Thoughts From Clouds of Fish and The Haze of Fever

OK so I am feeling very guilty about the fact that I have not updated everyone in a couple of weeks. And a lot has happened so I had better get a shimmy on this one. But first I will back up to the end of my first week in Mauritius and explain my lack on contact since then.

My last day with Malika went so well, we walked around Port Louis visiting the museums and we even went to a photo exhibit by a local artist who showed us around and signed our souvenirs. We had a beautiful lunch at the Caudan Waterfront and then said our goodbyes at the bus station- she was going on to the North and I would be returning to Mahebourg for a couple more nights. 

Me with Dodo at Museum of Natural History

It was the next day that the trouble started- I hadn’t been feeling 100% since I had arrived in Mauritius and on Friday 1^st February I began to feel worse. I forced myself out of the house and down to the nearest beach but the passing cyclone made the swell too strong even for me and I only managed an hour or so of snorkelling, most of that involving my struggle back to shore, before having to heave myself exhausted onto the beach. It was a public holiday celebrating the abolition of slavery and as I wandered down the beach toward the bus stop I watched the creole-Mauritian families lining the sands preparing barbeques and serenading the sea. Most groups had at least one drum of sorts and the rhythmic pulsing carried from camp to camp and was being picked up by the groups one by one. The sound swelled as people began to sing along to the drum beats, some songs lively and exalting, some preoccupied and lamenting.

The music followed me onto the bus and as it faded away into the dusk I realised how ill I was beginning to feel. I was aching and exhausted, which I had originally attributed with my battle with the currents, but now I had the chills and my stomach was cramping terribly. I made it home in a bit of a daze and fell asleep on the bed in my bikini and sarong, I should have stayed there but I dragged myself out for dinner. The next morning, Saturday, I was scheduled to move North to Troix au Biches for easier access to the sights on that half of the island. I found a great hotel for €20 per night, wifi and air conditioning included and I had been looking forward to the move- the only problem was that Troix Au Biches is more that 3 hours away by bus, including a walk in the capital from one bus terminus to another with all my things. The heat and humidity were already making me woozy and I was too scared to eat in case my stomach rebelled on the bus so it was all I could manage to position myself on a bus near a window and complete the journey on autopilot.

The next few days pass in a bit of a blur to be honest- I wasn’t feeling well but I made it out of the house every day bar one. I visited Grand Bay, which I took an instant dislike to and got straight back on the bus without so much as a paddle. On another day I walked to the Aquarium 3km away (a mistake in 30 degree heat when I was still not feeling well and eating only one modest meal a day) only to find it rather disappointing and a little sad. I also managed to continue my work in my air conditioned room and made it to the Malagasy Embassy to work on my VISA issues. My highlight was attending a soiree hosted by my hotel which included an array of traditional foods and a display of traditional dancing called Sega where creole-Mauritian women twirl and pulsate to African rhythms in very full brightly coloured skirts and boleros which reminded me of my costumes from my Flamenco days.

Sega night in Toix Au Biches

 But apart from this I mostly stuck to the beach at Troix Au Biches, which I have to say was by far my favourite I had seen on the island. White sands and emerald seas encircled by a reef forming a lagoon teeming with life the beach itelf is still relatively underdeveloped but only a 5 minute walk away from a cold bottle of water or an ice lolly. I adopted a spot in front of Sakoa resort, a small establishment with thatch umbrellas spilling out onto the beach where I could escape from the sun, eat my daily meal in the late afternoon and use the bathroom if necessary. Mostly I read; A Carrion Death- a great detective story based in Botswana but significantly darker than the Ladies Detective Agency franchise and The Garden of Evening Mists, a book so unspeakably moving and beautiful that I found myself crying several times on that paradise beach.

When it got too hot, or I needed to sooth my stomach I put on my snorkel and mask and waded out into the lagoon. Although shallow all the way the live reef began about a mile off shore and it was there you had to venture, out by the breakers, if you wanted any real encounters of the fishy kind. It took be 15 or 20 minutes to reach the shallow reef and it was all I could do to stop my belly from scraping the coral. The tropical fish swarmed me like a cloud, often nipping at my fingers and toes to warn me off their patch. There were fish of every imaginable size and colour, mostly in small groups between 2 and 20 strong. I saw fish I have only ever seem in documentaries on the BBC or in tropical fish tanks in the London Aquarium. I spent hours just floating out there, letting the water carry me off to another bit of reef and show me something else I never thought I would see. My three most significant encounters were with very different sea critters but were equally as impressive to me. The first was a patch of darker coral, a little different from the rest, which housed a group of small thin brightly coloured eels with elongated snouts and gaping mouths. My second was with a barracuda at least 5 feet long which came upon me quite unannounced and made my blood run cold. My last was with what I can only describe as a swarm.

I had been floating close to the breakers when I noticed the water to my right getting cloudy. Worried that I was getting to close to the waves at the edge of the lagoon I lifted my head, ready to see waves breaking to my right, but there was nothing there but calm azure water, so I ducked below the surface again. The cloud was closer now and sort of a yellow sandy colour and I wondered whether something below me was kicking up sand. But then I saw them- hundreds upon hundreds of round-bodied, black and yellow striped fish about the size of a CD approaching me en-mass. As they reached me I stopped swimming and lay very still on the surface. The school engulfed me, leaving a couple of inches of clear water on each side but completely surrounding me. When I tried to turn around I saw they had close in behind me too and some were beginning to wriggle underneath between me and the reef below. I was stunned and, maintaining my inactive stance, I floated along with then for five to ten minutes before pulling myself through the throng and emerging on the other side. I watched them retreating into the distance, a cloud of collective movement rolling across the coral and I headed back to shore, sure that I would never be able to explain my joy in those moments.

Turtle- in the aquarium though don't get too excited

Apart from these modest accomplishments I did little in that last week as my stomach and shivers got worse. I woke up several times a night from the cramping and the nausea could only be assuaged by constant pacing round the room. My air conditioner went on and off like a police siren and sweat soaked my clothes within minutes of putting them on. I was beginning to worry and images of parasites, malaria and viral infections swam through my consciousness. So it was actually with some relief that I boarded the plane back to Madagascar. I acknowledged this feeling as I settled into my seat and marvelled at the human ability to adapt. In three and a half short months Madagascar had gone from the intimidating unknown to a place to call home and I was looking forward to being welcomed back into its familiar bosom once again, all the trepidation and anxiety which had accompanied me on my first voyage gone, replaced by security and comfort.

Traditional outfit I got from Mauritius