Swimming With Sharks

by Melissa Cristina Márquez

  I felt a little bit better knowing more about the shark we were going to possibly see. I couldn’t believe nobody had seen these sharks in almost fifty years … could they really be extinct? That meant there were no more of them around on our planet!

  Maybe they were just really good at hiding? According to Mr. Manil, scientists knew very little about these sharks and every few months they would get a few people asking to rent a boat and a tour guide to help find the Pondicherry shark.

  “They’re known as ‘lost sharks,’ ” said Zev, and I scrunched up my nose. Lost sharks?

  “But we know they’re around here somewhere. So, are they really lost?” I asked, and Feye let out a snorty giggle. I ignored him.

  Mr. Manil also laughed but explained, “No, Adrianna. They’re called the ‘lost sharks’ because scientists know so little about them. When they go looking for these lost sharks, sometimes they find new species that science didn’t know about before. There are some really famous people who study these lost sharks. It’s important work!”

  I wrote that down in my notebook.

  “How many sharks are there in the world, Dad?” Zev asked, and I looked up from my notebook. Mom had turned around to answer when I said, “We keep finding new species, so it is hard to keep track of the exact number! But it’s over five hundred shark species right now.”

  Mom winked at me, proud. I winked back. “Wow! That’s a lot more than I thought!” Zev exclaimed.

  “Adrianna, do you know how many species of shark have been found around Sri Lanka?” my dad asked. I thought about it. If there were over five hundred species of sharks and Sri Lanka was surrounded by water …

  “Over three hundred species!” I said proudly, confident I was correct.

  Feye shook his head, a smile on his face. “Give or take about sixty species,” he said. Dad nodded and extended a hand to give him a fist bump. It’s a thing they’ve done ever since they watched some Disney movie about a robot who likes giving out fist bumps in a funny way.

  “Showed up the Mother of Sharks,” Dad said. He had given me that nickname when I was younger since I loved working with the aquarists at the Sacred Sanctuary and Zoological Park to help hatch baby sharks from their egg cases. I loved seeing them wiggle around in the cases before they were ready to be born.

  That still seemed like a lot of shark species, even if sixty was only a small bit of the over five hundred species. “Someone read the Sri Lanka booklet Mr. Savage gave us!” Mom said, coming to my defense.

  “Do you know that sharks have relatives?” Mr. Manil said. “Kind of like your cousins, they also have cousins. They are the stingrays; the skates, which are like another type of stingray; and chimaeras.” I thought of our cousins back at home, like Emmanuel and Nuni.

  “Mom, isn’t a chimaera a mythological creature?” Feye asked, now really interested in the conversation. Mythology? Like the Athena play I was in for all the homeschooled kids a few years ago?

  Mom shook her head. “No, that is chimera. C-H-I-M-E-R-A. This is chimaera, C-H-I-M-A-E-R-A. The first one, yes, is a mythological creature. A really scary beast made of a bunch of animal parts like a lion’s head, wings of an eagle, and a snake for a tail.” I could not imagine that would be a nice-looking animal.

  Mom continued, explaining, “The second one is a real animal. They’re actually even more distant cousins than the stingrays and skates! They usually live in really deep waters.”

  “There are a lot of species of rays, skates, and chimaeras in the world. In total with sharks, there are over one thousand species!” said Dad.

  Now THAT was a lot.

  “Is the Pondicherry shark only found in Sri Lanka?” Feye asked.

  “Nobody really knows, mijo,” Dad answered. “That’s why it’s so important we save this shark. It could be the very last of its species.”

  “Where is this shark?” I asked, looking out the window.

  “Coming up! It’s apparently being held in an at-home aquarium,” Dad said.

  I got real sad at that thought as Mr. Manil parked the car in front of a small, bright pink building. The roof was made of orange curved tiles and the white windows were wide open. Music, laughter, and people chatting could be heard even through the closed car doors. We undid our seat belts and stepped outside the car.

  Could it really be the last one of its kind? Well, maybe it was living a good life in the aquarium—it was dangerous out there in the wild!

