Both time and sand flies

So my initial time on the Andaman Islands comes to an end, doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun. And it has been fun, by and large, though I find myself sinking into myself more and more within groups of people. But more of that later, for now I’d like to write about Little Andaman. It’s the second largest of the islands, and the one that took the brunt of the tsunami in 2004. The most recent reports suggested it was getting back on it’s feet, though in comparison to the east coast of Sri Lanka has made a much better recovery. Simply put the Indian government has ploughed a lot of money into redevelopment, which is just not the case with the Hindu dominated coastal strip of Sri Lanka. Over there, the Buddhist controlled government authorities have shown very little regard for the sorrowful state of their Hindu countrymen. In Little Andaman there are no signs of battered buildings, in fact little evidence of widespread damage anymore at all. In the last couple of years a couple of tourist guesthouses have opened on a quiet stretch of beach, some way away from the island’s towns. (Photo: Fishing the incoming tide - The Lagoon, Nr Butler Bay, Little Andaman)

I don’t know if the Andaman’s are a pet project of the Indian authorities, they have certainly put an awful amount of money into the islands. Whether this is for a specific reason I’m unsure, bearing in mind the proximity of the Burmese and Thailand coasts I think it’s an extraordinary show of care and financial support of the Indian powers that be. They make a big show of the indigenous tribes, who are still segregated from the outside world. I can’t be sure how much of this is of the free will of the tribes themselves. Some tribal villages on Little Andaman, of the Onge tribe, have been visited, unofficially, by tourists recently. By all accounts they were warmly received by the tribes people, though this act in itself leaves huge questions running around my mind. Why are people going out of their way to visit restricted areas that protect local indigenous people? How can people be so stupid to go round telling all and sundry of their daring do, thereby encouraging others to follow suit? Are the tribes segregated of their own free will? Personally I think it’s the Falklands syndrome, a far away sovereign territory that is worth nothing for the sovereign power, they simply pour money into it because they don’t want it to seem they no longer care. Also, to give it up would be to invite the Chinese in through the back door i.e. Burma. (Photo: A cowry burying itself in the sand - Nr Jina Guesthouse, Little Andaman)

Of the wildlife, it’s quite devoid of anything major, at least as far as the casual observer can tell. Signs warn of crocodiles at almost every river crossing, though I’ve yet to hear of a tourist who has actually seen one. A rumour went round the other day that a local fisherman had an incident with one only a few days ago, I haven’t been able to verify that yet. There are plenty of birds, and some very impressive white-headed fish eagles. Land crabs abound, and there are plenty of frogs and toads to squidge if you walk barefoot in the dark. The worst of the local critters are the smallest, sandflies. They’re almost invisible, they’re veracious, and their bites are both numerous and ultra-itchy. While there are countless kilometres of pristine golden sand, if you lay down for even the shortest amount of time you’ll be eaten alive. Few people can take the insect instigated hell for too long, it’s the only drawback to being on the island. The people are lovely, the guesthouses are cheap, there is plenty to visit and do, what more can you ask for? (Photo: Visions of paradise, sand fly hell - East coast beach, Little Andaman)

I still had to think long and hard about returning there though, but return I will. Squeezing in every last day I dared permit-wise, I stayed for 46 days, and I’m going back for a second dose. Not just to Little Andaman, exactly where depends how well I manage to settle into writing. Now, I must bear in mind here, I’d declared a period of relaxation to start with. But once started I guess I just felt I should keep up the good work, but it hasn’t happened so well on Little Andaman. Of the days I have been working, or attempting to, it hasn’t been as successful as it was at Long Island. Being more inebriated would go a long way to explaining that, having a stash and getting stoned during the day is never going to help me. Having weighed up the odds I’m still going back there, it is a nicer place in so many ways than Long Island. Though the food is better on Long Island, as is service. I’ll probably end up spending more time at both, maybe with a last couple of weeks diving on another island. Mind you, every time I venture back into the mayhem of everyday, mainstream Indian society I get thoughts of hiding in the Andaman’s for my whole stay here. (Photo: Ghost crab burrows - Butler Bay, Little Andaman)

(Photo: Goose barnacles - Hut Bay beach, Little Andaman)

At the moment my attention is on my own lack of enthusiasm, or conviction, over what I’m doing. I’ve a tendency to withdraw from those around me, and become a mere observer within my surroundings. I don’t exactly feel cut off, or lonely. I’m content with the peace and tranquillity found on these lovely islands, content with my own company. From most people’s reactions, and interactions, this is something going on more in my own head. It feels like I’m withdrawing more and more, keeping to myself, seeking solitude. So why does it worry me? Because I feel I could withdraw completely, and remain unsure whether that could be a temporary situation or a downward spiral. I know I’m being too harsh on myself, it’s how I am though, always my worst critic. Maybe this public confession comes as a surprise to some, if you know me it shouldn’t. The spark that drove me on in life has diminished. I don’t want to harp on about loss and grief, I do my grieving in private these days, certain that everyone has had more than enough of hearing about it. But however you view it, whatever your experience of bereavement, don't knock just how deeply or prolonged the loss can be felt. There is never any turning back of the clock, you just have to learn to live with it. I guess how you manage that defines the person you are, or become.

My memories sustain me, I smile when I think of Cai, even if the smiles are accompanied by a lump in my throat. But the past is the past, you can't bring it back. Those were the glorious days for me, especially as Cai steadily grew into a young man, even if I didn’t always appreciate it. So excuse me for diverging, but this blog is about where I’m at, both physically and emotionally. I don’t want to let go of my loss, it’s like denying the existence of my son. And he was too important an influence in my life to do that. That doesn't mean I don't wish to make the most of the remainder of my life. So share with me these two photos, a memory of our joint delight in dressing up for a decent party, a look at the lighter side of our lives. (Photos: 1] Cai as Nightcrawler , one of the Xman- College party 2006; 2] Me as Errol Brown from Hot Chocolate - House party 2001)