The Pain
There is electic light on Fanning, just not a lot of it. True darkness is rare for most of us and shocking. You cannot see your hand in front of your face, even if your palm is touching the tip of your nose. Which is how the end of a piece of lumber, 2x4x20, swung at full force by a young and fit I-Kiribati, collided with my face. We were working late, full speed ahead, and it was simply too dark to see.
My first thought after the impact was about my glasses. Were they broken? Two years earlier on a different boat I had (under different and much happier circumstances) broken a different pair of glasses. They had plastic frames, and a clever and charming shipmate had melted them back together with a lighter. My current ones were metal...I reached up to inspect them.
About this time I realized that the warm liquid flowing down my hands and arms was not just the rain.
The Germs
The First Mate herded me into the Agent's house. There he sat me down and instructed me to pinch the bridge of my nose, which was helping until a well-meaning shipmate, attempting to wipe up the blood, bumped my arm. The hand that was doing the pinching was jarred, and I felt the structure of my nose move. Broken. The nearest hospital was on Christmas Island, more that 24 hours away.
The shipmate made another move toward my arm, insisting she was helping, so I took a swing at her (missed) and yelled at every one to FUCK OFF. I was left alone with some paper towels and a bucket of water.
I sat quietly for several minutes, pinching as instructed, and pressing cool, wet paper towels to my face. When most of the bleeding stopped, I wiped myself off and did a damage assessment. There was a small cut on my nose, where the impact caused the sharp bone to push through the skin. My hands and arms were covered in blood, like some hideous victim in a horror film or an ax murderer. There was even some blood on my legs.
Once I was clean I felt much calmer until I suddenly realized that I'd been rinsing my brand new wound in some random third-world water. Fanning Island has staph.
The Doctor
"I need you to see if my nose is broken," I told Nate, our medical officer, when I got back to Kwai.
"Oh, I can see it's broken," he replied without so much as a closer look. "It's at a 20 degree angle."
The Captain fed me two prescription-strength tylenol and a shot of Sailor Jerry rum. Nate eyed my nose eagerly.
"You're excited," I said. I wasn't angry or even that surprised.
"No I'm not."
He sat me down in the galley (ship's kitchen) and carefully pressed my nose back into place. We didn't have a nose scope, so he checked his work with a flashlight. The tylenol and rum performed marvellously. I took a deep breath and found I could breath much more easily. I looked at Nate.
"Admit it. You liked that."
"Yeah! That was awesome!"
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Island Tour Two: Fanning Island
On Fanning we were greeted by a slightly larger Japanese pickup. The bed of the truck was fitted with plywood benches. A 2x4 made a backrest/handrail along the sides, and in each corner of the bed more 2x4s supported a thatched roof. The benches were covered in thin cushions with Hawaiian print fabric. It was our Agent who had arranged the tour, and we sat on the benches next to him, his wife and children, and a teenage neighbor.
The truck crawled along the unpaved road. We drove past houses made of everything: plywood, corrugated metal, palm wood, cinder blocks, small sticks laced together, thatch for both roofs and walls. (Thatch walls are more like window shades for rain. In good weather they are rolled up, and in bad weather they are unrolled to provide a sheild against rain.) Some of the houses are actually on stilts.
As we drove the Agent told stories. The son of a British father, his English is excellent. He described how a ship once gave him a ride to Honolulu. When he arrived he found that all the cars drove very fast (during our two hour island tour we left first gear for only a few minutes.) But he braved the traffic and took a carefully assembled shopping list to Walmart.
"The list was destroyed!" The agent exclaimed as he described buying everything in sight. He went on to admit that he got lost inside and did not find his way out for three hours. The Cook, Nate and I (the three Americans present) all shrugged. This had happened to all of us.
Finally we ran out of road. A bridge had washed out seven years earlier and was never replaced. (Fanning Island gets epic rains. It can pour for three weeks straight. The Agent once opened his front door and found tilapia swimming at his feet.)
We stopped the truck, and the Agent sent the neighbor to get coconuts. The boy selected a tree, one with a very vertical trunk, carefully wiped his bare feet on the bottom of the tree, and walked right up it. Like the rest of us walk down a side walk. He stomped down the coconuts and split them open with a machete.
