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With a greater clarity of the knowledge of the area, we walked from the church a little farther inland to what used to be the post office and the school that our mother attended, the skeletal shells of which were still standing precariously. From there, stopping periodically to eat some edible berries, we struggled behind our cousins through the heavily brush and shrub covered footpaths to Black Duck Cove to visit the cemetery where our grandmother, whom we never knew, was buried. This sacred ground was in very bad condition, with many badly corroded gravestones buried under brush and long grass. After searching for a few minutes in the midst of tangled vegetation, we found our grandmothers resting place beside which we paid our respects. It was a good thing that our cousins stayed with us, as the footpaths that traversed the island, were overgrown with brush. | 
