Clouds and other things

The clouds are different here. It's as though God is an impressionist painter using the sky as a canvas. Huge brush strokes cross the sky ending in swirls of grey and white. Layer upon layer of cloud mix and mingle creating a beautiful landscape for the eye to traverse. I've never seen so many different types of clouds at once, each one separate but part of the whole. A meteorologist would have a field day here trying to interpret the clouds as they merge and split apart, every moment just a little different.

Botswana is flat. The ground is flat, the trees are flat. It's as if everything is in two dimensions except the clouds. We are in the Kalahari desert. We drive for hours and hours down the straight road with nothing to see but scrub and salt pan interrupted by the occasional elephant. The people here live off of the land and own some goats or cows that wander freely amongst the scrub searching for whatever food there might be. Houses are rare, and when there is one, it is small, usually round and constructed using cement made from crushed termite mounds. The roof is made of small sticks woven together with grasses. Perhaps there is a shed made out of corrugated iron but more likely than not there is just the mud huts. The yard is surrounded by a fence made of dead shrubs piled on top of each other to create a fence of sorts saying this is my land. Without the fence, the house would disappear into the vastness. Street numbers and mailboxes don't exist here. Instead your house is marked with a stick and a hubcap, or piece of grill or exploded tire- anything that will differentiate your round hut from the next along the miles of unbroken highway.

South Africa is different. Things are greener and lusher as you travel through the hills and mountains. There are signs of prosperity- agriculture, reforestation, houses. You can smell the difference in the air and you know, life is different here. The contrast is extreme. A couple of hours drive and you're in an entirely different world. You do not see people walking along the edge of the highway. There are white people in the mall and stores look familiar like Toys R Us. The people of Botswana are tough, they have to be to survive in the dry, harshness of the land. South Africa is softer, sweeter. Life is good here.

I am lucky to be able to see and experience these differences. I hope that I never forget to keep looking, to keep seeing, to continue to explore the world I live in. There is so much more out there. So much more to experience. Travelling, even just for a few weeks, reminds me of how luck I am and how grateful I am for everything I have in my life. I sit and watch the clouds as they roll by, the rain slowly hitting the ground in great big drops and life is good. Life is very good.

More about Whale sharks

When I told people that I was coming to Mozambique to swim with whale sharks, most people reacted with some hesitation asking if I was crazy. Yes, whale sharks are the largest known sharks in the world, but they are also completely harmless to humans.

A confusing name, the whale shark is in fact a shark. It is the world's largest fish and grows to lengths of up to 20m. It has the characteristics of a shark in that it has a vertical tail fin that moves with a side-to-side action; it does not give birth to live young and instead houses hundreds of eggs inside the female until the young are about a foot and half long and can survive on their own; and they are cold blooded. However, in terms of their habits and size they are more similar to a whale. They are filter feeders which means that as they swim, they open their mouths to allow water to pass through their gills at which point they filter out all the zoo plankton. Yes, the largest fish in the world eats the smallest thing in the ocean. This means that the whale shark has to go where the zoo plankton is plentiful because it requires tons of zoo plankton a day to maintain its body mass. They are harmless creatures whose only self defence is its unbelievable size and incredibly thick skin on it's back. Their only predators are other large sharks and humans. Once a whale shark is fully grown, it is too big and it's skin too thick for any other shark to successfully eat it . What normally happens is that the great white comes up to take a bite and gets stuck on the whale shark as its teeth cannot fully penetrate the skin. The great white then needs to shake himself off the whale shark and both swim away. Boats, on the other hand, are a very different story. As the sharks generally feed near the surface and can be inquisitive creatures, it makes them highly susceptible to boat strikes. The propellers dig into the skin or fins and can cause great damage leaving injuries and scars.

As whale sharks only have a thin row of very small teeth, if a person were to happen to get caught in a whale sharks mouth, he would very kindly spit you out again as he has no interest in having you inside him. And, if while you are swimming with a whale shark, he gets aggravated by your presence, he banks away from you showing his back and dives down and swims away. If a whale sharks decides to swim, he may look like he's not going that fast, but it's impossible to keep up for very long.

