The mornings here are very nice. Calm.
The insects buzz in the dry tropical forest. Cicadas. The Tuko Tiger Gecko calls out his TuuukO! Tuuuk-O! The soft lapping of the bay up and down the shore. The peeping of the chicks, crowing of the roosters. I finally found a local coffee that is palatable to my foreign taste, 6 hour journey to the little town. Totally worth it.
There is a small village on the other end of the beach, hidden behind the mangroves. At a glance you would think you were completely alone.
Morning is when the kids paddle by on narrow bamboo rafts to go fill their water jugs for the day. They sing as they push their way across the water. The acoustics of the calm water elevates their innocent little voices. A homemade songs without an end. Is it just to pass the time? Is he singing about the village, the ocean? Family, the canoe, the fishing? There is something so dear and pure about a childs voice, regardless of the language or culture. It warms the heart every time.
Today one little boy is completely without clothes, it must be laundry day. From working at the school, I know a lot of kids only have 1 pair of clothes. He can’t be more than 6 years old. This is not like back home, kids sent to school with a lunch box full of neatly plastic wrapped food. No bike helmets, no training wheels, no bike, no coloring books or reading, no cartoons or baseball teams. Just the ocean and your family village. This little one paddles by early every morning to get water and bring it home. He then fishes the reef with his little brother in mid morning. They float over the reef on their small bamboo rafts dipping their heads in the water searching, searching, foraging for food. giggling.