  As we opened the glass door, a little bell jingled. This building wasn’t a house at all—it was a restaurant. An older lady, who looked just as old as our abuela, came out and greeted us with a toothy grin. She wore a bright orange skirt that had yellow flowers on it that matched the yellow shirt she was wearing. I wanted to tell her how pretty her red lipstick was, but before I could say anything, she spoke.

  “Come, come, sit,” she said in English and picked up some menus to hand to us. Mr. Manil said something in a different language—I would have to ask him to teach me some. She again smiled and pointed to the back of the restaurant. There was a slight breeze and I looked up to see a few ceiling fans that provided the background ambience of a soft whirring noise.

  “Yes, come see the shark,” she said and led us back, stopping by a table near the aquarium. If I had thought this shark was living a good life in an aquarium, I was very wrong. It didn’t look like any of the aquariums I had seen! The aquariums at the zoo, and even some in the homes of Mom and Dad’s friends, had colorful rocks on the bottom and included live plants or coral. I remember one aquarium even had a small castle for Nemo the clown fish to swim in and out of.

  But there were no colorful rocks or coral or plants in this aquarium. There was no castle and no other fish in the tank. It was only a few feet long, which was bigger than most home fish tanks, but not big enough for even a small shark like this. This gray shark, about eighteen inches long, could swim from one side of the tank to the other in a few seconds, and then it would turn around and do it all over again. The shark was all alone with some bubbles. It looked like it had a sad frown on its face … but all sharks sort of look like that, I guess.

  Another family was eating their food near the aquarium. The smallest of the kids stood up on his chair and started banging his hand on the glass whenever the shark swam by.

  Thwack-thwack-thwack!

  “Hey! Please stop that!” I said as we went past. I sat down with the rest of our group. Their family stopped eating and looked at me.

  “It isn’t nice,” I explained. “It scares the shark because they can hear the noise inside the aquarium. Please don’t do it.” The kid looked at me for a few seconds and then saw the shark coming back to his end of the tank. Once again, he smacked the glass.

  “Stop! Please! You’re scaring it!” I said, a little louder.

  “Adrianna. We do not yell in a restaurant,” Dad said, and Feye grabbed my wrist. Zev looked uncomfortably between me and the kid’s family. The kid kept hitting the glass. Thwack-thwack-thwack! I looked at my parents and Feye—why weren’t they saying anything?

  It’s as if Zev could read my mind. “They probably don’t know what you are saying, Adrianna. Remember, English isn’t a language everyone in every country knows how to speak.”

  Of course! How could I forget that? I looked at Mr. Manil and said, “Mr. Manil, can you please tell them what I said? About the noise scaring the shark? Please?”

  He nodded and walked over to the family. I couldn’t hear what he was saying to them, but the family stopped eating again to nod at Mr. Manil and he gave me a thumbs-up.

  Thwack-thwa—

  I turned my head around and saw the dad holding the young child’s hand and pulling him down so he was sitting again. You didn’t need to understand a language to see he was getting in trouble with his dad. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble … I just didn’t want the shark to be scared.

  My eyes scanned the menu, seeing a fish emoji alongside many of the menu items. I wondered
if any of the fish were caught illegally. We took forever to order the food, and when it finally came, I almost forgot about the shark swimming next to me in a too-tiny and too-plain aquarium. Almost. We all must have been starving because we ate in silence, the only noise from our table being the slurps and contented sighs from our mouths as we devoured our food. Zev spooned some of his vegetarian kottu onto my plate when he saw me eyeing it. I smiled. Between mouthfuls I looked up to see rice and curry on everyone’s table, with various kinds of bread piled high in the middle of each family. I grabbed from the pile of our roti-style flatbreads and dunked a piece into my dhal curry.

  I had never tasted food that exploded with such flavor, and my mouth began to water all over again as I spied fried snacks leaving the kitchen and being placed on other tables. After our meal, my mother asked Mr. Manil to translate for the shop owners, Mr. and Mrs. Gamage, that we wanted to talk to them about the shark.

