Line of Duty

Alexandria’s fire department suffered a tragic loss February 8 with the death of Joshua Weissman, a paramedic who succumbed to injuries sustained  while responding to a car fire on I-395.  Hundreds of citizens stood along the roadside in the cold rain to honor him, his family and those who serve our city. It was obvious Weissman was much loved and widely respected and our hearts go out to the Weissman family.

With much appreciation to the paramedics, firemen and policemen who put themselves in harms way everyday to keep us safe.

Click below for the full photo essay.

PRIVACY – A FIRST WORLD EXPECTATION

Like being the movie premiere

There is no such thing as privacy in backwoods Africa.  If I needed to change clothes, I had four little kids staring at me from outside my tent.  If I wanted to bathe, I had half dozen people keeping me company even when I signaled it was time for me to dig the sand out of my bottoms which I prefer to remove when taking a bucket shower. If I needed to pee on a road trip, anyone passing on the roadside would not even think about looking away but rather I was expected to wave and make polite small talk while going about my business.  If I wanted to read a book alone?  Forget that. At one point, I counted an audience of thirty people on Nyangai Island watching me read.

I finally had to ask why the fascination as it was just comical to be of such interest.  Magdalene of Nyangai said it was because they found us so beautiful and they weren’t used to seeing anyone from the outside.  Call it third world television.

Momo & friends keeping me company while I attempt to put on underwear

Nick & Tanja trying to read with an audience

Got a pee? Want company?

THE SORCERER, THE CELL PHONE & THE RAT

Witchcraft is deeply embedded in Sierra Leonean spiritual traditions.  Rituals often include a devil dancer who pays homage to those who have passed on. Ancestors are thought to be able to intervene, advise, help, or punish enemies.  Not only do some believe the deceased may return as harmful spirits, they even believe a witch or sorcerer has the power to transform the living into animals or inanimate objects.

John Obey is filled with a supernatural vibe.  There’s an energy in the air, especially at night when the only light is that of cooking fires and candlelight. Faces I’m so familiar with during the day reflect a different light in the darkness- a bit of the occult perhaps. Given their vulnerability and belief in the paranormal, this little village provides the perfect backdrop for a sorcerer, A.K.A. a scam artist, to make a tidy profit.

One day a cell phone went missing from the solar shack where we charge up our electronic gadgets.  The next morning during our post-breakfast meeting, Filippo asked if the guilty party would please return the phone to a bin he placed behind the loos and no questions would be asked.  Sadly, that night, the phone did not make its way home.  The next morning, two of the local village managers suggested they bring in the big guns, the sorcerer!  Well, that got my attention.

After the meeting, Hooman and I sat at the breakfast table talking about the sorcerer.  I asked him what to expect.  According to Hooman (A2H), our resident earth-bag architect, the sorcerer is a powerful man in the area whom people fear.  He charges a whopping Le200,000 (US $50) for his professional services. A2H, the sorcerer would  come to the village and gather everyone in a circle.  He would announce that a phone had been stolen and there would be dire consequences for the guilty party if they did not confess by sunset.  The consequences?  A2H, the sorcerer would walk around the circle locking eyes with each of the villagers and with a booming ominous voice predict, “If the thief does not return the cell phone before sunset (eyes bulging and a pause for dramatic effect) they will be turned into a… a…(long pause building even more drama)….a rat!”  Hooman, went on to act out the trembling thief immediately dropping to his knees, hands together, wailing in a high pitched voice, “Oh god no! Please!  Please! Don’t turn me into a rat!”

Although the sorcerer was paid his Le200,000 he never came.  Who’s the real rat, eh?

photo of a 3' John Obey rat courtesy of the very brave Noah Balmer

 

 

WOMEN’S VOICES – YENKEN

Mother of three boys and cook for Tribewanted, Yenken works from sunup to late in the evening. She’s a single mom and not by choice.  Over a year ago when she was pregnant with Mohammed, her husband was killed in an automobile accident.  Since property passes to the husband’s family, she and the children were forced to move from their village and ended up with friends in John Obey.

