by Carlos Eyles
"If you look, you see it. When you see it, you hit it, eh."
"Okay, I'll make the spot smaller."
Aprosa nodded in approval then stood, excused himself from the circle and disappeared into the night. Compton then realized that he had not come to drink kava, he never drinks kava, but had come to offer advice.
Moses was up at dawn and woke Compton out of his narcotic stupor. "We must leave soon, the tide is moving."
Compton said goodbye to the children before they went off to school at the Half Done Village. Kenesi came, her bright eyes filled with warmth and Compton impulsively embraced her. Unprepared for the display of affection, which was not expressed publicly in Fiji, she became rigid in his arms. He released her to accept a gift from Lavenia, a small bottle of pure coconut oil that she had ground out of twelve coconuts and boiled over the fire for a full day. Compton had no gift and thus filled with the humility and abashment that comes from omission, excused himself and reentered the bure ostensibly to retrieve a bag and slipped fifty dollars into the pages of their bible. Any more would have been too much and they would probably have given it to others in greater need.
The kava circle came to see them off and there were handshakes all around. The entire village waited at the shoreline to bid them farewell and waved until the boat rounded the mangrove and was out of sight.
Moses returned Compton to Orchid Beach and declined an invitation to tea saying, "I come by tomorrow. Today I sleep off the kava." Compton followed his advice and fell under the netting and slept the day away.
30
Mountains of cumulus rolled over the morning skies of Qamea scattering splintered grains of silvered rain and Compton walked the beach in shorts to receive the sky's generous offering with a bar of soap. The squall passed and the sweet aroma of the jungle wafted thickly to his nostrils. The song of birds became manifest and for the first time he found the source of a particular song in the golden bird of paradise that had perched on a tree above the sleeping bure. A coconut had washed up on the West End of the beach and with nothing to eat for breakfast, he husked it on the spike, drank its milk and ate the meat. He threw a piece to the kingfisher, which had taken its place on the limb of the fallen orchid tree. The leaves had again doubled in size and in their shadow, hanging like yellow green testicles, were the bulbs for which the beach was named. At last, he thought, I’ll see the flowering beauty of this special place. A cool, expectant breeze blew the rain to the north, lightly texturing the sea. It brought to mind a half-remembered Zen koan, which he scribbled in the note pad, certain that it was inexact but seeming to fit the circumstances.
Is it the water which ripples the surface,
or is it the wind?
“Yeah.”
“No Fiji diver ever get a Runner that size with the pole. You are becoming more the man of the sea every day, Keli.”
Compton dismissed it so as to enhance the feat. "There was a school of them, they came right in to me. It was an easy shot."
Moses saw his pride but did not acknowledge it. "They are fearless, eh."
"Yeah, but because it was fearless it's now dead."
"Much better to die without fear than to live the life of a frightened creature."
"A few hours ago it was a beautiful fish swimming free, now it's dead and mutilated," countered Compton. "Which is better?"
Moses kicked the carcass, scattering the flies, picked it up and flung it into the water. "You are alive because it is dead. That was its gift to you. That is the gift of the dead to the living. When I die they will say, `Thank you for dying Moses.' I have to die to make room, eh. That is my gift to the living."
"I'm not so sure it's that simple. I mean, what besides my death do I contribute to the whole picture? The taking of a beautiful fish can't be my sole contribution as a human. What do I put back? What do I give in return?"
"Nothing," replied Moses, shrugging his shoulders. "There is enough for all, if you take only what you need."
"There are people starving in the world and others are gouging for profit," argued Compton. "Where is the balance in that?"
"I know there is a balance in myself and I see it in the Genuine Village of Qamea and so I know that is right," offered Moses.
"Well, from this perspective it seems right but that's not how it's working out there in the big world these days."
"Do not worry about the big world, it knows how to take care of itself. You are thinking such things because you are coming closer to your death. You are becoming a true hunter now. You have seen life and death as equal things that come and go. And you are trying to make sense of it. There is no sense to it. That is what happens, eh. This was another fish that was given to you. You have treated it well and not made the profit. You have treated me well because you share it. You understand the beauty of the sea and the friendship of a brother. That is all there is in the small Fiji world. This Rainbow Runner is a very good fish, hard for the Fiji man to catch with his line or spear. The Sea God give you this fish, Keli. There is power for you when you eat it. The Sea God is preparing you for something and you better be strong when it comes."
"Moses, I don't believe the Sea God is preparing me for anything. The fish came, I shot it, end of story."
Moses shook his head in frustration.
"I have always believed these things I tell you as the way I have always believed that when I jump up, I come down. It is a law, eh? What do you believe, Keli? There is always more of what you don't believe than what you do believe.”
Compton began to protest, then sighed and nodded in agreement.
"You're right Moses, I know more about what I don't believe than what I do believe. I know I'm lacking but I don't know what to do about it. How can I believe in laws, believe in anything, that requires that first I must have faith in it. I need proof. I need to jump up and watch myself come down."
"You always be waiting for that proof," Moses said gently. "Children learn the easy things from the world like jumping up and coming down. Don't expect the world to show you its hidden things so easily. You must pay attention and watch how the other works."
"And how do I do that?"
"Jes' live the true life and be genuine in your deeds and the secrets will show themselves when you can see them."
"I'll take your word for it," said Compton.
"I bring something that take your mind off of your mind... a ukulele, eh. You like music?"
"I didn't know you were a musician."
"I am a Fijian, it is the same thing, eh."
Moses carefully lifted a ukulele out of the bag that held the vegetables and, after tuning it, broke into a melodic Fijian song. When he had finished, Compton applauded, suitably impressed.
"You have a magnificent voice. Have you ever had any training or is it just naturally that good?"
