New found subject

It's yet another rainy day in Male'... puddles, raincoats, umbrellas and people without raincoats or umbrellas rushing around with various objects covering their heads... plastic bags, paper bags, a book, a set of papers or both their hands... and the monsoon never seemed to end. Perhaps as the ancient Mayans had predicted, the world is going to deplete in 2012 and this was her way of letting us know the end is nearing, and to slowly start preparing for it. But how do we prepare for that I wonder? Obviously I for one, have many dreams yet to accomplish, and many exotic, breathtaking places to travel and conquer.

As usual, wandering thoughts of my mind has lead me to talk about something very unrelated to what I originally titled this post for and wanted to write about. Hence instead, I shall talk about this new found subject. <-- I wrote to that point on 27 Sep 10 and now I am wondering whether the new found subject was the world ending in 2012 or my dreams of jet-setting. Hmm...

the day we beached Contiti

Dear reader,

Remember those really old “cartoon flashbacks” inside the cartoons we used to watch? The ones that came with a jumpy trumpety-song and a too-jolly voice of a man with a greasy slob slicked back and parted in the middle wearing a bow tie and a penguin suit? The following has absolutely no connection to this, but I thought I’d just write it here. Well, mainly because I sometimes read things in funny voices, thought I’d let you know.

After traveling to Noonu Atoll Randheli, I spent two days inside Fabio’s hut, watching movie after movie, Nacho Libre for the first time, and on the second day, a second time. I woke up on the third day and decided it being my last here, I should go out and get some sun.

Fabio and I decided to take Contiti – the 15-foot dinghy – out for a ride. We donned on sun tan and shades, got the masks and fins and boarded the vessel. And off we went, speeding into the hot balmy day towards Dhigurah, an island named aptly for which when translated literally means ‘long’ – Dhigu, and ‘island’ – rah.

Upon not finding a solid enough rock or coral mass to tie Contiti to, we instead beached her. I said lets explore the island so we set off walking to our left. About 50 meters in, Fabio said to keep on walking, he’d meet me by the other end of the beach and headed back to the dinghy. So walk I did, and came across a little cove-like patch where the beach had eroded and I could see the roots as well as the tree. It was beautiful. I stood under a canvas that was hundreds of leaves of trees leaning out towards the sea. It was eerily calming. I looked out to the horizon and saw rain clouds had gathered and started pouring. The wind was picking up and I knew rain was on its way.

A little while I waited and then kept on walking, leaving the soft sand with my imprints. I looked back and saw Fabio by the dinghy. Couple of minutes later I looked again and saw Fabio still by the dinghy, so then I turned and went back and was met by a sheepish man who hadn’t managed to get the boat back into the sea. I just assumed he was a bit unfit. So I said, lets try both of us. Lets do this!

And then began the utmost massive task of getting a 15-foot (or maybe 20 that's what Fabio said but I still think it's 15), massively heavy boat off the beach. We had to be quick and skillful, moving at the right time when the right waves came. James Bond and Fatima Blush we were! On the same team though. Oh man... At one point I swear I heard Fabio’s shorts cry for mercy as both of his legs (wait, why am I thinking about an isosceles triangle and one of my theories about it though I cannot recall what exactly my theory was about?) formed a party hat shape? Then I was down on my back with my arms as pillars and legs propped against the boat.

After what seemed like an hour of pushing – from which I now have learned and gained the age old reproduction method experience of giving birth, the possibility of a hernia and the quite-near-possibility of crapping myself – we huffed and we puffed and we blew the god damn boat off the beach! There were moments when we thought we couldn't push anymore, but we encouraged ourselves to keep on fighting like soldiers in a gruesome battle. A moment when I thought my face was forever going to be stuck like this, like I was on the toilet and trying to push out the fattest crap ever in recorded history. A time when our shorts and pants occupied enough sand to build a house or two.

Whose brilliant idea was it to beach Contiti? Mine.

*Then you hear the jumpy trumpety-song again as the red – or black and white if that’s what you imagined – velvet curtains closed down*

More stories of Fabio and Mulsifid coming your way

Apples, Oranges and Chronology

When evolution took place, human nature and all emotions stayed stuck in a wormhole and failed to emerge as a new model of something of a memory with a few characteristics intact.

This is the story of a man, an Apple, an Orange and about chronology. Chronology, is defined as the arrangement of events in time. I am trying to explain how it is relevant to a situation where you are faced with making a choice, and how useless it can be at the same time. Hopefully I can make this clear as I am having a hard time trying to explain the thoughts in my head.

Ok, here we go.

You are at a certain point where you stop and look back, reviewing every little detail of every episode big and small that have contributed to the situation you are in now, knowing it was the decisions you made in the first place that have lead up to this, knowing that you already knew back then of the consequences should you make these decisions. One leads to two, two leads to three, three leads to four. I guess this is where it is relevant – to trace your steps, what you did and didn’t do, what happened and what did not. Which lead to which.

