Sand Between the Toes

Muslim family plays on beach 5
Originally uploaded by rjschmidt.

The swing is simple, almost joyful. A rough plank, two holes drilled by hand, two ropes knotted underneath and tied to the long sloping tree limb above. The tree itself stands, ancient and knobbly at the edge of the sand, benevolently holding out its sturdy arm towards the sea. It has the gentle strength of an old giant, not minding the swing dangling from its elbow - rather enjoying the attention, actually – listening to the laughter of the family below and gently spreading green shade over them. The man now grips the ropes and the muscles on his back ripple like boiling chocolate as he hauls back, heels digging into sand as soft and white as baby powder. The woman on the seat laughs, her black cloth covered head thrown back, hair hidden, pleasure exposed. Her little boy stands on her knees, facing her, looking over her shoulder to scream with glee as his father lifts them higher and higher. Then suddenly, with a great push and a run he thrusts them forward, flinging his body finally under the swing at the far end of their arc and rolling upright in the sand to see his wife and child stall in midair, lose the feeling of anything holding them to earth, catch gravity again and rush away back in the pull of the great tree. When they tire of the swing they run to the sea and roll in the waves, laughing through mouthfuls of water, the ivory sand coating their skins like flour.

Self with Hat
Originally uploaded by rjschmidt.

This is Gapang Beach on a Sunday afternoon. One family playing on a stretch of white sand fringed by old knotty shade trees on the shore side and sloping seaward into the turquoise water of the bay, where the fish are coloured like candy wrappers, a family of sea turtles makes their home, and the manta rays come to feed in the evening with their white undersides rolling up to the surface to catch the light of the falling sun. I’ve just arrived here last night and I can’t believe my luck. I’ve just come in from swimming with the turtles and the salt is crusting

Mama Donut
Originally uploaded by rjschmidt.

on my skin in the sun and the wind. I close my eyes and hear laughter, broad green leaves flapping, and the waves wash in. In the afternoon you can take the local scuba company’s boat out to a small island and snorkel around the rocks with manta rays, wrasses, angelfish, moray eels and coral in all the colours of a Bollywood film. (Click here to check out the Lumbalumba Dive Shop site). You can sit on the porch of the dive shop and sip cold Tiger beer and idly forget your cares. At the restaurant up the road they grill up fish fresh everyday and serve it hot from the fire while you sit in the breeze coming off the evening water and watch the dusk silhouettes of fishermen casting off the pier. Three times a day Mama Donut comes around with a box of pastries baked fresh in her house morning, noon, and night – ten cents each. Island life at its best.

Fishing at Dawn
Originally uploaded by rjschmidt.

I’m here on the island of Pulau Weh in the calm between storms. The job I’ve been doing lacks support and direction and in the upcoming week I will see if I can switch roles. I will have to be firm. An organization like mine should take care of its own, and I may need to call them to that worthy cause. I may have to be insistent; I may be seen as difficult. Drat. I hate that.

Ah well. For now it’s just this beach, the sand between my toes, and the Muslim family playing in paradise.