Yenken at home

When Tribewanted kicked off its eco-tourism project in the village, Yenken  landed her job with Tribewanted which has changed her life dramatically.  She is now able to provide for her children and built a small home from some of the unused materials at Tribewanted.  She also just received her first ever micro-loan through Salone Microfinance Trust (SMT).  With the Le500,000 (US $125) from SMT, she plans to tarp her house to keep it dry and will use the rest of the money to stockpile palm oil for the rainy season when she hopes to sell it for a higher price.

Oosman, Mohammed, Yenken & Momo

Yenken was eager to show me her new home in the village.  It’s a mud structure framed with sticks and has a tin roof.  There’s no furniture and she sleeps together with her children on blankets stretched across the dirt floor.  To most it wouldn’t seem like much of a house at all, but it’s quite the rarity to find a Sierra Leonean woman who has her own home.

nearing nap time for Mohammed

SHACK NEWS

VIP Susan Shack is nearly complete and VIP Cally Shack is underway.  I understand the VIP-C foundation is complete and VIP-S now has a custom made bed, closets and shelves going in. Here are a several pics as the shack progressed while I was there in February.

the walls go up while we're in the Turtle Islands

starting the roof- view across lagoon toward beach and ocean

Nick & Oosman in the lagoon–shack, bucket shower & tent home in background. Croc only visible at night.

interior pre-furniture, door and shutters

WOMEN’S VOICES- MAGDALENE

This morning I listened to an interview on NPR with Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton discussing the importance of women’s voices.  I was particularly interested in a Pakistani woman who was a former child bride and the  first in her village to get a divorce and complete high school.  Despite obvious difficulties and endangering herself, with the help of the U.S. she started a non-profit for women and is building schools.   She said “In Pakistan, women are like animals.”

In honor of International Women’s Day, I have two women’s stories I’d like to share this week. Today is Magdalene’s story.

A few weeks ago I visited some of the outer islands off the coast of Sierra Leone.  Nyangai Island is around 400 x 75 yards large, home to about one hundred fifty inhabitants and few if any speak English.   As our boat approached the shore,one of the first to greet us was twenty three year-old  Magdalene carrying her baby.  I was surprised that she could speak rudimentary English and asked her how she was able to pick it up.

Magdalene with her son (in red) and her brother sitting on the boat

A few years ago she had lived with relatives in the capital city of Freetown where she was able to attend school for four years and then her tuition money ran out.  With all that she had left she went in search of her mother on Nyangai, for me about a five hour speed boat ride, but for her, a twenty-four hour hellacious journey in an overcrowded leaking water taxi.  She told me when she arrived at Nyangai she found her mother and asked for tuition money , but within days her mother left abandoning her and her brothers on the island.  With no money to return to Freetown, Magdalene did the only thing she could do and married for survival.  Three years later, she has a baby and is stranded.  There is no school there for her, much less for any of the children.  She wants to become a nurse but will most likely live out her life on this tiny island.  Imagine the frustration of being stuck out there and knowing what life could be like.

I lay in my tent that night thinking of Magdalene and all of the other women I’d met with similar stories.  What if she were to ask the chief if she could charge people like me to camp on the end of the island, perhaps even offering to cook meals, do laundry, or better yet build a guesthouse that she could manage.  Perhaps she could start a school.  I ran some of these ideas past Magdalene the night before we left and it was obvious she was taking it all in but the thought of asking the chief was incomprehensible to her.  She said it wouldn’t matter because if the chief and her husband did allow it, they’d keep whatever she earned.  Grrrrrrr. The injustice of it all.  Where was her voice?  Where was her spark?  Why was she so complacent?

Imagine a world where all women are treated as equals and not just as chattle. What a beautiful place it will be! It takes an education to embolden and empower a woman.  If she’s treated like an animal, how will she ever believe she can be anything else?  How will she find her voice?

And?

