My two youngest children were born in Barbados. My wife is from Guyana. I am a Trinidad citizen. During the last 12 years (the age of my second daughter, Jasmine), we have lived in Barbados, Trinidad, Belize and Antigua. While despite language, politics, geography and history, all Caribbean countries have more similarities than differences, in our household there has been one link that rises higher than the socio-economic landscape and shines through the gloom of even our darkest nights. It is nothing that should be taken lightly. It is electric in its ability and brilliant in its capacity to dominate its surroundings.

It started when we bought a house and all its contents in a place called Otaheite in south Trinidad. If you buy any products from S. M. Jaleel and Company, the ubiquitous beverage producer from Trinidad which is now flooding the Caribbean and other markets with drinks like Cole Cold, you will find that the company is located in the same rural district which is on the western coast of Trinidad, south of San Fernando and northeast of the La Brea pitch lake.

We had the good fortune of buying a large, old-fashioned, clumsily put together bits-and-pieces house on a hill overlooking the sea with a view of the Gulf of Paria to die for. However, when we arrived there, we were not the happiest of campers. The place had presence and potential but at the time needed as much cheering up as we did.

We found a whole cupboard full of Christmas lights and finally decided to continue our tradition of having a 'live' Christmas tree and surrounding the house and garden with lights. However, this time, we took it a big step further and higher. If my wife Indranie was around when the Almighty said, "Let there be light" even He would have been surprised at the intensity and magnitude of her response to such a task.

Santa's workshop

Despite the fact that the house is huge and high, and constantly buffeted by the constant North-East Trades, Indranie found people brave enough to indulge us. I understood afterwards that fishermen in Venezuela used our house as a beacon and the BWIA flight from Guyana thought they had flown off-course and had arrived at Santa's workshop in the North Pole, but that was mere Trinidadian exaggeration. All I know is that our kids were wide-eyed with excitement and bubbling with enjoyment when all the lights went up.

That was enough for us and was worth the trouble. Internally, I had as many tears of joy as there were icicles hanging from the roof. What also helped is that my older children and my mother, as well as many of my family from even further south than I was, were there to share the holidays with us and we with them.

When Indranie shipped our stuff to Belize, the lights went in plenitude, abandon and extra baggage. We were always lucky enough to get an acrobatic electrician to do the needful and generally, to complete the job by Christmas Eve. We always had an appreciative audience of at least two, our children Jasmine and Zubin. I know that we created the myth - fiction really - that the light show was all for them, but we knew that it was for us as well, for the family, in fact, that we are and will continue to be.

The Christmas tree inside the house is also part of the ritual. We initially went searching for the right tree and left it in a pot outside until the time came when the children's clamour for putting up the tree outweighed their other demands on our time and energy. I would then go into the garden and personally carry the tree, plant pot and all, up the stairs and into the living room where its accoutrements were waiting and the already wrapped gifts impatient to get a rest in their appointed place on a soft blanket spread under the tree.

Antigua, because the house is flat, is easier on the old man that I am becoming - at least physically. I seem to be growing taller since it is increasingly difficult to touch my toes.

This year there will be no roof surfing for me or our electrician. The electricity bill will be much lower and the lights will stay in the boxes in which they were stowed after last Christmas. My brother-in-law died earlier this year and it is our tradition to show restraint in our celebrations for a year. It is something that our children understand.

darkness

For the first time in their lives, the common, joyous link, the electric avenue that leads Santa from our rooftop to our doorstep, will be in darkness. Yet the cheer and prayer will be still there. The Christmas tree will be in its accustomed place inside - it already sprouted enough greenery to show us that it was looking forward to a warm corner indoors to get away from the December chill that blows down from the United States. My mother cannot make it. She has been very ill and we are praying for her. Her gifts will be under the tree as a means of reassuring ourselves she will always be part of our celebration and that there will be time enough to get them to her. We are isolated but not alone; far from home but not lonely. We have one another and that is what counts, not just for Christmas, but for all the days of our lives.

Tony Deyal was last seen saying that he is like the house in Otaheite. Just because there is a hole in the roof it does not mean that the fire inside has gone out.

Tony Deyal