The Ragamuffins

“Lagoon”

A`twa! I’d like to share an Adventure with you.

My American name is Frank Monte. Years ago, in a blue lagoon in the tiny Seychelles Islands off the Coast of Madagascar, I was scuba diving in the clear, tropical fish-tank like waters, watching colored rainbows of yellow, blue-red-silver fish swimming, one moment everywhere, then gone! All gone-vanished!

Confused, not understanding until glancing downwards to see the rowboat-sized shadow image of a fifteen-foot Mako Shark pass over-above me, grinning full bellied, as it glided smoothly away.

I don’t remember leaving the water or even how or when I did so! However, it doesn’t really seem to matter now, for all I know and remember, is that to this day, I try not to swim with the sharks, yet love char-broiled shark, whenever I’m depressed or bored, or just plain hungry for a good taste of life; I relish the act of consuming my fears, char-broiled preferably. Yes.  

The Island Pearls of the Sea  -

I looked about the beach- it was sparkling white! I’d never seen anything so beautiful in New York City, except, in the movies, and here I was, swimming not in the slime green cesspool of the East River of New York City, but the clear blue green warm waters of the Indian Ocean. And so shook my head in wonder and grinned at my good fortune as I unloaded my scuba gear into the back seat of an old MG convertible that I’d recently bought.  Feeling, as if an adventure story was about to be projected onto the screen of my mind as I got behind the wheel of the right hand driven British automobile and went through the gears, pushing my speed, as I rounded a curve. Still smiling, I hit a boulder sized green coconut and spun out into a figure eight, the car frame screaming at the jammed coconut, between the exhaust muffler and the ground. Finally the muffler gave out and the roar of the engine drowned out the laughter of the nearby natives and jungle sounds along the highway beach.   A comptolie, or beach party, was loudly being attended by several hundred natives not two hundred yards from where I’d spun out, and yet luckily, no one had seen or heard my foolish disaster!  I got out of the disabled car and walked toward the beach party for possible assistance.

Walking up to it I immediately noticed a young woman with her back towards me. Her dark black hair went past her curved hips, in that provocative way that I’m sure Adam had seen, when he’d met Eve. And was totally unprepared when she turned slowly around and spoke English, in a soft French accent, saying: “My name is Nicole” To me she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met, and her every move held me with its simple beauty and honesty of character. I’d finally met my kind of woman. I chased her, she ran, I ran, then walked slowly, coming to a stop at the end of a year of love making, swimming, scuba diving, sailing and deep sea fishing, and “Lo-A`twa Cheri” Still more passion! We talked, walked and danced in one of the most exotic places on earth; the Island Pearls of the Sea, the “Seychelles” of the Indian Ocean. And where after a year being reassigned to a new mission, my world finally slowed, and so found myself aboard a Ship steaming West.

West, away from the islands and across the Indian Ocean, toward Fort Jesus, Mombassa, Kenya, East Africa-where and as the old passenger ship cut the blue, green sea; Dolphins swam in the wake of our ships Bow breaking surf. Standing on the bow of the cruise ship; solemnly, forlornly thinking, and slowly, slowly sipping Scotch Drambuie, while watching the Dolphins swim away into the white foam of the blue green Sea that split and parted into a “V” as we moved forward-forward through a School of Silver, Flying Fish, forward towards the rushing intrusion of 20th century Kenya, Africa.

Stunned, in awe, hypnotized by the flying fishes flight, until looking about the Ship, suddenly, abruptly--Musing, spontaneously loudly exclaiming: “A`twa! Pointing the way toward what?”

Immediately sheepishly smiling at the nearby startled passengers, then walking away while silently, quietly reflecting: O.K. the way toward what! A Bold or Noble idea-of what? Once landed in Mombassa, Kenya, Africa, I’m to fly half way around the world to the United Nations complex in New York City, for further instructions. Yet-Who-exactly, are these people of the Ragamuffins?

Damn! I Think I was born-a little crazy! How did this get started & how do we trap, or survive -- ourselves? Trying to find Answers, to Questions I’d not ever thought of-nor had even known to exist before! And so sat down on a nearby folding deck chair. Confused I thought about a letter I had received just a week ago. It was from an old friend I’d known from when I was just an eighteen year old Airman stationed in Southeast Asia.