A Dolphins Dream

by Carlos Eyles

  Compton turned his attention to the water as if to see what Moses was fixed on and gave a slight shudder. “It moved so quickly, and it was so powerful. Like coming across a prehistoric beast that you thought was extinct. It could have taken me easily. I was helpless, absolutely, totally helpless.”

  “if to seewill happen, Keli,” said Moses, studying the Tasman Strait as if something or someone was about to appear, “now that you have seen the Sea God?”

  “What do you mean, what will happen?”

  “A Paramount Chief on Taveuni died in August. It was less than a hundred days ago. Seeing the Sea God is a sign to all islands. The shark is looking for a sacrifice to honor the dead chief. No one wants to sacrifice a villager from their island. It brings shame for a wrong doing. This shark has protected Qamea because nothing happened to you.”

  “Moses, if I hadn’t seen that shark then none of this would have meaning. I think you’re attaching significance to something that… It wouldn’t have been a sacrifice, it would’ve been a shark attack. A regular, read-about-it-in-the newspaper shark attack.”

  “But you did see, Keli. That changes things, eh.”

  “I would’ve been a sacrifice rather than a victim? Is that what you’re saying? I suppose it wouldn’t have made any difference to me because I would have been dead.”

  “Yes, but you are not dead, but you should be. Chief Isikeli will want to see you now. You have honored him.”

  “That’s all it took? I see a shark and now I’m an honored visitor?”

  “You will be more than a honored visitor, brother.”

  “You don’t suppose Sinaca became the shark so that I would be accepted in the village,” scoffed Compton.

  Moses apparently had not considered this possibility and snapped his head around. “Tell no one those thoughts.” He spoke sharply and Compton was taken aback by its intensity. Before he could respond, Moses strode purposefully off towards the boat. “There is much to do.”

  28

  A skiff bearing two men at the oars and a third in the bow came around to the beach the next day. The man in the bow spoke Fijian and a younger man at the starboard oar translated in broken English. “Keli come to Vatusogosogo tomorrow for savusavu with Chief Isikeli?” Moses was also invited and would act as translator. Compton said that he would be honored. The three men bowed slightly and shoved off the beach, laboring on the oars against the current up around the East Point, presumably in search of Moses.

  Moses arrived the next afternoon on a southwesterly wind, which ruffled the far seas, churning white water in mid-channel. The boat was filled with sacks of belle and taro root. Out of one of the bags he lifted a parcel wrapped in newspaper. Inside was a carton of cigarettes and a carefully wrapped cloth containing a quantity of powered kava.

  “Seven dollars for the cigarettes and kava. It is good kava, four years old.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” said Compton. “What astounds me is how those men who came yesterday found out so fast that I had seen the shark?”

  “It is amazing thing, the Fiji communication. The messages spread from person to person. I told the first fisherman I met. He was not going to the village but he told the next fisherman who was, and off it goes. You tell one person on the sea and no matter where the message is to go, even to the far islands, it is passed along. Gifts of food are given for the trouble. It is better that way, eh. People stay close in friendship. We must go. You have what you need for many days?”

  “How long will I be there?”

  “You might be there for a week, maybe more.”

  Compton gathered his bag and climbed into the boat. They swept down the island and around the West Point and into the bay of the resort, which was sheltered against the southwesterly. They rode the smooth water across the bay towards the Half Done Village, then turned east up the deep bay where green jungle met the water line. On the opposite shore, Vatusogosogo, the Genuine Village, rose sharply up the hillside in the golden hues of twilight that colored the thatched huts ocher and ignited the coconut trees into spies of crimson flames. In this near magical light the village was breathtaking in its profound rootedness to the earth, trimmed shrubs and whitewashed rock lined pathways framed in flowerbeds spewing vibrant and exotic tinctures. People, brown and handsome in brightly colored dress as flowerbeds themselves, walked from hut to hut. Moses deposited Compton on the shoreline with the sacks of goods and then anchored the boat. He slogged ashore in the mud with his sulu raised up around his thighs. High on the hillside children ran towards them from every direction like flowers bowled on the evening breeze. They gathered in chestnut clusters around the two men and strung out behind them as they began to walk, cherubic faces shining with expectation. The men followed a dirt path up a steep incline and came upon two half-naked men working on the bare bones of a bure. One of the men was fitfully powerful in arm and shoulder, with dark eyes and a wide, sensual mouth. He was as handsome a man as Compton had ever seen. Moses introduced him as Lukey and his voice was as soft as his body was hard. He spoke proudly of their undertaking and Moses offered his compliments. After handshakes all around they continued their climb up the hill, passing open kitchens filled with families busy preparing the evening meal. Everyone lifted their eyebrows and extended broad welcoming smiles.

