Island's End (6 page)

Once again I see a gray aura flicker around Ragavan’s head for a moment and then disappear. Everything about Ragavan seems wrong. All the anger I feel—at Ragavan, at Ashu and at Natalang—pours out of me.

“Ragavan, go!” I point at his boat. “Leave. Now.”

Ragavan seems to understand my outburst. He turns and runs to join the other two strangers, who are waiting for him in the canoe.

Behind me, I hear footsteps coming, loud and fast. Kara and his hunters race down the beach in time to watch Ragavan and his friends pull away.

“Are you all right?” Kara puts his arm around me.

I nod weakly as the anger that strengthened me moments ago drains away. I hear the growl of the metal boat moving away from our island. Resting against Kara’s stocky body, I watch our people come swarming across the beach like ants on an anthill.

A few elders question Danna about what happened. They seem worried, but the ra-gumul boys talking to Ashu look excited. So do the women, children and ra-gumul girls crowding around the strangers’ gifts of fruit. I hear a woman squeal, “This mound of coconuts is nearly as tall as my baby!”

I walk over. Natalang rushes up and puts her arm around my shoulders. But she does not seem to realize I feel hurt that she abandoned me and ran away with Ashu.

“Uido, why are you so worried about these strangers?” she asks. “Lah-ame said he had a friend among them. And look how much food they brought. If these strangers came every day, we would never need to go gathering!”

Natalang’s mimi overhears her and laughs. “It is good they do not, or you would do nothing but sleep.”

I decide not to speak about the way Natalang acted with my brother. After all, she quickly shifts her attentions from one boy to another. Perhaps the less I say, the sooner she will forget about Ashu.

I let Natalang pull me toward a pile of fruit. She peels a banana and bites into it. “Very sweet,” she says, her mouth full.

I take a tentative bite out of one that she waves under my nose. It smells overripe and feels soft, not like the green, firm bananas we usually eat. But looking at the happy faces around me and listening to the chatter of women’s voices, I realize none of them share my dislike of the strangers’ gifts—not even Mimi.

Although I am surrounded by the women of my tribe, I feel lonely. I seem to be one of the few who remembers Lah-ame’s story and his warning to be careful of the strangers. But seeing the anxiety in the faces of the elders, I realize I need to do more than chase Ragavan off the beach each time he arrives. With the help of Lah-ame and the spirits of the Otherworld, I must learn how to protect my island from being overrun by the strangers, the way the beach was overrun by venomous snakes.

I
slip away from the rest of the tribe and walk along the curved beach toward the cliffs. As I run up the jungle slope, a nervous excitement rises inside me.

I find Lah-ame praying on the tall rock just as he was the morning after my dream of Biliku-waye.

He climbs down, holds his arms out to me in welcome and says, “Uido, are you here to tell me your decision?”

“Yes. Today on the beach, I sensed that the strangers’ ways threaten our own. I want to become your apprentice so I can learn how to protect our tribe and keep our people’s faith in our old ways.”

“Are you certain, Uido? You are willing to risk losing your mind or your life?”

“Yes,” I reply. “Though I am a little scared.”

Lah-ame’s bird-bright eyes sparkle. “A little fear is good.”

“Lah-ame, I did something wrong,” I blurt out. “I tried to force the spirits into talking to me just to show Ashu I could enter the Otherworld.”

“It is not the first time you have been foolish, Uido,” Lah-ame says. “And it will not be the last. But you are right to regret what you did. Until you go further in your training, it will be best if you do not send your spirit into the Otherworld while you are awake—unless I am at your side, guiding you.”

“So you are not angry? You will still teach me?”

“Everything I know,” he says.

“Will we begin my training soon, Lah-ame?” I do not want to wait another day.

Lah-ame smiles and lays a gnarled finger on my lips as if he were trying to quiet a baby. “Tomorrow morning I will gather the En-ge together and say why I have chosen you as my apprentice. It is best if everyone hears this from me at the same time. After that, they will move south for the rainy season. And you and I will move away to another part of the jungle, where we will walk the spirit paths together.”

I slap my thighs with my palms to show my joy.

Lah-ame scoops me onto his back as though I were as little as Tawai. We laugh, and his laughter seems to roll out from the pit of his stomach and rise up beyond the cliff top. As he carries me down toward the village, I feel sure that all the spirits of the Otherworld can hear us.

L
ah-ame drops me off his back under the laurel tree behind his hut and strides into the clearing. I follow him into the village, almost dancing.

Everyone seems to be chattering about the strangers. But the talking stops when Lah-ame beats his drum.

“The rainy season approaches,” Lah-ame tells us. “The wind spirit blows from a different direction, the ocean’s waves leap high and the
guru-ta
caterpillars are turning into butterflies. It is time for the tribe to leave the spirits of the plants and animals that live around our village to refresh themselves, while we move south for the rainy season.”

“What about the strangers?” one of the ra-gumul boys asks. “What if they come ashore while we are in the south?”

Lah-ame replies, “Although their boats are stronger than ours, the strangers would never dare to fight past the crashing waves of the rainy season. The water spirit’s power and Pulug-ame’s storms will make it impossible for them to land on our shores.”

The elders nod in agreement, which seems to satisfy the village.

