Keith Jackson
On this special day, I thought I’d ferret an old diary to recall what I was doing at this time 30 years ago, when I was part way through a two-year assignment for UNESCO in the Maldive Islands…..
Christmas Day. A United Nations holiday, but just another workday in Malé. The kids were awake at 3 am – sitting in bed reading until I sent them back to sleep to greet the day at a more conscionable hour. Sally got a bride doll and Simon a camera. And more. I gave Sue a book on identifying seashells (the clock had not arrived from Singapore) and received a new shirt and some old Maldivian coins. It was the most bountiful Christmas the kids have had. Fitting in the circumstances of an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
A progressive Christmas Party had been organised. The bus didn’t turn up so breakfast at Doug Fysh’s place got off to a late start. It was a mountainous meal when finally served – and not a trace of tuna in it. It set the day’s pattern. Morning tea at Huntingtons then lunch at our place, White Waves, consisting of Plumrose ham and canned vegetables together with a St Emilion claret that tasted a whole lot better slightly chilled than at room temperature. A regal enough feast for this remote part of the world, given that we haven’t had a recent ship.
I crashed in the afternoon, three months of recurring dysentery and fever leaving me vulnerable to even three cans of beer before lunch. Then to the Cable and Wireless bungalow for dinner, but I couldn’t eat. It was a pleasant Christmas Day. People enjoyed it. No heavy drinking – although we all had our share. We chatted, played darts, laughed, finally quitting at 11 pm, walking home along dark sandy streets with the surf rumbling in the background. I fell contentedly into bed.


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