Very little is known about these magnificent creatures. It has only been within the last 15-20 years that people have actively started to research their behaviours. One of the biggest research areas happens to be in Tofo, Mozambique. Here, at the Megafauna Marine Institute, they have been studying the whale shark trying to figure out what they do and where they go. On the skin of the shark, there is a series of spots and stripes which are unique to each individual. By photographing the sharks as they pass through Tofo, each can be identified and tracked as it moves around the world. What they've discovered is that the population around Tofo is mostly adolescent males. It's like the skateboard park, and fast food joint for whale sharks. They cruise through the area at about 5-10m long and then move somewhere else, where that might be, the researchers have no idea. They also have no idea where the females and babies spend time, nor do they know where mating or birthing takes place. In all the populations studied around the world, the females, babies and large males are not present which makes them wonder if maybe they live in the middle ocean during those stages of life. No one is really quite sure.

So, outside of simple curiosity and wanting to know more about the world we live in, why is it important to study whale sharks. Well, there is a growing problem of shark exploitation in the world, and whale sharks are not immune to it. With the increase of middle class China, the demand for shark fin soup is growing. Being able to serve shark fin soup to guests is a sign of prosperity in Chinese culture and there's a lot of prosperity happening in that country right now. So, why is shark fin soup so important? It's not really. Once upon a time there was a king who raved about how good shark fin soup was and well, if the king likes it, it must be good. It's really that simple. As a result, we are decimating our shark populations to fill the demand. Whale sharks being the biggest, their fins are worth the most money. They are used as displays in restaurant windows to entice people to enter. The rest of the shark is pretty much wasted as, on land, it weighs tons and is difficult to manage. As I write this, there are whale shark fisheries cropping up in China whose sole purpose is to catch whale sharks. This is incredibly dangerous to the whale shark population as they are long lived species. It takes a whale shark up to 30 years to reach sexual maturity and the majority of sharks being caught are teenagers. We are effectively destroying the reproducing population. If we are not careful, the whale shark might go the way of the humpback which had to struggle it's way back into existence.

The researchers in Tofo are doing their part to learn more about these animals and are working hard to establish the coast of Mozambique as a whale shark protected area. The problem is that Mozambique can only afford one coast guard boat. Even if they establish a marine park, there's very little hope that they'll be able to effectively patrol the area.

I feel extremely blessed that I had the opportunity to swim with these beautiful creatures and only hope that future generations will have the same opportunity.

Heat Stroke

I feel dizzy was all she said. Before that, there were no signs. 20 minutes later she was semi-conscious and on her way to the hospital. It's amazing how quickly our bodies can shut down.

Friday, my last full day in Tofo. We'd booked a double dive trying to make the most of the day. The volunteer coordinator wasn't so happy that we'd taken things into our own hands as were supposed to all be going out on the same ocean safari as the official end to our research trips, but we didn't care. By this point, we knew we enjoyed diving a lot more than just driving around in the boat hoping to see something and I was on the hunt to see a Manta Ray, something which had eluded me all month.

It was a beautiful day- sunny and warm. The rest of the week had been rainy and overcast so, it was nice to see the sun again. The boat launch went well. You never know just how it's going to go. Sometimes the boat gets pushed back onto shore by waves, sometimes the boat is too far in the water for me to jump up, but this day everything went smoothly.

On the trip were two German men whose names I didn't bother to learn, an Isreali guy who was just completing his open water, so, nice enough but couldn't dive worth shit, Nicole, Dymphna, myself and the crew- Nick the owner, Lobo a dive master and Neo the skipper. A nice little group heading out for a couple of dives with a little ocean safari in between to look for whale sharks. The first site we went to was Outback which is so named because it's one of the farthest sites away. It takes about 35-45 minutes to get there by boat during which time you're wearing your wetsuit. By wearing a wetsuit you basically turn your body into the inside of a tire. You encase yourself in 5mm of black rubber, which is fine if you're in the water, but sitting in the boat, in the sun, it's stiffling to say the least. We complained about being hot and took turns dumping water down each other's suits and even got to swim with a whale shark on the way to the site- a nice treat.

Outback had seen a lot of action in the last week. A lot of mantas had been in the area as well as small eyed stingrays and other oceanic wonders. However, the current had also been a little crazy lately so we weren't sure what we were going to get. It turned out that that day there was a lovely current, moving in the right direction so we were able to glide gently around the reef and enjoy the view. It was a beautiful dive, unfortunately, no mantas.

