One Big Damn Puzzler

by John Harding

  THIRTY

  IT WAS A day of magic on the island. If you had ventured into the jungle you would have noticed the silence straight away. The parakeets did not shriek and cry as was their wont but restricted the sound they made to the beat of their wings as they flew from tree to tree; the howler monkeys refrained from howling, they sat upon the ground in groups where they waited for something to happen; they didn’t know what it would be, but they knew it was coming; even the black bantam pigs searched for bright orange fungi without the snuffling and grunting noises their rooting usually occasioned. Magic was in the steam that rose from the jungle floor and it was in the globules of condensed water the leaves of the tree canopy returned to it. It was in the very air and all living things knew it.

  Even William, even the gwanga who was not attuned to the moods and nuances of his new habitat, sensed it. As he walked back to the Captain Cook from the daily degradation of the shitting beach he felt he was being followed, but when he turned to look, there was no-one there and he put it down as a flashback from the kassa.

  Later he decided to ask Purnu for help to look for Pilua. It was during their morning reading lesson. The lessons were not going well. Purnu was intelligent but he had a disputatious nature that led him to challenge the basic principles of a written language, principles that William was finding it hard to get across because the native’s knowledge of the outside world was so negligible it severely limited the vocabulary available to him for examples.

  ‘CUH-A-TUH,’ William was saying right now, indicating the letters one by one on the paper on which he’d written them. ‘Now you say it.’

  ‘CUH-A-TUH,’ repeated Purnu.

  ‘Now say it faster and you have a word.’

  ‘C-A-T,’ said Purnu. He looked puzzled. ‘I is not hear any word.’

  ‘C-A-T. Cat!’ said William. ‘C-A-T makes cat.’

  ‘Cat is be word?’ said Purnu. ‘What is be cat?’

  ‘You don’t know cat? A small furry animal, kept as a pet?’ Purnu looked even more perplexed. ‘Miaow!’ William imitated the sound of the animal. Purnu stared at him. He looked like he thought William was going to bite him.

  ‘OK,’ said William. ‘I guess you don’t have cats. All right, let’s try another one. CUH-A-PUH’.

  ‘CAP,’ said Purnu right away and William allowed himself a smug smile of satisfaction.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said.

  ‘What is be so good ’bout this?’ demanded Purnu with a scowl. ‘What is be cap? Is be more damn animal is not be on island?’ Before William could answer the man held up his hands seemingly in terror. ‘No, no, you is not make noise of cap, we is not have caps here. Is be no need for tell me noise cap is make.’

  ‘It’s not an animal. It’s something you wear on your head.’

  ‘You is make with dead animal?’

  ‘No,’ said William. ‘Well, yes, sometimes, I guess.’

  ‘Is not matter,’ said Purnu. ‘We is not have cats or caps. I is not want for read about they things.’

  William thought a moment. He wished he had a dictionary with him so he could look up other words beginning with C-A instead of having to think of them. Managua had a dictionary, he’d seen it on his plastic crate, but he didn’t want to ask to borrow it in case Managua demanded to know why he wanted it. He decided to try a different tack.

  ‘A-R together make the sound AR,’ he said.

  ‘What is be AR?’ asked Purnu. ‘Is be another damn word we is not have here.’ William realized that was true. The word ‘are’ didn’t figure in the natives’ vocabulary because they always used the singular ‘is’ form of the verb ‘to be’.

  ‘It’s not a word on its own. It’s a blend of letters that make a sound that you can use to make other words. Let’s go back to C. CUH-A-RUH. CUH-AR.’

  ‘Car,’ said Purnu. He looked annoyed now. ‘What for you is teach me this? Is be more furry animal you is put on head in America? Is not be any use for me.’

  William was going through all the words he could think of that began with CA. He thought of CAB, but there wouldn’t be much future in trying to explain the concept of a cab to someone who not only hadn’t heard of a car, but who even if he had wouldn’t understand the concept of paying for a ride in one, except maybe in yams. Try that in New York! William worked his way through the alphabet and came up with ‘CUH-A-NUH.’

  ‘Can!’ shrieked Purnu. ‘I is can use this word. You is see, I is just say “can”. Can is be plenty useful word because is mean two things. Now you is teach me Coca-Cola. Is be easy. I is know how is look on cuh-a-nuh.’ He laughed at his little joke.

