Tyron Woolfe: The deaf coconut seller, five months on (with BSL)

Tyron Woolfe is currently travelling the Americas, writing a blog about the people he meets on the way. 

Part of my seven months travelling Latin America included a visit to the Mexican island of Isle de Mujeres with two deaf friends that I was staying with in Cancun.

To watch Tyron signing his article, press play below, or scroll down to continue reading in English:

It was very hot and as we left the small apartment and rushed into the hired car to get rescued by the air conditioning (!) we waved goodbye to their big dog. How on earth a big furry dog can live and breathe in ultra heat, I will never understand!

The ferry port at Cancun looked crowded with tourists walking in every direction. Queues towards the catamarans seemed orderly for a while and then suddenly people started rushing ahead of us whilst others stood uniformly. It was puzzling and I automatically had this English attitude of wanting everyone to queue properly.

It was only later that I realised that if you bought a particular priced ticket it allowed you to go towards the front without any issue!

The ride on the huge catamaran was wonderful, lots of people were taking photos and these “quick poses” – I mean they suddenly do a silly expression, tongue sticks out, look away from the camera, hands suddenly outwards as if to do the time warp dance, and then as soon as the photo is done, its back to normal hand waving fan-actioned gosh-its-hot emotions!

We arrived at the esplanade and walked, noting so many golf club cars riding past. Tourists mainly drive these but there were also several local people driving somewhat older club cars without any hurried manner.

In every direction there were people trying to sell you something, be it an ice lolly, a bag of water, a range of sunglasses that look like someone’s broken into a SUNGLASSES HUT shop and was hoping to have a field day. I bought some coconut ice cream which gave my friend and I some instant relief from the heat only to then become thirsty – as many summer revellers experience.

We walked a few blocks to the corner of two dusty roads. Your stall had about 25 coconuts all sitting in neat rows, ready to be cut open for drinking and further cut for coconut slices and wobbly bits too. It was evident that you had been looking out for us as you worked.

You introduced yourself as Wayne, using standard American Sign Language. You eagerly agree to be photographed and for the art of coconut splitting to be filmed a few times.

I could tell other deaf tourists had been to your stall with similar approaches, we tourists are notorious with our cameras! I bought three coconuts for my friends and I, we drank enthusiastically whilst you reminded us that the kidneys benefit greatly from this drink.

It was clear to me that you were an immense flirt, you had so much adoration for women and you talked about a few ladies already within the first ten mins of our presence.

You went on a bit more about women to me and then Jorge told you that I’m gay. An awkward 10 seconds followed and then all was fine again! I kind of wished Jorge had waited a bit but then again everyone was so open in Mexico I guessed it was normal.

I later learned that you were one of only five deaf residents on this island but the other four do not sign. I remember you telling me that you occasionally meet deaf visitors when they come to the island and that your stall is on Facebook as Cocos Frios.

You grew up on the island and because your father had passed away, you had to rise to the challenge of keeping the family business going; coconuts, a gift shop, renting out a few golf carts and a hotel.

I noticed you wearing a long sleeved swim top underneath the Cocos Frios t-shirt. it was roasting, sweltering hot and you seemed used to it. Of course this gear was to protect you from too much sun, but it felt too warm looking at you working hard while wearing two layers.

I remember assuming you only worked on a coconut stall and made a small income. Instead it transpired that your diversified income puts you and your family in good position.

Your silver gleaming clean jeep looked lovely outside your shop. It was 50 pesos per coconut which was about two pounds. I remember you telling me that you regularly go to Cancun to buy batches and bring them back to the island to sell.

I remember thinking to myself what it must be like to live on an island, especially with no signing deaf friends nearby. My mind kept wondering what you do regularly, e.g. every Friday night.

I recall you telling me how you use your mobile phone regularly but whether you get lonesome on this island was a heavy question I pondered. You were, and most probably still are, clearly dedicated to your elderly Mother who sits next to you in the shade all day at your coconut stall.

I watched you conversing with several visitors to your stall. At the start of each conversation you made it very clear to them that you were deaf and to directly communicate with you.

No big cry out for interpreters and access, just good old plain and simple direct communication. Some of these visitors evidently have been before, they immediately signed/gestured to you. It was brilliant to see how deaf awareness could be spread this way.

I know that on the catamaran back to Cancun I simply thought to myself, I just can’t imagine it. I confessed to that in my blog.

I couldn’t imagine having to get up each day to this routine, to this type of work. I knew I have such a low boredom threshold.

You impressed me though, there was this constant energy about you, and a clear set of family values. You reminded me of a grocer who works at Romford market (near where I grew up) and whose family has always sold apples and pears.

I remember trying to create an analogy between you and a coconut (I acknowledge that coconuts have been used in a derogatory to describe people but I hope this analogy makes sense) where you are one part outwards and another part inwards.

Deaf and hearing? I remember thinking that the outward part could be your aura, of being fine and busy, when inwards I suspected you have bouts of frustration, wanting to live nearer to a deaf community?

I also remember thinking maybe it was just me, me who cannot imagine a life of a daily routine and being too far away from my deaf friends/family. It was only my first month of solo travels, and as I kept looking at my forward calendar the next five or six months felt like it would be too long. I was about to experience homesickness as I entered Peru by myself.

Of course, this is a reflective blog, and at the time of writing this I only have seven weeks left of travelling and I just cannot understand how time has gone so quickly.

I reckon meeting this deaf coconut seller was meant to be. When I found myself lonely in a youth hostel for the first three weeks of Peru, sometimes with 11 other people sharing a 12-bed room, all of them chattering away I remember trying to console myself, reminding myself of the deaf coconut seller on the Isle de Mujeres.

Tyron is travelling the Americas until his money runs out. Part of the opportunity whilst travelling includes developing some of his writing skills and his blog has been recently shared with his friends and wider.

Tyron is in his early 40s and loves a good laugh and cuddle with friends and family. He has worked for over 20 years with deaf children and young people. He is keeping an eye out for his next career move whilst travelling. His travel writing focuses on the people he has met whilst travelling rather than about the places he has seen.