Running on the Lake part 1
It’s like magic to be able to float on a boat at sunset, surrounded by these dark faces, smiley, with red beetle nut encrusted teeth. We are floating on the waters, and the sun is dying and bleeding purple yellow all around us, gushing molten light falling from the slopes of the mountains on the two sides.
Like a jewel encrusted in a rugged metal shape, Inlay Lake’s waters shine opulent with mystic colors and gentle waves, while skinny dark faced people run on it. Yes, I said run, because there is no other word to describe how these long canoes float on the waters spinning at the rhythm of a particular leg rowing technique that made the Intha fishermen people worldwide famous.
They stand on the front of the boat and row with one leg, pushing a huge long basket alike fishnet with one hand, and using a stick to make the fish running in it, before pulling it back up. They stand like small figures on the surface of this huge, dark lake as if they were walking on it, constellating its sides with dark arms and legs in business.
We are floating, engine off, rocking to the waves below us, and these people float around us, watching. It’s impossible to refrain from snatching pictures, because the situation looks too unreal to be easily forgotten, and therefore we all try to take back with us some of its immortal majesty and watery eternity. To my surprise, these fishermen are not annoyed and instead, smile and pose as if there was no tomorrow, as if they wanted to sink into our lenses to foster a legacy of dreams into some other countries’ framed pictures. I really think this is what will happen, eventually, in my house. We talk to them, helped by the cheerful boatman that now is lying on the back of the boat, enjoying the sunset while sucking on a chain smoking frenzy.
“How old are you?”
“I’m 24 years old”
“How many fish did you catch today?”
He plucks up one little fat fish from underneath the net, showing it to us.
“Just one”
“And what are you going to do with that? Selling it?”
“No no, this is for my family”
“And how many kids do you have?”
“One kid” he smiles, showing red teeth that look like a natural fang, coming out of the gums.
“And is that going to be your meal?”
“Yes, not very good fishing today”
A floating man crouching on the top of another canoe stares at us from under a big hat. His young son is sitting at the back, rowing a bit, to make the canoe approach ours. He said he has 5 sons, and he just caught a couple fish today.
Our boatman sits and talks, looking at the far away sky that is turning the color of a deep wound.
“You see, my government is crazy”
TO BE CONTINUED
