There’s a chicken on the loose, somewhere in our garden

As I lay in the hammock this morning, in an otherwise empty garden, a chicken toddled past... not a usual occurrence for a Friday morning. Neither was the search party of children from next door who swarmed the garden as I attempted to recover my wits and reach for Muslim-friendly attire. The chicken was not forth-coming.

The past couple of months have brought a new degree of acclimatisation: the daily events of life on a desert island are no less ridiculous but the ludicrous has become the normal and nothing surprises me anymore. We no longer miss alcohol or pork; the need to get things done has waned; and even Bella walks slower than she used to.

The beginning of August was marked by the arrival of Bella’s friends. When Bella first announced we were having guests to visit my reaction wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as she had hoped. Our prior experiences of visitors involved diabolical weather, apprehension from Maldivian and series of stressful rescue missions from awkward locations. And then there was the weighty presence of Ramazan looming.” It’s totally fine”, she said, “It’s only two of them – well, maybe four – but it’s totally fine.”

And she was right. It was totally fine. The days of Kirstles and Bex, K and DiGo were tremendous fun. In addition to a resort mini-break (unfortunately a wash out), we packed in a picnic to an uninhabited island, night fishing, snorkelling, volley and an 18-hour boat journey to Male. There were, of course, the inevitable clutch of incidents – a rescue mission after two days of being trapped at enormous expense on the resort in gale-force winds, a panic-stricken boat journey through the sizable waves of the channel, insect bites of giant proportions, and an assortment of lost flip flops, lens caps and the like – but these were easily forgotten as our Maldivian friends rose to the occasion and our house became the social hub of the island.

The presence of our visitors coincided with half term and just as Bella and I were readying ourselves for full relaxation, the deputy principal hauled us into the AV room to inform us of his plans to assault Grade 10 with a relentless battery of tests. Bella and I came away reeling and somewhat peeved that the end of our precious holiday would blighted by a large heap of marking.

Ramazan was a strange time. It started two days after Kirsty and Bex arrived and never before have I seen twenty-three-year-old boys looking as miserable as on the first day. We had been assured that very little would be different during the Holy month. School would be shorter but otherwise everything would carry on. It is true that most people made the effort to carry on as normal and did a valiant job, given that they had nothing to eat or drink between 4am and 6pm, but there was certain subdued air that settled over the island, induced by lack of sleep and empty tummies.

The upside of Ramazan is this: as soon as the sun sets the eating begins and they want you to eat too. We could barely leave the house without someone hauling us in to feed us. Every meal had curry, rice, noodles, roshi, mas-unhi, hedaka, two kinds of juice and something sweet to finish. It was great! We also found that people’s daily lifestyle changed. When your last opportunity to eat for 14 hours is at 3.30am it’s worth staying up for. So we stayed up too, in the garden, as a host of eligible (and less eligible) young men came by to check out the new English girls.

The end of Ramazan involved more food. At Eid, Every family had a big celebration lunch and every family wanted us to celebrate with them. We managed three lunches in two hours, then vowed never to eat again... until tea time.

Eid was quickly followed by my birthday and I saw fit to drop the fact into conversation several times before the event. Poor Bella was tasked with organising me a surprise party – tricky given that I’m with her 18 hours a day. She was actually doing a remarkably good job at keeping stum. It was the Maldivians who were letting down the side. News of the party spread like wildfire around the island and everyone wanted to be invited. People would hurry up to me, waving an invitation and saying, “Party! You’re having a party!”

“Yes!” I’d reply, “And it’s supposed to be a surprise!” It was an awesome party though. Bella excelled herself. There were candles and pink balloons strung up between the palm trees, a table laden with Maldivian-friendly English food and a spectacular cake from Mama Chief.

This morning’s escapades with the chicken were not conclusive. It chose to re-appear at sunset. Had you been in our garden at sunset you would have been witness to five of us, crouched round a large bush in the corner of the garden, attempting to capture the fugitive, which was emitting blood-curdling squawks. As the light faded she was finally detained and taken back into custody. And another day passed in the Indian Ocean.

TTFN dear readers xxx