The Voodoo shop of Caribbean solstice 🏝️

Summer solstice Caribbean style is not your Momma's solstice. Better break out the sunscreen and air conditioning, which, BTW, most of the Island folks cannot afford to pay the enormous electrical bills for. The lovely tourists may need to keep their cool cars, buses and limos close by.

You will definitely need a bit of Voodoo, Hoodoo, Obeah, and all of the African diasporic religious, spell-casting and healing traditions practiced by the 'wink, wink' "scientists", "doctors", or "professors" of the dark and magical arts. For when Heaven deserts you and leaves you to roast on spits of natural air, only the demons from hell can help you and give you tips on how to stay cool-ish.

I am not entirely sure if people still get arrested for practicing Obeah in the Caribbean anymore. But hey, if Ganja (weed, marijuana) is now legal, why not so too be the 'working of Voodoo-ism and Obeah). Just saying.

~~~

Everyone flocked to the Reverend Z's Voodoo shop whenever the summer solstice was due to make her appearance in the already sweltering and humid Caribbean. You could find all kinds of remedy for the heatwave to come.

"Why you calling the hot sun 'her'? Lana asked, puzzled.

"Of course the sun is a woman". They all debated, who else could bring on so much heat and make people sweat so much.

"What you got for the heatwave this year Reverend, and don't sell me the lotion you did last year, it made me skin itch and bumps grow in secret places".

"He, he, he. You could'ha invited me over to put some balm on it". Laughed ole man Brown, his tobacco pipe hanging from his leering lips.

"Maybe some 'pretty potion' could do you well, you old geezer". Lana shot back.

"It not my fault you rub it on sweaty skin. I told you to bathe before applying it". Reverend Z said, laughing out loud at the expression on Lana's face.

"How many times per day can I bathe, I have to go to work, you know, pshaw"!

"I hear it is going to sizzle even hotter than last year". Robbie piped up from over the corner by the bar.

"Professor, tell us one of your learn-ed funny stories, it might get us a-climb-ated to the weather".

"You mean acclimated, Joe. Accl-i-mated".

"Wow, you know big words Brownie, good for you". Everyone laughed, looking to the professor for a story.

"Ok. I know a good one". Piped up the professor, who was taking a well earned vacation from his curious students.

"How about 'The Caribbean Heatwave Heist"

"Let's hear it, it better be good"!

The Professor began:

As the summer solstice drew ever closer, the obnoxious and brazen sun pirouetted across turquoise waters and palm trees swayed to a reggae rhythm. Enigmatic waves ebbed and flowed in the ocean as the sight of hundreds of umbrellas fought to stay anchored in the violence of the swirling winds. The Caribbean Island city known as “Montego Cay” was bustling with holiday activity, schools were out and freedom was the order of the day.

This was no ordinary tropical paradise; it was the epicenter of all things scorching, and I don’t mean just the weather. He he he!

As the summer solstice approached each year, the islanders geared up for the Great Heatwave Heist. You see, during the solstice, the sun’s rays intensified, transforming the sand into molten lava and causing coconuts to spontaneously burst into flames. But that wasn’t the true challenge. No, the real conundrum lay in the fabled treasure concealed deep within Montego Cay’s fiery core. It was time for Sizzling Solstice Shenanigans in the Caribbean.

Maybe the earth will erupt like a volcano from all the heat, and the fabled pirate treasure would regurgitate from the bowels of the earth. One can only hope for some good news this year.

As the sweltering summer solstice was upon them, the Caribbean islands were in for a wild ride. The sun, feeling particularly mischievous, decided to crank up the heat to “extra crispy.” The palm trees were sweating coconut water, and even the iguanas were considering a vacation to Antarctica.

On the island of Barbados, the locals tried to fry eggs on the sidewalks. But the eggs just laughed, rolled off, and sunbathed on the beach instead. Meanwhile, in Trinidad, the asphalt melted into a sticky tar pit, and cars sank like confused tourists in quicksand.

The Bahamas, known for its crystal-clear waters, faced an unexpected challenge. The ocean turned into a giant hot tub, complete with floating ice cubes made of seawater. Tourists tried to cool off by diving in, only to emerge shriveled and half cooked.

In Jamaica, the sun decided it had been too modest for far too long.

"Ha, too modest? very funny, when was the sun ever modest here". Scoffed Luna.

"For real". Reverend said, shaking his head.

"Shut up and let the man finish the story". Pshaw, someone yelled.

The Professor continued....In Jamaica, the sun decided it had been too modest for far too long. 🌞🌞

The sun rose with an extra swagger, its rays high-fiving palm trees and winking at coconuts. The islanders, accustomed to balmy weather, found themselves in a sizzling predicament.

In Kingston, the ice cream vendors faced a crisis. Their frosty treats melted faster than a politician’s promises. Desperate, they tried selling “soft-serve soup,” but customers weren’t thrilled. One customer complained, “I asked for sprinkles, not sweat droplets"!

At Reggae Beach, the sand sizzled like a skillet. The DJ spun tunes, and the crowd danced—more like a synchronized attempt to escape third-degree burns. A sunburned tourist shouted, “This isn’t a beach party; it’s a barbecue”!🌞🌞

In Montego Cay, coconuts chatted under the blazing sun. “Hey, Green Coconut,” said Brown Coconut, “ever feel like we’re just glorified water balloons?” Green Coconut sighed, “Yeah, but at least we’re Instagram-famous”.

Tourists slathered on sunscreen like it was a sacred ritual. One guy, convinced he’d found the ultimate SPF, applied it with a trowel. “I’m invincible"! he declared. But when he jumped into the ocean, the sunscreen formed a neon slick, attracting confused dolphins.

Bob Marley would have gladly composed a new hit: “No Sun, No Cry”. The lyrics went, “In this Caribbean heat, we’ll all be crispy fried. But don’t worry 'bout a thing—just grab aloe and apply”! The chorus? “Sunburn, mon, it’ll be all right”.

Finally, the sun challenged the moon to a duel. “Meet me at midnight,” it taunted. The moon, cool and collected, replied, “Sure, but bring SPF 50. I don’t want to burn my craters”.

So this is how the longest day stretched into the hottest night, and Jamaica learned a valuable lesson:

Even paradise needs air conditioning. 🌞🏝️

Ah, the Caribbean sun—turning tourists into lobsters and coconuts into philosophers. If only the sun had a dimmer switch! 😄

No pirate treasure was forthcoming...but hey...

Jamaica...no problem mon!!!!!!! 🏝️🏝️

On the longest day of the ye🌞ar, a town revives an ancient solstice ritual and discovers its (ouch, ow) unexpected power. And heat!!!!🌞🌞

🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

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Did you know that AI has a sense of humor. Well, it helped me to write this story. Disclaimer if AI stole the bits from anyone's story, as I have learned that AI does plagiarize sometimes. I mean, AI does have to rely on what other people have already written.