So, I left frustrated, discouraged yet with a spark of my own.  I’m very curious to learn more about microfinance and how to be a voice for women like Magdalene.  I’ll share more tomorrow on Yenken, my friend from John Obey.

THE CHICKENS ARE GOING DOWN TONIGHT

Let me start by applauding Tribewanted’s showcase meal which would be dinner. Grilled fish, maybe some couscous or pasta, coleslaw, fried plantains, cassava or potatoes, and Elijah’s special sauce.  All very nice and much appreciated.  However, it goes down hill from there.   Breakfast is o.k. – something like large overbaked hamburger rolls with honey, jam, peanut butter or oatmeal with raisins or fruit.  Occasionally the coveted fried omelette or boiled egg turns up which I want to shove in my pockets for later.

Then there is the matter of lunch.  Enough to break me down into a nut case after two weeks.  Everyday of the week it’s the same workman’s lunch waiting for you at the table. It’s a mountain of white rice topped with either groundnut pulverized with fish and hot peppers, or cassava leaves pulverized with fish and hot peppers. Resting atop the mound of rice are chunks of fish – middle bits, tail bits and then the heads.  After one week, enough already.  After two, absolute agony.  After three weeks, my body takes over and I start to twitch.  Bacon!  Cheese!  Maybe I’m a freak, but I need protein and fat.  The food fantasies start coming fast and furious.  I talk about food non-stop and eye the scrawny but delicious looking chickens that wander aimlessly around the village.

Fish, fish, fish, fish, fish, fish. Bring me a chicken!

The day I lost it was about two weeks in when that morning in the storage closet I found a tub of margarine and nearly cried. That’s when I knew I was losing it.  Later, I sat down at the table for lunch and something snapped.  I was ravenous but couldn’t eat.  I sat and stared at the fish and it stared back at me, as if challenging me to eat it.  I stirred it around and reluctantly brought the spoon to my lips.  I smelled its fishiness and saw those eyes looking at me and I just couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t eat it anymore.

Trying not to be rude but aware I was about to lose it, I stood up, swung my legs over the bench and a startled chicken and took off running like some lunatic.  I ran across the camp, down to the beach and pounded my way north until the beach finally ended where I began to scream , flail my arms and kick sand.  There was no one around anyway so it felt pretty good to throw a tantrum.  I scribbled evil thoughts in the sand which was surprisingly quite therapeutic. On the run back, it became apparent that drastic times required drastic measures.

The chickens were going down that night.

My new friend Wendie and I decided there were too many chickens roaming around and we wanted meat.  We asked one of the kitchen staff to go to the village and buy two chickens for us.  I’m such an animal lover but at this point I would have eaten my own dog.  That afternoon, I rooted through our outdoor kitchen like a mad woman and created some sort of curry marinade.  I must say, it’s the first time I’ve made a marinade while what I wanted to marinate was circling my feet.  Tapping my fingers on the counter, I was ready to kill the chickens myself.  Stomping a chicken?  Not very nice.  So, late that afternoon we watched as four villagers chased the chickens, diving on the ground arms outstretched  and hysterically laughing. I didn’t realize a chicken could run so fast and scream so loudly but they do.  Oh, but the smell and taste of grilled chicken, mmmmmmmmm!  Absolute heaven.  Thank you little chickens.

Can you smell the goodness?

MOMO

There’s a kid like this in every schoolyard, village and city in the world.  The alpha boy.  When you hear kids screaming, he’s involved.  He doesn’t understand the word “no.” He punches other kids and makes them cry.  He pees wherever he pleases and is proud of it. He plays so hard that he collapses to the ground asleep before he hits it.  He’ll sleep on you if you let him and when he does, as annoying as he can be, you look at him and know for some reason, you love this kid.  Such a strong spirit, a scrapper and survivor. Momo, can’t wait to see you grow up little buddy.

the man

fell asleep in his tracks and fell victim to chickens and bored tribe members

passed out on Nick #1

passed out on Yvonna

Nick #2 had some fun with props

buried by Nick #2 after volleyball game

“IS THIS GOD?”

