Kitesurfing on Mana

After a week in the doldrums, the wind arrives unexpectedly on Mana. Mana is the Fijian word for magic. The wind is exactly the same: just right for my kite, not too much, not too little, a little gusty, but easy to ride even with a three-year-old kite. Within two days I can get out into the bay for a few hours.

The wind and waves are good for jumping. Joost, a nice Dutchman, takes some of the best pictures in eight years of kiting. Thank you very much! My jumps are getting higher and higher. I’m currently working on the third floor. No big tricks, just as high as possible. A sailing boat arrives, and the speed cat. I drive right through it, take off and all the tourists shout “Higher, more”.

Meanwhile, I’m just wishing that the wind would blow me away to distant shores. Mana is marvellous, but it goes up and down quite a bit due to the lively nightlife. Just like kitesurfing. A beautiful afternoon must sometimes be followed by a dreadful night. I had two of both within a week.

I swim a lot and far, at least an hour every day. Today for the first time all the way out to the outer reef break, about 1km oneway. After that, my head is at rest. Many divers and fishermen tell me about sharks. I don’t see any and trust in the prophecy of a long life by the palm reader from Hollywood Boulevard.

The neighbouring hostel offers me 9 days free board and lodging for a small homepage. I accept and move in the middle of the night from a dorm where I can no longer sleep to the next hostel. Two people come up to me and ask what I’m doing. I manage to grin: “Moving. Good night.”

I spend the rest of the night drinking kava with some villagers. I look at my reflection in the constantly refilling kava cups. The master of ceremonies calls the radio and says: “A song is about to come on for us.” The dedication to our five names follows just three minutes before the song. I can’t believe it, so he repeats the trick again, with the same effect.

He has asked for Lucky Bune, a reggae singer from South Africa. He was fatally shot by three bullets four days ago in Johannesburg. I’m guessing not in the heart. I go to bed at four. When I wake up, my watch shows exactly 9:11.