  Near the far west end of the village, midway to the top of the hill, Moses came to a halt in front of a bure where appeared a rail-thin woman with tombstone teeth and a wide smile, who stood at attention in the doorway. Moses introduced her to Compton as Lavenia, wife of Vito. Her skin was the color of light chocolate and her nose saddled with a grove of freckles. Compton could not help but grin when he shook her hand. Lavenia good-naturedly shooed away the flock of children who had gathered like moths around this strange fire and led Compton into the bure. The interior was similar to Moses’ bure and Compton suspected that all bures of this type were more or less the same, clean and appointed with only the bare essentials -- a woven matted floor, a single wooden bed and a small dressing table. They sat in the middle of the floor and, while Lavenia passed the latest gossip to Moses, he translated. She maintained direct eye contact with Compton as though she were speaking to him. Vito was out in the bush collecting sweet potato. Her three children were off doing the laundry in a nearby stream. Cousins had gone to Suva. A wedding was planned soon for the son of a brother. The garden was doing well since the last hurricane.

  Their conversation was interrupted by three children who appeared in the doorway obediently waiting to be invited inside the bure. The smallest was a boy introduced as Jack, who, with a sad smile revealed blackened stubs of rotten baby teeth. Beside him was his older brother, Paul, perhaps ten with an oversized head and dark, watery eyes. Carrying a full load of laundry was a young girl introduced as Kanesi. In her early teens, with her mother’s light skin and large, intelligent, almond shaped eyes with thick curling lashes and high cheekbones, she was beautiful. Lavenia sent her off to fetch Vito in the bush and she returned minutes later with him in hand.

  After introductions Vito led the way outside to the kitchen with young Jack resting in the crook of his arm. Vito, considerably older than Lavenia, was lean and strong in the body, his forehead inclined at a severe angle and his cheekbones unusually high, accenting wizened eyes that blinked intelligence and wit.

  The kitchen was a square, separate structure, open midway to the ceiling. A fire burned in a raised pit where a steaming black kettle rested on an iron sheet. Shelves were filled with the similar cookware found in Mariah’s kitchen and they all sat at a rough-cut bench. While Lavenia poured lemon grass tea, Vito and Moses spoke earnestly in Fijian. A white dog came and sniffed at Compton and half a dozen chickens strayed through the dirt floor ecking for loose bits of food. Vito and Moses concluded their talk and in the last light Moses said to Compton, “It is time. They are waiting.”

  Darkness, as it is want to do in the tropics, descended quickly from twilight and Compton stumbled up an eroded path
behind Vito and Moses. The community silently watched the small procession from their kitchens. The quietude spoke of the event and its profound effect on everyone in the village. Compton could clearly sense something but could not put a name to it, like a dog picking up unregistered scents in an exotic garden. They arrived at the top of the hill where an old woman asked them to wait in a darkened bure twenty yards below that of the Chief’s. Moses instructed Compton to follow his every move once they entered the Chief’s bure. “Be humble, show no arrogance,” cautioned Moses.

  Compton was first puzzled then a bit put off. “Do you think I’m arrogant?”

  Moses waved him off. “Now is not the time to tell you what I think.”