One morning after breakfast some of us sat around the table discussing plans for the day.  There was a glossy travel magazine left behind that a couple of the kids started flipping through.  It didn’t occur to me that they had never seen camels, horses, pyramids, grand cities or even ridiculous perfume and luxury handbag ads.  Amused and touched by their intense curiosity, Yvonna and I went through the magazine with them trying to describe everything they saw.  The animal sounds were the best until somewhere in the middle of the magazine they came to a picture of a snow skier.  There was a long pause as they stared at the picture and then an innocent voice quietly asked, “Is this God?”

“Is this God?” 

FYI- God is female and she skis

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

Early this morning, I walked along the dusty road that winds from the upper village of John Obey down to the lower village on the beach. There were four of us but I walked ahead lost in my thoughts ignoring the group conversation as I was hot and just wanted to get back to the village. We had just visited the local school and were looking forward to a swim in the ocean. The morning was stifling as most mornings are since the breeze doesn’t pick up until later in the day. I kicked rocks and took in the sounds of the forest – crickets, strange bird calls and the sound of a machete hacking through the bush somewhere off in the distance. And then I heard something new.

There came a rumbling from down the dirt road. The dust was visible from over the trees and whatever it was it was large and moving fast. Suddenly a large truck rounded the corner filled with young men hanging onto the back. The image was eerily reminiscent of some of the war footage of the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) I had seen and it stopped me cold in my tracks. Like most African vehicles, this one sported a customized paint job and the slogan, “The Devil You Know.” I was mesmerized by this truck and its title and instinctively, and perhaps stupidly, raised my camera to take a shot.

RUF or fan club?

Just then, the men began screaming and the truck slammed on its brakes and came to an abrupt stop, kicking up red dust and gravel everywhere. Paralyzed by what was going through my mind, I stood on the side of the road fully aware that the rest of the group froze as well, probably cursing me and my camera. The men jumped off the truck and hurriedly made their way directly toward me. “Oh F#*&!” came out of my mouth as I awaited what I was expecting to be dismemberment. These loud men approached and I was shocked they were yelling “Suzie! Aw di bohdi? Aw yu sleep?” and extending their hands in welcome. I had no clue who these guys were but they knew me and were quite happy to see me. Funny how things turn out sometimes. They even asked for more snaps (photos).

not so scary after all

ONE-ROOM SCHOOL HOUSE & A FRISBEE

Tribemembers took a frisbee to the school at John Obey.  You would have thought it was Christmas morning!

More pics of the school visit are up on  http://braunphoto.ipower.com/?page_id=983

Who knew a frisbee would be so exciting!

So much fun!

The little guy on the left who is air born caught it nearly every time. He got it in this shot despite how it looks.

Happy girls.

NO PHONE, NO LIGHTS, NO MOTOR CARS…

There’s so much that has been accomplished since I left Tribewanted in October; two eco-domes have gone up; there’s clean water coming from the well; the first harvest has taken place from the mandala; the school received a donation of desks for the children;  and many visitors have come and had their lives changed.  The word is getting out and local school groups are coming to the village to learn about sustainable living, solar power, permaculture and earth-bag buildings.

maybe a car, too?

The title of this post is the lyrics from “Gilligan’s Island,” the popular sitcom from the Sixties. The song just popped into my head as I was thinking about the next  hut the crew is just beginning. This one will be mine & Cally’s, another firstfooter and good friend from London!  I’ll be  there to photograph the progress and with luck, be able to sleep in it before I leave!  I never thought I’d own a thatched roofed bamboo hut on a lagoon a la “Gilligan’s Island,” but I will soon be sitting on the front porch and enjoying the view. Can’t wait to share it with you!

