The World In a Black Dress?

I once spent three months working on an island. This mere speck of land suspended in the Atlantic Ocean is found just off the coast of Cape Town, South Africa and doesn’t look like much from air or sea. In fact, it is critically important.

Home to large populations of important local sea birds, Dyer Island is also a winter haven for many bird species from other continents.

Colonies of Cape cormorants, endangered African black oystercatchers, jackass penguins, skuas and terns all make their home here in one way or another. Nearby Geyser Rock supports a large colony of Cape fur seals and the great white sharks that feed on them. But that is not the point of this story.

Completely cut off from civilization and its comforts, life on an island is not easy. Simple things like water (bottled) and food (vacuum packed and frozen) become intensely valuable. Electric light (there was none) becomes a rather elegant sophistication and flushing toilets (difficult without water) a diamond-ray of luxury. Our one treat was a daily shower in rain water. If indeed you relished dousing your body in cold raindrops. I didn’t.

And so it was that while attempting to avoid my own demise from bacteria and the harsh African sun I set about saving the lives of young penguins by shoving a tube down their throats (a thing they did not thank me for). I tried, also, to save the lives of unborn cormorants, wrapped tightly inside their little shells.

These birds-to-be were at the mercy of an over-population of egg-stealing seagulls. With a bloodthirsty screech they would swoop down, grab an egg, and fly high in the sky, dropping the fragile oval onto the ground to retrieve the tasty embryo within. This is what I did and loved to do. But this, too, is not the point of this story.

The baby penguins eventually got fat enough to be allowed to return to their ‘natural’ environment (the one which nearly killed them) and so did I. Standing on the jetty, scratching my peeling skin (so much for sunscreen), and twisting my straw-like hair over my finger I watched the boat arrive.

Back I would go, to take-away food and traffic lights. As I helped tie the boat to the dock and loaded my backpack onto the deck I wondered which was better: this wholesome land of discomfort or the decadent world of modern conveniences. Still, I was almost home and the penguins would survive without me.

My boyfriend was waiting for me when I got home. In his eager little hands he held (oh magical of all objects) a little black dress. All shiny and strappy was this sexy little scrap of extravagance. I scratched my skin a little more and glanced sidelong at the shower. “Oh! Try it on!” he said, looking like a puppy-dog about to pounce on a Frisbee. So I did, just to please him.

I eased the silky fabric over my sun-scorched body, placing the straps just-so over my flaking shoulders. Sidling up to the mirror I looked for all the world like an old sea hag lurking inside a shiny black cocoon. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and tried not to think.

And then I knew that standing there dressed in something that felt entirely alien to me, I was a little like the world. Festooned in the shiniest of bells and whistles this world fails to hide its history. Like me, it does not forget where it has been. It retains the memory of all the roads traveled and all the battles won and lost.

A few hours later, a little pampering soothed my itching skin. Weeks after, the brown bits peeled off to reveal new, pink flesh. In a few weeks I looked almost like my pre-island self. Still, in the mirror today I saw wrinkles I know that little scrap of island gave me.

And finally I arrive at the point of this little anecdote. It seems to me that just like my boyfriend, eager to dress me in an outfit of his fantasies; we often fail to notice the real presence of the earth as we bury our heads in our own private sandpit. Which brings me to the Big Question: Do we really see the planet we live on?

The aim of “The Lava Lamp” is to illuminate this point somewhat. I am not going to try to answer big questions here, but I am going to ask them. I think we should all be a little more aware of how the natural world affects us - you in your little corner of the world and me in mine, and all of us on one big chunk of molten rock. We need to start thinking and talking about the planet we live on. Just a little bit.