  The woman returned and beckoned them into the bure of Chief Isikeli. Vito entered first followed by Moses and then Compton. The bure was much larger than any Compton had seen. It was empty except for an exquisite palm mat that covered the floor. Isikeli sat on the floor in front of a flickering lantern. He wore a dark sula, his chest bare and sagging with age. His eyes were narrowed to slits and his full head of white hair glowed in the recondite light. He produced a stately wave of his hand and the three men sat on the floor to face him. Vito began to speak in rapid, non-stop Fijian for five minutes. Isikeli listened without comment or expression. Vito then presented the kava and the cigarettes. Isikeli picked them up and held them aloft with a grand gesture, then spoke in an even, strong, voice. He then abruptly stood and the three men also rose and stood to face him. He crossed the room and shook Compton’s hand and said, “Welcome” in English. This was followed by words in Fijian, which Moses translated. “Now you are a member of this village. Your body and your soul is of this village. You are a brother and will forever be welcome.”

  Vito, Moses and Compton walked out into the spectral light of the stars and, as apparitions themselves, floated back down the hillside. The sound of music wafted up the hillside to greet them, a lilting song in harmonies undisclosed accompanied by ukuleles and a guitar. The moment and its magic escaped Compton and he asked Moses what Vito had said.

  “He say that you have come a great distance to honor the village and pay your respects and to please excuse the mistakes you might have made when you first came to the village.”

  “That was it? That was all he said? Surely there was more to it than that. Didn’t he tell him about the shark?”

  Moses held up his hand slightly and gave a sharp look, which terminated all conversation.

  They returned to Vito’s bure where bowls had been laid out to mix the kava. A lantern was lit and Lukey appeared almost as if drawn by the fire, then an elder whose name was Tom arrived soon after, and Aprosa, who greeted Compton warmly. And finally, Isikeli himself.

  They sat in a circle as Vito dipped and raised the coconut cup of liquid that spilled into the large wooden bowl. Gauging its color, he squeezed more kava or added more to perfect the brew. When it was blended to his liking he raised a cup into the air and issued a salutation. The cup was lowered and passed to Moses who translated. “Welcome our brother, Keli, from America, an honored member of this village and welcomed member of this house. Let us drink until daylight.”

  Moses gave the cup to Compton who drank it down. The circle of men clapped twice and in unison said the word “mothay.” The cup was passed back and refilled and given to Chief Isikeli who raised it and made a brief pronouncement that all agreed to, then emptied it in one swallow. The group clapped again and repeated “mothay.The formalities completed, everyone seemed to sigh collectively and the countenance of the group changed dramatically. Casual conversation sprang up as the cup was passed in the other direction and each in the circle had their turn except Aprosa who nodded at the cup when he held it but did not drink.

  Compton, for lack of conversational direction more than anything else, asked Moses what the word mothay meant.

  “It is spelled m-o-c-e, and it means to sleep,” replied Moses. “But it could also mean good night.”

  “But the night has just begun.”

  “Yes, and it will be a good night, eh.”

  When the cup had finished its rounds Isikeli asked Moses to translate as he spoke to Keli. “It is an honor to have the man who saw the Sea God in our village. It brings great respect to have a man of courage sit at the circle. I must ask you from which direction did it come? Was it swimming with the current or against the current? What did it do when it saw you? In what direction did it swim off?”

  Compton answered each question accurately, for he had replayed the entire incident repeatedly in his mind’s eye and was certain that he would continue to play it for the rest of his life. Isikeli’s last question was of great importance and Compton had to be most specific in his description of the shark’s direction when it vanished into the depths. “North” was not sufficient.

  “There are many islands north of here,” explained Moses, who then drew on the floor the high marks of various islands and Compton pointed to the one in the direction the shark swam.

  “Rabi,” declared Moses solemnly.

  All nodded in agreement. Vito lifted a bowl and another round of kava was drunk, apparently putting to a close all questioning regarding the Sea God and thus validating Compton’s role as witness to the affair.

