no. It’s easy. Just head up towards the mountain and then along the road south. There’s only one way.”
“Sounds ideal.” Kylie smiled easily, and her sapphire-blue eyes widened. “Ajay, I saw that pretty young woman you were talking to before. Is that your girlfriend?” Kylie was known to be both incredibly perceptive but also brutally direct. Potential romance was guaranteed to ignite her interest. Even Dink blushed. He could see Ajay was uncomfortable.
Choking on his words slightly, Ajay managed, “That’s Camille. I’ve known her forever.”
“Well, she is very beautiful. I can see you have a connection,” Kylie persisted. “You never know…”
Filling the momentary silence that followed, delicate birdsong wafted on the breeze. A confused rooster crowed somewhere off in the jungle.
“The roosters sleep in the trees on La Bajan,” Ajay stated, no doubt aching to change an awkward subject.
“Rightio,” Dink responded, drawing out the word to emphasise his heavy scepticism. “Why do they do that?”
“There are wild dogs in the forest. Sometimes they chase the chickens and roosters during the night.”
“And humans?” Kylie glanced nervously towards the dark trees adjoining the yard.
“No way. This is the safest place in the world. There is nothing of danger here. You can take it easy and relax in paradise.”
“Will do!” Dink said, as he eased down into the verandah sofa and slugged on another beer. He prompted Ajay to tell Kylie about J-C. Dink had already talked Kylie’s ear off about his amazing experience with the giant tortoise. He knew Kylie would listen patiently and attentively to Ajay.
“Tortoises are smarter than most people think. They can live to be over two hundred years old, and they are surprisingly good climbers for animals their size. They have been found up the top of Mont Centrale.” Ajay pointed east into the twilight where the shadow of the mountain was still visible against the darkening sky.
“Amazing,” Kylie said, truly fascinated. “I can’t wait to see one. How many tortoises are there on La Bajan?”
“Hard to say, as most are in the jungle in the north. Maybe thirty. Jules Norlan, the old man I introduced Dink to, has the oldest birth-gift tortoise and his sons have tortoises also. Nahim, Ishant, and Roshan are in their mid-fifties and, of course, their tortoises are the same age. Because those guys are always working the farms, or driving their ox carts, the tortoises roam in the jungle behind their land.”
“Those farms were pretty lush. What do they grow mainly?” Dink sat with one leg crossed over his knee and he rested his beer bottle on his thigh.
“It was hard to grow anything with the terrible soil. Using ox manure as fertilizer has improved the nutrients and, with basic crop rotation techniques, they can grow whatever vegetables they want. It’s mainly tomatoes, lettuce, broccoli, carrots, and onions. Things that tourists want to cook with, or eat. On a small island that’s the key, recognising and providing what people want.”
“You seem to know farming pretty well, Ajay, and what people desire,” said Kylie as she tinkered with the phone.
“I’ve picked up a bit here and there but I’m no expert. My import business is the same. Bring what the tourists want or need: wine, cheese, paper plates and cutlery for beach picnics, snorkelling gear. Pretty simple really.”
“Clever, I’d say,” Dink clarified. “And Jules mentioned that you saved his life, so I reckon different.”
“I just helped him with a few suggestions, that’s all, and he was able to save his land. He and his sons did the hard work.”
“Well, that’s more than enough.” Kylie was impressed with his modesty and she thought him to be a thoroughly nice guy.
“And your business in La Porte today, did everything work out?” Dink enquired.
Ajay hesitated momentarily before explaining, “It was more social than business. I took some fresh fruits to my friend Captain Albert, and some food Mama had made him. He lives not far from here, through the forest.” Ajay indicated the direction southwards. Kylie gushed at hearing him call his mother Mama. She though it so sweet.
“You are quite the surprise packet.” Dink clapped him on the shoulder to emphasise the point. “I can tell that you know everyone on the island.”
“Sure, man, it’s a small island!” They laughed hard but the compliment was taken.
Ajay told them a little about Captain Albert. He had been really kind to Ajay when he was growing up. Ajay used to work on his fishing boat with his friend Jonah, and Captain Albert taught them a lot about the ocean, but also about life.
“His health is not so good, so I like to look in on him. It’s the least I can do,” Ajay’s voice trembled slightly with emotion thinking of his mentor. “He’s also Camille’s uncle.”
Kylie added, “Well, I think you’re an angel, Ajay. Not many people would do the things that you do.”
“It’s Mama’s influence. She has always encouraged me to do good works, and I enjoy it. It’s easy.” Ajay started, sitting up straight as his own bright idea flashed into consciousness. “You guys should come to dinner in a few days. Mama makes the best octopus curry. I’ll arrange it.”
“Thanks, Ajay, that’s lovely. Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” Kylie asked politely. Dink was distracted, imagining the taste of octopus curry.
“No, c’mon. I’ll let you know when it is. I better go actually; dinner will be ready for me about now.”
Dink thanked Ajay again for the phone and shook his hand firmly as they all stood up. Kylie gave Ajay an affectionate hug, kissing him on the cheek. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Ajay. Take care.”
Ajay hopped onto his bike and rode smiling into the night. He left a trail of happiness in his wake. A phenomenon indeed.
Chapter 3: Soval
January 29th, 2010
Soval disembarked the ferry and walked contentedly across the jetty, happy to have finished work on La Premiere. He wore a fine, grey pressed suit, and looked smart. Tall, with erect posture and a long stride, he oozed confidence. His hair was grey-brown but thinning, and his small dark eyes counterbalanced a long, hooked nose reminiscent of a shark fin. The overall impression was of a serious character. Reserved and reticent. Introspective. His thin lips merged towards a neatly trimmed white goatee. Soval, from a young age, had always associated goatees with intellect and he wore his with immense pride.
He headed south through La Porte. The island capital was essentially a small coastal settlement with less than one hundred residents. He continued past the row of oceanfront restaurants on his right and the police station, shops, and Catholic church on his left. Between these buildings ‘the alleys’ ran eastwards towards Mont Centrale. Narrow dirt roads, these alleys connected the coast to the interior of the island. Looking along them, Soval could see the modest houses clustered beyond. He knew the alleys all joined the Back Road, and this road channelled directly
