Island's End

by Padma Venkatraman

  At last the hole is deep enough. I place the nautilus shell vessel inside and sit back on my haunches. “We bid you farewell, Lah-ame,” I say.

  We lower Lah-ame’s body into the grave and pile earth back on top. The earth feels soft now, its touch comforting to my fingers. Our work done, I press my cheek against the mound of earth for a moment, wanting to get as close as possible to Lah-ame’s remains. Then I stand up and Danna blows the dirt off my fingers. Facing east, I bow my head and scrub off the mourning clay that still sticks to my forehead.

  In the bright sky spread out above us, I see an eagle soaring. It circles around us four times, so low that we can hear the beat of its wings. Then it glides away.

  Together, we watch the eagle disappear into the sunshine.

  “Down?” Danna asks.

  Hand in hand, we walk back to join the rest of the tribe.

  38

  As soon as we are within sight of the village, Tawai runs up to us. “Uido, should we prepare for the feast now?” he asks.

  I rest my hand on his thick curls as my people gather around me. “Lah-ame rests well,” I say. “Tonight we will dance to celebrate his life.”

  Tawai pulls off the mourning palm leaves from the front of our hut and lays them in the center of the clearing. The other children follow his actions, shouting in happy anticipation of the feast ahead. Soon there is a huge pile of dry leaves, waiting for the evening’s bonfire.

  Natalang stands alone in front of her family’s hut. I walk over to join her. “Would you like to go gathering together this morning?” I ask.

  Her full lips part in a smile. “I was waiting for you, Uido,” she says. I see Mimi nod with approval as we leave the clearing together, baskets in hand, Natalang’s free arm tucked through mine.

  “Uido, I have chosen the man I want to marry!” Natalang bursts out.

  “Is it Ashu?” I try to sound enthusiastic.

  “He gave me this!” She fingers a shell necklace that dangles between her breasts. Strung with bits of polished scallop shell, it glows pink, green and white, a rainbow of soft color. I am surprised that Ashu could make something so delicate.

  “It is beautiful, Natalang,” I tell her.

  “Ashu is very attentive and loving,” she says, describing my brother in a way I hardly recognize. “And yet he is so manly, too. He drew such intricate patterns on his legs during the scarification ceremony! It took him longer than anyone else. He had to use two tolma crystals to finish his tattoo, but he did not wince once.” Looking at me sideways, she says, “Nor did Danna.”

  I say nothing.

  “Danna’s love could help you forget your grief over Lah-ame,” Natalang suggests. She speaks for the rest of the day about how many babies she hopes to have after she marries Ashu, what she wants to name their babies, then about the other new couples in the tribe.

  It feels good to listen to Natalang’s cheerful voice again. But knowing how angry and jealous Ashu can be, I also worry a little, wishing Natalang had chosen a kinder man.

  As daylight fades, we return to the village to help the women cook the evening meal. The men have brought back a great deal of food to honor Lah-ame’s spirit: four monitor lizards, several boars, a large turtle, plenty of fish and crabs.

  I enter Lah-ame’s hut and bring out his fire tools. Everyone seems to be watching me as I kneel down to start my first fire. But my nervousness disappears as I concentrate on the image of my spirit as a shining light kindling the wood. The muscles in my arms are so strong now that it feels easy to churn the fire stick in the hollow of the trunk with Lah-ame’s vine rope. Soon I have a fire crackling.

  Sitting in a circle around the fire, we each say a few words to thank Lah-ame’s spirit for being among us. Then we eat until our bellies feel heavy. Once everyone has wiped their hands and picked their teeth clean, I carry Lah-ame’s drum out into the clearing and beat out a dance rhythm. A circle of dancers forms, shoulders shaking, hips swaying, feet thumping.

  I play until my palms are tired. Noticing the slowness of my hands, one of the elders finally takes over and frees me to dance out my feelings.

