Island's End (5 page)
Authors: Padma Venkatraman
Tags: #Young Adult, #Survival Stories, #Asia, #Fiction, #Indigenous Peoples - India, #Apprentices, #Adventure, #Indigenous Peoples, #Social Issues, #Girls & Women, #Juvenile Fiction, #Business; Careers; Occupations, #Shamans, #Historical, #Islands, #People & Places, #Nature & the Natural World, #History, #Action & Adventure, #India, #General, #Andaman and Nicobar Islands (India), #India & South Asia
“You are stumbling over every clump of leaves today,” she says. “Is something wrong?”
“It is the story Lah-ame told us last night. It was not new but I felt like I never truly listened before.”
“Not Lah-ame again!” Natalang pretends to yawn. Then she mimics Lah-ame’s singsong chant. “Today is the time for a new tale, a story we have all been waiting for. One day a boy named Danna, whose teeth were as white as coral in the moonlight . . .”
I pluck a handful of berries off a nearby bush and crush them on top of her head. She giggles, wiping off the juice that drips down her nose.
“Those berries are overripe.” Natalang waves her forefinger at me. “Now be quiet, Uido, and listen. You need to learn more about boys.”
I shake my head and try to mimic her voice. “Not boys again!”
She ignores me and fills me in on the gossip about the new ra-gumul boys who have entered the bachelor hut and which girls she thinks they like.
She goes on and on, and I stop listening.
We return to the village at dusk, my spirit as heavy as my full basket. I see Danna approaching from the opposite direction, waving a net bag full of fish. “Uido! Natalang!” he calls out.
Natalang runs over and blows her breath across his face in greeting. “What a large catch! Who helped you get so many?”
“All thanks to Biliku-waye and Pulug-ame,” Danna says, but his cheeks redden with pleasure at Natalang’s compliment. “What have you two brought back for us?” He slips Natalang’s bag off her plump shoulder. “Now, that is heavy.”
“Not as heavy as Uido’s bag. Do you want to see what she has?” Natalang gives Danna a knowing smile.
My face grows warm with embarrassment. But Danna replies without any shyness in his voice, “I do want to speak to her alone.”
“You have secrets to tell Uido?” Natalang pushes her lips into an overdone pout. For a moment I am afraid she is truly annoyed to be left out. But she bursts out laughing.
“Go on, both of you.” She makes kissing noises as Danna and I walk away into the evening shadows that darken the jungle.
We slip behind the stout black trunk of a
moro
-
ta
tree. I rest my back against its rough bark.
moro
-
ta
tree. I rest my back against its rough bark.
“Did you talk with Lah-ame?” Danna asks.
“He asked if I wanted to learn how to be an oko-jumu!”
Danna’s broad grin widens. “Uido, our spiritual guide. I always knew you were special.”
“You would not stop being my friend if I said yes?”
“Why would you think that?” His smile disappears and he sounds hurt.
“When I tried to talk about the Otherworld with Natalang, she would not listen. And she thinks it is strange that I care about Lah-ame’s stories.”
“I am not Natalang.”
“But Danna, it worries me that Lah-ame has no family. Or close friends, even. All the other men go hunting in groups—but he leaves early every morning to pray on the cliffs. In the evenings, though he is with us, he starts the fire by himself and hardly speaks to the other elders while he eats.”
Danna grasps my hand. “Nothing will stop me from being your best friend. And yes, Lah-ame is often alone, but that does not mean every oko-jumu’s life is similar to his. He has told us stories about other spiritual guides— men, and even women, who married and had children. Surely you can be more like them.”
I nod, pleased that Danna remembers the stories of women who became oko-jumu.
He looks deep into my eyes. “There is just one important question, Uido. Do you want to become Lah-ame’s apprentice?”
“I do, Danna, more than anything else. In the Otherworld my spirit feels as though it touches something endless. Like I am one tiny bead on a giant necklace, but also the necklace itself.” I pause. “But Lah-ame spoke about how painful and hard the training and the tests will be. I am scared. What if I fail?”
“Would you feel better if you never tried?”
