79AUGUST / SEPTEMBER 2019 – DESTINASIAN.COMcould: following a conversation with a toddy
tapper (someone who collects sap from palm
trees for people to drink), the man’s wife asked
me if there were any toddy tappers where I
came from. By far the most common query,
however, was why Naj and I were so interested
in their tiny island villages in the first place.
It is probably the rarity of outsiders in these isolated communi-
ties that has made hospitality (and some healthy suspicion) such
an important feature of Dhivehi culture, and one upon which the
billion-dollar tourism industry now rests. Besides this friendliness,
the resort staples of turquoise oceans and swaying palms have
always been generous hosts. While the Dhivehi diet consists largely
of imaginatively spiced tuna recipes, the Maldives’ national tree, the
coconut palm (Dhivehi ruh), has long provided material for every-
thing from boats, houses, rope, and traditional drums (bodu beru) to
food and drink. Modern commodities are now sporadically available
in the islands, but we were still able to find skilled craftsmen (more
often women) who continue to make the most of these limited but
plentiful island supplies, weaving thatch and making reed mats
despite the falling demand.
As tuna and palm trees continue to support the communities
physically, the comparatively recent arrival of Islam (in 1153) sup-
plies spiritual sustenance to the nation, with the lilting call to prayerfelt ourselves drawn deeper into the atolls, like a pair of tropical de-
tectives trying to piece together clues delicately deposited by ocean
currents over more than two millennia. Layer upon layer had been
added: a common folk tale here; an old custom there; and count-
less superstitions, the origins of which often precede living memory.
As we headed up the map from our southern base, it had already
become clear that the only limit on this journey would be our own
curiosity.
Life from the other side of paradise certainly looked different,
and the conversations we had with islanders were both inspiring
and humbling. During our first long ocean voyage—eleven hours
on a cargo boat between Addu and the giant atoll of Huvadhu—an
elderly passenger eyed me suspiciously before asking “Kon rasheh?”,
which is Dhivehi for “what island are you from?” When I answered
that my island was the U.K., he seemed satisfied and shuffled off,
only for Naj to overhear him later asking the captain, “What is the
U.K.?” Questions such as this revealed more than most answers ever
Left: Painting the
space between
youngsters’ eyebrows
is a now-outmoded
beauty tradition in
the Maldives. Above:
Coconuts are put to
multiple uses in the
islands. Opposite: A
drumming group on
Laamu Gan.