  Joining the circle, I stamp and kick at my sadness until my feet feel light again, light enough to fly. Facing the fire, I lift my arms and whirl and soar the way an eagle does. I feel like a wind lifts me and blows power into my spirit. I weave in and out of the dancers, touching the bare shoulders of others with my eagle wings, the way Lah-ame touched all of our lives.

  After I have danced myself to exhaustion, I leave the circle and sit in front of Lah-ame’s hut. Natalang drops down next to me. Pearls of sweat glisten above her lips.

  “I was glad to see you dancing, Uido,” she says. “I know you loved Lah-ame very much, but he would want you to be happy again, as soon as possible.”

  “It is hard,” I say. “There is so much I wanted to ask him, so much we will never share now.”

  She nods and lays her soft hand on my arm. “So tell me about the strangers. Are they all as fat as Ragavan?”

  I sense she is trying to cheer me up, but her words remind me of the hungry beggar child and the frail woman so broken in spirit. I shudder.

  “If you will not tell me, I will have to find out myself,” Natalang says.

  “I am sorry, Natalang. It is difficult for me to speak of the strangers’ world just now. Some of what I saw there was terrible. Thinking of it brings despair to my spirit.”

  “I really will see for myself soon,” Natalang goes on. “I did not tell you yet, did I? Ashu and his friends are carving out a huge log to make the biggest canoe ever. The moment it is ready, we are going to visit the strangers’ island!”

  39

  What?” I shout so loudly that some of the dancers turn to stare at me.

  “I know you and Ashu fought about the strangers,” Natalang says. “But surely now that they saved Tawai, you no longer dislike them.”

  “Natalang, listen to me—”

  “Uido, I am tired of being on this little island all the time. So is Ashu.”

  “But their world has nothing that we need. You think they have a lot of food, but they do not share like we do. They let children of their tribe go hungry. You cannot imagine it.”

  She sighs. “I am sorry, Uido. I should have said nothing about the strangers.”

  “Natalang, I saw a woman there from another tribe like ours. She was thinner than anyone should ever be. Her spirit was lost in the strangers’ world. Our spirits will die like hers if we try to live the way they do.”

  But Natalang is gazing at the dancers and my words do not seem to reach her. “Uido, let us not spoil the evening by fighting. I only wanted to cheer you up. I am truly sorry I upset you. Come, dance some more.” She tugs at my hand.

  I stand, but instead of joining the dancers again as she does, I look for Danna and pull him away from the circle.

  “You look worried,” he says.

  I tell him what I heard from Natalang about Ashu’s boat.

  But Danna does not seem shocked at all. He pats my cheek and says, “The sea calls to many, Uido.”

  “Not you too?” For a moment I feel abandoned by how calm he acts.

  “No, not me. This island is large enough to hold me as long as you stay here.”

  I open my mouth to speak again, but Danna’s lips close over mine, forcing me to stop. He pulls my arms around his sturdy waist. We press together and I feel his heartbeat, strong and fast against my own chest.

  “Uido,” he whispers, “stop worrying about the tribe for now. First, you need to refresh your spirit with happy thoughts.”

  Danna is right. I feel too drained to fight with Ashu tonight. Or even to continue thinking about him and Natalang. My thoughts slow down as my hands wander across Danna’s back, feeling the curve of his hips.

  Danna’s lips move to my earlobe. “I found a beautiful spot in the jungle a few days ago . . .”

  I run my fingers over his mouth. “Shall we go there now?”


  We wander out of the village into the soft blackness of the jungle. In the distance, I hear the uk-uk, coo-roo of an owl.

  Nestling together beneath the great black trunk of a moro-ta tree, we look at the moonlight dripping through its branches. Fireflies glow around us like fallen stars, and the scent of vanilla flowers drifts in the air.

  For a while, nothing exists but the magic of shared silence and beauty of our togetherness.

  40

  Finally, Danna falls asleep, the ends of his mouth curving up in a gentle smile. I sit beside him for a few more moments, looking at his skin glisten in the moonlight as he sleeps. Then I get up and walk quietly back to my family’s hut, thinking of the day Danna and I will have a hut of our own in the village. But in my dreams later that night, neither love nor beauty awaits me.

