Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
In the late afternoon we would go jogging on a lovely, grassy ridge that skirted this remark-
able, little island. It was quite beautiful, running high up on this undulating, pale, grassy
ridge, looking out at the beaten red copper sea as the sun went down. There were defin-
itely some very boring restless days where we did not know what to do with ourselves. We
talked about where we would head next. We did have to wait out the hurricane season here,
and it helped to know that it soon would end, but what better place to be holed up than
here?
Towards the end of our stay we met the Indian carpenters. A group of around five or six
carpenters from a neighboring island had been commissioned to work at the burras. They
were adding on some buildings and were staying at the staff accommodations. We met them
one lunch break when we were ashore one day. They were fascinated with our boat and
our lifestyle. We invited them over to the boat and ferried them out to take a peek at a sail-
boat. They were fascinated with the fact that we had sailed from South Africa in this little
home-made boat. They were intrigued as well with the fact that we were twins, and they
reciprocated by inviting us around to their staff quarters for a curry meal. “Come early you
know, the curry take some time to cook. We drink Kava while we waiting, yes?”
We duly arrived in the early part of the evening and were greeted most cordially by the
whole group who were neatly attired in their Sunday bests. They were very polite and
friendly and turned out to be humble and conscientious hosts. The mutton curry had just
been put into a great big pot, and the one man who was doing all the cooking went through
the process step by step. “Very important in the making of curry,” he informed us as he
stirred the sweet smelling concoction, “is not to heat it up too much. Cook slowly you see;
add more curry as you go along, slowly slowly now, put some onion now in you see, little
pinch salt, little more curry. You must taste 'em all da time. Little bit more water now you
see.”
In the meantime a big, round wooden bowl was brought out and laid on the floor around
which we were encouraged to sit. The bowl was almost full of water, and the oldest Indian
now produced a finely meshed bag and filled it with the drab colored kava grounds, from
the yaqona root we were informed. This man, who never spoke, now began massaging this
muslin bag under the water in the bowl. He rapidly turned the water into what looked like
dirty brown dish water. Around and around he went mashing and squeezing the bag un-
til he felt it had produced all the kava it was going to. A special smooth and well-used
drinking cup that had been fashioned out of a coconut shell was now produced by another
Indian man, and we were all encouraged to sit cross-legged on the carpet around the big
kava bowl. The Indian dipped the coconut cup into the foul looking soup and passed it to
his immediate neighbor who solemnly clapped his cupped hands slowly twice, saying out
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