  Lavenia joined the group. She was handed a bowl and drank and suddenly shrieked in a high pitched voice. A moment later a female voice screeched a sharp reply from out of the darkness fifty yards away. The men burst into convulsive laughter. The two women continued to shout their conversation at the top of their lungs for the next five minutes. The absurdity of it had Compton laughing along with the others, though he had no clue what was being exchanged.

  The evening was warm and all the men, except the eldest, Tom, and Compton, had their shirts off. The smell of their sweat, the earthy aftertaste of the kava, the dancing flame in the lantern reflecting on the glistening bodies, the clucking sounds of a primal tongue, all removed Compton from any suggestion of the century from which he had so recently journeyed. A deep sense of wellbeing pervaded him and settled profoundly in his belly and he stared at the flame in the lantern and unconsciously began to rock back and forth where he sat, as if music were playing inside of him. Vito saw this and nodded to him. Compton did not respond. Instead he, trance-like, removed his shirt, thus making the transformation complete. A warm energy seeped into his skin, permeating his eyes and brain with a growing sense of rightness that his body understood and embraced. There were no words for it. He scarcely knew, much less understood, what was happening but instinctively relaxed and allowed it to unfold.

  Well into the second or third hour -- Compton had lost track -- he believed he was beginning to understand the conversations. When they began to speak about white men, he became more certain of it. Lukey spoke to Compton in English as if he had participated in all aspects of the conversation over the last few hours.

  “I have seen the white men in the resorts. They very weak. I think the money make’ em weak, eh.”

  “Money can make anyone weak,” replied Moses. “It is a strange hunger, money. The weakest Fijian is stronger than the man who wears the gold around his neck.”

  “I have watched them,” said Aprosa. “They walk full of strength but they lack theselves, their eyes hold much fear.”

  “Not all white people are this way,” explained Compton. “But the ones you see at the resort are more likely to have money because it costs so much to stay there. They believe their money can buy them the strength they lack.”

  “We are better off with our poorness,” said Moses. “Money cannot buy what the heart lacks. Money cannot buy the beauty that is in Fiji.”

  Compton seemed to awake from his slumber and shook his head in disagreement. All in the circle turned to him. In a compelling voice Moses had not heard he said, ”You are wrong about that, Moses. Unfortunately money can buy the beauty of Fiji. Money can destroy Fiji as it’s destroyed Hawaii and Tahiti and a hundred other similar island paradises.” Mos
es translated his words and the circle grew somber. Vito poured more kava and the men pulled out their leaf tobacco and tore newspaper and smoked pensively. “Money is a force,” Compton continued, “that is difficult for those without it to realize. It can do great good as it can destroy. It is the ultimate power in the world today. Never underestimate that power,” added Compton softly, almost to himself. Isikeli muttered something but the others remained silent and finished their tobacco, pondering the significance of Compton’s words.

  When the smoke was done the conversation picked up again in the familiar lighthearted fashion as before.

  The kava was being drunk in heroic quantities. The four-gallon container had been refilled and Vito was squeezing a fresh batch. At the open door behind him, out of the black void of night and into the yellow, smoky, lantern light, stepped Sinaca. She wore a white sula and had a large, white flower in her hair. Lavenia made a place for her and she sat without acknowledging Compton. Taking her cue, he refrained from openly staring but nonetheless stole glances whenever he could. Out of the water she possessed nobility and a presence that was more feminine, with less the raw animal power she generally displayed. Though she was a woman of sublime beauty, he thought it most peculiar that the men paid little attention to her. Lavenia, not one to miss much, caught Compton’s furtive glances and raised an eyebrow in recognition. She nudged Sinaca, who then gave him a full smile that brought involuntary warmth to his face. The bowl of kava was handed to her and she grasped it with graceful hands, tilting it up, exposing an elegant throat, and swallowed the liquid as sweat rolled down the center of Compton’s back.

  Moses rose to go outside to relieve himself and Compton followed, stumbling in the pitch blackness. “That kava make banana leaf of your knees brother, be careful.”

  “It’s not the kava, it’s Sinaca. She’s so beautiful. How did she know I was here?”