Jorhat to Majuli

I’m bursting for a wee. I’ve been holding it in now for about two hours and I really can’t put it off any longer. Problem is, I’m staying in a traditional Assamese bamboo house and the only “facilities” here is a hole in the ground. Look, even I can cope with that but this house is fifteen feet off the ground. Supported on bamboo poles and that’s a long drop, when you’re taking a drop, so to speak. Even that I can cope with. What I can’t cope with are the six billion mosquitoes that have made the bathroom their home for the night.

I moved off from Jorhat at about eight fifteen am after a hearty breakfast of two fried eggs, tea and toast. Most civilised! A ten minute journey later and we stop down a dirt track on the way to the ghat from where to catch the ferry to Majuli (pronounced Mazuli) Island, We’ve stopped here because I’m to be introduced to Manooj’s (see, I was wrong with that spelling too) maternal cousin. Bless them they’re really nice people and want me to stop for some food and drink. Unfortunately, I’ve a ferry to catch. So we bid them a fond farewell and away we’re off once more. Down at the ghat, it’s a hive of activity and I’m mercifully left to my own devices. I take the opportunity to photograph as much as possible. It’s fascinating.

Jyoti soon arrived on the incoming ferry and in no time at all we’re setting sail for the island. Majuli Island is in the middle of the Brahmaputra river and is the largest inhabited river island in the world. I;m a mine of useless information aren’t I? It’s also homed to twenty two satras, which are monasteries dedicated specifically for vaishnites. If I’ve spelt that wrong, tough! It’s roasting on the top deck and my shaved head is soon burning like a red hot coal. Why did I not bring a cap? Because I’m thick that’s why. After an hour’s journey we disembark and rive up the dustiest road I’ve ever been on. It’s like the Dakar rally as a host of 4x4’s jockey for position and, horns blaring, jostle for the lead.

I’m taken to Jyoti’s office where his cook has prepared lunch in my honour. Bless them. Despite having nowt they’re always keen to share what they do have. I have a hearty Assamese meal of rice, spuds, pumpkin, dal, soya bean and egg curry. I pass on the egg plant, bloody vile stuff. From there it’s off to my bamboo jungle hut for the night. It’s damned impressive but that bathroom certainly wasn’t designed by Magnet. There’s no running water either, so there’s a hand pump to get water up direct from a bore hole for tomorrow’s shower. I really must stop talking about bathrooms and water; it’s doing my bladder no good at all.

Out at three and we’re visiting a Mising village. The Mising tribal people came to Majuli from Arunachal Pradesh ooooh, a while back. They have a village elder that I had to speak to before looking around the village. But he wasn’t in, so we walked about regardless. I was warned not to take pictures of the women, which is fair enough. We stopped and chatted to some womenfolk who were bashing a load of rice with a couple of big sticks. They were separating the chaff from the actual rice. Looked bloody hard work to me and I think I’ll just carry on going to Asda for my rice if that’s ok? Two minute later and there’s a terrible oinking and squealing coming from the yard outside one of the huts. Thye’re killing a pig for a festival tomorrow. Yes, I know it’s normal. I know it’s what happens. There are no Morrisons out here. But it’s still not nice to listen to.

Anyroad up, back to the plot, thin enough as it is. Jyoti had bought some sweets for the Mising children and he gave them to me to distribute. Bugger me; I’ve never see so many kids in my life. It’s pretty obvious what the TV-less Mising people get up to at night to pass the time! A bit further into our stroll and I’m offered Apong. Home brewed rice beer. I’m tempted but when I find out it’s only 2%, I politely decline. Well, my wee is stronger than that first thing in the morning! By this time, my head can be seen from space it’s pulsating that much. Kids walk by saying, “Hello Mr. Swan Vesta” God it’s painful and still we have one more visit to make. We drive a little while until Jyoti tells the driver to stop. Up there in a tree is a flock of storks ready to settle down for the night. How good is that? I completely forget about my tomato head for a good ten minutes!

Back to my room and just as I’m looking through the photos from the day… we have a power cut! Bugger!! Night comes fast round these parts and within fifteen minutes, it’s pitch dark outside. Now I know I’m am useless but, I hope, not totally so. Dusk/night in the jungle means mosquitoes. I cover myself in “Jungle formula” insect repellent and then remember about my shaved head (have you noticed, I’m avoiding using the word bald?) The little sods will bite anywhere, so I cover my head in repellent too. What a mistake. The repellent must have then irritated the sunburn. Good God, the pain was incredible! I could have put my head in a pan of boiling cheese fondu and it would have been a relief compared to this! I ran to the bathroom and pumped for all I was worth. That was to get some water up. Just in case you thought it were the lentils playing their part again. I poured the water over my head with the villagers thinking it must be some curious UK custom to have a red headed man, screaming and throwing water over him. Watch this space; they’ll all be doing it tomorrow.

Ah, talking of tomorrow it’s the Hindu festival of Holi. The local musicians are practising even as I type. Holi is the festival of colours and folk take great delight in showering everyone with different coloured powders. Should be good for a few pics I reckon. Right, I can put it off no longer. It’s nine pm and time for bed. I’d better make a dash to that bathroom and do the business. Let’s hope the mossies make straight for my head. If there’s any justice, a good wind (lentils again) and any bit of luck they’ll burn their noses and toeses.