Dusk was sneaking in fast, and the men were already gathering by the rum shop for a game of dominoes. 

“Ralph, give me a bottle of Cockspur for the men tonight,” my uncle told the shopkeeper. 

That bottle was more than a drink for the domino table; it was a little piece of Barbados history sitting there on the rum shop shelf.

Back in the 1970s, Barbados had two big rum names everybody knew: The West Indies Rum Distillery in St. Michael and Mount Gay in St. Lucy.

Although it may seem inappropriate today, in the 1970s, schoolchildren from Grade 3 and up went on field trips to The West Indies Rum Distillery to learn how rum was produced. The aroma of rum, the loud noises, the steam, and the clicking bottles were part of the unforgettable experience. It wasn’t about consuming rum; it was an educational tour that showcased one of the island’s proud industries. 

But like most things from back then, that little piece of island life has changed: schoolchildren no longer take field trips to the rum factory. 

… that night, nobody was thinking about tours or history; that bottle of Cockspur had one job—to keep the dominoes slamming and the men talking.

“Thank you, Ralph. I will pay you when I get paid next week.” My uncle smiled and left the shop while Ralph took out his book and added $2.50 to his outstanding balance.

By then, the men were already gathered under the streetlight, ready to slam dominoes and argue over every move. This was a 4-player game, but all the men sitting around the table would participate. And when I say table, I mean a piece of plywood, balanced proudly on a few rocks. Nothing fancy, but it did the job.

I never could understand how ten men managed to be fully involved in a game meant for four. “Slam! Slam! Man, he pass! You can’t read the board, man! Get up, let me play!” 

That was only the beginning. The ending is waiting in my collection of short stories –  Blink Once, Blink Twice, Silence!