Banana Island

I am one of the few volunteers at UNIMAK who hasn’t asked for anything. Most of the other volunteers need help with logistical things like housing, transportation, internet, child care, etc. However, with Gearoid as my reluctant benefactor I haven’t needed any type of support. I have been helping Sister Eleanor with her communications course, which means I’ve taken over the lecturing and paper grading of 3 of her 7 classes. The lecturing required a little bit of preparation so that I could appear knowledgeable about what the day’s topic was. However, the grading of exams, essays, and finals has proven to be extraordinarily time-consuming. My tendency to procrastinate has not made the paper grading any easier.

Sister Eleanor, knowing the time it takes to grade that amount of papers (along with deciphering the horrible grammar and handwriting), requested, unbeknownst to me, that I receive some type of compensation. She spoke to the registrar, who happens to be a friend of mine, and he whole-heartedly agreed and said he would speak to the vice-chancellor of the university, who happens to be on good terms with Gearoid. The vice-chancellor approached Gearoid privately and mentioned my hard work and questioned what type of compensation I might want. (Why speak to me when I have a “husband” to make my decisions?) Gearoid very quickly reassured him that I was fine and didn’t need anything. (Why consult me when he as a male can make my decisions?)

I chatted with my registrar friend about this series of events that concerned me but at which point I was never consulted. I joked that all I wanted from the university was a ride to the beach and a half million Leones (about 100 euro) to pay for my stay there. Three weeks later, he made my joke a reality and as the “leader” of the trip (it was very kind of them to allow me to make decisions as I am just a mere woman) I chose (drum roll please) Banana Island. We weren’t lucky enough or financially sound enough to go the last time we were in the country and my registrar friend said it was lovely. I was very excited as it had already been 2 months since I left the Makeni city limits. The night before the trip I woke up with a fever during a rainstorm. Gearoid suggested we reschedule the trip and I told him that if I’m going to be miserable I would rather be miserable on the beach.

So along with my reluctant benefactor, my registrar friend, a Spanish psychologist (who should write her own blog because if anything is going to happen here, it happens to her), and a hilarious driver who kept threatening to eat my registrar friend’s pet monkey, we made the first leg of our journey to the beach. Once we got to the beach, we had to take a 20 minute boat ride to the island. I enjoyed the first 5 minutes of the boat ride, declaring “This is worth the paper grading!” to skeptical stares, until my seasickness kicked in and I tried to enjoy the rest of the ride vomit free. After the nautical leg of the journey, we had to walk through a jungle and the local village for about 10 minutes before we got to the “resort” we were staying at.

Dalton’s guesthouse was simple but comfortable. Our room only had a bed but we were fortunate enough to have our own bathroom with running water. A covered area housed an outdoor cantina where we ate our meals, played pool and other games on a damp table, and gazed out into the gorgeous ocean. Before our lunch, we wandered along the beach and climbed giant lava rocks looking for treasures. The lava rocks are studded all around the island and only reveal themselves when the tide is out.  As a result, there are several shipwrecks located under the sea near the island. The treasures we were looking for were pieces of sea glass and shards of pottery from extremely old ships. I am happy to say that we did not walk away empty handed.

Happy with our treasures, my registrar friend and I decided to brave the wild ocean while Gearoid and the psychologist watched from a raised platform that offered more beautiful views of the island. The waves were powerful and giant rocks rose out of the sand. Our plan was to get past a certain rock in order to avoid the waves and then safely snorkel. Unfortunately, past the rock was a rip current. Before I knew it, I was being quickly swept away from my friend and the part of the beach we were staying on. My friend tried to help and repeatedly swam closer to me reaching out his hand. I was a bit reluctant. I wanted to remain alive but was battling with the shame of the ocean having pulled my bathing suit top down. If I did what he told me to do and we successfully made it back to shore, I would have to forever look him in the eye and know he saw my bare chest. Please remember that my ancient ancestors were Puritans who left behind the indecentness of Europe- propriety of some sort is ingrained in my DNA. However, at the same time I fully recognize now that my modesty was going to kill me. Somehow, I managed to grab his hand, maintain my modesty, and hold onto the snorkel/mask, when a giant wave pushed me head first and backwards over a cluster of rocks. Gearoid later admitted that this was the point when he stopped laughing and taking pictures of my plight and really considered the seriousness of the situation. However, luckily I popped up mostly unscathed (there were a couple of scrapes on my knees and elbows) and being able to stand ran back to the safeness of the shore. My friend, after his own journey over the cluster of rocks, joined me on the sand and we stood wobbly legged and panting as the residual adrenaline ran through us. This plan of ours was definitely on the list of the stupidest things we’ve ever done.

Luckily, the weather allowed for no more adventures that night. A light downpour kept us in the cantina and we spent the evening playing an assortment of games and reliving our near-death experience. We had a delicious dinner of rock lobster (I apologized to and thanked the live lobsters for giving us their lives but admittedly didn’t feel any guilt when I was tearing into their succulent tail meat. After a weekend at the beach, I am once again a firm vegetarian. I promise) and headed to bed early. The next day we woke up to a beautiful sunny morning and I reluctantly dressed for a morning swim before breakfast. The tide was not in as much as I would have liked and after a couple of tentative splashes in the water, I decided that swimming on this portion of beach, so close to the dangerous rocks, was not for me.

Later in the morning, we traipsed through more jungle to another beach on the island. Instead of outcroppings of giant lava rocks, we were able to enjoy the wide expanse of smooth sand. After everyone else made it into the ocean and assured me that there were no hidden rocks, I joined them and stayed there for approximately 2 hours. It felt so nice to float, swim, and relax without my newfound ocean fear. Back at Daltons, we had one more delicious meal (sorry Mr. Grouper) before sorting our beach treasure and then heading back to the boat for the mainland. The clearer weather prevented a rough boat ride so seasickness was not a factor. Although, the brilliant sun ensured that despite sunscreen my face would resemble the dearly departed lobster I had recently enjoyed for the next few days.

Oh, and I later found out my fever was a result of me having typhoid again.