Most Cape Verde islands have something. Fogo has the volcano, São Vicente has music scene, and Sal has best surfing waves. But tiny Maio has nothing of interest.

After the mountain of Santiago, where do you think we chose to go?

Maio is only two hours by ferry boat from Praia, the capital of archipelago. But the boat goes only twice per week, and only if wave isn’t big. We missed the first boat and had to wait several days. Second time we knew better, bought tickets in advance and got on the boat. This man’s boat.

Maybe I should tell you about the island. Maio is tiny. It has shape of a squashed potato. In its center is a small hill, and on its edges are six or so villages, mostly near the sea. You can walk across the island in a day (which one day we end up doing, but this I will tell you later).

Maio has no water. The interior is very dry. Many islands have this problem.

When I walked Maio, I smiled and imagined I was on asteroid B 612. That’s the planet on which the Little Prince lived.

We have no accommodation booked and no plan. Once on Maio, we choose to go to Calheta Baixo. It is random choice. Just a small fishing village. If we don’t like it, we will go elsewhere. But we end up loving Calheta.

When we arrive, we see a small village where, perhaps, nothing ever happens. But it is hard not to notice: homes have colors. And it looks very pretty. Surprisingly, it seems that the tiny Maio is culturally distinct from the neighboring island of Santiago, which is much bigger.

People are surprised seeing two strangers with backpacks. They inquire what we’re up to and help efficiently. Very quickly, we find a room. Everyone knows Djoka. Djoka rents rooms. Djoka greets us and tells us all rooms are free today.

So we decide to spend a week in Calheta, just because. It ends up one of the best weeks ever. Because while nothing ever happens in Calheta, yet so much happens.

Things that initially don’t make sense, then start making a lot of sense.

The day starts with cows. We first did not know Djoka had cows - there was no barn. But cows lived in the bush, and every morning they came to say hello - and drink water. There is no water in the island. So they just showed up and waited at the door. I loved the hippie cow with fantasy horns and made her this portrait.

Then was time for daily shopping. Don’t imagine too much. There is a handful of family-run stores in Calheta, offering limited number of articles you can buy. But every visit in one of those stores is a pleasure. If you walk in, there will be no other clients, just you. Pardon me: there will be more clients, but not “clients” like you think: people who came to buy something, pay and disappear. Instead, you will meet clients sitting on the chairs inside or outside, greeting you, and chatting. You can sit with them too. The shopkeeper will also have time for you.

After breakfast, the local entertainment includes the activity of walking the street up and down. You will soon end up speaking to everyone. Here, a greeting and smile from Djoka’s neighbor.

In Calheta Baixo, I was hoping to hide for a few days and get some work done. I did some, but not much because so much was going on! When I got bored walking up and down the street, there was also a small cafe where I could sit and watch the boats.

This I liked the most. Like in Senegal, boats were painted. But painted in a very different style. They had very beautiful drawings of whales and other sea creatures. These paintings were true artwork.

I noticed the boats parted regularly every morning for the fishing. They were tiny: one fisherman per boat. They did not go far. I saw them operating most of the day within sight.

Now, something peculiar. These were all sail boats. None had engine. I know that for some readers this would not be special. For me it was. I am sailor myself, and I know many other sailors, but I do not know a single fisherman using sail. No matter where I went - Europe, Egypt, Senegal, Malaysia - all fishing boats used Yamaha engines. Fishing required efficiency. Sailing boats were exclusively owned by rich white people who had time for doing nothing.

Here however, in Maio, Cape Verde, the fishermen had sailing boats. It was like time stopped. I watched mesmerized.

About lunchtime, the sails, one by one, turned to the port.

The complete flotilla was five boats only, with five fishermen on board. Small crowd of supporters, mainly women, waited already on the shore. These were wifes and family, but also clients: three of the women were local shopkeepers who needed fish. Altogether, we pushed the boats from the water onto the sand. Everyone helped. The clients helped too in full solidarity. All hands were needed.

I proudly helped too, feeling for a small moment part of this tiny economy. Then I took some pics. One woman told me, half-joking, that I should pay for taking pictures. I responded that she should pay me for pushing the boat ashore. In the end, we agreed on the barter.

Then fish were presented. It was spectacular. The catch was small, but varied: it contained all kinds of fish and all colors of the sea. Here is the catch of one of those five boats.

Then negotiation started. But you had to negotiate quick.

I did not know, and patiently waited for my turn. When I finally said I also wanted some fish, it was too late. All deals were done, no fish left!

But one of the merchants was the owner of our café. So this evening, we will eat fresh fish again.

And so the afternoon was over, and again I did not do any work. In the evening there will be no time either because we would go out to eat fried moreia (eel) and watch sunset.

***

Another day in paradise, and then one more.

We don’t want to move from here.

But maybe there is no outside? Maybe we are the only island?

Really, is there anything outside Maio? Like foreign countries, with presidents?

Share

Post Scriptum

• See what we have done the day before Maio.

• more Cape Verde stories are here

• if you like more style… Paris…?

• Stand with Ukraine. Stand for your values. Stand with other nations who are victims.