Island life and Rats!

Been quite an eventful week this week. Justin and I took a little trip away to a small island 8km north west of here called Andramambala. This small, very sandy island is home to two tiny settlements of about 5 houses each and a few families live in each settlement. We took a pirogue there and back, and yet again were reminded about the importance of wind direction when it comes to travelling (oh, wouldn't Virgin Trains love that as an excuse).
It took us just over an hour to get there on Friday with a favourable southerly, and nearly three hours to get back, with barely a breeze at all.
It was a great visit. We were walked around the island when we arrived - just as the sun was setting. We were with two volunteers and we slept out on one of the dunes close to a fire which one of the villagers had constructed for us. We ate rice and fish along with some of the villagers, and about three of the young men came to our fire and played the guitar for us. I say guitar. It was actually a three stringed, home-made instrument - constructed from wood, drawing pins (instead of frets), nylon fishing wire for strings, and staples holding the wood together. Quite ingenious, and surprisingly effective.
We slept well considering the chilly winter air, and I opened my eyes on Saturday morning, looked out to the sea and saw the sun coming up over the horizon. We had some fresh bok bok for breakfast, along with the weirdest tasting coffee ever. There is no fresh water on the island - they have to import it - and the water they cook with is quite salty. They disguise this fact with the coffee by adding copious amounts of sugar. As you can imagine, it wasn't particularly palatable. I drank half a cup to be polite.
After this, we walked around looking at the fresh fish that had been caught that morning - and sharks too. Two tiny hammerhead sharks by one family, and a slightly larger shark, by another. Sadly these are the only sharks I have seen in nine months.
The routine appears to be that the men (and some women too) go out early in their pirogues, catch fish, and then collectively, they spend the day gutting, splitting, salting and drying them. They are no longer just subsistence fishing, and sell the dried fish to one of the fish companies which sells them on in Tulear.
It was fascinating watching the process. The troughs to dry the fish out in are just hollowed out wooden tree trunks - much like their pirogues in fact - and large turtle shells are where the fish have salt rubbed into them, before being placed into the troughs. After a night or so in the troughs, they are put out onto the hut roof to dry.
The island was also for me, a reminder of how prosperous Andavadoaka is in comparison to many of the fishing communities along the coast and on the islands. There is no well, no shop, no school and no epi-bar. Nothing, in fact, apart from the tiny huts - some not more than 5 foot high - a number of pirogues and a few home-made guitars to while away the spare time. Of which, there must be quite a bit really.
I tried for a while to imagine what my life would be like if I lived in a community as tiny as this, on an island so remote and so small. I failed.
After we snorkeled for a bit on one of the reefs, and watched two guys spear fishing (sadly, successfully), it was time to pirogue back the 8 miles to Andavadoaka.
My other news is that the rat, which was keeping us awake at night by rifling through our food and belongings, is now dead. One night, it had the audacity to drag a pot of almonds half way across the room before Justin got up and took it off him/her. Anyway, the next day, Justin managed to catch it in a box and borrowed my dive knife in order to kill it! I was slightly horrified at the idea, but the rat managed to get out somehow and thus
escaped a messy death by dive knife.
However, its reprieve was short-lived as Gildas dropped off a rat trap, and thanks to a dried apple ring (courtesy of Liz and before that Neal's Yard), it was lured in overnight and dead by the morning. Justin was overjoyed and took photos. I was just glad that
nights will be restful again, but had mixed feelings about being responsible for the death of an animal. Even if it was a rat.
Other than being a rat-killer, I have been trying to get lots of admin tasks done before the end of this expedition. This is because the next expedition is not only my last, it'll be the biggest we've managed yet. I don't anticipate any spare time for all those little jobs that I've been putting off for the past two months.
We're all a bit scared by the volume of volunteers and 'independents' that we're expecting actually. But I'm trying not to think about it or the rat's death will have been futile and I'll be up all night worrying anyway.

Wildlife update: the sunbirds are back. Haven't seen them for months. They're flitting about the place singing and looking decorative and petite.
The yellow beaked kite is also back - my favourite friend. It has been absent since Christmas.