Dominica: Jomba the Impatient Medicine Lady

The hardened Carib guard raced to fetch Jomba, the elderly medicine woman. At this time of day, he knew that she would be in her cave, mixing herbs and spices, ostensibly as medicine, but he also knew that she was more likely making the 'Jerk' seasoning recipe that she had brought with her from Jamaica. He arrived at the cave.

"Jomba?"

"What is it?" She did not look up from her mortar and pestle.

"Outsiders." Now she did.

"How many?"

"Five."

"Oh, is that all?," she asked, going back to he work. "I thought you were going to tell me we were being invaded again. Eat them."

"You know we don't actually do that."

"Pity... If we did, they might fear or respect us enough to leave us be. Spears, then."

"There is an Aztec warrior with them."

"...And I suppose we're looking after 'our own kind', now?"

"Jomba?," More sternly this time.

"All right, all right, go get a canoe big enough for eight, and stock it."

"Stock it?"

"You brought it up, remember? Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Coconuts, fruit, salt pork, fishing line, and throw in a handful of peppers just for spite. Don't forget the paddles."

There was a pause that lasted for a couple of minutes, during which the old medicine woman continued to pound a pungent blend of sea salt, berries, roots, leaves, and seeds, a concoction that made the guards eyes water and throat tighten. He coughed slightly to pass the time.

"You're still here."

"Would you like to--"

"--Oh fine, I'll go and see them off! But don't come complaining to me when tonight's dinner is bland!"