The most beautiful nights transpired on the Togian Islands. To avoid hiking through the dense muddy jungle, one could paddle wooden pontooned canoes around the coastline. One night, we visited the sea nomads, the Baju people on the island across from the research station. Paddling in the briny bay of Melenge Island, the plankton in the water were sensitive to any disturbance in the water and emitted light when displaced. The pontoons and the bottom of the boat cut calm wiggly sparkled trails of light and the water around the paddles glowed like 2 swirling miniature galaxies as we rowed forth. I let my hand down into the water and looked at the glowing plankton in disbelief. The stars were so bright in the sky and the water below us was twinkling with its own plankton stars.
The nomads built their houses on stilts by the water. Like them, we parked out boats by the stilts of their houses. The planks in their houses had many rather wide slits to sweep trash through. As the father pumped the kerosene lamp, the women would spit through the cracks in the floor and the children slept on despite the adult conversation.
The next morning we had a Baju man drive us out to sea for snorkeling. There was a motor attached to the boat which was carved out of a single log. Somehow we managed to fit 3 people in and survive the oncoming massive waves. Suroso sat in the front, and was petrified because he didn't know how to swim. Huge waves would crash down over his head as he anxiously dished water out of the boat with a tiny metal saucer. We parked at a coral island and swam around. Somehow enough dead coral had accumulated to form a small island in the sea. We weren't alone as local fishermen were drying their fish on the the hot white coral.
The hiking during the daytime was pristine. One afternoon, I walked solitary by the shore. Along the way, I chanced upon a rusty machete and a great walking stick. The coastal rocks were sharp petrified coral, many trees had fallen into the sea, flying fish skipped from rock to rock, kingfishers swooped by. I held the machete and wondered about its story. Who had abandoned it and why? Now I was using it to cut the vines before me.
Hiking into the forest, we caught a glimpse of rarely visited animals. At 7:30, the horn bills would make their morning calls. They were easy to spot because of their enormous yellow beaks and white tails. The bats' stench met us before we even saw the cave. Guano's pungent odor lured our curiosity to a small passageway into the earth. As we walked in there, it sounds like rolling thunder. The thunder was the sound of thousands of batwings flapping. The bats were stirred alive by these strange terrestrial intruders. The flew right by our ears in hysteria. At the end of the cave was a high ceilinged cavern where the bats spiraled freely. But the smell was unbearable and eventually drove us out of the cave.
While I was doing a quick watercolor of the coastal trees there, I met Rashid. On my last night in Melenge, he picked me up in a canoe and brought me to his house. Earlier that day, we had snorkeled by the research station. He saved my life by grabbing a chance floating coconut for me--- my mask had started to leak and I suffered a disoriented funk int he water. We had snorkeled out to other surrounding islands. At some points the ocean floor would just drop into a quiet bottomless blue abyss. Snorkeling over the blue and realizing a little plastic tube and leaky snorkeling mask was all that was keeping me alive was both terrifying and awesome.
We walked along the coast in the dark. The trails were so familiar to him having walked them for the past 20 years. He brought me to visit several people. He taught me a little Togian language "aku mau pigi pigi, or ea moconi bau" or "I want a massage or I eat fish" respectively. I didn't get to use my newfound language skills... but going into the Baju houses was beautiful in itself. Since there is no electricity there, only the firelight from the open stoves would flicker orange and gently filter through the dusty front rooms.
The next morning we had a Baju man drive us out to sea for snorkeling. There was a motor attached to the boat which was carved out of a single log. Somehow we managed to fit 3 people in and survive the oncoming massive waves. Suroso sat in the front, and was petrified because he didn't know how to swim. Huge waves would crash down over his head as he anxiously dished water out of the boat with a tiny metal saucer. We parked at a coral island and swam around. Somehow enough dead coral had accumulated to form a small island in the sea. We weren't alone as local fishermen were drying their fish on the the hot white coral.
The hiking during the daytime was pristine. One afternoon, I walked solitary by the shore. Along the way, I chanced upon a rusty machete and a great walking stick. The coastal rocks were sharp petrified coral, many trees had fallen into the sea, flying fish skipped from rock to rock, kingfishers swooped by. I held the machete and wondered about its story. Who had abandoned it and why? Now I was using it to cut the vines before me.
Hiking into the forest, we caught a glimpse of rarely visited animals. At 7:30, the horn bills would make their morning calls. They were easy to spot because of their enormous yellow beaks and white tails. The bats' stench met us before we even saw the cave. Guano's pungent odor lured our curiosity to a small passageway into the earth. As we walked in there, it sounds like rolling thunder. The thunder was the sound of thousands of batwings flapping. The bats were stirred alive by these strange terrestrial intruders. The flew right by our ears in hysteria. At the end of the cave was a high ceilinged cavern where the bats spiraled freely. But the smell was unbearable and eventually drove us out of the cave.
While I was doing a quick watercolor of the coastal trees there, I met Rashid. On my last night in Melenge, he picked me up in a canoe and brought me to his house. Earlier that day, we had snorkeled by the research station. He saved my life by grabbing a chance floating coconut for me--- my mask had started to leak and I suffered a disoriented funk int he water. We had snorkeled out to other surrounding islands. At some points the ocean floor would just drop into a quiet bottomless blue abyss. Snorkeling over the blue and realizing a little plastic tube and leaky snorkeling mask was all that was keeping me alive was both terrifying and awesome.
We walked along the coast in the dark. The trails were so familiar to him having walked them for the past 20 years. He brought me to visit several people. He taught me a little Togian language "aku mau pigi pigi, or ea moconi bau" or "I want a massage or I eat fish" respectively. I didn't get to use my newfound language skills... but going into the Baju houses was beautiful in itself. Since there is no electricity there, only the firelight from the open stoves would flicker orange and gently filter through the dusty front rooms.
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