AsI swim from one end to the other, splashing the water about, in my inimitablestyle, believe me ... alligatorsare always after me. Now - she! ON THE DAY I was born my mother lifted me up in her arms, admiringly for a moment,then threw me into the winding black-watered creek (not far from the Orinocoand the Amazon) and said, "Swim, you bugger." I had no choice obviously, my young heartpounding. And I had to swim - to get out, or face the consequences: therampaging alligators, jaws ready to snap - to end my young life! Now (I keep thinking) what is it thateach time I enter the swimming pool the lifeguards seem to have it in for me. Don`t get me wrong, I am a good swimmer;I have been telling myself this for years; without swimming I couldn`t live-remember? Ah, memory of that first encounter: my bobbing up and down, thenflailing, feet and arms thrown about in the mad desire not to drown or beswallowed by the converging alligators. It was my real borning! THIS ONE female I lifeguard (the males seem to know what I`ve been through) looksat me, eyes boring holes into me, her walking up and down the entire length ofthe pool, each way - as I swim from one end to the other, splashing the waterabout, in my inimitable style, believe me ... alligators are always after me.Now - she! I have learned to put up with thisordeal, this sufferance - I have no other name for it. I am now constantly onthe alert for her walking close by, following my strides: she ready to correctmy strokes each time I lift my arms over my head and bring them down hard intothe water. And I still imagine alligators coming after me in the Stygian murkand gloom -being chased! Faster I go. Heaving in. Swallowingwater. She smiles, pretends to look at me sideways, askance. The other swimmersracing by, some much faster, stronger ... ah, I must keep up with them. I presson, with a rhythm all my own. Now I LAUGH to myself as I do thebreast stroke, my favourite; then it`s the crawl, 20 lengths of one or theother; then I shift to the next. But there she is. Leave me alone! She watches me intently,as if she expects me to start drowning at any moment, her mouth almost agape. Iadmit to stealing quick glances at her, her elegant, wellshaped legs, thighs. Ah, yes, she is following my stridesagain, looking down at me from her vantage spot ... and I feel like a cripple,sort of, because she starts walking faster, though I try to keep up with herthis time. It`s a game between us now. And shesmiles. I smile back, gulping water again. Maybe I am beginning to think shehas an interest in me, more than in trying to prevent me from drowning. So Istart fantasizing in a way. But her stare is ominous, she`s about toreprimand me. I better swim the correct way, OR ELSE... Hey, you! she is saying. More resolute Iam, going faster. YOU! It`s not like that, not throwing your arms about wildly.She watches me, maybe laughing - Christ! Why not tell her about my first day inwater! Sure, go on, tell her about rampaging alligators; that it was no reptileshow in Florida, see; no alligator farm. It was in the real thing. Go on, flail your arms about, kick outhard, pretend you`re smashing an alligator`s face - strong-legged - kickingreally hard. The endless nightmares that I keep reliving. My mother gleefullylaughing, hands akimbo, no? Yeah, tell her! TELL THEM also about growing up in the tropics and always swimming in the rivers,creeks, murky brown water, Guiana`s own. How natural it is, with the sunwarming the water, tufted vegetation, water hyacinths with long hairy rootslike old men`s knotted beards; next, diving and surfacing among this same thickvegetation. Alligators always lurking. There! Tell them too about imaginingbeing one of Raleigh`s men, a Spanish galleon not far away. Or, being a nativeboy, Carib or Arawak, swimming without care; oh, I simply swim on. Now saner moments prevail: I am here inthe pool in a confined place, despite trying to cast an ocean in my brain ...how I want the world to be unlimitable. But I am really enclosed, claustrophobic.I figure she`s smiling, she knows what I am thinking; I can`t escape her, she`sstill looking at my every stroke, the way my head tilts, legs kicking Out, armsthrown wide. She goes back to her regular spot,looking at the other swimmers. No, to watch me, alone! I take my time, really going back:imagining being close to the Orinoco or Amazon, in a really dark-wateredtributary. I am also a Wapisiana, a Native, thinking I evolved from sugar cane,what else? I am also imagining how all of life began with these samealligators. Go on, tell her! Slowly I am swimming in a stream close toa waterfall, the mighty sounds of it, roaring, filling my cars - overwhelmingme no end. I take a deep breath, I allow the water to curl close to me, theother swimmers passing by, mate and female, in a wide expanse of water. I amindeed an Indian, swimming along; the water is all. Thunderous drone,crescendo; even as they kick out in the breast stroke, powerfully ... andthey`re gone! But the waterfall, this Makonaima (I know it well), is still withme. Yes, tell her, one day, when we`re closetogether, when she bends down and taps me on the head. Ah! She is once more looking at me, as I pickup the pace, swimming faster. Yes, I am here, in temperate Canada: not in theAmazon, Orinoco, or Berbice. I move faster, arms and legs in pain as I strainevery muscle, trying to keep up with the others; but it seems something isholding me back. I gulp water, coughing, swallowing hard. I know I must stop now, I`ve had enough;but I keep trying. just when I am about to reach the shallow end, I see thelifeguard motioning to me, her little finger beckoning - telling me to stop, itwants to speak to me. Yes, it`s about my swimming style! Now she wants to give me lessons, shesays; she will teach me how to swim, correctly. By her manner it appears I haveno choice. You must conform, see; you must do thingsthe proper way in Canada. Not splash