Life at the Lake

Aah, life at the lake. Those who pop through on their way to the happy isles of Mumbo and Domwe look enviously on at us, thinking we live a life of sybaritic pleasures here on the lake edge - all balmy waters to swim in and warm breezes lifting the hair from our necks...
They look at our naked offspring frolicking on the beach and say what a idyllic life they lead.
It all looks gorgeous...
I have to say that it does look lovely, but the reality is not all about how it looks!
The thing about living in a village is that one is never, ever alone. And one's every move is noted. Even at night there is a night watchman who snoozes under the verandah and can obviously hear our every word and wee and snuffle and bicker. (See, our lives are all about talking, weeing, snuffling and bickering!) During the day, my office is off the kitchen where a chef, a biscuit baker, Lyoness, and the laundry ladies are at work. Outside (no wall) are all the boatmen, the gardeners, the storemen, the guests passing through, and assorted staff who need money or have issues or whatnot. Then there are all the mzungus - Dan our staff manager who is like a girl with his huffs and puffs and needs of assurances that he is perfectly marvellous in every way (or is he?); his gorgeous girlfriend, Dominique who teaches our children, (they are still in their twenties and do lots of canoodling and mutual protestations of adoration, which irks me on my cynical days (often); Rob our urbane dive instructor who comes by for meals and a bit of admin; his girlfriend Kelly who pops in for a chat now and then and who runs the backpackers down the way; Jurie who is generally cool; Bush who is generally of furrowed brow, but cool; the four feral kids who are HECTIC; and then passers by of various sorts - it is a veritable bloody railway station!
At times this gets me down - I am a gal who likes her space and there really is none to be had here. Our house and offices are right in the middle of the village and also next door to the most well-run local bar in town (sadly I say well-run, as there seems to be no hope of it going under in the way of most other establishments). This bar has both a jukebox (with 10 songs) and, it seems, one cd. I know and abhor every single song on the repertoire which I hear at least ten times a day each. I long for quiet! As I was about to reach the end of my tattered rope, though, I was fortunately saved when I had to do my turn as hostess on Mumbo (both our island managers are away this week!). I was only able to leave base camp at sunset, and to my surprise, the boys waved me off at the jetty with huge grins. I sat on top of the boat with the venerable boat night watchman (who sleeps on it every night, no doubt to get away from his very woman-heavy household over the road!). We watched in beautiful silence as the sun slowly and magnificently set and the fishing boats lit their tilly lamps. He told me about the life of a fisherman and then we sat in companionable silence until we got to Mumbo just as darkness fell. That island really is a little paradise. Had a warm bucket shower and then dinner with the loveliest group of guests - great conversationalists. What a joy it was to talk to other people about interesting things! And then to go to sleep to the lapping of waves rather than the ten songs...
I was greatly revived by the experience. And next week my parents arrive and we'll have another four days on the islands - what a gift!
We have been full for almost two solid months now, so hopefully the tides have turned and we will finally make some money! But costs here are enormous - last week a roll of loo paper cost R10! And you can imagine how many of those one has to buy for the island! Ah well, time will tell.