I am off to London next week for a quick reunion with other tribe members, and then back to Sierra Leone for a month.  My plan is to continue documenting the village but want also to get out and  explore the surrounding area and write a bit.  I will be going to see my friends at Connaught Hospital in Freetown whom I met on my first trip in 2009.  My son, Nick, will be joining me in February for what I know will be an eye opening and wonderful experience for him. So much to see and share!  Looking forward to seeing everyone in the UK and Sierra Leone and will be sharing photos and stories soon.

Here’s the latest video courtesy of Tribewanted. We were sad to leave and James was looking for a cold beer.

NEVER ENOUGH LAUGHTER- ROAD TRIP

Some very good times with some great people!

TRIBEWANTED!  WI DAE YA!

THE TOWER OF POWER COMES TO JOHN OBEY

Situated precisely in the sunniest spot on Tribewanted’s land is our wonderful new wooden solar tower constructed of timber cut from the surrounding forest. After weeks of no electricity except that from our generator dubbed “Necessary Evil,” we have silent, sunny, clean power!   Laptops, cell phones and Ipods can be charged quietly in the solar hut- no noisy generator needed!  At night we have rope lights in the tree above our dining table, so no more head lamps to see our food.

the solar tower nearing completion

Mark Ax, of Sea Bright Solar based in New Jersey, has been our solar power specialist.   Not only did Mark and his team design and build the tower, he worked tirelessly for a month showing infinite amounts of patience instructing locals in the fundamentals of wiring and solar energy. Covered from head to toe with an awful rash from exposure to creosote, a wood preservative, Mark still managed to work full days to ensure the tribe would have power before his departure.

Mark and team measuring the solar panels

a lot to learn

Mark and I flew from Freetown to London together.  The day we were to leave, I recall a very funny conversation between Mark and one of the local men who was trying to install a switch for the lights over the trees, the last task to complete before we left.   It was obvious this man did not completely understand what a hot wire was. Mark, the ever-patient teacher watching over his shoulder, said out of genuine concern for this man’s future well-being, ” Do you want to die?”  The man stopped what he was doing and quietly mumbled, “no.”  Mark, not convinced that the consequences of making the wrong wire choice were completely understood, looked him in the eye and  asked with a little more urgency, “Do you want your heart to stop?”  Silence.  ”Well do you?” Mark asked.   That seemed to get his attention and with a smile, he shook his head and said, “No, I don’t want to die.”  Mark said, “Well then, if you don’t want to die, then don’t touch this one.”  It seems his message got through and everyone is still alive and well at John Obey and enjoying electricity!

Mark gives the hot wire warning

Well done, Mark and team. Congratulations!

PERMACULTURE & MOTHER EARTH

Want to experience something really special?  Close your eyes and imagine (after you read this, of course).  It’s warm, the sun is shining and you’re standing in the middle of a freshly turned garden.  The earth is alive underneath your feet.  Reach down and pick up a handful.  Smell the heaviness of decay in your hands.  Look closely at all of the beautiful bits of color and texture you’re holding.  Feel it’s warmth.  Feel its energy.  It’s truly a beautiful thing, isn’t it?  In a few months, this newly turned earth will bear fruits, vegetables, flowers and herbs.  So many gifts from the Earth!

Issa- so proud of his work!

It seems such an effort for us city folk to keep nature in our lives.  Encased in concrete, brick and asphalt we’ve forgotten what nature smells like, tastes like, feels  like.  But at John Obey, it’s different.  The land provides everything and the people are closely tied to it.  Meals are seasonal and usually self-grown.  You won’t find a grocery store nearby that sells imported fruits and vegetables.  Nothing is packaged in a bag, plastic container or bound with green wire twists or rubber bands.  There’s earth on the food and it looks, feels and tastes really good.

