I wake with a start only to find an oval obscurely contrived object lying precariously some centimetres south of my navel. I am immediately baffled. I struggle to collect my startled thoughts when I hear a muffled thud on the ground. In my prostrate state, I curiously crane my neck in the direction of the sound. My eyes strain to gain focus. The light breeze carrying free-wheeling elements of grainy sand force my eyes to squint. “the book”, I whisper to assure myself of the blinding glimpse of the obvious. The pages turn crisply in the breeze as I lay bemused but vaguely assured of my power of observation. It is only then that I am aware of a remote pain in my groin. My focus is rapidly gaining traction as the reverie begins to dessert my lethargic stupor. In that eureka moment, I am surprisingly able to connect the UFO object gliding of my body with the uncomfortable feeling in my groin area. It does not require the deductive mind of neurotic investigator to link the diminishing pain, the UFO and a battalion of scruffy looking brats in their scanty attires starring me wide-eyed. They alertly stand eyeing my every move, high on adrenaline, equally distributed between fright and flight. My countenance musters a smile in their direction. So I thought. No sooner had my face muscles twitched, than the brats scamper screamingly in different directions only to recollect a meter further backwards with the focus of their interests squarely fixed on my face. Puzzled, I unsteadily shift the weight of my prostrate body in the hammock to a sitting position. At this time, something of a stringy object drops from my face to land on my thigh. I touch my face and could feel the indentation left on my face. The headphones appeared to have stuck to my face as I slept, and the sight of that funny ridged face must have struck the kids as outlandish. I roll out of the hammock, slip into my sandy flip-flops, bend to pick the oval object. The object, home-made, serving as ball was obviously the kid’s collective interest and I was the obstacle. Held hostage by a seemingly fatigued stifled figure; they looked in animated anticipation to rescue the ball. I stretch my arm – ball in hand- towards them as though extending an olive branch leaf. They looked suspiciously on without making a move. This Mexican stand-off requires a rapid and equitable denouement, I think to myself

Gingerly, I take a few steps backwards for effect. In an inexplicable moment of insanity, I take a couple more steps back, then proceed forward in a trot, accelerating by each step and assume a kicking posture. At the very moment of ball release for kicking, the foot supporting my weight slipped. A tripartite of objects is then simultaneously launched in sea-side orbit. My body flung up in an incomplete summersault, flip-flop hovering in a trail of sand, and ball flying in the opposite of the intended direction I cut for a pathetic cartoonish character! A chorus of epileptic laughter greets my soft landing on the warm sands of an idyllic Malagasy beach. I join in the laughter, and that was the icebreaker. As if to seal the nascent friendship, they creep cautiously towards me while I remain postured on all fours. They kick the ball in my direction in what can only be interpreted as a cajoling gesture of goodwill. Grabbing the situation to assuage my fall of shame, I sheepishly join the beach game of football with gusto. Tired but not exhausted, I walk back to the Hammock. The book lying next to the hammock was now half buried in sand. Pick it up and dust it, and sink lifelessly in the hammock. With a sigh of unbridled satisfaction of joy, I swing the hammock in motion by planting my foot into the sandy ground and releasing it into a pendulum. “This is paradise,” I think to myself as I am grabbed by an enthralling emotion of elation. The exquisiteness of the beach is magnificent. The finely grained sand mixed with grains of pulverised ocean fossils reflects an astonishing halo of white colour in the rays of a noon sun. The white beach then merges seamlessly into a hypnotic and transparent turquoise ocean blue extending far beyond the eye’s reach. The Palm trees hang lazily in the late-afternoon sun swinging synchronized with the whispering coastal breeze. Audible waves battering the coast increase in size, frequency, and ambition as the tide comes. The miniature debris deposited on the beach by the tidal waves attracts a frenzy of seagulls battling for ocean food before sunset. In distant ocean, I can make out the shape of a boat heading towards the coast. Expectantly, I sit up in the hammock, thus breaking the pendulum movement. I am curiously interested in the cargo. The involuntary smile creased on my face is a dead give-away. After what seems eternity, the boat finally makes it to the coast as the engine is choked off letting out black exhaust fumes in the air. Figures clad in tightly-fitted dark rubber suits emerge in bouncy spirits from the rocking boat on the shores jumping into the shallow waters and then waddling their way through the water on the beaches getting muddy as the tide rises.

The figures make their way on the sandy part of the beach. They gather their gear in one place. As if at a camp fire, they exchange what seems to be thrilling stories. I know this because even though they are beyond earshot, their gesticulation as they talk is animated. There is wanton laughter, and facial expressions of stunned pleasure. Spontaneously the group disperses in different direction laden with diving paraphernalia and not before embarking in an orgy of hugging and hi-fives! A sole figure however, heads towards my direction. It is this cargo I was waiting for. Sauntering towards me with effortless grace, yet each step with purpose, I jump out of the hammock and place the book down as I rush to help carry the diving gear. Her face appears cast in a permanent and charming smile. Hazel brown and enchantingly warm, her eyes has something angelic and yet devilishly magnetic that pulls one willingly and the draws them into her stunningly natural beauty which leaving the heart palpitating. She has such tender-looking lips that look gorgeously aloof and inviting. Her eyebrows are set an angle which gives away a guile acumen and fast-working mind. It is how all these elements fused that produces such mind-boggling beauty evoking the word goddess! “How was it?” I ask. Her smile accentuates further as he she hands me part of her diving accessories. Her hand beautifully curved show a scar making the imperfection seem even more perfect. Then she looks me in the eye, “I cannot put it words. You have to learn diving to see the beauty of the underwater creatures yourself.” We move under the palm tree where the hammock hangs and dispose of the luggage. She elegantly unzips the rubber suit unveiling body contours of breath-taking and ravishing features. I smile in schoolboy appreciation, whereupon one of her eyebrow rises in playful disapproval of the ravenous look in my eye. Seizing the initiative I carefully place my body back in the hammock. With my hand patting the space next to me, I invite her to join me. Resigned, she acquiesces. Just as she makes herself comfortable next to me, the sun is dancing teasingly in alternating colours of symbiotic orange and vivid red in the distant horizon. The glittery and golden rays hit the blue of the ocean to create a spectre of unimagined splendour. The waves continue unabashed to crash on the beach sending the foamy water further up the beach.

She makes a move to jump out of the hammock, but I frustrate her abrupt movement. “I need my camera to capture this” she demandingly implores me. “Use your natural lens,” I urge her. “Sometimes the best snaps are taken with your own eyes and are indelibly marked on your retina and then stored forever in your memory. You don’t need the camera for that.” With that assurance, she watches as the ocean marries the sun in a kaleidoscope of enticing colours. As the darkness finally engulfs us in the hammock, the croaking crickets break into incoherent symphony as if to announce their presence. I take the cue and swing the hammock into a pendulum, crashing our bodies together, like the waves crash into the beach.