There’s the smell of stale cats piss as I enter the mess hall and continue thru to the verandah. Breakfast is included here and quite consistent: 1 omelette drowned in coconut oil, 2 slices of stale white bread and a muddy coffee with milk – when available. Anything else comes at triple the price and there’s never any fruit – because there’s never any fruit.
The cat that rules the joint slides past… an indifferent associate with plenty of self entitlement. You turn your head as chubby cook peers through the door with that one good eye. He offers a smile without any front teeth. The hum of the power plant resonates while brown water laps against the scarred shoreline. Palm leaves sway and thunder cracks as another storm approaches. You sip your coffee containing a dead fly as it drips all over your last clean shirt.
The Captain says we’re leaving today and you believe it – because life could always be worse.
Not that I’m complaining… never that.