A sudden rustle in the bushes near us startles me. Danna pulls an arrow out of his quiver and whirls around, looking for the source of the noise.
“Ashu!” My shock turns to irritation when I realize my brother was hiding in the darkness.
“Why are you stalking us like a cat?” Danna’s voice is thick with annoyance. “I almost shot at you!”
Ashu’s lips curl derisively. “You are too slow to shoot me.”
Danna grits his teeth, as though he is trying to bite back angry words.
Ashu turns on me. “If you have special powers, why did you not see me hiding all this while?”
“Not even Lah-ame knows everything, Ashu,” Danna says.
“He certainly knows nothing about my sister. I cannot believe Lah-ame thinks she could become oko-jumu. None of the spirits talk to her.”
“They do,” I say, struggling to remain as calm as Danna.
“Prove it to me, then,” Ashu challenges. “Make a prediction. Surely you can look into the future and tell us when the strangers will come next?”
“No, Uido.” Danna grabs my arm as if to try and hold me back. “You do not need to prove anything to Ashu.”
I jerk my arm free although I know Danna is right. I am tired of controlling my anger while Ashu insults me. If there is any way to see into the future using the Otherworld, I feel determined to find it.
With my eyes closed, I try to imagine my spirit as a circle of light—just as when Lah-ame guided me to see far across the ocean through the Otherworld. But the spirits seem unwilling to let me in this time. However hard I concentrate, the circle of light keeps disappearing. And when I search for an image in my mind, all I see is a dark wall.
Feeling too angry at Ashu to give up, I imagine myself pounding at the wall with my fists, repeatedly shouting Ashu’s question about the strangers. I refuse to stop until I force an answer out of the Otherworld. At last, a whisper comes through the darkness in my mind, a single word.
Tomorrow.
“Tomorrow.” The moment I say the word aloud, I regret it.
“We shall find out,” Ashu says.
I see a flicker of resentment in his eyes before he turns to leave. He strides away to the village ahead of us. We follow, taking care to keep our distance from Ashu.
“Please,” I whisper to Danna. “Do not tell anyone what I said about the strangers coming tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“The spirits did not want to let me into the Otherworld—I forced myself in for the wrong reasons. Maybe they felt upset and lied to me.”
“Will you at least let Lah-ame know what happened?”
“What if he gets angry that I tried to prove myself to Ashu? Let us just wait and see what happens. Ashu will surely tell no one because he would not want anyone else to know Lah-ame offered to teach me.”
Danna reluctantly agrees to keep our secret.
All evening I cannot help wondering if my behavior angered the spirits. That night, I squirm restlessly on my mat, wishing I had listened to Danna and ignored my older brother’s taunts.
9
T
he next day, I wake much later than usual, with no memory of any dream. My mind is like a beach without footprints and I worry that the spirits kept me out of the Otherworld because they are angry about yesterday.
he next day, I wake much later than usual, with no memory of any dream. My mind is like a beach without footprints and I worry that the spirits kept me out of the Otherworld because they are angry about yesterday.
Mimi bends over me and runs her hand over my forehead. “Are you unwell, Uido?”
“No.” I sit up at once.
“It is not like you to sleep so late.”
“Please do not worry, Mimi. I am not hurting at all. I will go shellfish collecting. Now.”
At the sound of my voice, Tawai bounds into the hut. “Can I come with you, Uido? I want to fish.”
Ashu’s form darkens the entrance. He sticks his head in only for a moment to say, “I will go to the beach as well.”
I hurry out into the sunshine and run across the clearing to invite Natalang along too. It is late enough that she is awake. She brings a new basket she has woven out of bamboo—strong enough to hold any clams or mussels we gather at the shore.
As we walk down to the beach, Ashu surprises me by being unusually polite to Natalang.
“This is a beautiful basket,” he says to her, running his long fingers across it. “Very well made.”
For a moment I think he is being sarcastic, but Natalang blushes at his compliment. She walks between me and Ashu and although she links arms with me, she speaks only to him. Tawai skips along beside us.
The short path to the beach feels as long as a day’s walk. All the while, I wonder whether my prediction of the strangers’ arrival will come true and how Ashu will treat me if it does not.
