I've written many times about my time in South Asia, and more specifically about watching the stars on the open ocean. This single event holds the essence of the many emotions that the trip as a whole brought, which is why I write about it so much. I guess.
We walked past the fish market dragging our lives along in backpacks and black tubs. There was sweat dripping down my back as we stood beside Dhoores, the lovely cargo boat that was to be our home for the next 27 hours. After two weeks on the island, it didn’t faze us when we gingerly climbed aboard, that stayed sitting in the harbor for a couple hours for no apparent reason. The Islanders live on a different time schedule than the rest of the world. They do things when they want to, and don’t do things when they don’t want to. We had grown accustomed.
11 strangers had become a tight knit family, of which I was the youngest. The Islands brought us together. We worked together in school during the day, we planned together during the evening, we all slept in a three room flat during the night and all shared the desire to have something besides spicy fried noodles or rice for dinner. We were all there to share a little of the love God had given us, with people that had no idea He even cared. We were one family.
As the sun began to set, we put our phase 10 cards and books away. It was going to be a long night on the fiberglass floors of the 3-4 ft. tall open sided slot that was our domain. It wasn’t a large boat, and there were at least 15 people trying to find some space to curl up in, in our little cubby. The boat started, and we watched the little island that had become home, get swallowed up by the expanse of water.
Darkness was coming fast on the open ocean. Finally we were on our way to our new home. I was excited, but nervous to leave the capital and everything we had grown used to. We were in a small country that is a collection of islands in South Asia, and the very reason we were there was illegal, so going another step outside my comfort zone was not a welcome change. I quickly got bored in the cramped space so I decided to go exploring. I walked on the edge of the boat to the front, and then to the back, watched a friend eat some sketchy looking rice and fish offered to him by some of the boat hands, and then was already out of things to do. But then we learned that if we went through the little half doorway, there was another half doorway to the top of the boat.
When I climbed up, the wind and cooler air were a welcome change to the oppressive heat of the Island. The sun was setting and we were alone on the open ocean. Part of the family came up too and we took pictures and chatted with the sound of the engine drowning out anything we didn’t want the people below us to hear. As the sun set it grew cooler and cooler with the darkness, and then we looked up.
A blanket of stars covered the sky. There were so many that they blotted out the dark backdrop behind them. When I looked up, the sheer beauty blew me away. We all lay down and just stared and reveled in the beauty of the Creator. Then the singing began. For two weeks, the closest thing to singing our hearts out to Dad was humming along with our ipods, so we let our voices loose. The waves hitting the bow and the roar of the engine intertwined and gave our hearts courage to raise our songs in praise.
We stayed there for hours. All I could think of were the people below us that saw the very same stars, yet did not see the love, power and hope they represented. The stars were screaming, yet all they could hear was the prayer call five times a day. It was as if they couldn’t see the stars at all, they were blind to the truth they held. Blinded by lies they have been drowning in since birth. Those same lies will drown their children, and their children’s children, until someone finally tells them of the truth behind the beauty.
