GANJA, WHATEVER THAT IS

We were contemplating what to do. A tough decision when you are lounging under a thatched roof umbrella in the hot June sun on the beautiful island of St. Lucia. While contemplating, we would take a few steps across the hot sand to cool off in crystal clear water. The decision we were wrestling with was whether to hire one of the brightly colored skiffs frequenting our beach, to take us up the island for a visit to Castries, the island capital, some snorkeling and lunch. These skiffs would cruise slowly back and forth along the beach seeking a fare. We decided we would chat with one of the “captains” to assess our options.

From my lounge chair I motioned to one of them that we would like to talk. He pulled his bow up to the shore and jumped off while his crewman held the skiff in the calm waters. I mentioned that we would like to make a trip up to Castries, where all the cruise ships stop, to do some shopping. On the way back maybe stop for lunch at a waterfront restaurant and then some snorkeling. We settled on a price and agreed to meet on the beach the next morning at ten.

As he was about to leave, he says “Hey Mon, would you like me to bring some Ganja.” I said “What?” He repeated “Would you like me to bring some Ganja?” With a puzzled look on my face I looked at my wife “What did he say?” With a lot better hearing than I have and much more street smarts, she said “He wants to know if you want some drugs?” Not really knowing what to say I blurted out “No thank you.” He said “That’s OK, we can still be friends.” I know I have to get out more but I was caught off guard. I had no idea what he was talking about. That night I relayed the experience by phone to my daughter back in California. I asked her if she had ever heard of Ganja. She said she had. Am I the only one who hasn’t?

We had a wonderful trip the next day with no further mention of Ganja. Several times after that, while lounging on the beach, I did notice our skiff would pull up to the shore, the crewman would jump off, walk into the palm trees, exchange something with someone, then return to the skiff and away they would go.

Shortly after returning home I watched the movie Ganja Queen. It is the true story of an Australian woman sentenced to 20 years in an Indonesian prison for allegedly trying to smuggle Ganja into the country. I broke into a cold sweat as I thought back to that day on the beach. But for the grace of God I could be in the big house on a sultry Caribbean island.