  ‘Well, perhaps not today,’ said William. ‘You’ve done a lot. Maybe you should just practise saying “can” to yourself for now before we move on to what goes into it.’

  ‘CUH-A-NUH. CAN,’ muttered Purnu. ‘Is be good. Gwanga, I is think before that you is be shit teacher, but now I is see you is not be so bad.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said William. Purnu rose to leave. ‘Actually, Purnu, I wanted to ask your help.’

  Purnu looked suspicious. He lowered himself to the ground again. ‘What you is want?’

  ‘I need some assistance to find Pilua.’

  ‘Mebbe.’ There was a note of caution in Purnu’s voice.

  ‘Well, will you help me?’

  ‘Before I is answer you that, you is answer me this. Is you want my help like you is say, “Purnu, give me hand for lift this canoe” or “Purnu, you is help me carry these fish”? Or is you is want I is help you by magic?’

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘Yams.’

  ‘Magic costs more, right?’

  ‘No, no, no, no. First kind I is do for nothing. Is be custom, someone is need help, you is help. But not for magic. For magic you is need yams.’

  ‘There’s a problem here. I don’t have any yams.’

  There was a gleam in Purnu’s eye that told him the conversation was going according to script. He leaned his head to one side and nodded, as though thinking it over. When he thought he’d thought long enough he said, ‘OK, you is can give me another thing instead.’

  ‘Such as?’

  He pointed to William’s wrist. ‘Watch.’

  ‘Er, I’m afraid not. I need it and it has sentimental value.’

  ‘What is mean, this long word you is say?’

  ‘Sentimental? It means it’s special to me because someone I loved gave it to me.’

  ‘You is have wife. You?’

  ‘My father.’

  ‘You is know how spell?’

  ‘FUH-A-TUH—’

  ‘No, senti-senti—’

  ‘Sentimental? Yes.’

  ‘You is teach?’

  ‘I uh, I think we’re a little way off that. It’s a bit of a leap from “can” to that. But we’ll get there.’ An idea came to him. ‘If we keep on with the lessons, of course.’

  ‘What you is mean, if we is keep on with lessons? I is not give up. Now you is get hang of teacher business I is soon read good as Managua. I is already know “can”.’

  ‘Well, you see, when I offered to teach you, I had no idea how much time it would involve. Now that I do, I’m going to need something in return. What I’m suggesting is an exchange of services. You help me find Pilua, just normal help or magic, whatever gets the job done, I teach you to read. Is it a deal?’

  Purnu studied his pubic leaf intently. A minute passed. Then another. Finally he looked up.

  ‘But mebbe is not be possible for find Pilua. Mebbe she is be dead.’

  ‘I know that. You just have to try every which way you can.’

  ‘OK, is be deal.’

  ‘Great,’ said William.

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘But?’ said William.

  ‘But you is must throw in pocket calculator.’

  With all the magic in the atmosphere, Purnu had a very busy day. After his lesson with the gwanga, the first person who came to see him was Lamua.
His eyes lit up when she entered his hut, looking nervously over her shoulder as though anxious about being seen. He had always liked Lamua. She was a woman made for fug-a-fug. He thought about the handful of occasions in their youth when she had shared his bed in the bukumatula house. He remembered that it was good, the best fug-a-fug he had ever had, but he couldn’t remember what it had felt like, the smell of her sweat, the soft yearning of her body as he kneeled between her tender thighs, the whisper of her sighs. No matter how hard you tried you could never get those things back; it was all so long ago.

  She sat down without being asked and began speaking quietly and quickly. Like most of his consultations, it was confidential; if you wanted magic to make someone fall in love with you, you didn’t want to alert a rival; if you came seeking a spell to kill someone you didn’t want to let the intended victim know.

  ‘I is need some plenty damn powerful magic from you, Purnu,’ she said.

  ‘What for you is need magic? You is not have problem with husband, I is hope? Managua is be such great man, is can read and all that.’ Purnu couldn’t help letting his resentment of Managua show. Long before he envied the older man his literacy he had coveted his wife. How come Managua had been the one to snare her? Why had she preferred an old man with one leg to him?

