The Canadian Highland
Page 34
The next morning, everyone seemed a little more excited than usual. Angus, who still could not move very well with his broken arm, appeared to be in very high spirits. Calum, who has passed his first year, follows his older brother everywhere as well, babbling to himself and pointing in all directions at once. The three of them make a welcome site, as long as they stay out of the way.
Storm clouds appeared off in the distance, but even the threat of rain could not dampen the general mood. Yes, people all around me, including myself, are exhausted beyond all measure, but knowing we can soon put the oars away in exchange for farm implements makes all, especially the Highlanders among us, particularly grateful.
About two hours into our final journey, Mr. Bethune pulled out his bagpipes and started to play. The current was strong, and it did not require the exertions of all the men to make fast headway down the river. Soon, everyone started to join in song. Some songs I was not very familiar with, like Fair Edina or Highland Mary, but when Mr. Bethune started to play Scotland the Brave, even I could not stop myself from singing the very recognizable words:
Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland my mountain home,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Scotland the brave.
Were those tears in my Mama’s eyes, I wondered? Were they tears of happiness knowing the voyage was over, or tears of sadness for everything she has sacrificed? Placing my hand on her shoulder, she grabbed it and started to squeeze gently as she tried to control her tears. I once again realized how much Mama had sacrificed to make this trip, how much her love for us outweighed her strong and undying love for her homeland. To men who love to explore and discover, to always be moving, they could not understand the need to stay grounded in one place, the importance to stay connected to the land.
Mr. Bethune stood at the front of the boat and continued to play, the sound lofting high into the air, carried on the warm breeze. He had put on a kilt, and was wearing the banner of his family proudly as we came in for our landing. The men rowed in time to the playing, using their oars as if marching to the tune. The land all around did not look different, nothing but wilderness, trees, and grass, but this I knew was an important moment. The need for change had brought us here, away from our croft, away from the city, away from the other side of the world. Everyone felt the importance of the moment. Coming close to the shore, the men stopped to let the current take us in. There was not a dry eye among us. Even Liam and Calum, who would at all times fidget and move from side to side, sat still in quiet respect for the end of this pilgrimage.
It took Moses close to forty years to find a home for his people when they fled Egypt. In truth, our journey from Stornoway has only been about a year, but I am sure some of our experiences match what happened to Moses and his people. They were able to make a life for themselves once they finally stopped moving through the desert. As our boat made its stop along the shore, I said a small prayer to myself hoping for the same good fortune.