Wouldn’t exactly say it was the most exciting day ever, but it did get me going. Today was my first day in diver training school. Got up this morning at a very reasonable 8am, with time to spare before my 8:45 class in town. Took my sweet time getting up too, snoozed a few times more than what I would have liked to.

At 8:40 I arrived at Borneo Diver’s training headquarters in Menara Jubili. For ease of reference, people always call it the Stamford building, even though they’re just a tenant there. Most visible tenant I guess. Anyway, they’re located on the entire 9th floor, and the offices seem modern enough. The training room is basic, equipment with training room like things. Mandatory white board, a TV and DVD set for playing training videos on, a computer, and table littered with thick files and Scuba gear. The walls are adorned with dated pictures of underwater life, and even more dated PADI Chart and features damn strong coffee, Milo and tea in the corner of the training room.

I was ushered into the room with about 8 other students. An English group under Raleigh International here to get certified too, so that they can go and plant corals as part of a community outreach type of programme. I didn’t talk much, just went straight to my seat. Didn’t feel like meeting new people, didn’t feel like reaching out or connecting. I got the manual and started reading before they played instructional video. There are 5 chapters in total, and we were aiming to make it through 1 to 4 today, because we have to go do something diving in order to complete the last.

Last night before I came home I had some time to kill, waiting for traffic to die off a little. It’s school holidays, so I knew it wouldn’t take too long. I browsed a bit on Scuba diving and read a lot of the theory we covered today, so it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, which made it easier to absorb. There’s always pressure when there’s a fun determining test on the other side of an activity. You have to pass the test with a reasonable mark otherwise you have to resit and if you fail no license. Aspiring to high standards as I do, I’d like to score perfect on the test of course. Haha. I like acing tests, because I never did in school, although I knew I had the ability. I was too lazy, and I’m not lazy now.

At intervals, coffee breaks and the like, I imagined myself going on to become a diving instructor. Not a bad job ya. But I had to curb my enthusiasm, because i need to see how it goes first. There was some questions about nasal passages, allergies, hay fever and the like, which I denied having because then you have to go for a medical. I do sometimes suffer from them, but to be fair, here in Borneo I don’t. So I’ll have to see how it goes with equalising the pressure when you go diving, because it’s then when your lying ways will be brought to light in the most painfullest of ways. I’ll get excited about where I can take this if I do well under water.

My most favourite part of the entire course was when we were introduced to the diving tables where you have to work out how much nitrogen you’ve still got left over in your system, which affects your subsequent dives. It was a little technical, logical and fun to get my head around. I mis-calculated one, only because my finger went along the wrong row, and the other 4 I managed to work out quickly. I pledge to go over the things again at some stage tonight, so that I’m all rearing to go come tomorrow. We’ll be departing from the Sutera Harbour Marina at 8.45 tomorrow.

I’ll be there early.

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Long, long ago, I do believe it was while I was in South Africa after I returned from Sabah following the Xyf saga, I had thought about getting my diving certification.

I was working for Flight Centre SA at the time and one of my clients was a young lad buying a ticket to Australia and onwards to America. He had gained a job in Disney World as a diving instructor on one of their cruises. It paid damn good money. He was in South Africa at that time to do his Dive Master Certification in the Two Oceans Aquarium, Cape Town, in the shark tank of all places.

I was then tickled by the prospect and approached a few opertors. It was however a tad beyond my budget at the time and the interest waned a bit.

Coming back here to Sabah rekindled the interest for a few reasons. First, I met up with some guests with whom I got chatting and they asked whether I was a diver. When they heard I wasn’t, they lamented me for being in one of the top diving destinations in the world and not taking advantage of the opportunity. I saw their point, but was wrapped up in work and didn’t really persue the idea then either.

It was only when I was absorbed into the circle of friends by a journalist I know through work that I finally got inspired. She always gets really excited when she talks about the underwater world and all the experiences she’s had diving in the Phillipines, Thailand and, not sure she actually dove there, Vietnam. She’s also been around Sabah multiple times and is, in fact, today returning from a 4 day trip to Mabul and Sipidan, one of the top dive sites in the world.

It also so happened that we are starting to look for content for the next issue of the Harbour Herald, and as I contribute to it in variang degrees, I pondered what to write about. I then had the brilliant idea to write a story based on my experience and after the Boss agreed, I contact the two dive operators stationed here at our Resort.

After some chats and assessments, tomorrow I will attend day 1 of the 4 day Open Water Diver Certification with Borneo Divers, and will write a few articles, and I mean several articles, related to my experience. I will be joining the group from Raleigh International who is doing the same course in their bid to later on use their new skills to plant corals in the Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park which is located just off shore from the Resort here.

So, it’s going to be quite an experience. In addition to the articles that I will be writing, there will be a press release as well as the updates in this Blog, so this experience will sure generate a lot words. At the same time, our Resort is also hosting the PADI Course Director’s Course, the highest level you can attain in the PADI certification tract and the entire Harbour Herald might just be consumed by diving related stories. Suits me like a dive mask.

So, tomorrow at 8.45 I’ll be reporting for duty. Can’t wait.

