Dive Right In!

If you were a girl growing up in America in the early ’90’s, you were probably a fan--if not a fanatic--of Lisa Frank. Lisa was a genius graphic designer who captured the hearts and minds of most females 12-and-under for over a decade. She did this with a hallucinogenic worldview that involved splashing cute and cuddly animals with melty, dreamy, electric colors. Her images were pasted onto every school supply I ever owned. No pen, pencil, or trapper-keeper was exempt from the fantasy.

Having not thought of her for years, I suddenly realized that I was living a Lisa Frank wonderland in Mayotte. On any given day, I swam with sea turtles, frolicked with dolphins, ogled at clown fish, and cuddled with lemurs. It all came clear when a local informed me that the main island, Grande-Terre, is shaped like a seahorse. I kept looking for a “Lisa Was Here!!!” neon pink-purple sea otter tattooed onto a rock or tree.
Of many grand “Lisa Frank Moments” during my time in Mayotte, a highlight was my first dive. We were taken to the far reaches of the lagoon, near a coral formation called “Passe en S.” It is an extensive reef shaped like a--can you believe it--S! All of the master divers jumped in and got underway, but the first-timers waited for one-on-one dives with our guide, Patrick. I somehow got voted to go last, which gave me over an hour to contemplate the concept of breathing underwater, and put me at a point where I quite nearly wet my wetsuit.

Finally Patrick came for me. Because I was so anxiously worked up at that point, I did some panicked breathing and almost drowned. Fortunately Patrick hurled me above the surface, yelled, “Get a grip!” and pushed me back under. I did just fine after that. We had a beautiful tour of the ocean floor: I brushed my hand over the most gluey, dancing, neon red sea anemone (which I named Lisa) and made faces with some really ugly eels.

The rest of the stay floated on, I saw octopuses, sting rays, and even sea turtles laying their eggs on the beach late one night. I was so inspired that I came back and opened my own competitive graphic design company. Nah, just kidding, Ma! But I do think it was all pretty surreal...

Patrick and I after my graduation ceremony

This is Mayotte

Mayotte is a French territory--recently voted a department--located between Madagascar and Mozambique. It is a small island, geographically part of the Comoros archipelago. The population is primarily Maoré, a Muslim people, descendants of East Africa. French colonization has seen rise to a small white European expat community there.

The land boasts a rich and savage nature. It is a volcanic island like Reunion, but thousands of years older, resulting in much lower mountain reliefs and flourishing, extensive coral barrier reefs. While Reunion has a significant coral lagoon enclosing 5 km of the west coast, Mayotte blows the competition out of the water with a lagoon surrounding the entirety of the island. It is a water wildlife paradise: dolphins, sea turtles, sting rays, octopus, and every tropical fish in the book team through these waters. Because the island is protected from the open ocean, there is no concern of larger predators like sharks, and the waters are still and calm--if you’re looking to
catch waves, this is not the place!

Mayotte looks socially and economically like what Reunion Island may have looked like 40 years ago: it has yet to see the hand of westernization. With French departmental status, however, that is expected to change. The land is undeveloped, peaceful, verdantly green. Many parts of the island have only recently been hooked up to the electrical grid and virtually no one has internet in their homes. There is a very limited agricultural infrastructure in place: 98% of goods and wares are imported. Bananas and manioc are in abundance, but beyond that, you better know a good fisherman!

In this primarily Muslim society, husbands still practice polygamy (although it has officially been banned under French law) and families are large. The population is growing rapidly, and as a result, is quite young. There is a reservedness of the people of Mayotte, most everyone keeps to themselves and outsiders are regarded wearily. Women wear beautiful, colorful fabrics, the city streets--as well as the rural routes--are splashed with color, people walking distances to reach family, friends, and work.

While some locals live comfortably on Mayotte, this is hardly the case for most. There are blatant extremities between rich and poor, black and white. At the end of our stay, we were picked up hitchhiking by a French guy driving a shiny blue BMW. He drove us from downtown Mamoudzou to the place where we had left our bags in Kaweni. This particular route led us through some really tough areas, places where rain had hollowed out the roads, only cratered muddy flats were left, and children were sitting idle and alone in front of ratty, fallen down homes. The question we all asked ourselves afterward was, why would you need or want to drive a BMW in this place? The racial divide was very noticeable; from an outsider’s perspective it was hard to ignore images of rich vs. poor, colonizer vs. colonist.

An additional issue on Mayotte is its proximity to the other islands in the Comoros, significantly worser off than their (comparably) wealthy French neighbors. There are over 20,000 arrests a year on Mayotte, police are constantly battling unauthorized immigration. Driving around the island, you can see endless check points where authorities stop cars to verify immigration status. There is a palpable tenseness that exists on this island: it begins locally and extends to the foreign politics that lap on Mayotte’s shores.

A socially complex but naturally beautiful place, both humbling and inspiring. We spent nine days there getting to know the land, the sea, the people, and the rhythm of a life that beats so far away from home.

Touchdown in Mamoudzou

Austria, Germany, and America headed to Mayotte at the beginning of March for a week of sunny exploration in a forgotten corner of the earth. We spent our days combing the reefs of the Mozambique Canal and swimming with sea turtles in the Indian Ocean. A colorful place, rich with nature, filled with human complexity, as removed from the rest of the world as I have ever felt.

Customs officials really like Germanic blonds, they also consider American passports the collectors editions of border control, so the three of us were able to do pretty much whatever we wanted once we touched down. This included but was not limited to bringing another person's baby into the country. Susanne and I sat next to an overwhelmed mother on the plane who promptly handed off little Abdi here as soon as the seatbelt light turned off. "I'll meet you in the taxi area," she said, as she raced off to hit baggage claim. Susi was goo-goo-ing and ga-ga-ing with the little guy while I promptly began to panic about going to jail for smuggling small children.

My fear was unfounded. The border police were so blinded by Susi's blondness, they didn't even see the baby. And then my passport caused a back up of 10 minutes because everyone in the office needed to come and see, hold, pat, and caress a piece of paper with an American eagle on it. The biggest relief was that Abdi's mother was in fact waiting at the taxi stand when we exited the airport and my half hour as a panicked father (I was playing the role of the logistical stern-faced one), ended.

Because of a mix-up, Austria had arrived a day ahead of Germany and I. At the precise moment where Susi and my parenthood ended, Sophie, our welcoming committee, arrived with customary chains of jasmine that were placed in our hair. It was nice having such a seasoned guide since figuring out the airport is a project. Mayotte is composed of two islands: Petite-Terre, where the airport is located, and the main island, Grande-Terre where most of the population lives. In absolute torrential rain, we managed to crowd into an over crowded taxi, cross Petite Terre, huddle with the masses under a small awning, and board the barge that took us to the heart of the capital, Mamoudzou.