Coconut water is always safe to drink, and according to the Agent, is so pure that it was used as IV fluid during World War II.
On the way back we stopped to watch a group of boys climbing coconut palms to "cut toddy." Coconuts are essential to Kiribati. They are responsible for the nation's main export Copra, which is dried coconut meat that can be pressed for oil. In addition there are the previously mentioned house-building and medical uses, and the edible meat and milk with which we are all familiar. Furthermore, there is the toddy, a sort of island beer made from coconut sap. The sap is procured by climbing a coconut palm and binding (with a rope generally made from coconut fibers) the tiny green berries that might have become coconuts. The end of this tightly-bound package is cut off, a leaf is attached to make a spot, and the sap leaks from the berries, through the spout, and into a jar, where it eventually becomes toddy. Toddy is delicious and is one of the reasons I had such enthusiasm for the coconut water on that particular afternoon.
The plant both creates and cures hangovers. You just have to know how to use it.
The truck crawled along the unpaved road. We drove past houses made of everything: plywood, corrugated metal, palm wood, cinder blocks, small sticks laced together, thatch for both roofs and walls. (Thatch walls are more like window shades for rain. In good weather they are rolled up, and in bad weather they are unrolled to provide a sheild against rain.) Some of the houses are actually on stilts.
As we drove the Agent told stories. The son of a British father, his English is excellent. He described how a ship once gave him a ride to Honolulu. When he arrived he found that all the cars drove very fast (during our two hour island tour we left first gear for only a few minutes.) But he braved the traffic and took a carefully assembled shopping list to Walmart.
"The list was destroyed!" The agent exclaimed as he described buying everything in sight. He went on to admit that he got lost inside and did not find his way out for three hours. The Cook, Nate and I (the three Americans present) all shrugged. This had happened to all of us.
Finally we ran out of road. A bridge had washed out seven years earlier and was never replaced. (Fanning Island gets epic rains. It can pour for three weeks straight. The Agent once opened his front door and found tilapia swimming at his feet.)
We stopped the truck, and the Agent sent the neighbor to get coconuts. The boy selected a tree, one with a very vertical trunk, carefully wiped his bare feet on the bottom of the tree, and walked right up it. Like the rest of us walk down a side walk. He stomped down the coconuts and split them open with a machete.
Coconut water is always safe to drink, and according to the Agent, is so pure that it was used as IV fluid during World War II.
On the way back we stopped to watch a group of boys climbing coconut palms to "cut toddy." Coconuts are essential to Kiribati. They are responsible for the nation's main export Copra, which is dried coconut meat that can be pressed for oil. In addition there are the previously mentioned house-building and medical uses, and the edible meat and milk with which we are all familiar. Furthermore, there is the toddy, a sort of island beer made from coconut sap. The sap is procured by climbing a coconut palm and binding (with a rope generally made from coconut fibers) the tiny green berries that might have become coconuts. The end of this tightly-bound package is cut off, a leaf is attached to make a spot, and the sap leaks from the berries, through the spout, and into a jar, where it eventually becomes toddy. Toddy is delicious and is one of the reasons I had such enthusiasm for the coconut water on that particular afternoon.
The plant both creates and cures hangovers. You just have to know how to use it.
Excellent Sea Food
"LAND CRABS??"
Yep. That's right. Christmas Island (and Fanning too) is covered in land crabs.
They are Christmas Island's principle form of roadkill. In this way they are like squirrels.
They range from about the size of a very large spider to bigger than your hand. In this way they are NOT like squirrels.
They are edible, but are not a dietary staple. (Like squirrels.)
They are sand colored and live in holes dug in the sand. (Unlike squirrels.)
They do not pinch unless provoked.
Yep. That's right. Christmas Island (and Fanning too) is covered in land crabs.
They are Christmas Island's principle form of roadkill. In this way they are like squirrels.
They range from about the size of a very large spider to bigger than your hand. In this way they are NOT like squirrels.
They are edible, but are not a dietary staple. (Like squirrels.)
They are sand colored and live in holes dug in the sand. (Unlike squirrels.)
They do not pinch unless provoked.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Pandanus
"First of all, how do you pronounce it?" the Cook asked the friendly Marine Department official we'd invited to dinner.