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And so another birthday has come and gone. Of course, there will be plenty of detail (still celebrating, busy can’t talk now), but I just thought I would share this treasured gift.

All I will say is ‘damn those butterflies!’

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The sun didn’t come up today. Morning had broken, but the sun was not there. I drove to work and noticed only black cars, white cars and those coloured cars which are almost colours, but aren’t really. Without the sun my day had no colour. Nothing bright. The trees were dull gray, the ground they grew from black. Their leaves looking like it was covered with dust, drowning out the colour, turning the leaves into the colour of the inside of a disused furnace. The road was blacker than usual, the lines not white, but gray, stretching off into the smoggy distance.

I got to the round-about where I was expecting the colour of Chinese New Year decorations to liven up my bland day, but there wasn’t. Instead, on the off-white grass grew light gray flowers and from the black wires suspended above hung black lanterns. The dome of the mosque was dull, matte gray. Behind it I could see the cloudless sky, but even that was a pale light black.

I drove past the golf course, drab and life less, silt drifting on the golf course lake, making it obvious that beneath the dark black surface there was no light, there was no life. Hope had drowned there before. The parking garage looked like it always does, different shades of gray, devoid of light and dusty. Rubbish lay about, shades of black and white. At the staff entrance plumes of gray smoke drifted slowly upwards, smokers, chefs and stewards in their black and white uniforms, engineering in their black overalls, dragging from their cigarettes in equal slow motion, voices muffled and inaudible, white teeth behind gray lips which could have been smiling. I didn’t notice.

My black shoes made empty sounds on the dull surface of the gray tiles of the dimly lit corridor, neon lights hanging overhead, emitting bright gray rays, accentuating the grayness of the walls. My office had turned monochrome too, like bad reception on the public channel. White noise drowning out laughter and morning greetings, every sound recorded on a cassette tape being played too slow. My gray cup of coffee with the three table spoons of white sugar tasted bland and bitter.

I walked past the Marina on the way to my morning meeting, the dark gray water of the marina basin, although clear, but clearly lifeless and without fish. The fish had left, went looking for love elsewhere. Rubbish littered the corner where rubbish usually litters the corner; chips wrappers, chocolate bar wrappers, empty drinks bottles and unidentified pieces of junk floating about in a black and white collage. The black rocks glimmering in the absence of the sun which wasn’t burning down on my light gray head.

The coconut trees lining the boardwalk, hunched over with their shoulders dropped, their dull leaves drooping, the coconuts hanging in a way tears hang on the eyelids of the sad, waiting to accumulate enough momentum to roll down cheeks. The water of the swimming pool, slowly dripping from one level to another, molasses running down the side of gray waffle.

The morning meeting had many people talking deep and slow, unhappy voices emitting white noise. Moments laps and the tape speeds up, but the colour still devoid the scene. The lobby, full of people, shades of black on the floor, shades of white on the pillars, plants and water dull, slow and gray.

I was busy today, my colourless day – the work kept my mind on work, the absence of the sun didn’t seem to bother me so much when work occupied my mind. The absence of colour didn’t matter when I typed Word documents and read my emails, black letters on white backgrounds, keyboard with it’s white letters on the black background. The mouse is black, the screen is black, even my mouse pad is dark gray.

Just before I left for home a few rays of sunshine shone on me and briefly colour touched me. But like the glint in the eye of a beautiful girl, temporarily transfixed in the gaze of a young boy at the traffic light while she’s on the bus and he’s on a push bike, all to soon it too was gone. The sun disconnected, the colour went off line.

I drove home in my black car with the gray seats on a dark asphalt road with white markings. I got caught at the traffic light on gray, stopped on black, and crossed when it turned light black. At home I parked in the gray driveway, opened the black gate and stepped onto the white tiles of the living room with it’s gray walls. The stairs were dull and black, my bed a pit of despair.

And as a sunless sunset brought dusk upon my day, the white moon was already announcing the arrival of the black night from the east. At least, at night, everything is supposed to be black and white.

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Tomorrow I’m bloody well buying myself some industrial strenght ant-killer.

I just had a fair hairraising experience with a colony of what, fire ants (?) which luckily I won. But only just. I’m a recycler. I recycle. My kitchen is sort of out side. Actually, the area where I cook and the washing basin is in room with no glas where the windows are, but it’s practically outside. In the one corner is where I rinse whatever cans I use and let it dry before usually stompping it before I add it to my humble collection in the storage space under the stairs for eventual recycling.

This week has been busy and I haven’t been a) at home all that much an b) if I was home I certainly didn’t cook or otherwise use the kitchen. Last weekend I did have a tinned coffee and there was a Jolly Shandy can which appeared from somewhere as well. They were all rinsed, of course.

This evening I was cooking for myself as TLG had already passed out. Whilst my broth was simmering away on the stove, I saw about 6 or so ants on the top of the can, frozen. I looked at them closely and saw their antlers move and thought wow, looks like they’re standing guard. Then I noticed that the hole of the can had been closed up by little sticks and feathers and stuff an only one tiny hole remained. “Did an ant colony move into my recycle cans during the week?”, I thought to myself. I poked the can’s tab with a fork and suddenly one of the guards sprang into action and starter running around the top of the can trying to find the intruder. After a few seconds of scanning he returned to his post. “Interesting”, I mumbled to myself as the little boy in me became fasinated.

