Story by Peter Richardson

Nestled in the remote mountains of Dominica, an island in the Caribbean, lives a man of great wisdom and love. His name is Moses and he is the keeper of the White River. The island itself is about 200 sq miles and is home to only about 78k people due to the magnificent mountain range that occupies most of the land.

Mountains of four and five thousand feet tower above the lush rainforest below. They literally suck water out of the clouds creating a land that is so fertile, so green that every corner is growing. So I flew to this land without much more information than this man's name and the general area that he and the rest of the Rastafarian community lived. But I knew in my heart that he had something to teach me, and I him if I may humbly say so, and need not worry about such minor details. So I made my way and finally the van driver says "down there" pointing to a dirt road disappearing into the bush.

It wasn't long before the road opened up to a huge valley littered with small cabins, crops and fruit trees. At the bottom of the road, which switched back down the side of the mountain, I saw a beautiful rasta man pulling the bark off of a cinnamon tree branch. I asked for Moses and he smiled, pointing to the small wood cabin beyond. I tried not to imagine what such a man would look like or have any expectations but I cannot imagine a more fitting appearance for such a man. His energy is very strong and very natural and grounded.

He is in his 50s with a strong build, from a lifetime of working the land, long matted dreadlocks and an equally gnarled beard. His smile is broad and teeth are strong, except for one missing. The index finger of his left hand is also missing with a story behind why I'm sure. He walks with a limp, sometimes using a cane or his large rasta staff, from being shot some years back for having long hair. I explained who I was and why I was there (although I didn't really know why I was there), offering gifts that I had brought from his family in Barbados. He simply says "Hmmmm, of course", which I later found out was his reply for most anything, "get your bags". He took me down to his own cabin, a stone's throw from the White River, inviting me to stay in his home.

The cabin was built by his own hands from the wood and materials of the land. He had twelve posts holding up the roof, for the twelve tribes of Israel, with one large one in the middle for Israel itself. The floor was lined with smooth flat stones from the river. Off to the side was a cooking and kitchen area with a little fireplace, preparation table and rack for his bowls and cups. He had two beds and showed me to mine. It was a mattress on a board on top of a massive boulder. His home was so rustic and natural, and one of the most beautiful places I've ever had the honor of staying. He used oil lamps at night and cooked over an open wood fire. His bowls and cups were made from calabash fruits and used a large banana leaf for a place to prepare his meals. I settled in and waited as he prepared a pot of bush tea for the two of us.

Moses is known as a bush doctor for his knowledge of healing herbs and use of natural healing foods. He and the rest of the rasta's work the land and lead a very pure and simple life. They are farmers and know the ways of organic living. There was such an abundance of food of so many different kinds that I could scarcely find anything that he wasn't growing. He had all manor of fruit trees, grapefruits, oranges, tangerines, custard apple, cherry, coffee, cashews, peanuts, pineapples, coconut, nutmeg, annatto, veggies of all kinds, bananas, 3 kinds of mangos, breadfruit, breadnut, and so on. They only ate fresh food straight out of the garden.

They had no refrigerator, as they had no electricity, and only prepared as much as they were going to eat. This food brings strong energy into the body so that you feel alive rather than tired after you eat. In the mornings and evenings we'd have bush or cinnamon tea to warm up. Throughout the day we'd eat as we went along only having one or two proper meals. One afternoon he whacked several coconuts out of the tree and chopped them open for us. We drank the water and ate the jelly right there by the river. Sometimes he'd throw some breadnuts, much like chestnuts, into the fire. Or red bananas served piping hot. This was a natural life and the ways long forgotten by modern day living. This was living in harmony with the land.

The White River comes from a boiling lake way up in the volcanic mountains and flows sulfurous water down to create the milky white color. It flows around Moses' property, his family property for generations, almost completely surrounding it. Joining the river is another fresh water river where I'd take my cloths off and enjoy a swim in the icy cool water. The river was so pure that we'd just drink straight from it. Our days were filled with playful work, like shucking coffee beans and grating coconut, and longs conversations. We spoke of all things spiritual and the fall of Babylon, as he says. His wisdom comes straight from his huge heart and he is a man of true generosity and love. He sees the ways of life removed from the mother, from the earth, and the wicked ways of greedy men. He has compassion and heals all who come to him. It is no wonder that he lives next to the White River, perhaps the only one of its kind.

My time with Moses was short, six days, but I feel that if I stayed any longer I would have begun to build my own cabin. That would have been the last anyone had heard of me. I found such peace in these simple ways...a peace of just being and living without the complexities of the mind. These people were content and happy, bursting with life. These few days brought me back to a place that I call my home. I remembered where I had come from and where I am going, back to the earth. And I remembered where true joy comes from, from the simplicity of just being a part of creation living harmoniously with itself. As it was intended by our creator, ourselves.

© Peter Richardson 2002