The Invention of Glancing

A couple of years ago Ricky Gervais wrote, starred in and (I think) directed a film called The Invention of Lying.  The film is set in an alternate but very similar world to ours, the only difference being that in this other world, nobody knows how to lie...  Until it is ‘invented’ by Ricky’s character.  Chaos, capers and pop-philosophy ensue and the punters left the cinema thinking it was a good idea, but not a great film.  Should Mr Gervais persuade a studio to give him money to make a sequel, I propose he sets it in the Maldives and calls it The Invention of Glancing.  The plot would go something like this:

Opening Scene

Our main character (let’s call him Chris) wanders around the Maldives and as he is a little different in appearance, and the locals are curious, yet cautious, they stare incessantly until he feels that, at any point he is in public, if he is to look around, there will be someone local staring at him.

Main Crux of Story

A local man, let’s call him Razzan, discovers the amazing ability to glance at people, when after sleeping for too long, he pulls a muscle in his neck and as a consequence realises sometimes it hurts to turn his neck to stare.  Out of necessity he evolves and becomes able to glance at people, things, anything really.

Conclusion

Razzan teaches the whole of the Maldives how to glance at people, leading to all sorts of social interactions becoming rather easier and visitors to the Maldives to feel less self-conscious.  It all ends happily and Razzan gets married to five teachers.

Soundtrack

Reworkings of classic songs:

Starey Eyed Surprise – Paul Oakenfold

Everybody’s Starey Eyed – That girl who goes out with the Radio 1 DJ and looks like my friend Devon Brady

Stare Spangled Banner – This would be a new version, sung by Ringo Stare

She’s a Starer – James

So I guess what I am saying is that people in the Maldives have a tendency to stare at new people (in case you hadn’t noticed my subtle hints).  I don’t really mind to be honest, perhaps it is the form of vanity that would cause Carly Simon to write a song about me, but sometimes, when a lot of people are doing it, it gets a bit much.  This morning, on the way in to school, the parents and children were waiting to go in to the gates and I couldn’t have felt more alien had I just hopped out of my spaceship, blown both my noses and removed the crayfish from my trousers that had been scratching me all the way from my home planet.  I guess it is just a cultural thing, and, to be honest, I know I am a bit funny looking anyway.  Hopefully, as the locals get used to me, the staring will become a thing of the past and I will only receive a cursory glance.

In other news, I spent the weekend visiting Male with some of the other teachers.  Chris and I travelled down on Thursday night after school and met about a dozen other folks for dinner.  As it was my birthday, and also the birthday of Brad, another teacher, the rest of them clubbed together and got us a cake, complete with guitars and birds.  It was delicious and very touching that they should go to the trouble of doing such a thing for us.

We were very kindly put up for the weekend by Lorne and Kat, who live on the island of Hulamale, next to the airport.  It is an interesting place, reclaimed from the sea and being built up, ready for the population expansion and centralisation of the Maldives that will come as the seas rise.  At the moment it is like a very large building site, but in comparison to Male, is a quiet, modern area with western-style (think Miami on a bad day) apartments and nice, clean beaches.  Friday brought some beach time, swimming, eating and the invention of a game of human whack-a-mole at the swimming area on the beach.  A jolly old time was had by all.

In the evening, we all met up at a hotel on Hulamale which served… alcohol.  It was at vastly inflated prices, it was also not the nicest beer I have ever tasted, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t enjoy it!  As an added bonus, I even got to feel a bit groggy on the Saturday morning.  How lucky I am.  It truly felt like a birthday weekend at home and I thank those who were there and those who sent me best wishes (and also someone who gave me an early card to open!).  I’m back on my island, internetting my little heart out now that I have a dongle.  If anyone wants to get in touch with me, skype is now go!

Speak soon dear reader.

Escape from Alcatraz (written on January 15th)

Dear reader, since last I wrote, little has changed in our situation.  It has to be said though, that I am beginning to find the experience of documenting my frustrations via this blog somewhat cathartic.  Sadly for you, this means another page of grumbling written by someone who really should count their blessings and realise there are worse places to be right now.  I apologise now.

Despite my somewhat negative prologue, things have actually improved somewhat.  I am still vastly underworked at school, still in the same cramped hotel room and still without internet access, save for clandestine facebook and email checking whilst at school.  I might worry about this if I didn’t see the rest of the staff checking their emails, the daily news and doing crosswords too. 

The reason for my cautious optimism is mainly to do with the people we have met.  Since moving to Dhidhdhoo, we have been somewhat of a curiosity to the locals, but now that we haven’t left, they are beginning to get used to us and in some cases even converse with us.  Our current favourites are Matheed, an IT worker for the island council, and Suhail, who works in a local café, but seemingly has fingers in every pie.  We have met the men that pull the strings.