The gardens in Sierra Leone are fairly simple in design and most are home or community plots.  But Tribewanted has something a bit more special that’s coming. Tucked back on a gentle slope just above the lagoon, we have a newly designed and executed mandala garden. Alejandro, Tribewanted’s resident permaculturist/architect, and his team carefully planned and constructed this new garden that is breathtaking even without the plants. Paths oriented north, south, east and west bisect the mandala.  Beds are elevated to provide the perfect height for roots to thrive in both the rainy and dry seasons.  It really is a thing of beauty and was no small feat for the team to complete.

design for the mandala

The beautiful mandala

Watching Ale and his team work was truly educational and entertaining.  I’ve never met someone who seems to breathe in nature and glow, but Ale truly does, and his team was the same.  Very much intoxicated with happiness and dirt. One afternoon, Alejandro offered to talk with the tribemembers about permaculture.  We learned that the practice/lifestyle is the sustainable use of the land through design.  Work is minimized through thoughtful design creating a system that integrates people harmoniously with the land.  Care for the Earth, care for its people and give back the excess, or exidence (Sorry, couldn’t resist- TW members will get that).  I’m excited to see the progress Ale and his team have made and to see the mandala come to life when I return in February.  I’ll make sure to include a photo so you can see, too.

It’s Ale’s birthday today.  Happy birthday, Ale!  May you always be blessed by Mother Earth for all that you give her and her people.

Mary, Felicia and Alejandro

EMOTIONS RUN DEEP

The last of the original first footers, James, left John Obey today.  Ben posted a picture of James’ farewell to Facebook that brought a smile to my face and then tears. Not tears of sadness but of deep love for a people and a country.  Looking at all of those faces, remembering conversations, stories and  experiences. It’s not easy to let yourself go.  But there, wow.  How people can get into your soul.  How spending a few weeks with complete strangers can affect you.  Cleanse you.  Recharge you.  Inspire you.  Initially, I was skeptical about the whole tribe thing, but after nearly three weeks immersed in this community, I completely get it.

Love my tribe.

 

a farewell for James- photo courtesy of Tribewanted

DIRT BAGS AND ECO-DOMES

Most likely something you haven’t seen before are the earth bag buildings constructed by Cal-Earth, an organization based in the Mojave Desert in California.  One of several organizations involved working with Tribewanted on the John Obey project, Cal-Earth is constructing a dozen small eco-dome structures for living space.

completed eco-domes from another Cal-Earth project

Much like a beehive, these adobe structures are made from synthetic bags packed with earth and spiraled much like you would make a coiled pot from clay.  During my 2 ½ weeks there, I was able to see a great deal of progress on the first building.  Day one was the excavation of the foundation, and of course, the lamb sacrifice.  After the first bag was laid the building quickly began to take shape.  My last week I was there, an entry way and steps began to appear and the floor joists had gone in.  I’ll be excited to see the finished structure completely stuccoed when I return early next year.

Tribewanted's first eco-dome underway

As I was reading Cal-Earth’s website I found it interesting that these buildings are using materials easily found in a war zone- sand bags, barbed wire, earth – making them ideal for countries trying to rebuild post-conflict.  The houses are inexpensive to build, don’t impact natural resources and can meet the demand of the growing housing crisis in developing nations. The domes can be simple in construction or can incorporate arches in doorways, windows and additional rooms.

Hooman Fazly is the resident earth bag specialist overseeing construction of the new homes.  Always armed with a wicked tool belt, and his mudflap girl water bottle, he will be working six days a week for the next year to complete this project.  I admire Hooman’s intelligence, fashion sense on the job and his sense of humor with his crew.  He is quite the character as is evident in the pics. It’s Hooman’s birthday today.  Happy birthday, Hooman!  Hope you are able to celebrate Salone style.

Hooman Fazly with Cal-Earth

WHAT’S FOR CHOP?

