The Tribune

The man sat down a few rows away. In a nearly empty and sterile, freezing cold Grand Bahama International Airport terminal with only a handful of early arrivals waiting for much later flights, it was hard not to make eye contact with the few lone folks who were already there, a mother and toddler, a few men who spoke in rapid staccato-like sounds like they were from somewhere far away, and this gentleman, middle-aged, laden with an encased guitar and assortment of backpacks and hefty hand luggage that indicated he had been around these parts for a while and was heading back to wherever he came from.

Setting is important, especially when the story it leads to is such a surprise.

If you have not been to the Grand Bahama International Airport terminal, let me describe it to you by starting and ending with the news - it is a work in progress. It’s one of the emptiest feeling places you have ever been. High ceilings, polished, gleaming swirling gray concrete floors, darkish walls empty of any artwork, a hall devoid of both personality and adequate outlets, on the perimeter a few concessions that opened slowly, lazily late in the day, in the centre, rows of new slotted metal chairs welded together and lined up like soldiers on a field. Nearly four years after the ravages of Hurricane Dorian and no international service, at least this much is a start, but it was the eerie emptiness of the hall – a work in progress - that provided the setting for a conversation that might never have taken place had there been a bookstore or a coffee shop.

“I have a fast wireless charger. You’re welcome to use it,” the man surrounded by the guitar and assorted luggage offered in a voice loud enough to catch my attention as he saw me searching for an outlet to plug my charger and phone into. It had been a busy morning and the phone owed me nothing. We had just completed the Grand Bahama Shipyard groundbreaking ceremony kicking of the $600m investment that will transform the once bustling facility into one of the most important shipyards in the world, capable of hauling and launching the world’s largest cruise and container ships and outshining any other yard in the Western Hemisphere.

It was a celebration years in the making. Talks about the transformation of the shipyard had begun long before with do-over fever building following an accident in April 2019 when a crane collapsed as it was lifting Royal Caribbean’s Oasis of the Seas to repair a propulsion problem.

In the years that followed the accident in which miraculously no one was injured, the shipyard, always an important part of the Grand Bahama economy, limped along, handling repairs that came its way on its single remaining dock, unable to live up to its full potential with one dock down and another incapable of handling the larger vessels that now had to make their way to Europe for major repairs and haul-outs. It was no secret that with larger ships rolling out and newbuilds showing a steady trend of bigger and heavier than ever, the previous dual docks and single existing dock would be no match for future needs.

Throughout those years, talks and meetings between Carnival and Royal Caribbean, which together own 80 percent of the shipyard, and other entities ran on. Government agreements had to be signed. The Grand Bahama Port Authority, a 20 percent owner, had to be onboard. Its acting chairman, Sarah St George, recalling her late father, Edward St George, so proud of the shipyard he helped build taking her there for Sunday picnics when other kids her age were going to the beach, added her memorable and humorous touch to the groundbreaking on this day, and now finally, the ceremony was over. Initial supplies were on their way for work to begin, docks on order scheduled to be delivered for a grand re-opening in 2025-2026, and after moderating the press conference, I was back at the airport for the return flight to Nassau.

And it was cold inside that nearly empty terminal when the man offered me the wireless charger for my dying phone.

I was right, he was headed home to Texas where his wife and three kids awaited his return, two teen girls and a 27-year-old son with autism and two loves - Special Olympics and his girlfriend who is blind. The man, whose name turned out to be David, proudly showed me pictures of his family, and then the conversation turned to Grand Bahama.

He had been here at the Grand Bahama Shipyard, heading up a highly specialised tech and leadership team doing crane oversight, overhaul and upgrade. Cranes, I learned, are like the DNA of a shipyard, as essential as water, drydock, slipways, warehouses, welding equipment and skilled labour. But for uninitiated like me who knows nothing about what makes a crane stand straight or bend and lift when ordered to do so, it was revealing to learn that major work on this equipment which, by the way, reminds me of a metal giraffe on steroids, relates not to replacing aging parts but updating electronics and software, the internal parts that act like the heart, lungs and brain of vital equipment that can run $2 to $3m used.

“Grand Bahama,” said the man named David, “is the best place I’ve ever been on a job.” And he has been to many – Guyana, El Salvador, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Ecuador and many others, well over a dozen countries.

“I’ve never felt safer than in Grand Bahama.” In Honduras, he had guns pointed at his head. In Dominica, he had to have protection from those coming across the border. In some countries, he and his team had to be transported in armored vans to get to the shipyard or wherever the crane in need of attention was situated and back to where they were being housed before dark or risk attack by gangs and gangsters.

As a foreigner who might have a pocketful of cash, he’s been robbed and nearly abducted. He’s stared down the barrel of a pistol and an assault weapon, praying for his life, wanting to see the wife and children he was going home to now.

This stranger at the airport who has travelled far and wide and worked the world over found a paradise we forget when we talk of Grand Bahama as the forgotten isle, the land with needs and wants and potential still unrealised.

To this man, a stranger, it was a respite that offered everything.

“I’m not a party man. Those days are long over. I just wanted to go to work and come home at the end of the day and the people in Grand Bahama were so friendly, so polite and warm and genuine, not like they had been trained to say the right things to tourists, genuine. The culture, the food, the sharing. I never once felt like I was in danger, and I’ve never felt more comfortable outside the US I’ve never felt safer or liked it more than in Grand Bahama.”

As for the shipyard, his compliments were just as hearty and heartfelt.

“It’s one of the best I have ever seen,” said the man named David from Texas. “It has everything in one place – metal shop, welding, painting, propulsion repair, electrical. If there were a catastrophe tomorrow and the world shut down temporarily, the shipyard could close its gates and just keep going. It is one of the best-run shipyards anywhere. it’s very impressive.”

Thank you, David, for offering a quick cellphone charge. More importantly, thank you for loving The Bahamas and reminding us that while we think Grand Bahama needs a helping hand up, there are others who look at it through different eyes and see something to give an applauding hand to.