Dogs and Gods

Praise the dogs and gods of Kiribati (of which there are many), after 5 nights of no power and water I have now been rescued from being a really, really mad

I-Matang.

It was feeling like a de ja vu or a ground hog experience. No, much more than a feeling it WAS a repeat experience from when I first arrived in Tarawa 11 months ago. 

First the gas run out (I new that was coming) then the power was cut off which means no pump for water. So no gas, power and water for one day then after travelling the length of the island gas was sourced so coffee could be brewed and food that wasn’t going off in the fridge cooked.

A trip to the department responsible for the electricity supply and billing confirmed that yes, the power had been cut off and the outstanding amount due was almost $500 !!! Whilst I needed my glasses to do a double take on the figures I didn’t need glasses to see that an old card file system had resurfaced, one that didn’t have my handwriting on it.  Same account number and house location, just different era!   

Where you go to pay the electricity bill !

The wisdom and administrative efficiency employed to manage a system held on from British rule had had a dusting and unearthed a previous tenants account. Of course someone has to pay and us I-matangs like to have electricity so let’s turn it off ! It was eventually worked out that no, it’s wasn’t my bill and when asked if I’d get the power turned back on that day the standard answer was given.
"Yes”, which can and often means anything but that !   
So with the next day being a public holiday followed by a weekend it meant five waterless days and candle lit evenings.

Hmm.. the electricity supply

Under a moon lite sky and with the lack of mechanical chill more things started to bubble and brew. Mr Sourdough took the inopportune time to become “active”. I really was feeling heady, hot and sweaty and wanted to try the “not tonight I’ve got a headache” line but know that opportunities need to be grabbed when presented and kneaded with two hands. 

I fell, I stumbled, I scummed to the aroma and fantasy that only a good sourdough can arouse.

Silence, the soft glow of candlelight, a warm balmy breeze AND gas meant one thing, we have rise to this occasion again. Me and Mr Sourdough had the evening together. 

As the morning sun started to sneak it’s rays across the low tide and the neighbours played yet another I-Kiribati song on their mobile phone I stirred with a sense of knowing deep in my heart. 
A beginning was starting to, well, start, this was a new morning, change was occurring and rituals were being challenged.

 Sunrise from my front door 

The big breakfast that I once knew had a new loaf on the block, sweet was being swapped for sour, yolks were big and bright and some greens were added, not just because it was law. (Kiribati must be the only country where it’s law to serve a green when selling a meal!).    

Mr Sourdough has taken my heart

My plate was filled with colour from a treat that couldn’t be washed off, a step along a path to somewhere had been taken, it was a night that deserved a celebration. 

For the time being Mr Sourdough is back in the fridge, next time I'm hoping to take the lead and we'll hubble and bubble to the beat of my drum. 

Up next : Launching a canoe without getting wet !