Marooned 600km north-east of Mauritius, and close to
no other landform, Rodrigues is a world unto itself. It is also one of the
world's most remote inhabited islands.
I
was certain that something was awry as the plane began its descent into the
little volcanic island of Rodrigues the first time I visited. The Indian Ocean
extended unbroken to the unfathomably vast horizon below. There was no trace of
land, much less a runway large enough to land a 737 safely. What was the
pilot's prediction about where we'd land?
Nothing
can prepare you for arriving in Rodrigues for the first time. Rodrigues is a
world unto itself, 600 kilometers north-east of Mauritius, to whom it belongs,
and isolated from all other landforms. It's also one of the most isolated
inhabited islands in the planet.
Rodrigues
is a bizarre and magnificent location with narrowing, then expanding,
concentric rings of ocean, lagoon, and land as viewed from above on the western
approach. Rodrigues' outside borders are marked by the waves, which encircle a
lagoon of near-perfect blue. The lagoon, in turn, encircles the main island,
which has a long green spine bordered with beaches and surrounded by smaller
islands. Before dropping back into the lagoon, the island climbs to its eastern
top. Then the waves once again announce the resumption of the eternal horizon.
It
would be hard to get out of Rodrigues if it were a prison. Rodrigues'
seclusion, on the other hand, has always been his buddy, shielding him from the
outside world and its commotion.
When
the first ships landed in 1528, Rodrigues became part of human history. There
was no one living on the island at the time, and any passing ships' crews who
came ashore earlier to this date left no trace of their visit. Rodrigues was
located too far south and east of the main commercial routes and trade winds
that linked East Africa to Arabia and Asia. Even when blown off course
Portuguese, Dutch, and French ships sheltered on Rodrigues on a regular basis
during the 16th century, they only lingered long enough to restock their food
supply. Most often, this meant giant tortoises and the solitaire, a fatally
plump bird that sailors quickly drove to extinction, just as they had the dodo
on Mauritius.
In 1691, Frenchman François Leguat arrived on the
island with seven Huguenots, fleeing religious persecution by France's Catholic
government. In his account of his arrival, Leguat wrote that Rodrigues had so
many giant tortoises that "one can take more than 100 steps on their shell
without touching the ground". Leguat and his exiles planned the first
colony on Rodrigues, but the remote location (and lack of women) was too much
for them: after two years, unable to bear the isolation any longer, they built
a boat from driftwood and fled the island, never to return.
These days, Rodrigues' distance from the rest of the
world is central to its charm. In pre-Covid times, nearly 1.5 million tourists
visited Mauritius every year. Barely 90,000 of these (less than 6%) travelled
to Rodrigues. Those that did come found an island that carries echoes of
Mauritius before tourists began arriving.
There are no traffic jams on the island. Nothing
happens in a hurry. Crime is almost non-existent.
"Rodrigues
is a very safe place," said Françoise Baptiste, one of Mauritius'
best-known chefs, who has lived on Rodrigues for 54 years. "Whenever it's
warm, which is often, we sleep with our doors open."
Part
of that sense of safety and security comes from the quiet familiarity of the
place. Rodrigues has a population of fewer than 45,000 people. Unlike the
melting pot demographics of Mauritius' main island, Rodrigues is 90% Creole,
its inhabitants carrying in their past a mosaic of traces from African slaves
and European settlers. "We inherited sega dancing from Africa, afternoon
tea and bacon from the English and pastries from the French," said
Baptiste.
"Rodrigues
is a village," added Laval Baptiste, businessman and Françoise's husband.
"Everybody knows everybody." And while they often have to travel to
the main island of Mauritius, Françoise and Laval always long for the languid
lifestyle of their home island. "We are always very happy to come back
after a few days of rushing around," Laval said.
We
inherited sega dancing from Africa, afternoon tea and bacon from the English
and pastries from the French
Even
Rodrigues' capital, Port Mathurin, rouses into life only occasionally – a
five-minute rush hour; a flurry of minor activity whenever a ship arrives in
port; the Saturday market that is all but deserted by 10:00.
Across
the island, Rodrigues is a place of quiet pleasures.
From
Port Mathurin, the road meanders along the north coast, heading nowhere in
particular, past the tiny settlement of Anse aux Anglais, offering up still
waters and sunset views like the Earth's calm exhalation at the end of a
perfect day.
In
the island's west, an ambitious project at François Leguat Reserve aims to
restore a stretch of the island that slopes gently down to the lagoon's shore.
Over the centuries, settlers and visiting sailors drove the island's tortoises
to extinction and cut down most of the trees. In recent years, those running
the reserve have set the ambitious target of restoring this corner of the
island to resemble, as closely as possible, how Rodrigues appeared in the 17th
Century, before Leguat and his Huguenot friends arrived. To this end, they have
brought in giant tortoises from elsewhere in the Indian Ocean and planted more
than 100,000 trees indigenous to Rodrigues.
Along
the west coast, close to the promontory known as Pointe du Diable, wooden
frames often line the narrow roadside, from which ghostly white octopus limbs
sway in the ocean breeze. Octopus is a centrepiece of Rodrigues culture and a
staple of the Rodrigues table, to the extent that, said Laval, "Each
Rodriguan will eat octopus two or three times a week."
Fishing
for octopus is "mostly practiced by women who are unemployed",
Françoise added. "They do it early in the morning. This way they have time
to do house duties afterwards and contribute to the family budget at the same
time."
Caught
with a harpoon at low tide in the coral shallows of Rodrigues' lagoon, octopus
is something of an island obsession, so much so that the island's authorities
have felt compelled to secure the future of their national dish, a fragrant
octopus curry, by putting measures in place to prevent overfishing. No-one may
fish for octopus from February-March or September-October. During these months,
said Laval, octopus fishers are paid by the local authorities not to fish by
doing other work, including cleaning local beaches.
Chez
Robert et Solange is located on the opposite end of the island, in the little
town of St François. They serve grilled octopus, octopus stew, octopus and
papaya salad, as well as lobster and other fresh seafood, at this ramshackle
beach hut with rustic Rodrigues charm.
I
pretend to study the menu every time I visit Rodrigues and eat at Chez Robert.
I inquire as to what is new. And I find myself looking out to sea through the
palm palms for lengthy periods of time, as though lost in meditation. Then I
order the octopus, which feels like a Rodrigues rite of passage. Every time I
do so, I have the feeling that I'm arriving on Rodrigues for the first time.
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