  Instead, I see all the En-ge pouring onto the sea in great canoes, their bodies black and proud. They leave our island behind—the sky above it no longer pierced by our hunters’ arrows, its jungles empty of our women’s laughter. And far away on the strangers’ island I hear Tawai’s gleeful shrieks fade into frightened whimpers, while Natalang’s plump body shrinks into that of a hunchbacked beggar.

  The dream disturbs my sleep. Half awake, staring at the dark roof above me, I pray to the spirits, harder than I have ever prayed before.

  “Biliku-waye,” I beg, “please do something to help my people see that our ways can be stronger than the strangers’ ways. Show me how to protect our faith and confidence, so that our spirits remain as bright as they are now.”

  My spirit drifts far into the Otherworld.

  On the shore of our island, I see Biliku-waye. She is a woman again, a giant woman with eight arms.

  “I heard your call for help,” she says. “I will do what I can.”

  She swims into the ocean and dives beneath the waves. Deeper and deeper she goes until she is on the lightless sea floor. I sense her eight arms are grabbing hold of the sea floor, somewhere far away in the great depths.

  “Monster waves will come at your island,” she says. “Guide your people to safety and their confidence in you will never wane again. But doubt yourself and the last of the En-ge will be gone.”

  I wake up trembling like the ground I saw in my vision. But around me, my family sleeps on undisturbed. Kara snores at Mimi’s side and her breathing rolls like a gentle breeze in our dark hut.

  Wanting to make sure everything is peaceful as usual, I crawl out noiselessly. The village is a picture of calm. Moonlight flows over the empty clearing and the fire is a pile of gray ash. Everyone is asleep.

  I circle around the huts but find nothing unusual. Resting my back against the trunk of the laurel tree behind Lah-ame’s hut, I pull at the chauga-ta around my neck that once was his. “Lah-ame,” I whisper, “what does my vision mean?” The bones of our ancestors seem to twitch under my fingers, but neither they nor Lah-ame can speak to me.

  I rush to the beach, reaching it as the sun begins to rise.

  “Sister, I need you!” I call out to my spirit animal.

  In an instant, eight tentacles snake through the foam, reaching for me. I drift into the waves. Water presses in around me, red as blood in the dawn light.

  Together, we swim down until we are at the bottom of the sea. There we stretch our arms out in eight directions until we sense an unusual swelling in the water, far to the south of my island. Over the uneven ocean floor we swim, tracking the swell to its source.

  We reach a place where the sea floor is trembling. As we watch, the earth shudders and tears apart. One piece of it collapses, forming a pit, while another is thrust upward by the churning water, taking us with it.

  Then I am standing on the beach again, in the bright sunshine of morning.

  “What is happening?” I ask.

  The stomach of the earth growls with hunger. This morning the sea will come at your island openmouthed, like a great shark, ready to swallow the village.

  I shudder. “How can I save my people from it?”

  Warn the tribe to take shelter. Tell them monster waves will rise out of the sea, threatening to drown your island. Lead them all to the cliffs.

  “What if this is wrong?”

  What if the ocean swallows the last of the En-ge because you did not warn them in time?

  “Can you not give me another sign? Something I can show to prove my words are true?”

  Move. Quickly.

  “But the tribe may not believe me.”

  Go! Now!

  “Wait,” I call after my spirit animal as her body disappears beneath the shifting water. “Tawai already doubts our ways and maybe others do too. I cannot make a mistake now—not about such a terrible prediction.”

  But there is no answer.

  41

  I turn back and gaze in the direction of my village, nervously pulling at my chauga-ta. If I am wrong, surely my tribe will not give me another chance to be their oko-jumu.

  I take a few hesitant steps up the beach. Running my hand over my medicine pouch, I think of my many journeys in the Otherworld and of my visions. I have never been wrong before.

