Makis and Turtles

While P was here, we went down to the south of the island to one of the most beautiful (and most touristic, unfortunately) beaches in Mayotte: N'Gouja. Twice. The first time was during the school holidays, the second time was on the Monday when everybody went back to school... and as I don't work on Mondays, we thought the beach wouldn't be too full. It was almost empty, which was nice because most of the time, there are so many people there that you can tell where the turtles are by looking for the clumps of people with masks and flippers diving down to touch and photograph the poor turtle.

 

Surprisingly, the first thing you see when you arrive near the beach isn't water or sand: it's the makis. These are the local lemurs, a species which is actually native to Mayotte somehow. They're about the size of large cats with long tails which they use for balance. They're pretty friendly, especially if you happen to have a banana or two. They have hands rather than paws, they can grip onto things and they'll climb onto your shoulders if you hold a banana for them.

 

Once in the water, though, N'Gouja is reputed for its turtles. There are usually a couple of hundred of them around the beach at any given time. They come there to eat the sea grass, but they don't lay their eggs there: they go to the small island of Mayotte, Petite-Terre, to do that.

These turtles were interesting because it's the first time I've seen them with their accompanying fish. There is usually at least one fish on each turtle, fish whose top halves look like small sharks and whose bottom halves look like the sole of a rather heavy-duty shoe. Their job is to clean the turtle and eat the bits and bobs on his shell. Unlike the turtles, they're scared of humans, so most of my photos picture the fish hiding underneath the turtle.

 

   

   

 

  

 As you can see from the photo in the middle, there can be several turtles in one place. I didn't think to film them, but they arrived separately, noticed each other, sniffed (or equivalent) each other then swam off together, just like the turtles in Finding Nemo. Wonderful.

N'Gouja also has one of the prettiest drop-offs I've seen so far in Mayotte. Lots of hard coral and quite a bit of soft coral, the sort that either tries to eat your fingers or shrinks from you when you come too near. Coral shaped like leaves or cabbages. And a lot of small fish, a few larger ones too. One memorable black fish which didn't like my trying to photograph it without permission and attacked physically, smacking itself three or four times against my camera lens.

 

   

   

 

The photo below is just for scale, so that you can get an idea of exactly how many small fish there were. They were everywhere. If you stay still, they don't even notice you and they just swim round you. They're always moving, so photos are rarely very clear, be it the one below or the big one in the middle of the previous display, but there are just so many of them.

That was N'Gouja. It's a shame that it's so touristy, because it means that it's usually full of white people complaining. They complain about everything. The most common conversations are about the general muckiness in Mayotte (rubbish everywhere, bin men not coming regularly, doesn't always smell very nice) and about break-ins and thefts (everyone you talk to here has either been burgled or knows somebody who has, we all have a story to tell). Whereas when you're on a nice sandy beach with beautiful surroundings and a natural aquarium you can go and swim in, you don't really want to think about all of that. Sure, the place has negative sides to it. What doesn't? But you can forget all that with beautiful scenery like this.