On Coconuts...
One thing Nanuya has in abundance is coconuts. I'll admit I didn't know that much about them before I got there, but after a couple of weeks of life in the South Pacific, my list of useless knowledge is growing... The island is covered in palm trees growing coconuts of all different ages. Coconuts don't come straight from the tree like Bounty Bars, OH NO! The hard, round coconuts you get from pikeys at the fair are also a later stage on how they come from the tree. When they're young, they have a thick green outer skin which gradually gets thicker, tougher and browner as the coconut inside grows to be the one you get from the fair-folk. Then it gets over-ripe and falls from the tree, possibly killing a passer-by. On the death certificate - Death-by-coconut.
One evening as the sun was going down, we decided to try to break into one. It couldn't be that hard, we'd seen locals do it in about 5 minutes.
After about an hour of stabbing, sawing, throwing, stamping, filing, clawing and generally using as many of the tools on my Leatherman as possible to try and break through the dense, rope like husk which clung to the coconut like like it'd been welded there. I finally managed to rip out the coconut inside!
Now I had the coconut out of its protective husk, the next task was to get at the sweet, sweet coconut juice. I tried using the cork-screw of a Swiss-army knife which somebody lent me so they could use my Leatherman to get into their small brown nemesis. After a few minutes of prodding and twisting at the three little holes on top, I was still no further to quenching my thirst. I decided to to switch tools to the little pointy thing next to the corkscrew. One quick jab and I'll be in.
Obviously I'd forgotten that Swiss Army knives don't have a locking mechanism to keep the blade in place. Stupid inferior multi-tools. As the coconut rejected my last ditch punch and the blade collapsed shut onto my index finger, cutting me down to the bone, "You're a tit Kingsnorth" went through my head.
I clasped down on the end of my finger and thanks to the expert first aid capabilities of (soon to be) Doctor Lucy (and Maria for the anti-septic cream) I was bandaged up and survived my foolish cut.
When I got back from the makeshift ER in the dorm, I finally managed to make a small hole in the coconut. A little bit of juice flew out as I pierced a second hole, allowing the insides to flow out. As everyone sat around expectantly, I put my mouth up to the rough shell on the coconut and took a well earned drink of the...
...bile like acidic yet still vomitously sweet and vaguely coconut tasting liquid that was inside. I almost wretched. I jumped out my chair and spat the putrid juice out over some plants away from everyone else.
Tui came out with a big fuck off machete type thing and laughing at our efforts, knocked the coconut open, exposing a second, soft, white, tiny coconut inside. I'd just drunk from the womb of a freak pregnant coconut!
I think this also may have contributed to my humourously explosive diarrhea over the next few days, but thats another story (I've also found out coconuts in large doses have a laxative effect).
Anyway. The next day, I was shown up by a 7 yr old and his Grandad who showed us how to get into a coconut properly.
Step 1:
Get a 7 yr old to scoot up a tree like a monkey and pick a nice young green coconut.
Step 2:
Get Grandad to take the top off said coconut with a huge butchers knife (I must write to Leatherman and tell them they need to make a big fuck off meat cleaver attachment).
Step 3:
Realise that after 6 months of traveling you've finally learnt how to look cool in photos.
