The surf was odd today, outside shifting singleton boomers banged the reef line randomly. The waves I missed catching thumped me mercilessly. I did my time rocketing along the reef in underwater whitewater tumbles. No motion, just a tendency to move in the direction of a store and then back home. Cars splash their way past through random puddles, children spilling out the windows, sacks of coconuts and piles of taro in the back.
Dogs wander amidst the cars and people, looking for food, running from thrown rocks.
Under the new cement bridge flows the rain muddied waters of the Malem stream, in no hurry to spill out onto the reef shelf and into the ocean. The mud rolls off the reef out through the rip channel and settles onto the reef. The roll of the waves onto the reef shelf is a continuous rush of sound that is the backdrop for all other sounds in Malem. Malem, the village of the moon, is only beautiful under the light of the full moon. The cold light that hides the faded paint, the rusted steel, the perpetual decay of the tropics.