I wasn't sure I wanted to post this at first. It seemed a little embarrassing, but then I realized it's not me that should be embarrassed. It just goes to show what can happen if one drinks too much; as the AFN commercials say, "No one wants to be 'that' guy." Plus, it's part of our journey.
Monday, September 27, 2010
TC and Paul awoke fairly early (before 0700) in the hopes of catching some waves before low tide arrived. I hopped out of bed shortly after they left, motivated by the fact that it was only 7:45 AM and slightly cloudy, and therefore still cool enough for coffee. Anytime after 8:30 it starts to really heat up, and hot coffee is not the most desirable drink.
By 8:10 AM, I had eaten my breakfast, which consisted of a hodgepodge of dry cereals with rice milk, and was camped out on the deck with my coffee, the camera with the zoom lens (they were across the pass), and my book. The preoccupation with both the coffee and the book, combined with the fact that the waves were closing out too early, resulted in zero surf pics. I can testify that they both caught at least a couple waves, though.
By 8:30, it appeared that I was going to have some visitors at the boat. Three men in a small boat came up to the bow (front)- I waved, smiled, and called out, "Yokwe." A teenage boy was driving, and his passengers appeared to be around 30 and 50. As they slowly motored along the starboard (right) side of the boat moving towards the rear, the oldest man tried to communicate with me. I couldn't quite make out what he was trying to say, but he kept talking as they then pulled up to the stern (back) of the boat.
I finally realized that the oldest man was telling me his name, Bender Loeak, and I think he was trying to tell me that he was from the landowning family. Then he said something about "license." I realized he was asking if we had license/permit from the Ministry of Internal Affairs for sailing in the outer atolls. I told him that we did have one and had talked to the acting mayor the previous day about it. He said, "Can I see it?"
At this point, I should stop and say that I had not invited them aboard or thrown them a line. Something about them had made me uneasy. Perhaps it was because they were not nearly as friendly as anyone we'd met previously. None of them really smiled warmly (if at all). I know that's not a crime, but it's a bit strange out here in the Marshalls. Also, I was slightly self-conscious since I was only wearing my sarong as a cover up - keep in mind that it was tied at the neck, so showed no cleavage and went well past my knees. Yet, my shoulders were showing, which I would have covered up if I'd known I'd have visitors. "Oh well," I thought, "it's not like they were coming on the boat to stay and chat." I went to go get the papers to show him that we had permission.
When I came back up from Paul's ama with our folder of important documents (he's the go-to-guy for paperwork on this trip, which TC and I appreciate), I was surprised to find all three of my visitors aboard Cherokee. And then as if that wasn't presumptuous enough, Mr. Bender attempted to go into the main cabin. I stepped in front of him and blocked the companionway with my body under the guise of wanting to show him our papers, which I did, but I more so wanted to keep him out of our home. At this point, I was close enough to notice that the older two visitors had bloodshot eyes and reeked of alcohol. That's when I felt all at once relieved and worried. Relieved that my sense of unease was well-founded and not just pure paranoia on my part, but then worried because now I am alone on a boat with two, possibly three drunk men who don't appear to respect boundaries (they'd already hopped aboard uninvited).
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See Part 2 for more of the story (SSB Radio limits length of messages)
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