winter walk

Today was the coolest morning of the year, down to 20 degrees at dawn.  Just the right level of winter nip for this tropical koala.  An extra sarong on the bed at night, beautiful conditions for a sunrise walk, then by 9am it is back up to 30 and the endless summer continues. My admiration and commiseration for those of you wrapping up against the wild storms currently lashing the south west of WA. Wrap up, put the kettle on, and join me on a stroll up behind the village.

RIP Sumba

Many of you have been asking after our dear little fella, Sumba. I am very sad to say that he died two weeks before we returned. He was going along great, living with his adopted family, sleeping with the oldest son in his dirt floor bedroom, and foraging with the other free range animals. Then he contracted some kind of goat flu, and rapidly deteriorated with diarrhoea. An Aussie friend found him back at our house, leaning against the wall, very weak and battling to stand, so he made the decision to put him down. It would have been terrible to see him suffering. Returning back to the house that he filled with such delight was sad, and I miss his funny antics, even if he was getting a bit destructive and rough as he grew into a teenager. 

I'm sorry we had to leave you little mate. Better to have had eight months of loving life than none at all. 

Forever bleating in our hearts.

family portraits

We've left our baby Sumba in the hands of local neighbours for the wet season, and do not like to entertain the idea that he may end up as Christmas lunch.  We made it very clear he was not to be eaten and their reply was "oh...but what if he just dies?" 

 I plaited him a collar which made him look like a real hippy kid, and left boxes of milk and his bottle with his babysitter. Like packing the first born off to boarding school.

An innocent little being, full of love and acceptance; thanks for the great times, sorry we had to leave you. 

goat kindy

walking the goat

what kind of creature are you?

my twin playmates showing me what goats like to eat

my first greens ; six new messages

You might have thought this blog was about surf and fruit. Well, sorry, but it appears that goats are where it's at. Sumba is growing fast and is somewhere between a cute toddler and a horny teenager. He will chew any inanimate object he can reach, with a particular fancy for plastic bags, rope, power cords and books. 

He is now too cool to give his mumma kisses, preferring to indulge his manliness on my leg.  In the hope of convincing him he is, in fact, a goat and not a human, I encourage him to attend goat kindy when the other kids come around.  If he has finished checking his facebook and playing scrabble, he will curiously watch goat behaviour from his lounge room vantage point, joining in the occasional friendly head butt. 

We have reduced his bottle feeds from seven to four each day, hoping he will start eating solids. He nibbles the garden with the effect of a grasshopper and ate his first fruit yesterday. Like a gentle bleeting alarm, he wakes us at 4.45am each morning for his breakfast, treating us to the beauty of a tropical sunrise.  

With only six days until we leave, I am racked with sadness over leaving the little fella behind, but we have found a family nearby willing to watch over him and promise he won't become Christmas lunch.

Thanks to Aquaman for the drawings. 

tea on the beach

It is 35 in the shade and humidity is pushing my tolerance levels, however as the British Raj demonstrated, that is no reason to pack away the teapot. With the kitchen only metres from the water, I can take all of my paraphernalia to a shady spot and catch the sea breeze. A swim or three in between blog posts and I’ve earned a nap. 

Sumba and I are home alone, with Aquaman doing a quick Singapore run to renew his visa. I have a new appreciation for the daily challenges a single mum must face, and I’ve only got a bleeting goat that misses his dad.  My current challenge is convincing him how delicious fruit and vegetables are, and that he should try chewing them rather than the plate they are on.  There will not be photographic evidence of me on all fours eating carrot stalks.  

our baby, sumba

Sumba was brought to us as a one day old orphan and his tiny body was barely bigger than Tom's hand. He was uncertain on his legs and tripped over his umbilical cord. Now, four weeks later, he is a strong, bounding bundle of loveable joy. Aside from frequent peeing on the floor, he is the perfect baby. Sleeps through the night, doesn't cry, and takes himself off to bed after the last bottle of the day.  He adores his dadda and follows close to his heels on adventures beyond the compound. The two of them can often be found bonding in the new shed, with Sumba chewing the electrical cords and the bottom of Tom's board shorts. 

