Name Lionel Luckhoo Trinidad &Tobago DOB: 14 Aug 08

(1389 words) 11 yrs old

QSI Theme: The World One Year after the Pandemic

My feet tapped the ground anxiously as I cut through the stalk of

the yellow cocoa pod to pull out the wet beans, as I had always done when
harvesting cocoa. I could stand it no longer. I dropped the blade on the old
mahogany table and raced off for my trusty, rickety Chopper. I dashed onto
my bicycle and peddled as fast as I could through the lush cocoa fields. I knew
what I had to do. Fear pervaded the atmosphere as morbid thoughts eroded
my mind. “Is he dead? Is he okay?” My legs wobbled like a leaf in a hurricane
as I tried to maintain my balance on the rutted tracks of Brasso Seco Mountain
Estate. Silently I prayed for a reprieve. The Cocoa trees swayed apprehensively
in the wind as if whispering the same prayer I uttered, as I brushed passed
them. These cocoa trees were planted by him. They smelled of him and he
smelled of them. As if the trees themselves were nudging me uphill as I raced
breathlessly to the cozy cottage.

Every day he tirelessly worked the cocoa estate. His charred, brown face
was scorched by the red sun. His crispy skin wreaked of age. But what strength
he had. His dream to create the world’s finest cocoa was his raison d’etre.
That weary hunched-back man would awake early to walk the fields by five
amidst the chill morning mist that nestled on the Northern Range of our little
island of Trinidad. I would climb up the branches of the cocoa trees and with
my pocket-knife cut open the cocoa pods and greedily suck the white flesh off
the cocoa beans completely oblivious of all the amazing nutrients this manna
from heaven possessed. It was Randolph who taught me everything about this
magical fruit that somehow culminated in chocolate somewhere far off in
Europe. I would follow him across the estate as he pruned, plucked and
harvested the yellow fruits shoulder to shoulder with a handful of workers like
himself.

As the year advanced I no longer went to my school down the hill. The
Corona virus had introduced online schooling. This allowed me the pleasure to
traipse behind old Randolph to learn everything he did to create the best
quality cocoa in the world. You could tell it was, because it was never very
bitter which meant he harvested the finest grade.

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Name Lionel Luckhoo Trinidad &Tobago DOB: 14 Aug 08
(1389 words) 11 yrs old

After the day’s work was done on the cocoa estate I retired to
listen to my teachers conduct their online courses. It’s amazing what a child I
was last December, coming home from school, playing football and swimming
in the Paria Waterfalls. How I missed the fun, bathing in the warm waters of
the Madamas River. I had no knowledge of how fortunate we were to be living
in a tropical rainforest where the air was always pristine and the waters warm.
He would tell tales of citings of Papa Bois as we lay spread-eagled on the
emerald grass overlooking the blue Caribbean Sea wishing we could see this
Father of the Forest.

Suddenly, everything was brought to a screeching halt and schools were

closed. No longer allowed to walk the coastline or take any form of exercise we
were confined to the cocoa estate upon which our little cottage perched on the
precipice of the mountain.

I spent all my days neck and neck with Randolph harvesting these
buttery yellow fruits. These jubilant yellow gems bursting with the promise of
chocolate excited my being. In this single year he mentored me and whispered
to me that he chose me, of all the little children in the neighboring villages to
share the mysteries and magic of the coveted cocoa. He felt that one day, I, a
mere twig of a boy, of no particular promise, could, if I put my mind to it,
make the first and finest handcrafted Trinidad Chocolate the world would
come to know. “Why me Randolph?” I questioned scraping the husk of the
cocoa with my fingernail to see whether the cocoa was ripe. “You, have a spark
that is so bright that I believe you can take this cocoa and create the finest
chocolate the world has ever seen.” Randolph exclaimed. Wiping my fingers
on my vest, I pondered his words.

For the next few months in quarantine I rode along the Brasso Seco
mountains overlooking the northern coastline while Randolph traversed on
foot through the acreage of cocoa. It was just last December that this
Pandemic broke and our twin islands did marvellously well in the lockdown.
The pandemic brought drastic changes but they were not all bad. As children it
is true we were not able to see our friends but the night sky became so clear
that with the passing of but a year since lockdown you could see the core of
the Andromeda Galaxy. Nature was restoring itself. The Leatherback turtles
were nesting happily without human disruption. The howler monkeys were
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Name Lionel Luckhoo Trinidad &Tobago DOB: 14 Aug 08
(1389 words) 11 yrs old

reclaiming their home. The red dear roamed the forest free from the fear of
the huntsmen. Even the zoo reported that their hundred-year old turtle gave
birth as no visitors intruded upon their natural habitat.

As I peddled my old vermillion bike towards my mother’s dilapidated

cottage, I clutched my cross and hoped it hadn’t happened; the rich vegetation
and vines were a blur as I raced home. Perspiration mingled with the smell of
cocoa, trickled down my brow. My heart beat like a runaway train. I couldn’t
contain my fear any longer. Tears welled up while supreme distress overtook
me. I passed through the cocoa estate and I saw my uncle’s hard work labeled
on it. “No, it can’t happen now, not yet!” I exclaimed plucking the courage and
telling my mind everything was alright. Approaching the cottage, I crooned
“Three Little Birds.” As soon as I arrived at the cottage, my mind became a
cluttered house. My thoughts wrestled with my impulses, “Stay outside and
wait for the news? Or Go! ”My gut punched me hard indicating to go. I dashed
into the house and saw my parents seated on the sofa sickly pale. I bawled and
didn’t stop. It couldn’t have happened. “Where is he?” I demanded scared as a
hunted buck. My father ushered me into the little room where Randolph
stayed while he was ill. I peered through the door. I saw the slim figure of
Randolph lying on the cot as still as a statue. His eyes were closed as if he was
in a deep sleep. I put my hand on his wrist to feel for his pulse. There was
none. “Randolph! Randolph!” I yelled in his ear. There was no reply. The virus
had won. My mom and dad both entered the bleak bedroom gloomy as
thunderclouds. I wanted to punch and break everything but I knew I couldn’t.

His words echoed in my mind, “You are the future of the Cocoa estate.” I
would never forget this fine, frail fellow who filled me with so much confidence
and vision. I was certain of my destiny as streams of tears flowed down my
face. I promised myself I would make him proud. I would continue the work of
Randolph and one day I would create Trinidad’s finest handcrafted chocolate
the world would ever know. Surely his labour would not be in vain. I knew
what I had to do. I knew my destiny.

I slipped outside the little cottage to collect myself and amidst the misty
Caribbean mountain a white star-like substance fell upon the water lilies in the
nearby pond. It was a perfect snowflake. I looked up, and it was snowing in our
tropical rainforest for a few moments. I had never seen snow in my entire life.
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Name Lionel Luckhoo Trinidad &Tobago DOB: 14 Aug 08
(1389 words) 11 yrs old

My parents joined me to witness this miracle. Tears of joy ran down my face.
Surely, it was a message from Randolph telling me everything was alright. It
was the most divine experience of my life. I felt as if the clouds were smiling at
me and the breeze was caressing my cheeks tenderly. The cocoa trees chanted
Randolph’s name as it rustled and the sun’s rays lit up the mountains with a
golden light reassuring me of his happy ascension.