I am lying flat on my back on Bazaruto Island. We stopped here for lunch and the wind has picked up from a whisper to a proper sea breeze. Lying down on a straw maton the shore and watching life pass by, it becomes harder to imagine the world where answering the telephone is important, where I would get wound into such a tight ball over people’s expectations. It is also difficult to to get up. Tired as my sunburnedm salted, wind-blasted body has been from two days spent mostly at sea, the simple, restful calm and chance at momentary recovery that shade, a straw mat and no immediate need to be anywhere represents, is bliss. The entire experience is not unlike what being lost somewhere like the Caribbean must be like. I imagine.
With at least two more weeks of this trip remaining, it seems unbelievable to become so detached from first world worries. In a gentle, rumbling-waves=-and-hot-sky kind of way, it is a reminder that however we decide life should be run in the cities, the world has its own pace of life. And has done for a very long time. It is not something that is up for negotiation, with the world – we are far too insignificant nect to the wind and the tides. We just choose to ignore the world and pretend as if these places are somewhere else – a world we keep distant in books and magazines. But from where I am standing (or rather, lying), quite peacefully, laws and cities and much of our abstracted notions of values might as well not exist. It is a less civilised place hers, but a far more human one.