In the distance the lightning stabs sharply down into the ocean against a black sky, and then there's a bright flash and everything is lit, like an otherworldly day in night. You can even see how aqua the water is. I sit next to Zabs, our Bob Marley-esque boatman, on the steps of reception overlooking it all. It’s phenomenally beautiful, and a small gasp escapes from my lips.

“Whatin?” he asks.

“Nahting.” I answer. I’m just thinking, I tell him.

“E no well for tink beaucoup,” he responds. The moment is wonderful. I wish I could know what’s in his head, but the language and cultural differences are too great to communicate complicated thoughts and ideas.

But life isn’t just a beach here on the beach. I have a staff of twenty-one who want better salaries, more daily allowance for food, written terms and conditions, and proper 8-hour shifts -- all of which are more than reasonable, but perhaps not doable until we get more resources. And then there’s all the work we need to do when we have 50-something guests for dinner and are still cooking over an open fire. Logistically it’s tough, and the heat and humidity ensures that we’re all moving at barely half speed. The money we bring in each day pays for the staff's livelihood, so I feel the pressure of the breadwinner times twenty-one. If we don't perform, these people won't be able to eat.

The best moments, though, are late at night after the guests have gone home, when the staff get beers at cost and we turn up the music…”a tumba de titi, sabi shaka’.” Aminata, our gorgeous waitress, will shake her tumba like she was born to do so, and Patrick, our entirely drunk headwaiter, will sing to me: “na u dat make me shine so…”

Years ago when I was backpacking around the world I would meet these expats stuck in the world’s randomest places. I always wondered, sometimes snidely, how they got to be there and why they would stay. Now I’m one of them, and I think I can explain it this way: it becomes impossible to peel yourself away -- both from the need of the people that you believe you can help and can't find the heart to abandon, and from the wonders and the joys of getting to know the inhabitants of the ends of the earth.