  ‘I is need spell for make baby, that is be first.’

  He gave a casual shrug. ‘This I is can do. Is not be big problem. There is be more?’

  She blushed. ‘I is need spell for make Managua love me again.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Managua is not love you? Beautiful woman like you? Is this man be blind? Or mebbe he is be too old now for make fug-a-fug?’

  ‘He is be too busy with they damn books.’

  ‘Mebbe you is like I is make spell so Managua is not can read any more.’ Of course Purnu had already tried to accomplish this with every spell he knew without success, but Lamua didn’t know that and there might be a few yams in it.

  ‘I is not want for stop he read. When we is first know each other he is read stories for me. I is love he for the stories he is read and he is love me for I is listen they.’

  ‘Mebbe too much read is be bad for pwili.’ Lamua couldn’t help noticing that Purnu looked a little worried as he said this. It was plenty strange, he’d never shown concern for Managua before.

  She pressed on. ‘And I is need spell for find pig.’

  ‘Hunting spell, this I is can do. Is be very easy.’

  ‘No, I is not want for hunt pig, just find.’

  ‘You is want for find pig without you is hunt? Is plenty funny thing for want. You is mean you is want for you is walk in jungle and is not look for pig and is just trip over one?’

  ‘How I is find is not matter, just so long as I is find.’

  ‘Well, OK, you is not want for hunt pig but what for you is want for find? You is want for special occasion? You is maybe want spell for kill somebody, eat pig for funeral? I is have way for find pigs. I is look in bowl of water for see where is be herd of pigs in jungle.’

  ‘No, is just be one pig I is want. Not any old pig. Is be one special pig. Is be pig Managua is have for pet. He is be as crazy for this damn pig as for books. Between Shakespeare and pig is be no time for me.’

  ‘Pig is not be at you house?’

  ‘No, Managua is know I is be angry at pig, is want for kill. Is want for slit throat and drink blood. He is take pig somewhere for hide. I is not can find.’

  ‘All right. So, you is want spell for make baby, is want spell for make Managua show you he pwili again, is want spell for find special pig.’

  ‘Yes, but you is make spell for find pig first. Managua is be so in love with damn pig he is never love me again before pig is be dead, spell or no spell, you is understand?’

  ‘I is understand. Is be three spells.’ He shook his head. ‘Is be plenty yams.’

  ‘How many?’

  He named a figure. After an initial gasp of shock, Lamua went right into haggling. She pointed out he’d said a hunting spell was easy, he retaliated that the hunting spell he’d been talking about was to find a herd of pigs in the forest, not one particular pig that was being hidden by a man. Lamua replied that, when you thought about it, she was actually only asking for one spell because she was sure that with the pig out of the way Managua would love her again and that maybe no floating baby had come to her because no child would want to come where there wasn’t a loving father. They went on and on for some time until she had beaten him down to a figure from which he would not budge.

  ‘I is not have,’ she said. ‘I is not can take so many yams without Managua is notice. How much is be just for find pig?’

  Purnu threw her a disparaging smile. ‘Most of yams is be for pig. Is be most difficult spell of whole lot. No-one is ever make spell for find one special pig before. Other two is not really count for many yams.’

  Lamua’s chin sank to her chest. Tears trickled down her lovely cheeks.

  Purnu cleared his throat. ‘Mebbe there is be one way . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ said Lamua. She looked up at his face. ‘No!’

  ‘Is you not remember bukumatula hut, all they years ago?’ He reached out and laid his hand gently on hers. ‘I is still smell you sweat. I is still feel you body yearn for mine as I is kneel between you tender thighs, I is still hear whisper of you sighs . . .’

  ‘I – I is not can. I is not say is not be nice, but that is be then. This is be now. I is be married woman.’

  ‘Married woman who is not have fug-a-fug for plenty long time, unless I is be mistake.’

  ‘But even so . . .’

  ‘I is do all three spells. You is not give me any yams.’

  ‘I is just not can. I is be faithful wife . . .’

  ‘I is throw in pocket calculator.’