  “Can you please tell Mrs. Gamage that this could possibly be a Pondicherry shark, a very rare species here? It could be the last of its kind and we would love to take a fin clip sample to test and see if it is indeed one,” Mom said.

  I looked at her. How were we going to do that?!

  A fin clip meant my parents wanted to do a genetic analysis on the shark to identify if it was a Pondicherry shark or not. And that made sense—it was one of the most accurate ways to identify a species. My parents would take a small clip (so small the shark wouldn’t feel a thing!) from the fin. It would be placed in a tube filled with the chemical ethanol to keep it preserved until the DNA test could be run. I wasn’t confused about that … but I was confused about how we would test the tissue sample.

  Feye saw the uncertainty on my face. “Mom and Dad have a marine biologist friend here that they are going to meet up with.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “I overheard them talking to her. She’s got a whole operation here,” he answered. I nodded. Guess I would meet her soon enough.

  Mr. Manil translated what my mom had said. The owners nodded their heads, and Mr. Gamage eventually said something back. It wasn’t until then that I realized how hot it was in here, seeing the sweat on Mr. Gamage’s upper lip. He wore a plain cream-colored shirt that was stained with sweat, now matching our own sweaty clothes. “They said yes,” Mr. Manil said, “but to please be careful, as many customers come here to see the shark. They don’t want it hurt too badly—it must look pretty.”

  “If it is a Pondicherry shark, it should be in the wild,” Feye mumbled under his breath.

  If this were the last one—EVER—shouldn’t it be in a nicer aquarium where it could be protected? Where scientists could learn more about it?

  Before I could say anything to my parents, thwack-thwack-thwack!

  The kid was back hitting the tank. Why weren’t the parents doing anything about it? Before my mother or father could reply to what the owners had said, I stood up quickly.

  Zev, who was next to me, tugged at my shirt. He was trying to get me to sit back down.

  “You’re stressing the shark out!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but it came out louder than I had intended. My mother gave me the look. I knew I was in trouble. I wondered if Mr. Manil was going to translate what I had said, but Zev must have done it for me. Maybe he was saying sorry for me, too?

  The small child was once again being chastised by his own parents while Zev said something to the Gamages.

  “I’m sorry,” I squeaked.

  Before the Gamages could reply, my mother said, “Mr. Manil, please give Mr. and Mrs. Gamage our sincerest apologies for the outburst my daughter just had. She knows better than to yell.” As Mr. Manil translated, Mom stood up and motioned with her finger for me to follow her.

  I picked up my chair and pushed it under the table. I bowed my head down and said, “I am very sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean to. Please forgive me.” Then I followed my mom to the front door of the restaurant, where she was waiting for me.

  “Adrianna Villalobos, you know very well that your father and I did not raise you to yell when you do not get your way. That is not how you have a conversation with someone,” she said, her eyes stormy.

  “Mom, they can’t do this! Look at the shark; it’s clearly suffering. They probably have kids hitting that glass every day, and that poor shark hears it all and it can’t go anywhere to get away from the loud noise!”

  Mom was not impressed with my explanation. “I will agree with you that any shark, regardless of the species, deserves a better habitat than where this one is right now. But there’s a lot to consider with this specific situation. Unfortunately, this isn’t something we can just change on the spot,” she said. She bent down to look me in the eyes. “You will not always get what you want. We will not always be able to save every animal, even if we really want to. You are a brilliant kid, Adrianna. But I want you to know that yelling at someone because they disagree will not get you anywhere. Saying your side louder will not make them want to listen to you.”

  I hung my head low. She was right. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “I know, mija. I’m glad you apologized to them … but I’m very disappointed by your behavior. I think you, your brother, and Zev should go outside. Maybe Zev can show you guys around the area while Dad and I get the fin clip.”

  She told me to stay where I was and I felt my cheeks get hot. I didn’t want to cry, especially not in this restaurant in front of a bunch of strangers. I watched Feye and Zev leave the table and walk toward me.

