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...