‘Peter? Peter Brook?’ a voice called.
A blonde woman in her thirties came forward to greet them. She held out her hand to Peter.
‘Angela Butler from the seahorse project,’ she informed him. ‘Welcome to the island of Jandayan and the village of Handumon. I’m delighted our work is attracting so much attention.’
‘And I’m delighted to have the opportunity of photographing such extraordinary creatures,’ said Peter.
‘You must be Binti,’ Angela continued, holding her hand out again. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from colleagues of mine.’
‘It’s very kind of you to allow me to follow your work while my husband’s here,’ said Binti. ‘These are our children, Aesha and Joe.’
Angela welcomed them warmly. ‘We’ve made room for you all in the staff house,’ she said. ‘It’s basic, but clean and comfortable, and it’s one of the few places in the village with electricity. There’s no running water, though, I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t worry about that.’ Binti smiled. ‘We’re used to basic, aren’t we?’ She aimed the question at Joe and Aesha.
Joe nodded his head firmly, but Aesha looked less certain.
Angela summoned a driver to transport their suitcases to the staff house by motorbike. ‘We can walk,’ she said. ‘It’s not far.’
She led them along a dusty road. Chickens scattered to the right and left, squawking loudly. Dogs lying by the roadside raised sleepy eyelids, briefly took in the passing procession, then closed them again. Joe was amused to find that the children were still following them, chattering loudly, several of them calling ‘Hello’ in English and giggling coyly among themselves.
‘They love having visitors,’ said Angela. ‘They’ll be endlessly curious about you.’
‘Will they mind if I take photos of them?’ Peter asked.
‘They’ll love you to take their photos.’ Angela laughed. ‘It’ll make them feel like rock stars.’
There were pigs tethered outside some of the houses. Joe chuckled at the way they were snuffling around in the dirt for something to eat.
‘Pigs are a prized possession here,’ said Angela. ‘They’re a rare source of meat. The islanders live mostly on rice and whatever fish they’ve been able to catch. Even then, they take the best of their catch to market and keep the less desirable fish for themselves.’
Joe hoped that if he were served fish it wouldn’t be too bony. He couldn’t stand bony fish.
They turned a corner and reached the staff house. It was a long, rectangular building supported by a number of concrete pillars. Its high, thatched roof overhung the walls, which were made of intricately woven palm leaves around a wooden framework and wide windows. One side of the roof virtually reached the ground.
‘Welcome to the home of the seahorse project,’ said Angela. ‘I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.’
She showed them into a big communal room, where two young Filipino men were working at a large wooden table, one using a laptop, the other plotting something on a map. On one wall was a blackboard covered with chalked notes. In a corner stood an old-fashioned hi-fi system.
‘This is Rey and Carl, who help us to monitor the seahorse populations. They’ll be diving with you when you take your photos, Peter.’ Angela completed the introductions and led them along a corridor to their rooms. ‘I hope you and Joe won’t mind sharing,’ she said to Aesha as she opened the door to a room with sleeping mats side by side on the floor. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to share the mosquito net as well.’
‘I prefer Joe to mosquitoes – just,’ said Aesha, looking rather dubiously at the sleeping mats, ‘so I guess I’ll cope.’
‘Huh!’ said Joe. ‘I think I might prefer mosquitoes.’
‘Not in the middle of the night when you hear their continuous buzzing and know they’re searching for a way to get at you.’ Angela laughed. ‘And I’m afraid there is a lot of rain,’ she added, as heavy drops fell past the open window.
She left them to unpack. Aesha made no attempt to unload her clothes into the rickety cupboard in the corner of the room. Instead, she stood by the window and groaned loudly.
‘I can’t believe we’ve got to sleep on the floor,’ she grumbled. ‘And Dad said we were going somewhere hot, not wet.’
Joe refused to be disheartened. ‘We’ll be in the water a lot of the time,’ he said, ‘so it won’t matter if it rains!’
