On the ocean-waves in a sheltered bay, Margaret paddles a board to waves beyond the limits of my vision.  The sail boat over the sandbar and reef demarks the horizon.  Just for today we invaded (yes that’s the word) the quiet island beach.  The polished coral sands worn to silt by centuries of waves and the local dancing greeters merge to welcome us.  We are not seen as enemies!  We are pushing the same waves to make space in their strand for our living.

The local women dance a stylish greeting, practiced and traditional, learned like school lessons and shared with accomplished pride.  The younger children long for a picture which their mother captures from behind my white head.

She poses with traditional colours as she observes her children and takes a picture.  She shyly asks if that is ok. Her hand planted on my shoulder for balance  In the shade of the dune trees we chill watching the tribal welcome dance.  Just for today we get to play on “her” beach!

A few paddle strokes away the rock art from centuries speaks a stalagmite welcome.  Water eroding the limestone into caves so the walls can speak.  The ancient ocra art woven like a tapestry into archeological history.