about, it`s discomfiting for the others;look at them good - how staid, orderly. I attempt a smile. No, I am in no need of lessons; I assertmyself, I will stick to my own way ... these thoughts go through my mind, evenas I pant, sucking in more oxygen, feel as if I am about to die at any moment. A look of pity is in her eyes. But she isdetermined to teach me. Only me. AH, IT HAS happened before, I know; I am thinking how I`vebeen able to thwart the others; but no longer. Not her. Suddenly I am once morein the Amazon, I am fighting off large crocodiles that keep coming after me, Iam really ploughing through the water. Next I am on a bank with mangrove andcourida, breathing hard, stretched out. It will be a new day, a night of darkdreams, recurring nightmares, my drowning - my never really borning (in a way). Ha, I am still swimming, I realize. Theothers are taking a breather, they took at each other; took at me. A dim smile,a nod, my panting all the while. She says to study their strides, their arms,legs, how they also float; it`s an object lesson. Christ! A motley crew really, many heads bobbing,weaving, sideways movements, water splashing from time to time; a really hugeman this one, belly`s mighty barrel, wading through the water. Yes - I must belike him, she says. Her eyes, expression; she`s also laughing at me – no ? Theother lifeguards are also in on the act, simply watching and not watching, allpolite. No one is really drowning, is there? Look away from me, please: onlyadults swim here. It`s for your own benefit, she says. Oh? So I am back at it, swimming; as shewalks alongside once more; and I keep an eye out for her, her expression, Iwant her approval. Yeah, maybe I will ask her out for a date. Right - she`s studying my strokes, mymoves in the water. I am determined not to be fazed; I`ll domy best, I will continue pretending. Being in the Orinoco, piranhas about,feeding from each other. This cannibalism, rage, my being among them. Otherfish, carnivores, teeth like short sharp spears. I quickly breathe harder. Yes, keep on doing it. Shall I? Yes, you`re doing fine. You sure it`s the correct way? Sort of Now I try swimming below, as if to anunderwater cave - I will be gone from sight, disappearing altogether. Here Iwill seek refuge. Maybe, far under, I will find Raleigh`sEl Dorado, the city of gold, what the explorers since the time of yore havebeen looking for. My real underwater life now. I keep swimming back and forth, from oneend to the other, and the burnishing city is still there, my mind won`t let itgo away. Each time I look under, I see it, blurred, amid strange waves, thepool`s own. Heaving in, tremors of the body; ah, the ancient city of goldfinally! I SEE the special one, the kingEl Dorado - who lives here; so ancient, straggly beard, flowing, like a hundredwater hyacinths altogether. His name; and again I am Sir Walter Raleigh, goingtowards it with glee, the sense of imminent fulfilment, life`s long dream. It is no longer fabled. Who can disputeit now? I am also one of the Spanishconquistadores, Cortez or Pizarro; and this old one, I see ... Montezuma or Atahualpa (Aztec and Inca, whatdifference does it make?). A foreshadowing of gloom, civilizations in ruins. You there, come up from deep under. I pretend not to hear; I continueswimming, going further into the cave, going into this place, maybe it isAtlantis, the lost kingdom, in this New World. Yes, here. Come on, you, I tell you; you can`t swimlike that; you will drown. Will I? My mind`s frenzy, the city made of goldbars, streets of gold dust. But it is also blood around me, the entire poolbloodfilled! But it keeps on like this. You, can you hear me? Can`t you? No, I cannot. Come on, before it`s too late; before yousuffocate, drown. No one can stay under that long. I can! No, you can`t! Suddenly I move upwards, looking up ather; the lifeguard is once more walking along the edge of the pool, looking atme, now with doubt and awe combined. Are you okay? Her words, I can tell, herlips pursed. All the others, well, they are also looking at me with awe. And Iam still far away; not here; not in Canada. I keep looking sideways at her; and Iwant to smile. She smiles back at me, as the other swimmers race by, as iftrying to show me up. And blood, well, it`s still in the water, they`re allswimming in blood, the stuff of conquest. One laughs loudly, then sputters,coughing; an older woman making a face, gargoyle-like. She is kicking outwildly, splashing ... as if into myface. I swim slowly, to the shallow end. Another lifeguard`s turn. Maybe she willdo the same, dog me; maybe. I am beginning to think that they`re all the same,Susan or Jennifer or John. The finger, motioning me, though sheseems a little embarrassed, this new one, dim freckles too along the sides ofthe mouth, the lips curved in. I start to breathe hard already; she standsabove me. Now I am about to go under again. You mind if I tell you something aboutyour swimming? You are wasting so much energy in the water. Really? Maybe you need to swim on the surface,not under. (A French Canadian, she is, by heraccent.) I am a little bit dazed now, trying tocatch my breath. You don`t have to, if you don`t want to.I`m just trying to give you some advice. It costs you nothing. You are? See, I`ve been watching you. We all havebeen. Nicole`s my name. Oh? Yes, she smiles. I am almost gasping now. She forcesanother smile, her mouth twisting a little, as if mirroring mine. You see, you need to learn to swim thecorrect way. For a moment I am tempted; but Montezuma,Quetzalcoatl, Manoa: they`re all close to me, water hyacinths hanging from myhead like a crown. Raleigh too I am, a courtier`s smile, then heavy frown...before the Great Queen about to order a beheading! That huge axe ... blood gushing out! I wake up, drenched in sweat. "Pears Fatten Like LittleBuddhas" and "At Swim" will appear in a forthcoming collectionof short fiction by Cyril Dabydeen.