  The next person to consult Purnu was Lintoa. He lumbered into the hut, pausing only to adjust the slipping shoulder strap of his dress, and dumped his huge form onto the floor in front of the sorcerer. The latter sat and stared at him. Unlike Managua who was outraged by the dresses, Purnu found them amusing. He reached out and sampled the soft cloth just above the hem, testing it gently between thumb and forefinger. Managua was old-fashioned. Purnu appreciated the things the white men made. Lintoa ignored him, took out a powder compact from his handbag, opened it and examined himself in the mirror, adjusting his hair here and there. Finally he snapped shut the compact, dropped it into the handbag, snapped that shut too and looked at his host.

  ‘What you is want?’ asked Purnu.

  ‘I is want for be boy.’ Lintoa reached up and pulled up the shoulder strap which had fallen down again.

  Purnu laughed. ‘But you is be girl. Look at you! How is be possible for you is be boy?’

  ‘This all is be so damn silly,’ said Lintoa, his cheeks suffused with the flush of anger. ‘I is already be boy.’

  Purnu pulled a face. ‘Really? I is think not. Is not can happen. You is be born girl.’

  ‘I is be boy!’ shouted Lintoa. He hauled himself to his feet, staggering over his high heels in the process and kicking one off in fury. Purnu ducked as the flash of red flew past him. Lintoa stood before him and rolled up his dress.

  ‘Look, I is be boy! I is have pwili!’

  It was Purnu’s turn now to be angry. The she-boy was behaving outrageously. It was indecent, against every taboo to expose yourself in public like this. He grabbed the hem of the skirt and yanked it down. ‘You is cover youself up. You is not behave this way in my house!’

  Chagrined, Lintoa sat down again. For the second time that day Purnu observed tears in a visitor’s eyes. He felt sorry for the she-boy, of course he did, but then he was used to tears in his business. People who wanted something badly enough to ask for magic were always on the brink of tears.

  ‘What for is must be me?’ The boy was sobbing now. ‘What for is my mamu not have proper girl child?’

  Purnu, for all his greed, his craft and guile, his plotting, was not without
a kind pair of kidneys. He reached out and laid a fatherly hand on the boy’s muscular thigh.

  ‘I is wish I is can help, but how is be possible? I is not can change nature. You is be born for be girl. But you is must not despair. One day you is be boy. Is how things is be.’

  The boy reached into the top of his dress, wriggled his hand inside his bra, extracted a rag, an action that left his breasts looking somewhat lopsided, and blew his nose upon it.

  ‘Tell me, if you is not want for be girl, what for you is wear white woman’s dress?’

  ‘Is start as joke. Miss Lucy is let we try on old dress. Tigua is ask she. Then Tigua is like so much she is not want for take off. Sussua is be bit same. Me, I is not like, but then I is look at Tigua and I is see how silly she is look and I is think, I is go wear this dress, is go show Managua and all they old mans and womans, is go show my mamu, how crazy whole damn she-boy custom is be.’

  ‘Is be brave thing for do,’ murmured Purnu. ‘Listen, you time is come in year or two for choose. You is make fine boy then. But for now you is be girl. You is must be patient. I is not can help you.’

  ‘You is not understand what I is want. I is want you is make big spell for work on every mans and womans on island. Is make they forget whole she-boy custom. Is make they is think boys is be boys and girls is be girls.’

  Purnu whistled through his teeth. ‘You is talk plenty big spell. Is cost plenty yams. Where you is get so many yams?’

  Lintoa didn’t answer. He picked up the shoe he’d thrown and put it back on. Once again Purnu felt a stab of pity in his kidneys. What really got him was that although the boy looked sullen and miserable, he still put the shoe back on. It was so accepting of his fate.

  ‘Listen,’ said the sorcerer, ‘I is not know if I is can make this spell you is want, but I is try.’

  ‘But the yams . . .?’

  ‘I is mebbe let you off some of they yams if you is do something for me. Is must do quietly. Is not tell that chattering monkey Tigua.’

  ‘I is not say word!’

  ‘Well, then, you is know Managua pig? I is need for find and I is need for find woman . . .’

  After he’d visited Purnu, Lintoa went to Managua and asked him for some magic. He didn’t ask him to change him into a boy because he knew that Purnu was the greater sorcerer and if he couldn’t do it then nobody could.