even though I am not in need of cheering.

Just as I approach my office, one of the fisherman passes with his wheelbarrow of the morning catch. He is always wearing the tiniest pants (nothing else) and carrying a huge sharp knife. He shouts out, ‘good morning baby face, you are beautiful today..’ In the UK he would have been arrested, either for indecent pants, or carrying a large dangerous weapon. Here it is just every day life.
This is life in Cape Verde, this is the commute to work. I unlock the office door and walk in, to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked Foccacia from the Italian beach café next door. Now to start the day…..

About the Author: In January 2007 Bev Chadwick swapped gigging in the UK for a lucrative career in real estate in Cape Verde. Despite her hectic schedule, she still manages to perform two or three times a week in Santa Maria and is considered somewhat of a local celebrity, particularly with the South American contingent, who arrive in their dozens for every show.

After months of being pestered, she finally agreed to write a regular column for the AboutSal site to share with us her experiences.