Sometimes I wonder though, could it be without intention things could have proceeded this far? We are conscious of every move we make, are we not? Even for a fraction of a second, the thought enters into our mind, ping pongs back and forth until we decide in that fraction of a second what the answer to that thought is, do we not? But perhaps in our subconsciousness and naivety, could this be possible?

Leaving state of mind and lack of sophistication aside, I then ask how would it help for someone to be completely and accurately aware of a situation from its start to its end, when he is faced with a choice and has no idea which to pick?

And so this is where I tell you about the time when Fate gave him to choose either Orange, Apple, or none, and where the order of events plays two parts. He takes a step forward but hesitates. Sure, for him to make a choice he would naturally trace back to all the thoughts his brain had stored of oranges and apples; the good, the bad. How one thing has lead to another and from there on whatever else had sprouted and spread wings. Reality calls and coming back to the present, he now has to think about the future, and even with all the information in hand, it’s still not much use.

Leaving all memories behind, let’s think about his options. If the choice was two, it was less and in one way easier to decide upon; either Orange or Apple. If you’re still struggling, make a list of Pros and Cons and see which one has more of the former. When it broadens to include ‘none’, you then begin to think perhaps ‘none’ would be an easier, and even a better solution. ‘None’ gives you (or rather forces you to take) the opportunity to gather up your courage and brave the unknown for you know nothing about it. Anything is possible with ‘None’. You could kick away both distractions, bid farewell and go on a new path.

Pardon my usage of second and third persons, I hope you are following along fine.

He then thinks vastly about the micro society he lived in, with its predicaments, narrow views and quick judgment on basically every single thing on the face of his country – not the Earth this time as the people as I just mentioned, really are very narrow minded. And again, the order of events came back to haunt him because of the society, because of his history, because every little thing he did had been documented so well. A new level of pressure arose conflicting with his wants, thinking about what the society thought of him and what they would think of him and his choice of life. How they would relate all the previous mishaps to the current condition and make up their own tales.

He knows the biological part of thought-flow; the neurons, receptors, synapses, etc etc. He knows the chronological order of thought-flow. He is fully aware of his surroundings, actions, accountable motives of his and relevant people and of the war between the mind and the heart. This is where knowing it all did not come in handy, and rather be an obstacle in getting to the needed answer. At this point, he felt it was better to shake his head like a dog drying itself after a bath, praying it all goes flying like droplets of water.

Oranges hit him on full force like raging storm clouds with its citric-ness and acidity, coloring his days brilliantly when they went too alkaline.

Apples kept him sane and healthy like the saying, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”.

All of this made it all the more hard to regain balance and control of the situation. He knows what it is about each that makes him want both. He knows what it is that makes him reject both. And then there was none. Somehow the pros and cons, logical explanations, reasons, justifications and emotions all seemed to override the root of all his problems. His head went fuzzy with a swarm of pests he just could not get rid of.

Really, human nature and emotions were put in place to toy with us. When we evolved, we evolved into superior forms, better adapted. Physically? Yes. Mentally? Not so sure. Emotionally? Definitely not.

Other side of Male'

I was on a speedboat coming back to Male' from a resort site inspection, and we neared to the west side and sped along the coastal lines until we reached no.1 jetty. During the short while it took to come from the west to the north-west, I saw a side of Male' I had not seen before, and felt ashamed I had not. I have grown up here, spent 21 years here and have failed to walk on the sea wall surrounding the harbour and market. Living in a 2 sq km island (correct me if I'm wrong cos I think I am about the size), I don't think there should be even an inch of the land we haven't covered or poked our noses into. For example, I didn't know the gap you see in the above picture was even there! For me, little things like this matter. I like little things. Little things combine to form bigger things... no?

I liked that the navigation light posts were a bit different from the ones at the airport ferry terminal, they looked older and more ancient. Made me imagine how several decades ago our little island would look like - no paved roads, no big buildings, a vehicle or two here and there, just a wee little quiet, yet a busy fishing and business port. A drop in the ocean.

I roamed in and around the market with Faz - joined later by Fabio and Murray. It was my first time inside the old market (one end you can see from the above pic), the one made out of tins opposite the fish market, and I enjoyed every second of it. The stale smells, the thick, humid atmosphere, loud radios screeching Quran, religious programs or some other talk shows. Walk we did, checking the prices of salted and dried fish, mangoes, veggies and fruits from different stalls. There was a stall selling goods from Fuamulak, everything was from Fuamulak, except the guy who was selling them. I really had it pegged for a 100% authentic Fuamulak stall you know. Bit dissapointing. Everyone gave me funny looks because I doubt they've seen a local girl our age go there in ages.

So last night I showed this and some other pics to my boyfriend and to my surprise, even HE didn't know this little gap existed. See, I think little details are very important.

I am waiting for the weather to let up again. I'm not too happy with the photos I took so... once the weather clears, it's time to go visit the market again. I we should walk around more... vehicles interfere with our way of live more than we think they do. More about this later. I wanted to write about materialism in here as well, but let's just keep this about Male' and her beauty (though we've lost most of it).

