Paradise nº 1

The day was hot in a equatorial weather and the bay, Pemba bay, glistened, diamond like, not far the hill top where my dad’s car stood. A heaven vision for an eight years old boy that always lived inland African territory. My father made the trip, by professional needs, four times a year. So, we waited for him inside the car for two or three hours and, free of my dad’s duties, we ran for the key of the  little house by the beach. Off of the city the beach had more little houses, side by side, coconut trees, a white and fine sand, a sand of limestone and bits of shells, a wonderful sand that doesn’t compare to any other I’ve ever seen. The house had three rooms: the bedroom, the bathroom and the veranda (with a small kitchen) enclosed by mosquito-net from the floor to the ceiling! The bedroom had four bunks, two above the others, a delight for me!!

The surf was, always, soft and ten metres separated from the houses. The breeze inexistent. The lap of the surge, at night in bed, was soft, appeasing, with a drowsy rhythm new to me. I have never heard anything like that. After the sunset we used to see lights above the water and afterwards I asked my dad the reason why that happened and he said the native people were hunting crayfish on the ebb and upon the rocks. Actually, early in the morning, the natives passed by us and sold the lobsters that my mother put on fire, still alive, within a pot with salt and water. The beach water was clean, clear and warm, so warm that we could get under and would never feel cold. The sun very hot, burning and skincare needed. But the most amazing of all: do you conceive, do you imagine, dwelling a house with no need of glass on the windows all the year round? And big windows?