Food, Fantasies, and Friends Chapter 8

 

I woke up the next day feeling as if a truck had backed up on my face.  Head was pounding, eyes were puffy, my mind trying to piece together the night before.  It was Jennifer and Jessica's going away party; a get together that consisted of us three, Carol, Mauricio, the neighbors and our two new German additions, Tom and Jerry. 

Tom and Jerry were the talk of the town that day.  They were cordial and attractive, but most importantly, they were guys!  For the first time I could feel the scales tilting towards the land of testosterone!  Up until that point, I was the only guy at the hut; no longer would I be the sole Y chromosome at the garden!  I had an extra pair to accompany me into the world of remote estrogen; it was a pleasant turn of events.

As luck would have it, we all got along great!  After our hungover breakfast, it was back to the routine, plus orientation duties for Tom and Jerry.  So there I was again giving these two the lay of the land and just getting to know them in general, all three of us sharing life stories through the fog of our alcoholic grogginess.  Unfortunately with extreme heat, hangovers tend to linger around like that one awkward friend that you just can't get to leave you alone; but since these two were German, I let some of the other German volunteers at the Compound help expedite their orientation.

Life began to take some interesting and more bonding turns after the arrival of this pair; by the time Jessica and Jennifer left, it was just the German duo, Heidi, Carol and myself.  The next two days that followed were quite typical and by this time I had established some great roots in the Compound.  Our days consisted of the same routine: wake up, pump, breakfast, pump, work, pump and so on....  At this point in our stay we had to pump water so much that it became something like a dance: two steps forward, five pumps back.  Turn your partner, two steps forward, ten pumps back.  The Germans learned the ropes pretty quickly and before you know it, they were out working for the turtle cause while juggling shovels in the garden.
 

One evening I was partnered up with Jerry to guard the hatchery.  The hatchery was definitely the most boring post you could be assigned to.  It essentially required you to watch the eggs for blocks of three or six hours at a time; the reason being that the poachers would dig up the nests if left unwatched and zip away with their treasures.  So at all times there was always one or at least two people present.  This specific evening with Jerry was my first six hour block; my previous times at the hatchery were mostly being a three hour sentry at high noon hours, so I always walked away with some kind of funky tan and a thirst for coconuts.

The good thing about having a partner during these half dozen hour stints was that you had someone to keep you awake and attentive.  It's insanely peaceful to sit and listen to the ocean, but when your job requires you to enjoy the serenity while still being awake, the task becomes that much more daunting.  As a consequence, evening to midnight and dawn shifts turned into total bonding moments with buddies; this situation was no different.  Jerry and I talked about so much, sharing details about our lives in our motherlands, teaching each other words in our native tongue, and just getting to know each other in general.  It was nice to be able to have someone to relate to on a "guy" level; I of course loved connecting with all my female friends, but just like girls like to talk amongst themselves, us guys like to have our bromantic moments as well.

Water crashing in the background, moon peering through the clouds while lightning danced across the ocean tide, our night passed...  Chattering about this and that, confessing said things, laughing at each others jokes.... The hours started to pass by quicker, until finally sleep was starting to settle in bit by bit.  The ocean current and thunderstorms just created this peaceful ambiance that made it so difficult to stay awake.  The solution?  Every hour we had to patrol the nests to see if any hatchlings had dug their way up to the surface.  During the lunch time hatchery watch, you didn't have to worry about there being hatchlings as much because of the extreme heat!  I'm sure those little guys were very comfortable underground and in the shade, away from that powerful sun and the scorching sand; but at night it was party time!

Around 10pm we did our usual walk through the nests, splitting up to cover more ground, when I hear Jerry, "Here!  Here!!  I see turtles!"  I run over to the nest and sure enough, there was a pile of them that had begun to come out.  Even though both of us had been trained on what to do, I shamefully admit, I completely forgot protocol.  So I ran to the compound to get help, and one of our friends Albert, helped us finish the whole process.  A good rule of thumb I came to understand was that nothing was done quickly when it came to the turtles: digging their nests, helping out hatchlings, releasing them, etc...  Nothing.  This was no exception.  All in all, around seventy something turtles I believe came to light that night.  News spread quickly and before we knew it, there was a small group from the compound present to witness this.  We weighed them and wrote down all the pertinent information and then proceeded to prepare their exodus to sea.