  Feye took my hand and said, “Let’s go,” before Zev opened the door. The little bell once again jingled, and we walked out without looking at anyone else.

  I held open the old glass door and jumped down a pair of steps in one high jump. As my sandals hit the dirt sidewalk, I kicked at a rock and yelled out, “Ugh!” I wondered if I had to put a moneda in the jar for that one … it wasn’t technically a bad word.

  How could they keep a beautiful shark in a small tank like that?! Didn’t they know how important sharks were to the oceans?!

  Feye put a hand on my shoulder as I crossed my arms and turned away from him and Zev.

  “Adrianna, you need to chill,” Feye said in a low voice. He used that voice with me whenever he was trying to calm me down. I puffed out a dramatic sigh and looked past him and at Zev.

  “Why didn’t the parents understand that what the kid was doing was wrong?” I said. We sat on the dusty steps and I tucked my legs under my long blue skirt. It was one of my favorites and I was glad I’d packed it into my suitcase.

  “Well, thanks to movies and the news, a lot of people think sharks are these fearsome monsters that eat everything—including people. So many people don’t care for sharks. They have that ‘the only good shark is a dead shark’ mindset.” Zev shrugged.

  I didn’t have any reply. He was right. People back home feared sharks for the same reason.

  “So what would you like to see?” Zev asked, changing the subject. “We can go wherever you want.”

  I couldn’t tell if it was hotter inside or outside the restaurant. Or maybe it was my face, red with embarrassment from being scolded by my mom in front of so many people.

  “We should stay close to the restaurant, like our mom said,” Feye commented, wiping sweat off his forehead.

  “Or we can have Zev take us somewhere cool,” I suggested, my hands gesturing to our new friend and the awesome adventures he could take us on.

  “There is a neat water hole nearby. Lots of kids hang out there, and sometimes there are even elephants!”

  “We could talk to other kids about the Pondicherry shark!” I said excitedly. If adults wouldn’t listen, maybe some kids my age would understand.

  “Or we could stay close to the restaurant,” Feye repeated. I let out a huff of air.

  “It isn’t too far. Like a ten-minute walk.” Zev shrugged, his hand reaching up to scratch his shaggy hair.

  “I say we go! I want to see some elephants
!” I squealed.

  Elephants! These would be Sri Lankan elephants, which are a subspecies of the Asian elephant and native to Sri Lanka. I remember reading in our booklet that they were listed as Endangered by the IUCN, which stands for the International Union for Conservation of Nature. Our parents had explained to us that the IUCN was the world’s oldest environmental organization in the world. Their job is to tell scientists and conservationists, like our parents, how animals and plants are doing.

  “Endangered” meant the Sri Lankan elephants were in danger of becoming extinct. I didn’t know why, though, and wanted to ask Zev if he knew.

  “Well, I’m staying here,” Feye said, leaning against the outside wall of the restaurant.

  “But, Feye, it could be a ‘Feye and Adrianna Mission’!” I pouted.

  “It isn’t a ‘Feye and Adrianna Mission’ when it isn’t just us two. Go ahead … I don’t want to get in trouble,” Feye muttered, and with that he fished his headphones out of his pocket and plugged them into his phone. Before I could protest, I could hear his loud music pumping out of the headphones.

  Fine. He didn’t want to come? It would be an “Adrianna and Zev Adventure,” then.

  “Come on, Zev,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Lead the way to the elephants!”

  We turned away from the restaurant and toward the busy street. Zev held my hand tightly as we weaved between the bicycles, motorbikes, cars, and people that filled the streets. I couldn’t tell where the actual street stopped and the sidewalk began.

  “Zev, why are the Sri Lankan elephants endangered?” I asked. A car honked its horn at the same time, so I had to yell my question again to make sure he had heard.

  “Hunting is a big reason. Some did it for pleasure. But some people killed the elephants because they were seen as pests by farmers. The elephants would come onto their land to eat and drink water. It’s a shame because they are so important to Sri Lankan culture.”