Tariq, our cook

 I am no longer afraid of Tariq, at least not totally.  There are times when an after–work pony ride in the late afternoon on the sand by the ocean will fall into early evening, and I miss dinner.  The first time this happened, I had tip–toed into the kitchen during campfire to ask for a grilled cheese sandwich, thinking that would be easy for him to make.  Tariq was finishing cleaning up the dinner plates.  When he saw me, he sounded off about how I was late for a dinner he labored over.  “What da matter with you?  Why you miss dinner?  This is not good!”  I had stood there waiting for him to pause so I could ask for the sandwich, but he never stopped complaining to me.  He just continued yelling, and while carrying on, he went to get a plate of leftovers that he had prepared for me.  “Missing dinner is no good!  It’s jahst no good!” he hollered as he handed me my covered plate.  He had kept it warm.   

Later, in my cabin, when I had uncovered the dish Tariq had prepared for me, I discovered that he had placed a pink lotus flower diagonally across the plate and over the food.

Another time, on my day off, I had planned to go on a morning pony ride into the woods to see the wild horses on the east side of the island, with intentions of spending most of the day out by myself.  I told Jim.  Jim told Tariq.  Brian came to my cabin door early that morning with a picnic lunch that Tariq had prepared for me.  Brian relayed a message from Tariq, stating if I didn’t eat it all and brought back any food uneaten, there’d be hell to pay.