Chagos History & True Confessions
I grew up thinking that ‘history’ was a dull and uninteresting topic which revolved around memorising dates, but have come to be fascinated by the stories that go with it and wondering about the lives of the individuals that make up ‘history’. Living in and travelling to interesting places helps to bring history alive and this little corner of the Indian ocean is no exception.
In 1783 a concession was granted under French rule for the production of coconut oil. Slave labour was brought from Mozambique and Madagascar. Fish, guano (bird poo. I wonder who buys the stuff…) and tortoises were also harvested. In 1814 Britain kicked Napoleon’s butt and gained Chagos as part of the spoils of victory. It was administered from the recently won Seychelles. From the 1840s to 1860s indentured workers are brought from India. The population topped out at about two thousand.
In 1965 BIOT (British Indian Ocean Territories) was formed, comprising Chagos Archipelago, Aldabra Island, Farquhar Group and Desroches. The latter three were returned to Seychelles following her independence in 1975. In the 1960s the mighty US of A decided that a cold war base in the Indian Ocean would be a good idea and they negotiated with Britain and signed a lease for a dollar a year, and had Britain move all residents off of the whole of Chagos although they only took Diego Garcia for their base. From 1968 to 1973, over two thousand residents were removed to the newly independent state of Mauritius. In 2000 the people of Chagos won the right in the High Court in London to return to their islands, except Diago Garcia. The US lease of Diago Garcia expires in 2014 but it looks likely to be extended.
Plenty of evidence of the earlier habitation can be seen on a couple of islands, Boddam in particular. The jungle has claimed back most of the buildings- it’s a bit of a guess what most of them originally served as. The church, jail and hospital, donkey pens, miniature railway (for transporting copra) can all be made out though.
21 July 2009
This second instalment of Confessions is well overdue…
As we returned from a beach BBQ last night, I thought the Yamaha outboard was running a bit rough. It was dark, I’d had a few glasses, so this was one ‘challenge’ I’d sleep on. Sure enough, she’s still running rough the next morning. I changed the fuel tank over as I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I’d got the two stroke mix right. No improvement. I flipped the lid off the engine. Hmm… I’ll need a couple of tools to check the fuel filter and maybe clean the plugs. Not something I’ve done before, but I’ve not let that stop me in the past. And then I noticed that the choke had been knocked out. The too-rich fuel mix had been causing the rough running. And a sleepless night.
We’ve had a run of nice weather this week and been doing a load of snorkelling, beach walks, wakeboarding, fishing to make the most of it. Secondary tasks like baking bread have been taking a, well, secondary role. On one occasion, Helen kayaked back from the beach to the boat to knead two loaves she had mixed before we headed out and set up the second rise. She left the bread in the oven for over a day (kept forgetting to take it out (err, at least she did switch it off..) after baking. The end result? Brick like bread, pale on the outside and grey and doughy in the middle. Helen has insisted that I (fairly) add a footnote stating that she has made some great bread as well, especially the garlic and olive loaves.
We make a habit of wearing lifejackets whenever we’re in the dinghy. I prefer to wear my self-inflating one… until I knocked it into the water-soaked bottom of the dinghy one day: PFFFTTFFFFFFF… as it activated the CO2 cylinder and springs into life. We, at least we know it works.
Following the above incident, we started to wear our water-ski type jackets in the dinghy. It would be fair to say that we all ate more than our fair share when on the BIOT boat for their BBQ for the yachts earlier this week. When we went to leave I found that the lifejacket I’d picked up didn’t fit as it had on the way over – ahh, I must have picked up Alex’s by mistake… Nope, just too much steak and ice cream…
We have a single mooring warp (rope) on the dinghy which we clip the dinghy anchor onto when we need it. Just for a laugh, we’ve also got in the habit of yelling “deploy the anchor!” in dramatic Hollywood style as we approach the beach or snorkelling spot or wherever we’re planning on anchoring. On one occasion a day or two back, I yelled “deploy the anchor”, and passed the anchor to Helen assuming she would then attach the rope to connect it to the dinghy. Without looking behind her, Helen grabs the anchor and holds it over the side looking at a sand spit below, “Here?”. Alex and I were speechless – but found just enough words to advise the anchor in her hand was not yet attached to the rode.
Not long after we arrived in Chagos, Erin and Helen set out in the dinghy to do some chores ashore. I was down below just as they launched the boat and heard my name being called (loudly!) The pair of them had managed to launch themselves in the dinghy, with a strong current carrying them towards the reef, but they had neglected to take the outboard starter cord. Helen was frantically trying to undo the oars. With no thought to my own safety or enough time to put my underpants over my trousers and paint an “S” on my chest, I set out in the kayak to save the hapless muppets (sorry – damsels!)
We seem to have more than our fair share of dinghy confessions this time around. I suspect that this next one is a case of “you had to be there”, but I’ll try writing it down anyways. I usually drive the dinghy which leaves Helen the task of leaning over the front to pull up the little anchor by the warp. At about this time I gave the outboard and energetic pull on the starter just as Helen leant forward pointing her backside in my direction. Unintentionally, with comic timing, my pull of the starter and Helen bending resulted in a mighty slap of the back of my hand against Helen’s left butt cheek. The really funny thing was that way the kids both said in unison “you know you like it, mum”. I’ve no idea where they picked that up from!
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