Our first encounter with these lovely gentlemen was in the Hide Out café, where Suhail works.  He came up and introduced himself and told us that if there was anything we required, just to ask him.  Having worked on the local resort for several years, he is well connected for both transport and resort stays, something we hope to be taking advantage of shortly.  Suhail introduced us to Matheed in the café and he sat with us, smoked and had a coffee.  Matheed’s English is excellent which helps when trying to hold a conversation.  While we have found many people willing to say hello, often that is as far as the chat goes.  With Matheed, the conversation can flow, from his family, to his work to his time living in Bengal.  Matheed also kindly took us to another island on Friday, where he was supervising a program to make identity cards for those on even more secluded outposts.  These cards are very important as it entitles the holder to free healthcare, a new initiative from President Nasheed’s government.

Whilst hanging out with our new friends we were also introduced to Nayim.  He seems like a bit of a character.  He is a sailor on large cargo ships and speaks Divehi, English and Spanish.  The last is thanks to a seven year stay in a Chilean jail… because of an ‘accident’…  Worryingly, Nayim, the ex-con, described Dhidhdhoo as ‘Alcatraz’.  I just hope we don’t have to go all Shawshank Redemption to get out of here.

This week I also met our temporary neighbours, a group of seven imams from Sri Lanka and Saudi Arabia.  They are on a pilgrimage/fact finding mission to the Maldives to discover how a 100% Muslim country like the Maldives avoids the problems of extremism that in some cases blights their homelands.  They were a very interesting, welcoming bunch of men, whose smiles were as broad as their waistlines.  We spoke about the perception of Islam in the western world (I was rather guarded as instructed by the IVP) and, this being my first visit to a Muslim country, I told them how welcome I had been made to feel.  In all honesty, I felt a little embarrassed at my ignorance at their culture and traditions.  Ignorance combined with fear is what creates an intolerant society, and I hope to enlighten myself and be less ignorant of the community I live in. 

Whilst writing that last paragraph (this is the reason it is so disjointed, and no, I will not go back and edit it) Mohamed El Nasir, the son of the family who own our guesthouse (I think) came in and sat down with me and had a long chat about cricket.  In typical fashion in these parts he came in and immediately changed the channel of what I was watching on the TV over to the end of the Real Madrid match while he was cleaning.  He is a Barcelona fan so he was vexed that Real had a 2-1 victory over Real Mallorca.  Once he finished his cleaning he sat down and told me the records of every decent cricketer in the known universe.  He is a proper cricket nerd, telling me the averages and best scores of his favourite players, who to watch out for in the upcoming world cup, and laughing at all the crap teams England have lost to over the years.  It seems you can walk the whole Earth, and wherever you end up, there is always someone who will laugh at English sporting performances.  I blame colonialism.

Tonight could be a good one.  We are off to look at potential flats in an hour and get to pick from two.  On top of that, we should hopefully hear about our impending weekend trip to Male.  It is my birthday, and if we go down, there are people we know, beers, and female ankles to welcome us.  Happy days if we manage to escape from Alcatraz.

Goodbye Mr Tom (written on January 11th)

It is not long since I last blogged, but a combination of boredom, frustration and the need for a creative outlet has driven me to another entry. 

Despite the spectre of imminent departure hanging over us, my last few days in Male were genuinely wonderful.  Though some lovely people had already departed, it meant that those left grew closer and I got to spend more time with those I may not have had the opportunity to do so otherwise.  We lazed at the beach, ate out (sounding familiar yet?) and played indoor cricket in what must have been at least 35 degree heat.  A small feather in my cap came in the form of taking the wicket of an international cricketer.  The previously mentioned Mohamed Razzan, was defeated by an absolute jaffer that cut away from him and scattered his stumps.  We won’t mention the other balls bowled.  They generally went either too wide to hit, or five feet over the batsman’s head without bouncing.  Rustier than a wrought iron bar left by the sea.

On Monday the 9^th of January we had our last breakfast in Male and Chris Cleland and myself departed for pastures new, via a 55 min flight in a twin prop light aircraft and a speed boat journey at either end.  The flight was genuinely spectacular (one day I will be able to upload the photos) with birds eye views of the thousands of islands below.  There was even one shaped like a ‘C’.  Good omen?

We were met at Hahnimadhoo airport by Sujua, our school representative who took us to our speed boat along with three other teachers, all from India.  On arrival we were shown to our accommodation, a lovely green house, clean, tidy and with football on the telly.  Sadly, it also lacked a kitchen and a second bed.  After a lot of anger and frustration and a few phone calls, Chris and I were met by Sujua who informed us that we weren’t expected to sleep in a double bed together for 11 months and that they were negotiating with landlords to get us some permanent accommodation.  As is common in the Maldives, a communication breakdown and laissez faire attitude culminated in a lot of needless anguish.  Our concerns allayed, we proceeded to take a moonlit wander around the island.

Apparently 4500 people live in Dhidhdhoo… you wouldn’t believe it walking around.  I would estimate that at least 3000 of these people are bed ridden.  To call this place a ghost town is doing ghost towns a disservice.  A ghost town would seem like a bustling metropolis in comparison.  The only time we have seen groups of people were on two occasions, The first was when a gang of curious locals (perhaps everyone with two working legs) watching a JCB at work building the new breakwater, and the second was predictably at a game of football on one of the dirt pitches on the island.  Sadly this crowd dispersed as we approached as the first cries from the mosque were heard.  We have vowed to return though and teach the locals a thing or two about the beautiful game.  This will probably be showing them the dictionary definitions of ‘agricultural football’ and introducing them to my friend ‘the reducer’.  You have been warned young Maldivian footballers!

