Read The Island (Part 1) - Discovery here.
Hokule'a double hulled sailing boat (Photo: By HongKongHuey - originally posted to Flickr as Princess Taiping Sails with the Hokule'a in Hawaii)
The Island
Part 2
Expedition
Kalea raced down the beach and up the path over the rocks, long hair
flying, kicking up sand in her hurry to meet the boats. Singing and dancing
broke out to celebrate the fishing boats’ return. The boats were tying up as
she stepped onto the rough planks of the jetty and already hands were passing up
the cargo of salted and dried fish from the boats to load on the waiting
trolleys.
Kalea’s urgent dark eyes searched out Holokai. Her breath caught in her
throat as she recognised his muscled back on the lead boat giving orders to the
crew. His strong legs were spread wide on the deck as he was still bracing
against the rolling waves of the ocean. She smiled with relief and happiness, dabbed
a tear from her eye and tidied her hair as she waited by the makeshift ramp up
onto the jetty. One hand grasped the turtle pendant around her neck. The other
gripped her elbow tightly to stop herself shaking.
Finally he turned and saw her. He walked up the ramp. She stepped forward
as he reached her and hugged him close. He let her hold him for a few moments
then grasped her shoulders and grinned at her. She held his gaze, bit her lip
and whispered, “I’m glad you’re home safe. We need to talk.”
He shook his head. “Later, at the feast. I have to make sure everything
is ready for the voyage.” He turned away and greeted two young men. “Is the
ship ready?” They nodded. “Let me see.”
Kalea watched him walk to the far end the jetty where the larger voyaging
ship was tied up, ready to join the ships from the other islands on the trade expedition
to the Southeast Continent. Her face crumpled and tears welled in her eyes as
she walked quickly away back down the beach.
The sun had swooped closer to the horizon when Holokai appeared carrying
two sacks. “Aloha, father. I have brought fish for you all for while I am away.
“
“Mahalo, son, this will feed us for many weeks.”
“Mother.” Holokai hugged her and his brow furrowed briefly as he returned
her inquiring gaze. He turned away and reached for the other sack on the ground
beside him. “Father. I brought this too.” He upended the sack. “Dead birds, their
stomachs filled with plastic. Still the opala of the haole kills the earth’s children.”
The old man looked at the birds that tumbled out. He nodded. “Yes, son.
But it was not trash when it was made. The haole just did not understand how to
make things that would return to nature and not interfere with her cycles.”
“We ventured farther to the north west this time. It floats everywhere.”
Holokai threw the empty sack on the ground. “The haole poisoned the sea and the
earth.” He spied his niece clutching the toy car. “Aloha kolohe. What’s that in
your hand?”
The edge in his voice made the girl shrink back behind her grandmother. “Tutu
says it’s a car made by fire.”
Holokai glanced up at his father. “More haole rubbish? In our own
family?”
The old man shook his head. “You forget, we all have blood from the
people of the east and west in our veins.”
Holokai scowled and dropped his eyes.
“And not all haole things were rubbish. What about the steel saws for
cutting planks for sailing boats? And the metal tops on the solar stills we
take with us when we go fishing far offshore. Without one of those your
grandfather and I wouldn’t have survived being lost at sea all those years ago
and you would not be here…”
“You were lost at sea, tutu?” the young girl asked. “When?”
The old man shook his head. Getting home alive was only one part of the
story. As in most good fortune, there was price to pay. “The sun has set on
that tale, mo’opuna.”
“Please, tutu. Please tell me.”
He did not answer the question. He glanced at his wife and then scanned
the waves. “Not all stories need to be retold.”
“Please tutu. It’s your turn to tell me a story.”
He eyed his wife and son as they sat down. The old woman reached for the
girl and cradled her on her lap.
The old man grimaced, closed his eyes for a moment and began. “One day I
went on a big fishing trip with your great grandfather, far to the north to
find big fish to bring back for the village.”
He eyed the girl. She stared at him expectantly.
“We sailed a long way from land. We found many plastic things floating in
the water. Just like your uncle did this time. We also caught lots of fish. It
was successful trip. We were nearing the time when we should turn around and
come home when, out of a blue clear sky, a storm blew up from the south.”
Kalea appeared from the house and sat down beside Holokai. Her eyes were
red and her mouth set in a tight line.
The old man frowned and glanced from his son to his daughter-in-law and
back. “Son.” He paused and glanced at his wife as she stroked her granddaughter’s
hair. “Son, I ask you to reconsider this voyage. You have spent too long away
on fishing trips this past year. You have a wife who misses you. As do your
mother and I.”
Holokai’s face flushed and his shoulders tightened. He worked his jaw
until the words came. “I will bring this family great honour and reward if the voyage
is successful.”
The old woman tapped her foot against her husband’s. “You went on many
trips too when you were young.”
“That was different. We were younger and you still wore the hibiscus flower
behind your right ear then.”
“But not in my heart, and you knew it.” He avoided her gaze. He knew that
it wasn’t just the trip itself that she was talking about. She turned to Holokai
and patted his knee. “It is up to you and Kalea to talk and decide between
yourselves.”
Holokai looked at his father. “You have not said anything about the selection
for the expedition. What my role is to be. You must know.”
The old man shook his head. “I did not take part in those discussions.” With
his son involved he could not influence the decision anyway. But also he had
been torn between wanting his son to stay on the island and be a better husband
to his wife, and hankering after the broad ocean and distant lands himself. In
the end it was easier to stay right away from it.
Holokai sprang up. “Then I will go and ask the kupuna now. I cannot wait
until the feast tonight.”
Kalea rose beside him and clasped his arm. “Holokai, please. Let us talk
first.”
He removed her hand and squeezed it gently. “I will be back soon. I have
to know what the kupuna have decided.” He strode away toward the meeting house.
Grandfather’s face clouded. He followed Holokai with his eyes, then
glanced at Kalea. Either way the answer would disappoint someone.
********
Read The Island - Part 3 here.
Constructive comments welcome :-)
Click on the tabs above for more stories
Click on the tabs above for more stories
No comments:
Post a Comment