Usually the departure of said hatchlings would be done during the daytime because it was easier to clear the sand and pave the way to their march to the water, however since luck was always mocking us it seemed, we had to prepare their parade in essentially pitch dark.  Just as with patrolling, our white lights couldn't be used because it could possibly blind the turtles and also lead them astray thinking the artificial illumination was the moon; so we had to do everything in pitch black conditions.  The herd of friends that showed up helped us with the prep work and we carefully saw them all swim to their nocturnal freedom, making sure none was left behind.

With that feeling of success we walked back to the hut feeling like champions!  Yet that honor wasn't bestowed upon us the next day, but to someone else...  The following morning was Carol's last stay with us.  It was an extremely bittersweet moment for us all and a tearful one for Carol.  We woke up like usual, exchanged stories and postponed garden work to spend time with her.  We laughed over our meals, Jerry and I retelling our experience at the hatchery, sharing our mutual envy that Carol would be able to have ice cream and all these other tasty snacks before we could... just enjoying ourselves as if it would be our last time together....

Turi made us her favorite meal which consisted of this noodle concoction and plantains.  We spent some time on the hammocks talking and listening, all the while dealing with the bouts of anxious stillness that would hit us on occasion.  At one point we sat in silence, soaking it all in, the family we had become, the laughs and sorrows we shared, until Turi's voice rang through the beach... the boat had arrived.

With tears, hugs and smiles we all bid Carol adieu.  While trying to hold back her own emotions, she gave us all strong embraces and stepped foot into the vessel that would take her to freedom.  I know that she was happy to leave; she had come and fulfilled her duties, but I also know that we had all become very close within such a short period of time.  It was all very heart wrenching.

As her boat sped off into the jungle horizon, I remember the words that Turi told me: "When you love someone, all you can do is be happy for them.  That's why I love you all as my children.  I teach you things in hopes that you will teach others and that the cycle of love continues on.  I will miss her.  She brought much happiness here and I know you will miss her too."

Love and goodness transcends all languages and Turi understood that.  He was right though, I did miss her, and for the rest of the day I was in a bit of slump longing for my island friend yet all the while being so happy for her.  My heart broke with her departure, but slowly healed knowing that I was fortunate enough to know her for the little amount of time I did.

The waves from the boat slowly calmed, the putter of the motor boat gone from earshot.... silence fell over the camp while we all sent waves of gratitude towards our newly freed comrade.

Food, Fantasies, and Friends Chapitre 7

So after a week of Thanksgiving family chaos and an extra 5 lbs of oinkage added to my body, I can finally get back to writing...

So those days while Heidi was there weren't all doom and gloom, to be completely honest, they were some of the most enlightening days on the island; I did feel a need to share my pseudo negative experience with her because it helped the rest of us bond and become a closer unit through all of our turmoil.

Within the first three days of dealing with Hurricane Heidi, I had helped release some hatchlings to sea, patrolled the beaches more times than I can count, and became better friends not only with my garden family but also with those of Widecast.  The thing I loved about the patrols was that for the most part, we were always paired with people that we shared some kind of connection with, be it culturally, linguistically and so on; my partner in crime for most of my patrols was Vanessa.  Out of all the places in the world she could be living in, I found out that only about 30 miles separated us back in Georgia!  What would the odds be of that??!!?!

Needless to say, her and I went on many a patrols at night.  Aside from the creepy factor that you're sharing the beach and crossing paths with poachers in the middle of the night, the patrols were difficult on the body.  We could rarely if ever use our white light so as not to give off our locations on the coast, instead our night vision bulbs when used occasionally would guide us.  For those who don't know what a night vision bulb is, it's the red light that emits from your headlamps, if your light has that option; apparently I learned that the color red is the closest shade of light that one can use at night to be able to see properly.  I don't know who came up with that, since I was always blind as a bat with or without that damned red fog of a light.  My night vision bulb showed me illuminated perhaps enough to see a foot in front of me, if that; I think I would've had better luck marching the shore holding a candle.