“We may eat the food the strangers brought, may we not, Lah-ame?” a woman asks.

“I dislike the strangers’ gifts but it is wrong to waste food.” Lah-ame hesitates for a moment. “Since they brought so much food, no one need go hunting or gathering today. Instead, you may spend the rest of the day preparing for the journey south. Tomorrow morning, you will leave.”

Lah-ame puts away his drum and the rest of us start preparing for the move.

Natalang’s mimi and some of the other married women kneel beside the trunk of a palm tree they have cut in half. They pull out the white fiber inside, while Natalang and some of the other ra-gumul girls grind the fiber into a powder. I picture the tribe sucking handfuls of the sweet powder while they walk tomorrow so that no one gets too tired. It saddens me that for the first time since I was born I will not be with them.

Not far away, Mimi and Kara are busy covering each other’s bodies with the mixture of clay and turtle fat that we use to keep mosquitoes away in the rainy season. Kara’s eyes glisten like the fresh paint on Mimi’s back when he looks at her, as though they were married only yesterday. I want to rush up and hold them close, bury my head in Mimi’s long arms.

Instead, afraid that tears might spill down my cheeks if I imagine tomorrow’s parting, I head back to our hut. I pass by Tawai and his friends, who are taking turns clinging to a vine that hangs down from a tree behind the bachelor hut.

Tawai stops swinging and jumps to the ground. “Uido! What were you doing with Lah-ame this morning? I saw him carrying you on his back.”

I avoid answering his question. “Are you and your friends going to help prepare for tomorrow’s move or are you planning to swing on vines all day?”

“Maybe I could help Ashu make some hunting tools!” Tawai says. I see our older brother outside our hut, sticking a feather onto his arrow shaft with beeswax glue. Running up to him, Tawai asks, “Will you teach me to make a spear?”

“No,” Ashu says. “You are too young.”

Tawai’s face crumples like a leaf crushed underfoot. But before I can do anything to make him feel better, Danna walks over and offers to show Tawai how to carve a bamboo carrying frame.

My secret almost bursts out of me when I see Danna. I whisper, “I spoke to Lah-ame this morning.”

“You have decided?” he asks softly.

I try to keep my voice steady as I reply, “We must not speak of it yet.”

A wide smile spreads across Danna’s face. He puts his arm across his chest, as though to clasp my secret to himself.

When at last the day is over, I stretch out on my reed mat and Tawai huddles close to me, yawning. His chauga-ta pokes into my shoulder, but I do not complain. I finger the bones of our ancestors that are strung around my own neck and pray to them to help me survive the oko-jumu training and return safely to my family.

That night, for as long as I can I keep awake, taking in the warmth of Tawai’s and Mimi’s bodies on either side of me, the sound of Kara’s snore and the smell of the fresh paint on their skin. Lying in the darkness, I wonder what the training will be like and how long I must stay away. Tomorrow I will have to sleep all alone—something I have never, ever done. Despite my eagerness to learn, it will be hard to live apart from my family and Danna and Natalang and the rest of the tribe.

The next morning, as soon as Lah-ame beats his drum, my heart skips with excitement again.

We gather in a loose circle, the way we always do before the journey south. Mimi hands Kara a cone woven out of palm fronds and he fills it with embers from last night’s fire. Each of his hunters carries a similar torch, with embers that they must keep alive to kindle fires all rainy season while Lah-ame is away.

Holding the torches high above their heads, Kara and his hunters move up front, where they will lead the men forward on the four-day walk. I stay together with the women, children and elders who will follow behind. Mimi carries a basket full of Kara’s tools and hunting weapons. I feel guilty knowing I will not be able to help her with the load on the long walk ahead.

Once we are all assembled, Lah-ame says what I am waiting for. “I have something very important to tell you before the tribe moves south. The spirits have chosen the one they wish to be their next messenger.”

I hear voices crackling with excitement as my people try to guess who Lah-ame’s apprentice will be. He continues, “For a while we hid from the strangers, but now that they have found us again, they may not leave us to ourselves. The strangers will likely keep returning to our island, bringing with them new ways and new things. We must find a leader to hold this newness together with our old ways. And in times of change such as this, a woman must lead the tribe.”

“A woman?” Cries of surprise burst from the tribe. I turn to see Natalang next to me. She whispers, “Imagine that, Uido!” Only the elders nod as if they expected Lah-ame to say this.

A girl’s voice rises above the others. “Have there been other women oko-jumu?”

“Those of you who listen well to my stories,” Lah-ame answers, “will remember the names of some women who were spiritual guides. Their spirits have told me who is to be trained next.”

Everyone chatters with anticipation.

Through a gap in the jungle of bodies around me I see Lah-ame hold his hand up for silence. “Our chief hunter will lead you away from the rough seas and into the safety of the jungle. There, as always, you will live together during the rainy season. But although I will leave to spend the season apart from the tribe, this time I will not be alone. My apprentice will come with me. After I have taught her all that I know, she will return to the tribe and relearn her place among you. For, in the end, it is you who must accept her as your oko-jumu.”

My people murmur with approval.

Again, Lah-ame holds up his hand to quiet the crowd. “The one whom I shall train to help the En-ge find the balance between old and new is Uido, the daughter of our chief hunter.”