He is developing his innate manliness by head butting the aloe or a loose tea towel, and provides hours of entertainment performing agile leaps over the furniture. To show he isn't all balls and brawn, he is generous with butterfly kisses, and is proving his intellectual aptitude with an interest in board games.  My dad has high hopes it might ignite some deep and hidden maternal desire for a two legged baby. 

Dream on. 

season of plenty

The middle of the dry season is the peak time for produce. Carrots have arrived, tomatoes are in abundance, cauliflower make a brief appearance, cucumbers are sweet, and lettuce thrives in the cooler temperature. Kan kung (water spinach) is always plentiful and very cheap (top photo), and it provides the green in our green smoothie; the fuel for fearless paddling and blogging.  The local tofu is firm, delicious and versatile - scrambled, steamed, marinated, blended with cacao...I'll prepare it any way except fried.  The fridge is fully stocked this week for the arrival of Aquaman's parents, and we called upon our friendly neighbours to deliver the bounty in their ute. This called for morning tea, followed by the great veggie wash-up and a market day feast for the goats. There goes another simple morning. 

may i introduce you...

After the sad departure of our dear Bo last October, we are excited to have adopted new free range pets into our yard. This year's goats are Eva and her baby boy, Mittens, who was born in the shade of our bedroom. He had a rough start as mum wasn't letting him feed very often, and for a while we didn't think the little fella would make it.  We coaxed him along with soft leafy greens and now he is on a varied vegan diet and is confident to forage away from mum, he is strong and vigorous. Eva isn't the prettiest girl in the paddock and could do with a "hornicure" and beard trim, but we love her daily visits and friendly nibbles.

wedding feast

Preparing a wedding feast is a mammoth task, involving women from all branches of the extended family. As with an Aussie event, the men tend to do the heavy lifting; erecting tarps, unloading plastic chairs and building a temporary fence around the venue with coconut leaves and sticks. Then they squat under the shade for the rest of the day while the women chop and stir and stoke and wash.  The average wedding has around 300 plus guests - that is, most of the village - and the food preparation begins at dawn on the big day.  Rice, pig, goat and noodles are standard, with additional dishes added relative to the wealth of the family.  I have a morbid fascination with the massive vestibules of boiled meat, and emit involuntary shrieks of horror when my lens hovers too close. 

The groom's parents foot the bill for all food and water (the reception is alcohol free aside from the odd nip of sopi out the back), and family members are asked to make a donation toward the catering and "hire" of equipment.  The pots, woks, plates and serving bowls are community owned and are stored at the chief's house in between events. 

Hanging out the back with the ladies around an oversized pot of boiling rice is always a valued experience. I feel a sense of kinship that is absent in my Australian life where I don't even know the name of my neighbours.  Over the years I have learned more insider snippets of custom, gossip and tradition, and my roving camera and meat avoidance is always welcome entertainment.

RIP Bo Diddley

 

Our most beloved adopted goat has passed on into the endless salad days of heaven. When we returned from our trip to Singapore we were shocked to see Bo had broken her back leg and was barely able to walk. She stayed around our house all day and night, unable to forage, and we fed and comforted her through her last days, until she died at lunchtime on my birthday.

Bo was a dear friend.  Clever, inquisitive and a gentle mother. I really miss her.

tea with friends

Tom is out in the greenroom office, but that doesn't mean I am sitting at home lonely. I have our faithful four legged companions watching my every move as I sit with my cup of tea, banana and notebook.  They know they are not allowed in the house, but like to sneak their hooves up on the step for a better look.  Bo Peep is now one year old and growing into a strong lad with the help of our scraps. As his baby bleets are becoming deeper and his tiny horns longer, we have given him the manly name Tex. 

Their bond is remarkable, and while Tex is as big as his mum, he doesn't like to stray too far and will snuggle and groom her, and use her as a pillow for a midday nap. Being the rambunctious child, he also head butts  her when the banana skin doesn't go his way, which is only going to lead to tears when she shows him the gate.

green for go

It hasn't rained for over five weeks, and with the cooler, dry weather the leafy greens have flourished.  Lettuce has made a welcome appearance, and watercress is an unexpected bonus. It makes a spicy pesto, and is delicious tossed with orange and walnuts.  Our adopted goat, Bo Diddley, and her grown-up baby, are never far away to take receipt of their daily feed.  Greens in one end, fertiliser for the garden out the other.