‘That’s a great idea, isn’t it, Joe? Aesha and I were thinking we might have another lazy day on the beach, so that would be perfect.’
Joe hesitated for a moment, unsure about spending the day away from his family, but quickly decided that it would be much more fun than sitting on the beach.
‘How would you like to measure some of the mangrove trunks while you’re at it?’ Angela suggested. ‘We need to start a new survey, so you could bring us our first results.’
Joe was doubtful at the prospect. Measuring mangrove trunks wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but Dario nodded enthusiastically and took charge of the tape measures and data sheets with great eagerness.
Chapter 12
Joe soon relaxed in Dario’s company. There were so many things he wanted to ask him, and his new friend was happy to talk about his life on the island and his ambitions for the future. First of all he took Joe to his home to meet his mother and little brother. Joe was shocked by how tiny it was inside and couldn’t imagine how they managed without electricity and running water. Dario’s brother, who was only three, stared at Joe in wonderment, while his mother expressed her delight at having an English boy in her house.
‘You take food with you. Boys always hungry, I think,’ she said, giving Dario some salted eggs, raisins and rice cakes to put in his rucksack. ‘For merienda.’
‘In English it is snack,’ Dario explained.
‘You speak good English,’ said Joe.
‘Our second language.’ Dario grinned. ‘You have second language?’
Joe pulled a face. ‘I learn French in school, but I’m not very good at it. Mum’s from Tanzania and can speak Swahili, but I only know a few words.’
They set off along a track towards the centre of the village, but then turned on to a paved path that took them through the village and ran parallel to the seashore. They passed the church that Joe had seen highlighted on the map and a short distance further on came to the school where Dario was a pupil.
‘When Father was a fisherman and there was not enough fish we did not go to school because he did not have the money. Now he makes money from farming chickens and seaweed, and my mother, she sells bags and I can go to school and I’m happy.’ Joe could see that Dario was proud to go to school.
‘What do you want to be when you’re older?’ he asked.
‘I will be a biologist,’ Dario said with great certainty. ‘And you?’
‘A photographer, or a vet,’ Joe replied. It prompted him to take out his camera and direct his friend to pose in front of the school. Dario obliged, but then demanded that Joe have his photograph taken as well.
‘You pretend to be Filipino schoolboy,’ he said, grinning.
They continued on their way, Joe stopping every so often to photograph snuffling pigs, squawking chickens and brightly coloured orchids. Dario begged Joe to take a photograph of him kneeling down next to one of the pigs, and they hooted with laughter when the owner came out and offered them a bowlful of slops. The sun was shining brightly as they left the village behind and headed for the countryside, still walking parallel to the seashore.
‘Rain come later,’ Dario told Joe, squinting up at the sky. ‘Maybe big rain.’
Joe thought he would welcome the rain because it was threatening to be a sizzling hot day and he was already sweating profusely. He was looking forward to jumping in the water when they dropped down to the sea. On the way they stopped under the shade of a palm tree to eat the mangoes Binti had packed for them. Joe felt he could quite easily lie back and fall asleep, and was about to make himself comfortable when they heard the drone of an approaching motorbike. They gazed along the path as it drew closer. The motorbike was ridden by two men, who stared straight ahead as they sped past the boys. Joe realised with a jolt that they were the men from the basketball court. He said so to Dario, but again his friend didn’t seem interested, much to Joe’s disappointment.
When they finished their snack they carried on along the path. Joe wondered how much further they had to walk before they reached the mangroves. He was enjoying himself, but he was tiring quickly in the heat and his flip-flops were beginning to rub blisters between his toes. At last, Dario turned down a track that zigzagged through low-growing bushes in the general direction of the sea.
‘Villagers replant big lot of trees in this place,’ he told Joe. ‘One time no trees are left because people use to make houses. Ma’am Angela, she helps people see that no trees is not good because land is washed away without them. We had much fun to plant the mangroves again. Lots of children helped.’
Joe nodded and thought he would have enjoyed helping. At least he was able to do his bit now by measuring the trees to see how much they had grown. He wondered whether he would have felt the same if someone had asked him to measure a few trees in England. Probably not. He grinned to himself. But this is different.
The vegetation around them began to change and muddy water seeped over the sides of Joe’s flip-flops. The boys were greeted by a cacophony of birdsong. Joe pulled his camera out again and peered up through the treetops. He was hoping he might capture a fruit bat on film, but even the few sightings he made of birds were too brief for him to be able to zero in on them.
‘The birds do not want to have a photo.’ Dario laughed. ‘They are shy!’
They reached the water’s edge. Dario hung his rucksack on the branch of