Random SMSs

last night I dint know wat was up with me, but I had a funny mood going on and wanted to take the hell out of dear Fitz, who was in Bangkok at the time. it was half time of Italy Vs New Zealand if I remember correctly, and Shakira's "Waka Waka" came on. one of my friends had said that 'waka' sounded like 'vodka', and another had said that at the start of the line, "Tsamina mina" sounds like "Aminaibi", so that memory popped into my head and I was on the go.

Texts between Fitz and Me:

Fitz Alora… koba kihinakunntha haalu?
Me Eatin choc, come back soon!
Fitz Yipieee… salhi ey… M missin d fun dho, cant wait to get back home
Me yeah, you’re missin out man. Aiminaibe is drinkin vodka
Fitz kekeke… kaaku mihaaru aiminaibe akee? & y is she havin vodka?
Me cos she’s a bad bad girl and she’s been all over the town
Fitz Kihaa dherakameh anekka mi jehunee. Aiminaibe anekka ufannveetha? Thought she was dead!
Me we resurrected her from the dead. Don’t you know, we can do black magic! Umbala umbala jaala gidi gidi saamabala
Fitz yaarabbee mee anekka maa nurakkaa bayeh dho
Me *still sendin gibberish to Fitz*
Fitz kaleymen moyaveetha? Kon fadha Aiminaibe eh hey
Me Aiminaibe said she doesn’t like you
Fitz e’ee keeve yo?
Me Cos you’re a bad bad boy and you’ve been all over the town. Muahahahaha
Fitz you guys are crazy
Me *sends another round of gibberish*
Fitz Maaiykalaakoa mee dhen kihaa bodu balaa eh. Keevvegen tha thiulhenee? Who is this Aiminaibe?
Me She’s Aiminaibe, and she’s havin vodka. Salaam buni Fitz ah.. said she wants to have vodka with you
Fitz is she real?
Me Ofcourse she’s real! Btw, she just said Fitz varah vayoa…
Fitz Thimeehun vayee…

[… and this continues for another good hour or so]

Sitting. Sit. Sat. Seated.

7:34 AM oh yes. Woke up with my belly bursting with - wait, really, you thought I would say that? haha! No really, bursting with pee and tried to remember how much water I drank the night before. By the time I got through my toilet mission, my sleepiness had totally disappeared after sitting on the pot for so long and thinking funny thoughts of surreal things.

7:40 AM aah how nice to sit on the pot without the light on on a Friday morning... lazy beams seeping through the window... spots of circular light on the walls and the floor called as we know "kokaa avi"... funny I should like it, considering how much I hate butterflies.

8:52 AM so I get dressed and go to a cafe', have a measly breakfast of very delicious food served grandly over long tables in a buffet. why measly you say? I piled up my plate up high and couldn't even eat half of it. damn you braces! Lady GAGA singing about a Bad Romance between a celebrity and a Paparazzi with a Poker Face, wanting to "take a ride on his disco stick". What a wonderful day, staring out at clear blue-green seas, the charming melody of the boats humming away in the salty breeze, and listening to vulgar, obscene, hilarious lyrics of an eccentric chick who at one time, had even been a show girl... I think.

9: 27 AM then comes in two ladies, one was stick thin, in her mid or late 40's, perhaps 50's...? with short straight hair resembling 'Edna' from The Incredibles. The other one was robust, wild curly hair let loose on her back, and I ask my friend, "who's the skinny one?" he says, "that's Velezina". Velezina, what a name... I thought. Who had named her...? I thought. And I sat there and I thought about that incredibly beautiful name and decided I must write about it today, must celebrate how lovely it sounded every time it was said. Biiig sigh...

10:05 AM out again, on the bike, sitting like a dried fish with my arms and legs hanging loose, letting the air play with my hair and dance around and in between my arms. Sitting on the bike seat while we drove around the matchbox of colorful houses and sticky smells. Round we go and up two flights of stairs. Through the hall, pass the fridge and into the studio. Pick up the guitars, roll our sleeves, manufacture the amp and strike the chords. HELL YEAH!

10:36 AM Michael Jackson feat. Slash "Give In to Me" sends shivers up and down left and right. Such a haunting melody, perfectly composed with unequaled vocals, biiig sigh again, oh what a shame he had to go. Sitting cross legged on the sofa, my friend sitting on the computer chair, two guitars in our hands we started jamming to 'Is This Love?' Wow this was so chilling on a Friday morning I thought. And then back home I came, because I had to clean my room and so on and so forth. MEH.

11:44 AM oh but butterflies... again here I am loafing this time (not sitting) on a metal framed rectangular lounger with the seat made out of ropes and knots. Next to me, Mary and Max reclined back on the other two seats too, and lazily we laughed at silly stories, and all this time I had in my right hand an eakle-broomstick, prepared to defend myself should a butterfly fly my way in this green garden of flowers, plants, pots and trees.

And while we lay there, the muranga tree swayed slowly in front of us, bright green leaves shining in the daylight. Funny day, funny things, little bit weird. I said, "I wouldn't mind if butterflies became extinct."