"PAN-dah-nuss," the Official replied, which was good as this ended a debate which had been raging for several days. "It's a very useful plant," the Official went on for our benefit. It was one of those weird cross-cultural moments when you, the foreigner, take a keen interest in something they, the local, find mundane. Luckily the Official had grown up in Fiji, which in the Pacific is the Gateway to Everywhere Else, and he humored us. He went on to explain that the Pandanus tree is extremely strong so the wood is good for building houses. The leaves can be woven into thatched roofs "that last ten years" or used as cigarette papers. The edible fruit (which is what introduced us to Pandanus in the first place) is rich in betacarotine. When it is raw, it has stringy fibers that work as dental floss. It can be boiled in coconut milk, or mashed and dried into something like fruit leather.
"The best thing to do," interjected our other dinner guest, the ex-American Surfer, "is layer that with coconut cream like lasagna."
I thought about something the Man from Christmas told me. He was cleaning a fresh fish and carefully set aside the stomach for later use. "In Kiribati we believe if you don't use the whole animal, it will come back."
We must have had beliefs like this at one time. I wonder when we lost them.
"PAN-dah-nuss," the Official replied, which was good as this ended a debate which had been raging for several days. "It's a very useful plant," the Official went on for our benefit. It was one of those weird cross-cultural moments when you, the foreigner, take a keen interest in something they, the local, find mundane. Luckily the Official had grown up in Fiji, which in the Pacific is the Gateway to Everywhere Else, and he humored us. He went on to explain that the Pandanus tree is extremely strong so the wood is good for building houses. The leaves can be woven into thatched roofs "that last ten years" or used as cigarette papers. The edible fruit (which is what introduced us to Pandanus in the first place) is rich in betacarotine. When it is raw, it has stringy fibers that work as dental floss. It can be boiled in coconut milk, or mashed and dried into something like fruit leather.
"The best thing to do," interjected our other dinner guest, the ex-American Surfer, "is layer that with coconut cream like lasagna."
I thought about something the Man from Christmas told me. He was cleaning a fresh fish and carefully set aside the stomach for later use. "In Kiribati we believe if you don't use the whole animal, it will come back."
We must have had beliefs like this at one time. I wonder when we lost them.
"You're a Fish!"
Christmas Island is an absolutely incredible, spectacular, mind-blowing example of a pristine tropical island.
"All my pictures are of sunsets and palm trees," exclaimed the Canadian, a native of New Brunswick. "Have you ever seen so many palm trees?" He paused. "Well, I guess you're from Los Angeles..."
I considered my response. I have indeed seen a lot of palm trees. But not like this. Not growing crazy-wild, leaning out over empty white sand beaches, standing so close to each other their fronds all mesh together in a canopy, laden with so many dozens of coconuts it's a wonder their slender trunks can support the weight, and growing long untrimmed beards of ancient fronds that reach the ground. They are palm trees as palm trees want to be.
This, I felt as I looked into the water and saw the bottom 20 feet down, was the ideal place to swim as much as possible. I swam basically every day. I snorkled on the perfect reef, stalking all the colorful shiny tropical fish. I even discovered I can still dive, though not as well as the Canadian, the skinny, bearded wonder, who dives like Pocahontas in the Disney movie. I wore my bathing suit to work so that I'd never miss an oppertunity to swim.
"All my pictures are of sunsets and palm trees," exclaimed the Canadian, a native of New Brunswick. "Have you ever seen so many palm trees?" He paused. "Well, I guess you're from Los Angeles..."
I considered my response. I have indeed seen a lot of palm trees. But not like this. Not growing crazy-wild, leaning out over empty white sand beaches, standing so close to each other their fronds all mesh together in a canopy, laden with so many dozens of coconuts it's a wonder their slender trunks can support the weight, and growing long untrimmed beards of ancient fronds that reach the ground. They are palm trees as palm trees want to be.
This, I felt as I looked into the water and saw the bottom 20 feet down, was the ideal place to swim as much as possible. I swam basically every day. I snorkled on the perfect reef, stalking all the colorful shiny tropical fish. I even discovered I can still dive, though not as well as the Canadian, the skinny, bearded wonder, who dives like Pocahontas in the Disney movie. I wore my bathing suit to work so that I'd never miss an oppertunity to swim.
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