Are you going commando?

Despite my occasional suspicions that I do in fact work in a zoo and not a school, Ihavandhoo Madharussa is a relatively prim and proper place where the students are well aware of what constitutes appropriate classroom chat. So you will understand my surprise when a usually well-behaved student caught me in a lesson and asked, “Teacher, are you going commando?”

There was a long pause as I cast about for a response. Then it dawned on me. “Ah. I think you mean ‘Am I going to Komandoo in Shaviany Atoll, on the Grade 12 school trip?’”
Said student has not yet lived down this linguistic faux pas and is unlikely to forgive me for recounting the story!

And so it was that Bella and I packed our bags once again and mustered at school at 3.30am on a Friday morning ready for a 24 hour trip to the tiny island of Komandhoo. Had it been any ordinary boat trip, Bella and I might have been a little resentful about getting up in the middle of the night to go to some unknown island, leaving behind our social circle for the weekend, especially as the weather forecast for the journey was not good. Beardy and the Big Man, who were not accompanying us on the trip, had informed us with a certain amount of glee that the sea would be very rough and we were almost certainly going to be very sick.

But this was not to be an ordinary boat trip. Ibrahim, affectionately known to us as Coach, and his boat Roadhi had been commandeered for the journey. If this wasn’t exciting enough, we arrived at the jetty to find our favourite volley team members - The Boy, Handbag Man, Ali Mansul and the Counsellor - had been called to active service as crew. Instead of leaving our friends behind for the weekend, we simply took them with us.

At this point I should tell you that messing about on boats is one of the occasions when it is awkward being an English girl. Bella and I didn’t feel in the least inclined to behave as expected of fair females, joining the Maldivian girls, huddled near the back, tending their sea sickness. Oh no. We wanted to join the fun up on the top deck with the boys. Initially our advances were met with suspicion but we soon demonstrated that we had our sea legs and were allowed to pass the six hour journey with the wind in our hair, singing songs with the grade 12 boys.

Sliding into Komandhoo harbour it looked as if the whole island had assembled on the jetty side to greet us. There ensued a considerable amount of handshaking as we disembarked the boat and made our way along the mile-long receiving line.

Given how long it had taken us to get to Komandhoo we were there for a remarkably short time and the programme was intense: lunch with our hosts, a tour of the school buildings (thrilling!), a boys’ volleyball match, tea, a girls’ netball match, dinner with our gracious hosts, late night coffee and an educational exchange meeting on Saturday morning. Amidst this hectic schedule, Bella and I found time to appreciate standard Maldivian madness. Our men’s volley team, who come in varying shapes and sizes, were issued with a one-size fits all kit for their match. The effect was comedy. While we were watching we also became aware of an army of women arriving at school to deliver hedhikaa (tea). The tea table visibly sagged under the weight of the food.
Having had a suitable amount of time to recover from tea, the girls re-grouped at school for the netball match. It was fast and furious. The was screaming, snatching and gnashing of teeth as the ball flew from one end of the court to the other and back again. Your corresponded, already in a certain amount of agony from a bad back, managed a quarter before hobbling off again, so it was Bella who tore up and down the court, mediating chaos and providing damage control. Our team prevailed and Bella was crowned queen of the match.

It was will a certain sense of relief that we headed back to the security of Roadhi and our beloved boat crew on Saturday morning. I am continually impressed by Maldivians’ ability to entertain themselves. The journey home took eight hours and was cold and wet, but the grade 12 boys sang and held court the whole way, while the girls slept, lined up at the back like a row of spoons. All in all it was a grand adventure. If only it had lasted a little bit longer.

TTFN dear readers xxx