Chapter 5
It turned out to be only a shower. The sun quickly returned to dry up the moisture, leaving the ground and the air steaming.
‘It’s so humid!’ Aesha exclaimed as they set off for a walk later in the afternoon. ‘I can’t imagine having to live here.’
‘You wanted hot,’ said her father.
‘Not this hot!’ replied Aesha.
‘You’d be used to it if you lived here,’ said Binti. ‘And you’d adjust your pace of life accordingly – you don’t see the locals dashing around like we do at home.’
It was true, Joe acknowledged. Those who were outside were going about their chores in a leisurely fashion, almost as if they too were on holiday. At home, everyone would be jumping in and out of cars, dashing off to football or swimming or school or shopping. He wondered if that would all change if the weather in England suddenly became hot and humid. He thought he would want to live by the sea if it did.
‘When are we going to look at the seahorses?’ he asked.
‘In the middle of the night,’ said Peter.
‘I meant seriously, Dad,’ Joe reproached him.
‘In the middle of the night,’ Peter repeated. ‘That’s when the seahorses and other sea creatures spring to life.’
‘But how will we see anything?’ asked Joe.
‘I believe the locals use a very simple gas lamp,’ said Peter.
‘So we’re going to walk into the sea in the middle of the night carrying a gas lamp?’ Aesha was struggling to grasp her father’s meaning.
‘We’ll be going in a banca with a gas lamp attached to it,’ he explained.
‘Cool!’ said Joe. This definitely sounded like an amazing adventure.
‘We’ll make an exploratory trip first of all. I shall be diving, but you’ll be able to snorkel at the same time, once you’ve had some practice. And if you’re good, I’ll bring you up some tasty titbits from the seabed.’
‘Like an old boot, if I know you, Dad.’ Aesha snorted.
‘I can’t believe we’re going to go snorkelling in the middle of the night,’ said Joe. ‘Are we going tonight?’
‘Not tonight!’ said Binti. ‘We’ll need our sleep tonight after such a long journey.’
‘Oh,’ said Joe, pouting. ‘I’m not tired.’
‘You will be,’ Binti replied, and as if she had woven some sort of magic, Joe found himself yawning.
‘Ha!’ said Peter. ‘You’ll be asleep before we get to the beach.’
‘No, I won’t,’ retorted Joe. ‘I’ll race you there!’
He sped off down the path, his father hot on his tail. Several village children, sensing there was some fun to be had, ran after them, shouting and laughing. Peter began to zigzag from side to side, the children copying his every move.
‘You’re completely mad, Dad!’ Aesha called after him.
Joe reached the sand and found a large piece of seaweed. He hid it behind his back, adopted an innocent look and stood waiting for his father to catch up.
‘What took you so long?’ he said, grinning, when Peter arrived, out of breath. ‘Poor Dad. You look worn out.’
Before his father knew what was happening, Joe rushed towards him and shoved the seaweed down his shorts, much to the amusement of the Filipino children, who stared wide-eyed and then giggled uncontrollably.
‘Ha, ha, Dad,’ called Aesha. ‘You didn’t see that one coming!’
‘You wait,’ said Peter, putting on a sinister voice as he pulled the seaweed from his shorts. ‘I shall have my revenge, and you won’t know when it will hit
you.’
‘There’s a boat full of seaweed over there,’ said Aesha.
‘Don’t give me ideas.’ Peter smirked.
‘What would anyone want with a boat full of seaweed?’ questioned Joe.
‘Some of it will be eaten. Apparently it’s delicious raw with vinegar, onions and chilli,’ Binti replied. ‘A lot will be sold. It’s used in all sorts of things, like make-up, toothpaste, ice cream –’
‘Seaweed ice cream?’ Joe interrupted. ‘Yuck!’
‘The ice cream isn’t seaweed flavoured.’ Binti laughed. ‘Seaweed extract is used in it as a thickening agent.’
