Jungle

Collecting Camp Coconuts

Collecting Camp Coconuts

The soft early morning sea breeze on my face, the first rays of the sun peeking over the horizon, the majestic call of the rooster as he announces the promise of a new day – all of these are perfectly acceptable ways to wake up whilst camping - having a whistle blown in your ear at 5.30am however is not; yet this was the reality I faced as tired, confused, and with the shrill whistle still ringing in my left ear, I clumsily untangled myself from my mosquito net, and headed in the dark, to the fale kaupule to see what all the fuss was about...

Who you gonna call?

Who you gonna call?

Ghosts are blamed for a variety of everyday events in Niutao, and we’re not talking about Casper here, these ghosts are anything but friendly.   If your bike won’t start, it’s because there is a ghost in the engine.  If you don’t catch any fish, the ghosts are stealing your bait.   Fall out of a coconut tree , the ghosts have pushed you, and if you get too drunk and wake up with a hangover, you can safely blame it on the ghosts, and fortunately for me they all live in the jungle, specifically at the end of the island where the Scout camp was located – it was time to go ghost hunting.

Failing pirate school: Getting to Niutao

Failing pirate school: Getting to Niutao

Cannonball and Uncle Bulgaria dragged us away from the growing crowds, up the gently sloping beach, and onto the back of a waiting pickup truck which then drove us all of 300m down the dirt track which passes as the main road, to the room which I was to call home for the next six weeks.  That first night we were treated like kings and welcomed into the community like long lost brothers.  A feast had been prepared, and my stomach rejoiced at the thought of some sustenance after being empty for almost three days – little did I know that this was to begin the longest food binge I have ever been asked to undertake