  As I leave the beach, I catch a difference in the sound of the waves—the faintest hint of a faraway hiss. When I enter the jungle, I drop down onto the soft mat of leaves and press an ear to the ground. Biliku-waye’s laughter rumbles through it like buried thunder. I get up and lay my hand on the trunk of a coconut tree. I feel its spirit shaking like a mouse poisoned by a cobra’s venom.

  With my head bowed, I gather my courage and pray. “Biliku-waye, Pulug-ame, hold the ocean back until my tribe is safe.”

  I run straight back to the village, hoping to gather everyone together there. The jungle is unnaturally silent, except for the shrill treee-tri-tri-tri of a bee-eater bird. But this morning its call sounds like a warning rather than a song to greet the new day. Wet leaves cling to my feet as they thunder across the jungle floor. The breeze whistles past my ears, urging me on.

  I storm into our village. A group of children playing in the clearing stops and stares at me, surprised to see me racing across without greeting anyone. The bachelor hut is nearly empty now and most of the men have already left to hunt. Of the girls, only a few late risers, including Natalang, remain. She turns her sleepy face in my direction, but I rush past her.

  “Uido? Why are you in such a hurry?” one of the women calls out. She is echoed by others.

  I make straight for Lah-ame’s hut. My stomach cramps with pain from running so fast. Near the entrance I double over and stumble inside.

  Mimi follows me into Lah-ame’s hut. “Is something wrong, Uido?”

  “We must go,” I pant. “Now. To the cliff top.”

  “What?” Her tone sounds bewildered. “Why?”

  Holding on to Mimi, I look for the waist-high drum that Lah-ame used to sound the alarm and gather the tribe together. But just as I lay my hands on it, we hear a shout coming from the beach. It is the voice of the ra-gumul boy who stands guard there.

  "Olaye, olaye, odo-lay, odo-lay! Come, everyone! The strangers are here again!”

  42

  The boy’s cries set a new panic swirling in my mind. If I beat out the alarm in the village now, some people might be confused about whether they should answer the boy’s call and go to the beach or else follow the drumbeat and assemble in the clearing.

  Perhaps I should gather everyone together at the beach instead of the village, to avoid any confusion. My eyes fall on the small drum with vine-rope straps that Lah-ame played the first time I went to the Otherworld. It is not as loud as his waist-high drum, but it is easier to carry.

  With Mimi’s help, I slip the vine ropes tied to the drum over my shoulders. Straightening my back and flattening my palms, I beat on the drum and stride into the clearing. Come, En-ge, come.

  As I sound the call, the giant squid’s power floods my body. It feels as though I have grown eight arms. I slap harder and faster at the drum’s mouth. Come, En-ge, come.

>   The elders gape at me. But they are the first to stop their work and group together behind me. The women follow, strapping their babies to their backs or holding little children by the hand. I look over the crowd for Tawai, but he is not among them. I fear he has run away to meet the strangers already.

  Still pounding on the drum, I motion for my people to come with me, out of the village and onto the beach. As we walk, my urgent call echoes through the jungle and across the wide sands.

  Close to the water, at the south end of the beach, I see a small group of people. Ragavan and his two men have landed there as usual. They toss colorful buckets out of their boat and onto the sand. While I beat the drum, more En-ge emerge from the jungle. Ashu and his friends arrive, but they ignore my call and race past the growing crowd to join Ragavan.

  Halfway down the beach, I stop. Danna bursts through the trees, elbows his way past the others and stands at my side. “I was searching for you. What is wrong?”

  I squeeze his hand gently. “I had a frightening vision last night and had to call on my spirit animal. Something terrible is about to happen.” I explain it to him quickly and then count the tightly knotted family groups. Once I am certain the entire tribe is on the beach, I finally let my hands rest on the drum. Danna stands close at my side.

  I hear Tawai shriek with delight. He has climbed into Ragavan’s boat to help the strangers unload. “Look!” He throws different-colored buckets into the air one after another. “I am making a rainbow!”

  Distracted by his antics, a few children strain to break away from their families. Even some of the adults look with interest at the strangers’ gifts. But then Kara pushes through the crowd and steps toward the strangers’ boat.