Back on the surface, the sun was still shining as we enjoyed our incredible sandwiches. It's amazing how after having a limited diet for a few weeks, something as simple as a turkey sandwich can taste gourmet. Sandwiches, coco biscuits and bananas finished it was off on the hunt for a whale shark. It took us a while, during which time we were entertained by the the seasickness of one of the German guys. I know it's not nice to laugh at someone else's pain, but this man did nothing by complain, so watching him so obviously suffering just made us laugh. We eventually found one, had a lovely swim and it was off to site two.

Our second dive was at a site called Giant's Castle. Another popular site with a reputation for whale sharks. This dive did not go quite as smoothly. There was a fairly strong current and it was difficult to get down to the reef. It was especially difficult for me because I was having a hard time getting my ears to equalize so, poor Lobo had me hanging off the buoy line for a significant amount of time, which is definitely not easy. I'm not sure if my ears eventually equalized or if I just blew an ear drum, but we might explore that one a little later. I did make it down to the bottom though and we let the current direct the dive every now and then holding on to the reef so that you could actually see something. I like diving with a current because in a strange way, it makes you slow down because it forces you to look closer at the reef. You have time to sit and look at the small things that are directly in front of you. Because you need to hold on, you can focus on that one place and see all the little shrimp, nudibrank, coral, lobsters and a million other things that you would otherwise miss. On this particular dive, I came across a lovely little pinnacle covered in shrimp, a moray eel and a lobster. Awesome.

And that was it. My diving in Tofo was over. We headed home, had an uneventful landing (which is good because sometimes they can be really rough) and headed up the beach to the dive centre to clean up our stuff and go home for a nap. About halfway up the hill, Dymphna stopped. This is not Dymphna. She is tough; she is strong; and she is proud. She would never admit to being tired or not being able to keep up unless something were very wrong. I was able to get her to sit down on the stairs for a few minutes. She was dizzy and weak and feeling nauseous. Being a great sufferer of heat related illnesses, I recognized the symptoms right away. After a few minutes, she was able to get up and made it to the top of the stairs where there is a big umbrella and some chairs. We got her some water and rehydration salts but she seemed to be getting more and more tired. Still not ready to admit that anything was truly wrong, the panic set in when her right arm went numb. It was at this point that we all realized this was far worse than we had thought. Nicole ducked into the dive office to ask for oxygen while I worked at keeping Dymphna calm. She still had her wetsuit halfway on which meant that from the waist down she was still heating up. Nick grabbed ice which Nicole held to the back of her neck, Steve called over the 'doctor', I started pouring water over her legs and someone else started fanning her with a clip board. She sat slumped, her right arm dangling and her energy just fading away. We tried a couple of time to get her to walk to the dive centre where there was a couch for her to lie down on out of the sun, but she couldn't walk. Nick drove the pickup over so that she could just climb into it, but when we got her to stand, she couldn't move her feet. At this point, she started to slip in and out of consciousness. There would be moments where she could respond to questions, and she would yell at the doctor as he yanked on her fingers but then she would slump back down and not respond to anything. It was time to get her into the shade and get the wetsuit off. The great thing about a dive centre is there are always lots of strong men around. Nick, Steve and a couple of other guys grabbed various limbs and dragged her onto the truck. It wasn't pretty, but it worked. She was driven into the shade, we got her wetsuit off, and put a fan on her. She was breathing forced oxygen and we had her packed in ice to bring down her core body temperature.

Now, I have to mention just how interesting it was to watch the two owners of the dive shop deal with the situation. Steve was very nonchalant and in between moments of giving orders how to treat Dymphna, he was schmoozing clients and helping them make plans for their trip. Nick, on the other hand was like a worried father, running around from place to place getting everything we needed. He got ice, he got a yoga mat to put in the back of the truck, he got towels to wrap the ice in, he got a fan, he filled water bottles...both were amazing and very in control.

Lying in the shade, she started to come round. The doctor hovering over her, taking every opportunity to wipe the sweat off her breast (you may remember mention of this doctor in an earlier post where he was videotaping us as we put our wetsuits on), he declared that her temperature was back to normal and that we could start to get her ready to go to the hospital to which point Dymphna declared “I am not going to the hospital.” At this point we knew that she would be ok. The Dymphna that we knew and loved was back. Encouraged by her remark, we started to tease her and she responded with gusto even managing to pick out the right finger to give the appropriate response.