School itself has been a somewhat underwhelming experience.  I have been given 3.5 hours a week to teach and currently four days out of five have to be in for 6.45am without teaching till 12pm.  At the moment my main quandary in life is whether I am more frustrated than bored, or bored than frustrated.  I have vowed to be patient however, and hopefully things will become more interesting soon.  There is also an issue surrounding the promised environmental projects that I could get involved in.  Like the majority of the things described/promised to us by the high commission of the Maldives in London, this seemed completely absent.  Combined with the teaching and housing situation, and finding out that a trip to Male for the weekend to restore my sanity will cost $400, it is fair to say spirits are lower than in Charlie Sheen’s liquor cabinet.

Before I sign off I must do two things.  Firstly, I need to reassure you, dear reader (I initially wrote dear leader… perhaps Kim Jong-Il is reading this from the ether) that I am not going to pack this in.  I’m off to speak to my department head tonight and hopefully the school principle, so I hope that this can help alleviate some of the problems experienced.  Secondly I should explain the blog title.  Mr Tom is the teacher who was here last year.  He seemingly made quite an impression as just about every person who has spoken to us has mentioned him.  He is a bit of a legend in these parts.  The poor guy Will who he was with is a total afterthought, so much so that initially we thought Mister Tom was here on his own.  Perhaps the names of Chris and James (Chris Cleland has resorted to using his middle name to avoid confusion.  I tried to get them to call me Ted after my granddad, but they have settled for Mr Crish) will echo through the ages with similar reverence… probably not though!

Sitting, waiting, wishing…

January 8^th 2012

Dear reader (Mum).  After nearly a fortnight, and despite plenty of spare time, this is my first blog entry.  I could make many excuses; meetings, trips, lack of internet access, but the truth is that in the Maldives, life moves at a different pace to back home.  In embracing this, I have become an expert procrastinator, someone who is fashionably late for things, and generally more relaxed about everything.  Still… apologies for my tardiness.

My journey here began in Manchester, meeting a few of the lovely folks I will be teaching with at the airport.  A ten hour flight was tedious as times, but luckily they showed Friends with Benefits on the flight so everyone appreciated that their life could be a lot worse, had they somehow been involved in the making of that particular film.

 

Arriving in Male, the Maldivian capital, I was greeted by one of the loveliest customs officials.  Being a little nervous about such activities in general, and having guessed at a lot of the boxes filled in on the immigration form, I was a little apprehensive, however he beamed at me and told me I was teaching on his home island and that I would have a lovely time there.  What a welcome!

On leaving immigration we were met by the other teaching volunteers as well as some of the Maldives Volunteer Corps.  The ring-leader was a young man call Mohamed Razzan. ‘Razz’ has become our fixer and go-to guy, as well as a close friend in the Maldives.  He seems to know everyone, has wisdom beyond his mere 20 years and has shown us where to get the best food in Male.  Despite having to babysit twenty-odd British folks expecting life to run with the military precision we are all used to, Razz has managed to organise and entertain us in equal measure.  The Maldivians on our islands have a hard act to follow.

I checked in at the Villingili View Inn with my companion for the year Chris and a few other of our cohort.  Chris is a recent graduate, is a big Bath rugby fan and shares my sense of humour.  I couldn’t wish for a better match to spend the year with.  This was a great relief.  Chris is also one of the few people here who may be more vulnerable to the sun than I am, so he will keep me sensible and remind me to put sun block on.

The first week was spent on various trips to a couple of islands, arranging work permits, bank accounts and the like.  We had a couple of days staying with a family on an island called Dhiffushi which was very interesting.  The family provided every meal for us as well as standing over us whilst we ate it asking “Good?  Good?” every so often.  I became adept at smiling whilst my mouth burned with the chilli.  Our time on Dhiffushi was spent snorkelling, sunbathing, meeting local movers and shakers and a Dhivehi lesson.  Dhivehi is the language of the Maldives, a mix of various dialects and other tongues, and rather tricky to master.  After one lesson I remember the word ‘mudharison’ as I managed to picture Han Solo after falling in a puddle, however I can’t remember either the pronunciation or what it means… Think Razz would give me an ‘F’ for that class!

On returning to Male, we have managed to get on the national news twice.  TV cameras seem to follow the every move of government officials and so, as we met some of them, we gradually have become minor celebrities.  Another teacher, Ros, said yesterday she had been recognised by someone in a shop.  Oh, the trapping s of fame!  We also met the most famous man in the Maldives, President Mohamed Nasheed.  He was a lovely, friendly man with a big smile.  Barack Obama has a lot to live up to should I ever meet him.

For the last few days we have all been waiting for our transport to be arranged for us to get to our islands.  This has to be done by our schools, and whilst some of the volunteers have left and will, as I write, be teaching their first classes right now, there are still quite a few of us sitting in Male, waiting for a phone call, wishing we were on our islands and the year was beginning.

See you next time dear reader.  End of line….