Besides the little light we were offered, we also had to deal with the sea storms that could be brutal, branches, rocks and just the sheer fear of utter darkness.  Looking at the ocean from afar makes me respect her already; but being right next to her while being guided by whatever moonlight if any, or dinky night vision bulb, scared the living shit out of me.  We were always safe with each other while patrolling, making sure everyone was okay and not too deep into the tide if at all and such, but working in darkness while running on very little sleep played with your depth perception.  After an hour or so, a tree that seemed to be a five minute walk away, turned out to be a thirty minute hike. 

Yet with all the obstacles and challenges that patrolling brought with it, the bonds and camaraderie that was formed would forever be priceless.  Like I said earlier, Vanessa and I went on a good few patrols before Heidi showed up, and within the first three days of her stay, I felt like I had a made a true connection with my fellow patrol buddy.  So much so, that I was able to experience something that I hadn't yet done while on that piece of land: I ate cereal!!!!  I remember one particularly rainy night coming back from patrol; we were both tired and I was dreading the hike back to the garden because my legs were shaking so much.  I was essentially running on whatever little fumes I had left in my tank, when Vanessa looked at me and said, "You want something to eat?"  For a second I thought I was delirious.  "How could this girl offer something to eat?!?!  It's not like they have an open kitchen or anything!"  These thoughts were racing through my head all the while the only response I could muster was, "Ummm food?!? Sure???"  I said it with a tone of uncertainty because I had no idea what she was talking about.

I had been in the hut for so long and had gotten so accustomed to not having anything that it completely slipped my mind that the other sites could have such luxuries.  She then took me to their kitchen, which was the first time I had ever even known about it, made me a bowl of some whole grain flakes or something, poured some powdered milk and water in the mix and handed it to me.  I looked at the mystery flakes as if I had just won the lottery, while feeling a tinge of betrayal; my comrades and I at the hut had survived so far on essentially three organic meals a day and coconuts, and here I was with a bowl of I could care less corn flakes and powdered milk.  "The hell with pride" I thought and plowed away at that bowl.  The sheer look of joy I had on my face said it all; I immediately scarfed down those processed grains while glorifying it all at once.  Looking back at that moment, I don't know if Vanessa was more confused by my reaction or freaked out that one could enjoy cereal oh so much.  Out of all of my patrols, that one speck in time was definitely a memorable one.

To release hatchlings into the ocean I'll admit, didn't seem like a big deal to me.  By the time of the Hurricane, I had already released one set of mini flippers with a rambunctious crowd of school children anxiously observing the whole ceremony.  That first release however happened on my third day of being part of the garden, so I hadn't invested the time and energy into the cause just yet to appreciate it all.  The second release of baby turtles felt like such a win for me.  By this point, I had many hours of patrolling and guarding the hatchery under my belt; I felt like I had contributed to the group this time around, so seeing these little fellas flipping and flapping their way to the water was a proud moment for this volunteer.  If people only knew the dozens of obstacles these little guys will have to face until they mature enough to lay their own eggs, folks would begin to understand the challenge it is to maintain a healthy population of these reptiles.  Until they turn roughly twenty years old, every day for these turtles will be like being part of the Hunger Games.  Regardless of the challenges that lay b
efore them, we still sent off each little turtle with waves of positivity, hope and love; we can only hope that some will make it back in the next two decades to continue this cycle.

With so many good things coming together through the struggles at our site, it broke my heart to have to see Jessica and Jennifer go.  Three days with Heidi present and a week in all with Carol and I, it was time for our two German comrades to leave and enjoy life off this piece of land that had brought them so many surprises.  It was painful to see them leave, I felt like I was losing two younger sisters; by this point I had become quite protective of all the roomies in the hut.  Call it what you will, whether it's machismo or genuine concern, I watched over everyone there like an older brother.  As life and short lived tradition would have it, we sent them off in the best way we could: a party. 

As cliche as it sounds, every cloud does have its silver lining, and this cloud was no different... We were losing two people that brought much energy to our site, while earlier that same day, receiving two other new recruits that would take their place in the hut; so this particular party had a few reasons to be joyous, and it was made sure that all were celebrated.  The rum was poured and the laughter could be heard down the road; for that brief moment, we were all that mattered in the world and we lived it with love, joy and drinks.  This celebratory night became the beginning of some beautiful friendships...