The Rhythm of Amed

Amed's rhythm became quickly familiar  and with it, so did my routine.

Waking each morning to roosters,  crowing.  Then the sound of excited fishermen calling and whistling, as they made their way back to shore,  after a nights fishing.  This was to indicate that they had had a successful catch.

This was my cue, to rise early and go down to the beach.  As I took a deep breath, of the fresh, salty,  morning air,  and watched, what seemed like hundreds of fishing boats across the water,  just as dawn was breaking, I felt blessed to be there, be apart of Amed's routine and watch this magnificent sight.

After an early morning swim, I would watch the fishermen line their boats along the shore on the black sand,  their family waiting, to welcome them home and to help unload.  The boats are wonderful and elaborate with big mouths and eyes, at the bow,  to ward off evil spirits and such a sight when there are so many of them,  lined up on the beach.

Once the beach had cleared and I was left with just the boats and the water lapping at my feet, I would head back for breakfast and then later,  some snorkelling and lazing on the beach.

Lunch and back to the beach.  Not long after this, when school had finished for the day, the local kids, would run down, strip off their school clothes, splash about and drop a line, to see what they could catch.

After I had sucked all the rays out of the sun, I would shower, put on a clean sarong and have dinner, a few drinks, listen to some music, chat and bed.

Each night as I went to bed, I could hear singing from far away.    When I asked about this, I was told it was the people who lived in the mountains and that maybe they had had too much palm wine.  When they do,   they like to sing.  The singing, was improvised and told an ongoing story,  as each singer took his or her turn, they would add to the story.

This was my rhythm and the rhythm of Amed.

When I enquired about this 'palm wine',  I was offered, if I would like to buy some.  I thought I would try a bottle and see what it is like.  Handed over some money and the next morning was presented with, not one but two,  jerry cans full of fresh palm wine!

They told me I must drink it now, while it is fresh.  It smelt like rocket fuel (not that I know what that smells like) but just after breakfast, I wasn't sure I could stomach something that didn't smell so good.

Let's drink it tonight I offered, this being my last night at Wawa Wewe, before I headed further north.  A little disappointed and probably mystified as to why I wouldn't drink it,  when it was a fresh batch, they agreed.

We will have a party they said, for your last night, with the palm wine and we will sing!