An interesting cargo hit the dock on Gem School’s campus this week. The front loading hatch opened to reveal a company of outer island dwellers and their wares. I unfortunately missed the mass exodus but caught the trailing remnants of handmade burlap sacks filled with coconuts, chickens tethered to string awaiting a glorious destiny with BBQ sauce and fire, friends greeting loved ones they haven’t seen for far too long, geese toted in bent cardboard, and loads of personal goods for sleeping and working.
There were rumors of giant sea turtles, pigs and ducks; precious cargo this boat did carry and there was an excitement in the air as kids perused the goods, played among the hubbub and exchanged laughter and smiles.
As quickly as it started, it trailed off, each person into the vast integral layout of Ebeye, melting into sixteen thousand others like a visitor in Manhattan on a spring day in April. Not a trace that anyone had even been there. No chickens, no coconuts, no laughter to speak of.
Yet somewhere, the grill is roasting, old friends are laughing, and secrets are carried on the salty ocean breezes. Adventure and life are being shared and perhaps someone will be whispering once again, “Goodnight old friend, see you in the morning”.