I poked at the can a little harder and this time all the ants sprang into action and patrolled not only the top of the can, but also the sides. Eventually though they returned once more to their positions. I’ll spare you the gory details, but seeing their effeciency and how organised they were, frankly scared me a little. These were big ants too, not your normal pissy little house-ants. Long story short, I rolled up a piece of paper and there was fire involved. The ant litterally popped as I brought the fire next to it and whatever popped out of it was flamable and caused a tiny burst of fire.

Sensing the heat, some ants hastily appaered and I realised there must be a few inside the can. I ran the burning end of the paper roll up the side of the can and the heat sent a whole bunch of them coming out. There was some juice boxes and a few empty bottles around the can, so I cleared them away to isolate the can and give me some space to move. As I did this, I accidentally knocked over the thin, tall coffee tin and revealed another group of 6 ants. At first, they were frozen too, but the moment the can fell over, not only did they spring into action, but ants started pouring out of the can as well.

I was panicked at the sight of all these huge ants streaming out of the two cans and I don’t have any insecticide either. I realised i had stepped in the prevarbial shit and now I was up the creek without a paddle, or ant spray. I dashed into my recycle room with visions of gigantic ants behind me, grabbed a newspaper, rolled up a sheet and lit it over the gas stove. With the burning paper I began to firewipe the surface over which the ants had spread, popping as they go, causing little flashes of fire as they did. I sensed the cans were chock full of ants and with the tip of the fork quickly moved the cans onto the gas stove with their openings facing the flame. I could hear the ants pop inside and every now and again a little fire ball would jump out the mouth of the can. I picked up the coffee tin first and emptied it’s contents into the basin.

Out fell easily 50 black, ant bodies and at least twice as many things that looked like rice crispies, but what I imagine were egg pods. It made a rather large pile in the basin, and it scared the shit out of me. I quickly took the remaining can and put it on the fire as well. More popping sounded, in fact, the can was quite heavy, so I didn’t bother to empty it out, not wanting to face the contents.

Some of the big black ants had made it onto the ground and were scurring about. I killed them of as humanely as possible. However, one escaped into the indoors part of the kitchen. In my minds eye I saw it dissapear up the stairs and later the night attack me in my sleep. “Go for the throat William, go for the throat”, I heard his little ant pals scream from ant heaven. I decided to chase it, but as it ran towards the stairs a strange thing happened (even more peculiar than the ant colonies in my drink tins).

There are 3 different types of ants around my house. There’s the really, really, really tiny ones, which are nothing more than little brown pixels really. They tend to clean up dead bugs and other little fleshy things like flies and I’ve seen them dismantel fallen dragon flies and the like. This evening they were also working on a cikcak’s tail before the whole fire-ant business started. Then there’s also what I’d consider normal ants. Black and ant-like, you know, garden variety ant.

Anyway, as the big fire-ant fugative cut his way to the stairs, he unknowningly found himself is garden variety ant’s back yard. One of the ants literally knocked into him, and they both seem to flinch. The smaller one quickly ran away and touched several of his friends. Each time he touched a friend, the friend would divert to where the big ant was and it was obvious that any friend of the garden variety ant is certainly not a friend of the fire ant. Eventually the big ant was surrounded by a good 10 or so of these ants, each no taller, but perhaps a little fatter, than his legs. They rougly encircled him and took turns to pull his legs. It must have hurt, because every time the smaller ant lunged forward to nip his leg, the big ant would curl up in a little bundle, the way I could imagine a dog would react if you pulled it’s leg and it wanted to bite you.

It was a bit like a Jacky Chan movie where the gang was attacking him one at a time, and while the one attacks, the others are mulling about doing nothing in particul. This only lasted a short while though, as quicklt it seemed as if the big ant was tiring. The little ants started nipping at him quicker, this time two at a time. The poor big ant now couldn’t double up and turn quicky enough and soon more ants started to nip at the same time. Eventually, and this was all rather quick, 6 little ants hung on each of the big ant’s legs and there were also two with an antler each. They were all pulling in their own direction and although I could see the big ant’s head move, he was powerless to go anywhere, as now his legs were suspended above the ground, held in place by the little ants. Holding him like that, they all started to move towards the stairs towards where I think their nest is. It was all over for the big ant.

Whilst all this action was going down, two other groups of little ants scurried past carrying their own loot in the form of a dead (or almost dead) beatle and one group carrying what could have been a fly or something. I then thought I might just spare these medium ants tomorrow after I buy the ant killer, because they obviously keep the big ants out of the kitchen. I don’t mind the medium ants so much, at least they’ll need more than 10 to carry me out of bed and down the stairs in the middle of the night. I recon that’s how many of the big ants i would take to do that.

Eventually I had cleaned the kitchen very thoroughly and have disposed in the bin of my recycled items. Another valuable lesson to learn from ants – if you don’t move, they will use it.

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