It was time to get her to the hospital. We grabbed some of her stuff, put her on a mattress and off she went to get some good IV fluids. A couple of hours later she was home with strict orders to take it easy and not do anything for the next five days. The next morning she was back on Facebook talking about her near death experience and I knew that she would be ok.

What was amazing was how fast it all happened. She was fine during the dives. There were no symptoms on the boat. We had no clue that anything was wrong and then it only took about 10 minutes for her to loose consciousness. Just goes to show how careful and aware you have to be. These things can happen anytime, anywhere, to anyone- even those people who seem to be invincible. The ironic part is that Dymphna had been looking after all of us for the four weeks we were together. She was a vet and her father a doctor, so medicine was in her blood. Any opportunity to help someone and she was there. None of us thought that she would be the one who would need the most serious treatment.

Now, I know that Dymphna wanted to make my last day really special but really, a nice card would have done just fine. I am glad that you're ok Dymphna and it really was an incredible four weeks, but if you ever do anything like that to me again, I will kick your ass! Thanks for making it so memorable.

No Go Zone

Ever been in the wrong place where it's always the wrong time? This happened to me in Maputo and it never should have. We had been warned. We had been shown on the map where the “No Go” zone was, and yet, there we were, right in the middle of it. I'm still not sure how it happened but these are the kinds of things that happen when complacency sets in.

Before heading off on our adventure to Maputo we spoke to our fellow volunteer who had spent some time there. She pointed out some sights and then was very emphatic about an area of the coast which was a “no go” zone. It had been pointed out to her and being a conscientious traveller passed the information on to us. So, how did we end up in that very part of the city? I guess it started when Sylvia's camera broke.

It's Saturday morning and we're at the top of the 33 storey building,the tallest building in all of Africa. The first unbelievable thing is that they don't charge people to go to the top. It has an incredible view and you can see all of Maputo which would make it a valuable tourist attraction, but for now it is wide open, anyone can hop on the elevator to the top floor between the hours of 9 and 4. The second unbelievable thing about the 33 storey building is that the let you onto the roof of the building. There is an observation area with a nice high wall to prevent people falling off, but above that is the roof of the building. It also has a wall to prevent people falling off it, but all along that wall there are satellite dishes, telephone wires, cables and assorted other electrical gadgets. Anyone could go up there and just wreak havoc but apparently there is a certain amount of trust that you won't mess with anything. So, there we are at the top of the world happily taking pictures, when Sylvia's camera stops working. In a way it's a good thing that it happened in the capital city because there was a chance, a slight chance, that someone would be able to fix it. There definitely is not a camera repair person in Tofo or Inhambane. So, the adventure begins.

We head back across the street to our hotel to see if they know of a camera repair shop. Repair shop- yeah right. They did know of a camera shop down the street and maybe they could help us. When we arrived at the shop, we the camera “expert” who quickly determined that he would be unable to help us. However, he did know of a repair shop uptown and he wrote out the address and directions for us. Back on the street we found a cab on the corner. Off we went to store number two. Upon arriving however, we found out that while they repair many electrical things, they do not in fact repair cameras but they know someone who does and promptly wrote down the address of another camera shop. We were beginning to see a trend. Back in the cab, we headed off to store number three which was on the other side of town. It turned out that this “store” was nothing more than a kiosk at the entrance to the municipal gardens. A small triangular shaped building barely large enough for one person and the Kodak digital photo machine. As well, this person did not speak English and my Spanish did not get us very far given that the language spoken in Mozambique is Portugese. Eventually we were able to get across that the camera was broken and we were looking for a “Tech.” There was one associated with the store and he spoke English but he was not there that day. We thought that we had been defeated until Sylvia had a phone thrust into her hand and Abdul was on the other end of the line. He could be there in half an hour and would see what he could do.

It all sounds pretty simple but nothing is ever that simple in Africa. While all of this conversation and planning was going on, we were surrounded by wedding parties. Yes, parties. In the two hours we were in the park, there must have been at least 20 wedding parties that passed through. It seems that the thing to do when you get married in Maputo is to have your pictures taken in the municipal gardens. Couple after couple paraded by surrounded by friends and family chanting and singing top wish the couple well. It was unbelievable. What a thing to stumble upon. While Sylvia was working on getting her camera fixed, Nicole and I were enjoying the party. Listening to the songs and watching the dancing was entrancing. The park was transformed into a place of joy and hope. If Sylvia's camera had not broken, we would never have been able to take part in such an incredible day. It's strange how these things work out sometimes.