They wandered over to the banca that was piled high with seaweed. Peter got out his camera and took a number of photographs from different angles, while the Filipino children did everything they could to appear in them. Joe was cross with himself that in his excitement to get out and explore he had left his camera behind again. He would have liked to take photographs of the children trying to get into his father’s shots.
‘What your name?’ one of the boys asked him out of the blue.
‘Joe,’ he replied, and began to fiddle shyly with a rope that was hanging out of the banca.
‘Me, Dario,’ said the boy, pointing to himself. ‘You play basketball with us?’
Joe blushed and looked to his mother to answer for him.
‘Joe would love to play basketball with you,’ Binti said, smiling. ‘Perhaps tomorrow?’
Dario nodded. ‘Tomorrow is good.’
Joe wasn’t at all sure he wanted to play basketball with strangers. He wasn’t particularly good at sport and Dario was taller and looked older than him. At the same time, he liked the idea of having a friend on the island, especially a friend he could share adventures with.
Chapter 6
By the time they had finished their walk along the beach, eaten and watched the sun go down, Joe could scarcely keep his eyes open.
‘What a perfect end to the day,’ Binti sighed, yawning herself. ‘That’s one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.’
‘There’s definitely a lot to be said for going back to nature,’ said Peter. ‘We scarcely notice the sun setting at home.’
‘That’s because there are too many buildings in the way,’ Aesha said.
‘Ah, but would we take any notice if there weren’t?’ Peter commented. ‘We’re always too busy looking down.’
‘They’re never as spectacular as this anyway,’ said Aesha. ‘We’re spoilt now – no sunset will ever be able to match up to this.’
Joe saw a crab scuttle across the sand. If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have run after it. Instead, he lay back, his arms behind his head, and stared up at the sky. He was on an island far, far from home – the sort of place where adventures happened, or at least they did in books. In books, treasure was buried on islands and pirates moored their ships just off the shore. Strange people and animals lived on imaginary islands, and visitors often got lost in their hazardous landscapes or became ill with deadly fevers. Joe wondered about the people of Jandayan – about the fishermen and the seaweed farmers, about the women he saw sweeping outside their houses and others who stood washing clothes or cooking on open fires. They seemed friendly, but what were they really like?
And Dario. What was he like? Did he have some hidden reason for asking Joe to play basketball with him, or was he just being kind to a young boy who might appreciate some company from someone closer to his age?
Anyway, surely there can’t be a basketball court on the island? Joe considered. He was a little anxious about going with him, but he was curious too. With Dario he thought he would find out a lot more about real life on the island. With Dario, I’m far more likely to have an adventure.
Then he scolded himself because he decided that nothing could be more of an adventure than searching for seahorses and other marine creatures in the middle of the night. He had read books about children having secret midnight feasts, but night-time snorkelling would be far more exciting. As for basketball, he could play that anywhere.
‘Time for bed, sleepyhead.’ A voice broke through his thoughts.
Peter helped him to his feet. ‘You were muttering something about baskets,’ he said. ‘Those seaweed farmers have obviously made a big impression on you.’
Joe grinned sheepishly. ‘I don’t think I’d want it as a job,’ he said.
On the way back to the staff house, they came across a large wooden noticeboard with a map of the island painted on it. To Joe’s surprise, among the few places named on the map, which included the school and the church, was a basketball court, though it wasn’t clear exactly where it was on the island.
‘There you are, Joe,’ said Binti, pointing at the list. ‘This might be a tiny village, but it obviously takes its basketball very seriously.’
Joe groaned. ‘I’m going to be too busy taking photos to play,’ he said.
‘Even I won’t be taking photos all day every day,’ said Peter. ‘Especially if it keeps raining,’ he added, as the heavens opened again. ‘Race you home!’
If it keeps raining, I won’t be able to play basketball anyway, Joe thought, haring after his father.
It rained all night, but by morning the sun was shining hotly again. Joe woke early and went outside. Drops of water fell non-stop from the palm trees, one of them landing plumb on the top of his head and making him jump almost as much as he might have done if it were a palm nut. He wandered through the grounds of the staff house and came across a large concreted area containing several wooden benches and covered with a thatched roof. It was only when he had stepped up on to the base that he realised someone else was there.
