1973
It was just one year. By the time I left I was almost twenty years old and bound for university in Scotland. Roger sent me the picture atop this blogpost. Late August 1973. My arms are reaching up to the sky above - aboard the last tender - chugging out to the "Aoniu" which is anchored off shore. The sun is setting and my year in paradise is over. Everybody was barefoot - the soles of their feet calloused like leather. I danced traditional dances in a sulu and grass skirt. I ate mouth-watering roast pork from a hot stone oven covered with banana leaves and s and. I watched Mojito hollow out his canoe from a palm trunk, helped him attach an outrigger and paddled with him above the reef when the tide was high. I learnt about the business of teaching and made it through three terms - English, Geography and History as well as rugby and my weekly singing club. I ate luscious paw-paw and experienced a devastating hurricane that came down from The Gilbert and Ellice Islands. ...