It’s 1:30p and we’re hungry.  Wonder what’s for lunch?  Don’t bother.  It’s one of two choices, cassava over rice or groundnut over rice, both containing pulverized fish and bones.  Yummy!  After seven days of heaping bowls of rice and fish sauce that comes in only two colors, some of us decided to get creative in the kitchen.  My favorite lunch modification was peeled cucumber over rice with lime juice and salt.  Sounds pretty bland now but it was absolutely divine a week ago.

ground nut stew

A varied diet is not something for which Sierra Leoneans are known.  They eat the same thing over and over which is due to food availability.  How spoiled we are to have so many choices in our supermarkets back here in the US.  Cally and I spent an afternoon going through the pantry to see what items we had on hand, took a trip to the market in Waterloo to see what items were readily available there and started to come up with some different recipes to introduce to Elijah.  A touchy thing to do without offending, but, in the long run, I think it will be a big morale booster, especially for those working at Tribewanted for months.

fish, fish, fish

Cally and I made curried chicken with coconut rice one evening and also tried making bruschetta out of tomatoe paste, onions and giant hamburger-like rolls.  One morning, Cally made crepes with lemon juice and sugar that were a huge hit.  Popcorn went over well, too, however the British and Americans could not reach an agreement as how to flavor it –with sugar or salt?  Americans prefer salt.  As for French toast, or rather eggy bread to my British friends, it’s meant to have syrup or confectioner’s sugar, definitely not ketchup. What’s with ketchup and beans for breakfast?

During our trip to the market we found the offerings there are  limited; however, there are some things we can do to vary chop.  Once I have some time on my hands, I hope to come up with some recipes to bring along in February when Cally and I make a return trip.

prep work

THERE’S MORE THAN ONE WAY TO SKIN AN ANTELOPE

The morning I was packed up to leave, Elijah, the head cook, walked into camp with a small antelope dangling from a stick.  I thought it looked like an interesting purse idea.  It was going to be Tuesday night’s dinner.

So, how does one prepare a furry fresh antelope for dinner?  Skin it first, of course.  And how does one skin an antelope, you ask?  Well, there’s more than one way, but bet you never thought to use a bicycle pump.

dinner

Hooman, our ever so clever resident architect/earth bag specialist, was in charge of flaying Mr. Antelope.  I saw Hooman sharpening his knife as I was getting my bags ready to leave and then overheard the discussion between Mike and Hooman on how to remove the skin.  Next thing I know, they’ve got a ball pump and are inflating the antelope to separate its skin from muscle.  The ball pump was working!  They even discovered that when you press on an inflated antelope, they make some rather embarrassing noises.

inflating the antelope

SWIMMING TO THE WRECK

view toward the wreck

Alejandro, our Costa Rican perma-culturist, invited me to join him for a swim out to a shipwreck that rests some 300-400 yards off the beach. A good sized portion of the hull was visible at low tide and it looked very tempting and fun to explore. Given my fear of dark water, I normally would have said no but Alejandro has a way about him that makes everything feel good and safe, so, I pushed aside my fears and decided to go.  He shared his thoughts on fear- simply acknowledge that you are a part of nature and ask the creatures of the sea or forest for their protection and acceptance.  Oh, to be so mellow.

Armed with masks, snorkels and sharing a pair of fins, one broken and both too small for Ale, we made our one legged swim out to the wreck.  Ale liked to swim down to the bottom and would disappear every so often, causing a mild panic attack on my part.  I am an expert on all things bizarre and all gruesome ways to die, so the Discovery Channel’s footage of the giant great white breaching the water to swallow a sea lion whole came to mind.  Between the beach and the wreck, we swam through greenish water with no bottom in sight- to my neurotic mind, prime hunting grounds for sharks. I asked for acceptance by the sea creatures and hoped they were listening.

As we got closer, the waves broke over shallow rock formations where the wreck had come to rest.  Happy to be in friendlier waters, we started exploring the sea floor.  There we discovered the mast, much of the railing and a good portion of the hull still intact.  Oddly colored but beautifully detailed pieces of scrap surrounded the wreck.  We dove hoping to come back with some interesting treasure. Snapper, barracuda and all sorts of fish were there for us to enjoy.  Ale managed to climb up onto the rusty piece of wreckage that stuck about seven or so feet out of the water and pulled me up to share a much-needed rest. The swim back was tiring but it was a beautiful way to spend the afternoon and a treat to share it with Ale.

Alejandro