So, you're probably wondering at this point what this idyllic day in the park has to do with the no go zone. Well, on the way home from the fish market Friday night we had driven past a beautiful mosaic mural about 400m long. It just so happens that the park is located directly above this incredible mural. So, we thought wouldn't it be wonderful to get some pictures of the mural while we were so close to it. However, as we looked at the map, we realized that the mural was located directly in the 'no go' zone. Nicole and I said no, we weren't really interested in going there but Sylvia seemed really interested. She pointed out that the mural ended at the Club Naval (the yacht club) and that it would be safe there because it's for rich white people. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. We would go the Club Naval take pictures of the end of the mural closest to it. Sounds like a good plan, doesn't it?

We talked to the owner of the cafe where this brilliant plan was hatched and asked for directions how to walk to the Club Naval. He pointed out the way saying that it was a lovely walk and off we went. We found the road we had to take down the hill and it was lined with beautiful, expensive houses. Boys were skate boarding down the street and the guards waved and said hello as we passed. It was when we were almost at the bottom of the road that things began to get a little sketchy. The skateboarders who had inspired so much confidence in our plan stopped us at the bottom of the hill to warn us to be very careful with our bags. There were problems at the bottom of the road with people waiting to rob tourists. It seems that the beautiful mural was also the perfect bait to lure tourists into danger. At this point, it would have been smart to turn around and walk back up the hill to safety, but, really, who ever wants to walk up a steep hill. So, we carried on hoping to find safety with the young guy who was walking past selling ice cream from a little push cart. As we officially reached the end of the street where it meets the main road we quickly realized why it was a dangerous spot. On one side of us was a steep bank covered in trees and bushes, on the other was the ocean. We had two lanes of road and the only safe walking spot was the island between them. As we started our walk down the median a police truck drove slowly by, the driver giving us the signal to watch out, be aware, danger. This did not help the situation. The interesting thing about all of this was that Sylvia did not seem to be aware of the danger. I had handed her my camera, as hers was broken, and she was casually strolling down the median trying to figure out a good setting and taking pictures. Meanwhile, a truck had slowed down infront of us as if waiting for the opportune moment for its inhabitants to jump out and grab our stuff. We stopped where we were and formed a little cluster and eventually that truck drove off, but in the meantime at least two other cars had circle around picking out their target. It was at this point that the tuk-tuk arrived and Nicole and I jumped in not worried about the fact that he may also have been part of the scam, we were just happy to be getting off that road. Sylvia on the other hand, always the practical one, took the time to haggle with the driver over the price. I could have killed her at this point. I just wanted out of there.

Now, one could argue that we were never really in danger and it was just the power of suggestion that had created two paranoid women and that might be true. In the end, we did make it home safely still in possession of our money and cameras and that's what really matters but, it's a good reminder of why a 'no go' zone is so named and should be respected. Putting oneself in danger is never a good idea and should be avoided whenever possible, everyone knows this. Is a good picture really worth it? I don't think so and that may be the most tragic part of this entire story. The mural was not nearly as pretty in the daylight, and the pictures we took are actually crap. We went through all that for nothing except maybe a good story and a reminder that we are not invincible, a lesson that I will carry with me. Well, at least until the next really good photo op... just kidding.

Maputo- the capital of Mozambique

The main street is lined with buildings which were once incredible examples of colonial architecture but are now nothing but ruins. Tree roots have pushed through the sidewalks or the stones have been stolen causing the need to be constantly watching your feet when what you'd really like to be paying attention to is the dodgy guy who has been following you for two blocks. Sewer covers have fallen apart leaving huge holes in the sidewalk which could put you knee deep in an assortment of rubbish that has accumulated there over the years. There is no warning. There are no signs or bright coloured spray paint. Walk at your own risk. Maputo is a neglected city. What once must have been the pride of colonial Portugal is now a city struggling to move forward.

There is a sense of desperation in the people of Maputo. The city is supposedly thriving. It is the economic capital of Mozambique, one of the fastest developing countries in the world. After decades of civil war which landed the country at the bottom of the UN's world development list, Mozambique is clawing it's way up, digging itself out of poverty but not fast enough for the people who have moved to Maputo hoping for a better life and find nothing but unemployment and poor living conditions. As tourists we become a source of income. As we tour the streets like walking dollar signs, we become a target for street vendors and random guys who want to sell. Paintings, small wooden statues, necklaces, phone cards...there are men, never women, whose only source of income is peddling to tourists. At the end of the day if sales have been slow, their tactics become more aggressive because without a sale, they will not eat dinner. We saw this first hand in the Fish Market of Maputo.