We are nearly at the beach when my nose catches a faintly bitter smell—like smoke though not the scent of burning wood. I run to the edge of the jungle and see the strangers’ boat jutting above the waves like a gigantic shark fin.
“Look,” I cry. “I was right.”
I dash toward the tall grass where Tawai and I took cover the first time we saw the strangers. Danna is already crouched there, his eyes on the strangers.
Danna looks relieved to see me. “I took the watch today,” he says as we all huddle behind the grassy clump. “I knew you would be right, Uido.”
“Do not call the tribe yet, Danna,” I say. I am curious to see why the strangers have come back and I do not want them to be frightened into leaving too soon.
The strangers’ boat stops just beyond the edge of our reef and the same three men lower their canoe over the side. We watch them climb in and row carefully past the coral, toward the beach.
I feel Tawai move closer to me, his breath fearful and excited on my shoulder.
“Should I not alert the village now, Uido?” Danna fidgets.
“Why are you asking her?” Ashu hisses. “Since when did the tribe start taking orders from girls?”
The men row closer. The tall man seems to be the leader. He jumps into the surf before the others and works hard to pull their canoe up the beach while the other two push it out of reach of the waves.
“Nice fat bodies,” Natalang whispers to me. “But too much hair on the face.”
The men unload their canoe, piling coconuts and bananas on the ground.
“Why do they bring us gifts after we chased them away?” I say uneasily. “They are not our friends.”
“Look at that yellow hill of bananas!” Natalang rolls the tip of her tongue across her lips. “I wonder how they taste.”
Ashu grins at her. “Come, Natalang,” he says. “I am not afraid of these strangers.”
“No,” I tell them. “Wait. We should call the rest of the tribe here to decide what to do.”
“I am your older brother and the son of the chief hunter,” Ashu says. “I am not taking orders from you.” He stands up and holds his hand out to Natalang.
Natalang lets Ashu pull her to her feet. “You are so brave, Ashu,” she says.
I want to say, “Natalang, you are
my
friend. You know Ashu is often mean to me!” But choking with disbelief, I watch Natalang hold hands with Ashu and run toward the mound of bananas, her breasts bouncing.
my
friend. You know Ashu is often mean to me!” But choking with disbelief, I watch Natalang hold hands with Ashu and run toward the mound of bananas, her breasts bouncing.
“Wait for me,” Tawai says. I lunge out to stop Tawai but he races away over the white sand, the pink soles of his feet flying. As I leap up and chase after my little brother, I hear Danna call out, ‟
Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay!
Come, everyone! The strangers are here again!”
Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay!
Come, everyone! The strangers are here again!”
Two of the men turn back and start running toward their canoe, away from Ashu and Natalang, who are headed toward the bananas. But the leader seems surprisingly less afraid of us today, and that only deepens my unease. He watches Tawai and me approach while his friends push the canoe into the water.
Tawai runs up to him, ignoring my anxious cries.
The man smiles at Tawai but his small eyes shift from side to side. “Ragavan,” he says to Tawai, patting his chest. “Ragavan.”
“Tawai,” my brother says, patting his own chest. He reaches up and grabs at something box-shaped that hangs from a black strap around the man’s neck. The strap does not look like it is made from vine or the skin of any animal we have on our island. And the box itself is much smaller than our boxes—too small to store much of anything.
Ragavan holds the box in front of his eyes. It hisses and then makes a quick, sharp noise. He bends down and shows the box to Tawai. Curiosity tugs me forward like a strong current, and half unwillingly I step closer to see what the box does.
“There is a painting of me inside!” Tawai shrieks. “This is a magical box!” Tawai jumps up and tries to snatch the box. Ragavan holds it out of our reach but keeps the box steady so I can have a good look. Inside it, I see a small image of Tawai and everything around him.
How can the box make such a perfect shrunken picture? Has it caught a piece of Tawai’s spirit?
Facing me, Ragavan raises the box in front of his eyes again.
“No!” I say firmly. I hide my face with my hands to make it very clear I want no painting of me.
But Ragavan ignores my wish. I hear the box hiss and click again.
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