Another wave crashes onto the sand as the first light breaks the dark. The morning rooster crows as a fleet of fishing boats get pulled into the water on rolling logs by teams and families of men and boys all lending each other a hand. A coconut drops onto the sand below. The gentleman selling his bread from a bicycle with the shrieking horn cycling by his daily route would have woken you up had you not been surfing. Just another day in Canoa, Ecuador.
In the water the offshore is just light enough to feel on your wet skin. The water is as warm as the stoke in the air. The amigos are hooting after every air, cheering after every barrel and smiling after every wave. You position yourself and start paddling for a perfectly glassy 3ft right-hander; you can hear the excitement from the locals as you stroke in. You look up and your eyes are met with yellow sands, fishing boats, palm trees and hammocks. In the distance, rolling green mountains- much like the Kei- and blue skies. The take off is smooth, the bottom turn is stylish and drawn out, into a snap right in the pocket. Again a bottom turn, this time with more urgency as the wave begins to connect with the sand bank in the river mouth. You manage a quick pump and finish it off with a layback hack. Giovanni, 19, looks at me with complete joy in his eyes and shouts, “Que beuna ola! Una mas?” (What a good wave! One more?”)
[And the waves keep rolling in, and Mother Nature is perfect].
And so the sets roll by, just as does the day. And so, one-by-one the fisherman return to land with their catch: dinner for tonight and maybe a few dollars worth to sell. And so, the Equatorial sun begins to creep away leaving behind a painting of reds, yellows and oranges- just a moment. And only then, do the surfers call it a day, but not yet a night…
[And Mother Nature is good, and the sun sets another day].
Just as the Saturday before, and the one before that, before goes down, the music turns up and the cervezas start flowing in the beach fiestas. In the discotecha next door senor and senorita are doing a hypnotic salsa in the sand. But Saturday the 16th of April 2016 was different to any other Saturday- for just after the sun had left, the chaos snuck in…
At first, just an unmistakable flickering of light -so out of place, yet so normal at the same time. Then, an unstable horizon as if someone had slipped something into my unattended drink- “I’m tripping man!” And finally, the moment where it all makes sense- a monster in the earth wants to be released and I can feel its strength by the rumbling of the ground. Deep and slow at first, but growing and moving up towards me at speed! It’s coming for me; the monster is an earthquake!
I go into survival mode. “Earthquake!” I shout before I could think it. I know I had to get out of the bamboo beach bar I was working in. I can’t remember how, but I can remember why- I wanted to live. Next thing I knew I was in the middle of the sandy dirt road on the beach with 2-3ft waves of earth were coming at us. The first one knocked the group of us two the ground, and the second one made us stay. I remember seeing a motorbike slam into the bar. I did a quick scan and realised that our current position was most probably the safest as there were no high and heavy objects. A second to take it all in, and instinctually proceed to survive.
The residents flee to the safety of the mountains in fear of a tsunami and watch their Canoa change right in front of their very eyes. Buildings have collapsed, people are still trapped or killed. The brave have stayed in the town to help their family and friends. “A man with nothing to lose if the most dangerous man of them all”. Gas bottles explode in the distance, one after the other and six in total- each explosion drawing more suffering, crying and screams, and lighting up the sky in the same red the sun left behind hours before. But no one is listening, and the night is long.
[And Mother Nature is cruel, and the people are alone.]
Death and trauma now roam the street where children, tourists and vendors once did. Giovanni and the amigos are alright. And although they may have lost almost everything they own, and although Kiki had to close down the districts only surf shop, and although they have moved out of town to one of the neighbouring refugee camps, and all though all the tourists can afford the next flight to safety but they can’t. No monster and nothing can take their waves: their therapist, their joy, hope and spirit and the one thing that helps them to forget and forgive.
Giovanni and I are sitting on the beach watching the fishermen ride away from a beautiful pink, purple and red painting. A deserted right hand beach break peels off the river mouth towards us. He gives a little hoot, shakes his head and laughs, “Cuando es beuno, es buenisismo y cuando es malo, es beuno!” When it’s going good, its going great, and when it’s going badly, it’s still good!”.
[And Mother Nature is perfect].
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