The Fish Market is exactly what it sounds like. It a market where the locals come to sell their fish However, with the development of tourism, it has acquired a secondary function. Tourists are drawn there with the promise of a fresh fish dinner. Go to the market, pick out a fish and have it cooked for you in one of the many small restaurants surrounding the market.

The market is a far way out of town and we made the mistake of walking there our first night in town. Exhausted by the time we arrived, we were not ready to be accosted by promoters for the many different restaurants. Each restaurant has a guy staked at the entrance to the market to latch on to the tourists and lure them into their restaurant. Not knowing exactly how things worked we didn't want to commit to anyone and just walked through the market until we reached a point where surrounded by six different promoters each claiming to have been the first one to see us, to have the best restaurant and to be the most honest. My travel companions were overwhelmed with the pressure and were ready to leave, when one of the promoters took the hint and suggested that they all leave us alone and give us some space. “We'll go with him, the guy in the red shirt.” Decision made, the rest just drifted away.

Our promoter was Gasper and he turned out to be wonderful. He led us to the restaurant, got us some drinks and helped us to navigate the process. We had such a wonderful time that we decided to return on our last night in Maputo. Armed with the knowledge of how things worked, knowing which restaurant we wanted to go to and having arrived by tuk-tuk, the second visit to the market was far less stressful. Upon arriving at the restaurant Gasper gave us a warm welcome, found us a seat and set to making us feel completely at home. It was late Sunday afternoon, there was music playing and the place was filled with locals. It was the place to be. However, this also meant that we were more of a target for the salesmen who patrol the market looking for potential purchasers. This became a bit of a joke as we were subjected to sales pitch after sales pitch. “Buy this necklace, I give you a good price.” “Just look, looking is free.” “My name is Mr. Price, lets make a deal.” “Today is Sunday, I give you banana price.” Banana price?

We watched as ridiculous paintings were paraded past us- various renditions of a half naked woman in a variety of different dress colours, a picture of two hands with a child's small foot nestled in between, one we were told was a picture of Bob Marley's dad Elvis, another of Bob Marley himself. But my favourite must have been the one of the man kissing a ball (which may have been a man drinking from a coconut, but art is all in the interpretation). Needless to say, we didn't buy anything.

As the afternoon wore on and turned into evening, we were approached by a young man with necklaces who seemed more desperate than most. It was obvious that most of the men in the market were doing pretty well- nice clothes, healthy glow. This man was not. Lacking energy, wearing a worn t-shirt he focused what energy he had on me. “Please buy some necklaces. There haven't been many tourists today and I haven't sold anything. I need money so I can get the bus home. I live in the slums which are far away and I have to get home. 5 for 100 mets.” His necklaces were ugly and you never know what is the truth, perhaps this was just this guys strategy for a sale. He persisted for a while on the verge of begging when another group of tourists came in and he went off to try his luck with the new victims.

We were having a great time so dinner was a lingering affair. We watched the boys try to sell a white man drums, giving a full demonstration which involved every salesman giving the drums a try which resulted in a series of interesting beats, not all actually carrying a rhythm. It was at this point that we noticed our necklace friend devouring the scraps from the table beside us. So grateful to have some food he thanked his benefactors profusely for their generosity. He seemed to come to life. Like a new man, his energy was renewed, a smile across his face. Food was good, but it wouldn't help him get home to his family. His satisfaction was short lived as he resumed the hunt for a sale. There comes a point in time where you have to recognize just how blessed we are. Coming from Canada, I've had everything I've ever wanted. I have more opportunities than I know what to do with and have never had to beg for food or fight for an honourable life. 100 meticais is the equivalent of 4 dollars. I knew the man would return to our table, and I knew that I would buy his necklaces, an easy thing to do to help a human being retain their dignity. This had gone beyond the scam and had suddenly become quite real. He was a person in need. A real person, not just someone pestering me during my dinner.

I am now the proud owner of five ugly necklaces and as such I was able to make someone's day. As I put the 100 mets in his hand, you could see relief wash over him. He was going to be able to go home, he was ok for one more day.