‘You’re up early, Joe.’ Angela’s head popped round the side of a noticeboard on which she had been writing.
‘I was hot,’ said Joe shyly. ‘And I never sleep late. Aesha does – Dad says she can sleep for England.’
‘You’re like me,’ said Angela. ‘I hate to see the day being wasted. Talking of which, how would you like to go on a boat trip today? I thought we could take you all around the Marine Protected Areas and the mangroves.’
Joe nodded eagerly. ‘Will we go on one of those banca things?’
Angela laughed. ‘Yes, we’ll go on one of those banca things.’
‘What exactly are mangroves?’ he asked.
‘Ah, now there’s a subject,’ Angela replied. ‘Basically, they’re dense areas of low trees and shrubs that have adapted to grow in saltwater. The trees and shrubs have lots of roots that act as props to support them and they form a tangled mass, mostly underwater, in which all sorts of marine creatures live. Without them, we’d lose most of our fish and many other creatures as well.’
Joe took in what she was saying. ‘Fish stocks are low all over the world, aren’t they?’ he asked. He had heard something about it on the news back home, but found it difficult to believe that, given the size of the world’s oceans, there could be any shortage.
‘Overfishing goes on everywhere,’ Angela agreed. ‘The human population is exploding, and more and more people are eating fish because it’s a healthy food, but the poor old fish can’t reproduce quickly enough.’
Joe made up his mind there and then that he would stop being fussy about fish and eat every last morsel that was put on his plate from that point onwards.
Chapter 7
Joe was impatient for his family to be up and about when he returned to the staff house.
‘Hurry up,’ he growled at Aesha. ‘Half the day’s gone already and everyone else has been up for hours.’
‘Just because you’ve got ants in your pants, it doesn’t mean we all have to get up at the crack of dawn,’ said Aesha.
‘What’s the point of staying in bed all day when you’re in a different country,’ Joe countered. ‘We might never come here again.’
‘It’s only eight o’clock, Joe,’ said Aesha. ‘It’s not as if we’re missing out on anything.’
‘You’ve misse
d out on helping to get the banca ready. I helped put the canopy up and load the bottles of water on board.’
Aesha looked unimpressed, but Joe had felt very important working alongside Angela and Rey while the rest of his family slept. They had talked to him about the seahorse project and how vital it was to keep the local population involved in protecting the species.
‘Rey used to collect and sell seahorses,’ Angela told him, ‘but when he realised their numbers were dropping disastrously, he began to work with us to find alternative ways for local people to earn an income.’
Rey nodded enthusiastically. ‘Now, my wife, she makes baskets, and I work with Ma’am Angela to stop the dynamite and save the coral.’
‘Did you know that some people use dynamite to blast fish out of the water?’ Joe asked his parents as they headed towards the banca at last.
Binti nodded. ‘It’s a way of catching a lot of fish quickly.’
‘But how?’ demanded Aesha. ‘Doesn’t it blow the fish to pieces?’
Joe was delighted to have caught her attention. ‘It blows some of them to pieces and it kills the coral reef, but it makes it easy to collect the fish that aren’t destroyed from the surface of the water,’ he explained.
‘I can’t believe people can be so stupid.’ Aesha frowned.
‘It’s very short-sighted,’ said Binti. ‘Once a reef is damaged, it takes a very long time to recover, and all the creatures that depend upon it as well. The short-term gain for dynamite fishermen results in long-term problems for everyone else. But you can’t always blame them – not if all they’re trying to do is feed their children. I’d probably do the same if there were no other option.’
‘I can’t quite see you going that far.’ Peter linked arms with her as they walked over the sand.
They reached the banca. Joe felt a sense of ownership as they helped push it into the water, and he made sure to climb on board first in order to claim the seat he wanted.
‘Will it be cooler away from land?’ Aesha asked, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead.
Shadows under the Sea Page 2