Christmas. And now thirteen whole years since the tsunami wrecked havoc and changed the lives and personalities of nearly everyone on this island.
I just made myself a stiff cup of tea and an omelet. My white-dog visitor, who trots in through the back door every morning is now looking at me with pseudo-paavam* in his eyes. He seems disappointed about my lack of leftovers. My rice-and-potatoes from yesterday have clearly raised his expectations, and my stiff roti isn't doing anything for him tonight. (It's averaging 40 degrees C with max humidity - I'm without a fridge and can't store anything, so I'm finally learning to cook for one.) What a darling, I still can't bring myself to name him.**
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Post-chai: Helene Hanff once signed 20 copies of 84 Charring Cross Road for some booksellers in Australia on 26th July 1971. The inscriptions say 'To an unknown booklover'. I had a brief moment of tearful eyes imagining holding one of those 20 books in my hands.
I am very emotional these days, and I break down a lot. Living alone sure lowers one's inhibitions.
Also - Helene was alive until 1997 - it's thrilling to think we overlapped for three years on this planet, although we would have been wrinkly (for different reasons) and far away from one another the whole time.
Today's idle pondering led me to think about how I have the mind of an introvert but the heart of an extrovert. That the things I love to do, or dream of turning into a career, involve long periods of solitude or time with my thoughts. Too much time with my thoughts, though, can get a bit much. Apparently, I can think at 150 kmph, especially during long scooter rides at 30 kmph. I wonder if I'll ever strike a balance between these different versions of myself.
Yesterday was a long day, as were all the others between my entries. I've been distributing my citizen science calendars all over the island and it has taken me into the homes of a wide assortment of people and tugged viciously at my heartstrings. I had already given out ~100 by the 23rd, and had hoped to cover as many homes as I could (5? 10?) - holiday haze had already set in.
The first family I visited was supremely enthusiastic about my work, and took me all over their plantation to show me some of the damage 'my' monkeys had caused - eaten coconuts left atop leaves or dropped to the ground, banana trees that had clearly been ravaged, some without a single fruit left on the stalk, young trees that had been killed because the monkeys yank out the apical bud which is full of juicy nutrients. They had put nets around the plantation, but I couldn't understand how they could ever work; they were no more than five feet high and the monkeys would have no trouble getting over them. A lot of these precautions are well-meaning, but fall short in execution because of the inordinate time needed to see them through, or their in-affordability. Monkey-proofing isn't cheap, and their steadfast problem-solving abilities don't help. They also have dogs tied around the farm that seem to be one measure that works - I later discovered several dogs kill monkeys during altercations; everyone keeps it mum, but they don't stop it from happening either.
By this time I had already spent over an hour there, and they welcomed me into conversations like we'd known each other for months. Being Sunday, the two lounging brothers and one of their daughters offered to show me the Joginder Nagar beach where sea turtles come to nest. I agreed even though I'd been there before, and I'm glad I did. I got an in-depth tour of the areas where the tsunami hit them worst; where the old road used to be, how far the fields once stretched and, of course, the turtle nests. They seemed happy to have someone to remember the fateful day out aloud with - perhaps it was just the time of year. There aren't many nests so far, it's still early in the turtle season - one leatherback and four olive ridleys. One of the brothers mentioned that the appointed forest guards tend to inflate the number of eggs laid every year to maintain Joginder Nagar as an important place for turtle nesting. If not, they could get posted far off in Galathea***, and no one wants that if it can be helped. I followed them on my scooter along tire-width sand tracks by the coast to come to a tiny lagoon where one can occasionally see saltwater crocodiles. We returned to their home around noon after the informal tour, where the brothers said they were impressed with my skillful riding along the narrow gullies, when in reality I was certain I would skid the entire while. My stomach had unclenched only when my wheels hit tar again.
For those who depend on agriculture/plantations, life isn't easy. They need to be (and have) watchdogs everywhere. Along the coast, they face cows and need to smear cow dung over the young trees to keep them away. They showed me the older coconut trees that were still standing after the tsunami. The point where the water hit them had shriveled, and all the growth ever since has been narrower than the rest of the tree. Some of them don't even fruit anymore.
After much chatter and now with an irrefutable camaraderie, I ended up having lunch with them after all. Now, in the late afternoon, I realized there wouldn't be any point visiting more homes that day - everyone was either leaving to go to the Gurudwara or preparing for Christmas. After they (excitedly) shared some photos of a couple of whale strandings that they told me about at Joginder Nagar from years ago, and of them siting on a pregnant leatherback turtle (this seems to be a trend among the islandic youth), I took their leave and headed home.
Enroute, I stopped at Mugger Nala to sit by the sea for a while, which was, as always is, lovely. I welled up again. It's been an overwhelming month so far - the travel, the solitude, the home-hunting, the forging of new friendships, the disappointments, the seemingly endless monkey-caused strife, building empathy, the independence, the grandeur of the island, and the helplessness of it all. I then felt tired of feeling so listless and sorry for myself and decided I'd go to the community church for midnight Christmas mass. I drove up to a sweet Nicobarese home I had visited before and enquired about the specifics of their celebrations - I'd come prepared. I purchased a Nicobari lungi and stitched it up for the night. I love it already and could live in it, they are uncomplicated and comfortable to wear, especially in the humid heat. (I also finally managed to get some good vegetables in the bazaar.)
Time to go find my monkeys - more later.
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* paavam is a Tamil word that implies 'poor thing'
** My neighbours and I did, ultimately, agree on 'Pandu'
*** Galathea is a bay at the southernmost part of the island, far removed from the villages and separated by ~5km of forest. It's quite a grueling posting for the forest guards, and rarely their first choice of work place!
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