"There was a lady in the church in Suva who showed me how to use the voice. They wanted me to sing the hymns but I wouldn't. There is no need to bring attention to yourself in church. It is enough to make a sweet noise, eh. Also to dance, but I would rather play and sing. People must celebrate life or they lack terribly. If you watch the little ones they always moving to the music, they feel it. It is in the human, like crying and laughing."
Compton prepared lunch while Moses played thely liftedd sang a medley of Fijian songs.
Later they walked the beach and found a live cone-shaped shell, as thick as a finger, three inches long spiraling up to a sharp point. Moses picked it up. "Look what music can do," and he held the shell close to his mouth and began to whistle. As he whistled a soft tune the foot of the muscle came into view and then extended beyond the opening as if trying to touch the music. The foot was nearly an inch out from the shell when Moses stopped and it slowly retracted. "You see what music does to all creatures."
"That's a pretty neat trick, Moses. How did you do that?"
"It's not a trick, it is something you have not seen but it's no trick. Who knows why shells do that, they jes' do it,
eh."
Moses walked to the boat. "Mariah say I spend too much time here and the garden is lacking my sweat. You keep the ukulele and sing some joyful songs while I fix up the garden for Mariah."
"How soon will that blacksmith be done with my spear gun?"
"He does not hurry, eh. We will know when is the time. You keep diving like a Fiji man and then we get the gun."
"My visa is running out so I'm going to have to make another visit to the sergeant soon."
"Right, maybe next week. We go and get the gun and see the sergeant.
"Wait," said Compton, running back up the beach. "Don't forget the Rainbow Runner. Give it to Mariah and thank her for the vegetables."
"You have everything you need, plenty of water?"
"I've got it all."
"I come back the end of the week. Leave you to yourself for a time."
31
Compton lay beneath the netting in the late afternoon listening to the boats returning to their homeports in Taveuni. In the mornings, if he was in the kitchen or on the beach, they came in close and the Fijians smiled and waved. Though they were strangers, he no longer felt the hypocrite in these exchanges. It was an acknowledgment of his status as a hunter and the distinction pleased him. In the States he would have never admitted to such a thing. He had grown into this life in unimaginable ways. In truth, he was as comfortable with himself as he had ever been. There was little about this way of life that he found out of character. It was almost as if he had done it before, so familiar were his responses to the environment that his senses radiated in the pleasures of all that could be felt and seen, heard, smelled and tasted.
Two laughing brown eyes peered through the seaward window. He knew it was Sinaca before she revealed her nose and mouth. He rose slowly from the bed and she disappeared from the window. He came out the door, jumped off the steps and landed facing her. Water diamonds glistened in her hair and her clothes were damp. There were no moving boats nearby nor any anchored on the beach.
"How did you get here?" he asked.
She seemed puzzled at the question and cocked her head toward the western shoreline and pointed.
"That way I come."
"Yes, but how? Where is your boat?"
"No boat."
Compton laughed nervously.
"You couldn't have come from the village by sea or walked through the jungle?"
Again she pointed down the coastline.
"Swim, walk," she answered.
"You swam from the village and walked along the shoreline?"
"Yes."
For Compton, who could scarcely walk the lava shore in shoes, her explanation was beyond comprehension. The trek and swim had to be at least eight miles. But the fresh cuts on her ankles bled the undeniable truth.
"I'm sorry, Sinaca. It’s hard to believe that someone could come so far over such rough country. Wasn't the current strong?"
"Current very strong," confirmed Sinaca.
Compton regained his composure. "Please, please, come and have some tea."
She smiled and sat down at the table. She wore a full, white flowered blue dress that came below her knees and a white blouse that was still damp. It clung to r breasts in places and her nipples pressed against the fabric like brown noses sniffing out a stranger.
He brought tea and she accepted it with a smooth dark hand that had perfect, tiny, white, half-moons at the base of the fingernails. In her armpits and on her head were chips of black coral where other women have hair. Her shoulders were round and powerful and her strength was not disguised in the fluid movements of her arms and hands. Her skin was tight and smooth like a child's and her chocolate cream skin appeared to be the softest imaginable. She had the sweet smell of the sea about her and tiny deposits of salt caked in white webs on her neck.
"You like this beach?" she asked.
"Yes, it's very peaceful here. Very special."
Sinaca smiled. "It is the beach lovers come to. Now that you are here, they don't come."
"I didn't know I was intruding on a lover's beach. What will they do?"
"Find other place."
"Have you come here before?"
"To rest when I swim. I come and sit on the sand. You have beach like this in America?"
"Not quite like this. There are some very long beaches without coral. Many people visit them, thousands, all jammed into one another. It's a scene."
"What is scene?"
"Oh, a spectacle, an event. It's hard to explain. You would have to see it to understand."
"There is many people on the beach?"
"Way too many. It's not like this beach, which we've got to ourselves."
Sinaca stood and left the table and the tea and walked down to the beach. She walked loosely at the hips and her torso was upright and straight. She sat in the wet sand near where the waves curled up the beach and Compton followed. A gentle swell broke at her feet and ran up the beach, pushing her dress up high on her thighs. The blood raced to Compton's loins and were it not for the mild shock of the water sliding up his own legs he might have begun an erection that would have been difficult to suppress. She leaned her head back slightly and let the water caress her legs as though it were a lover.
"Have you lived on this island all your life?" asked Compton.
Sinaca gazed across the Tasman Strait to the northeast.
"No, I come from Laucala. My father brought us here when I was very small."
"Why did he move?
"The American, Forbes, bought the island."
"Malcolm Forbes?"
"Yes, that is who. He bought it and made jobs for everyone. He built a school for the children and pay for their school when they grow, the college, if they want."
"That sounds like a good situation, a generous answer to the poverty in Fiji."
"My father work too much. Everyone work too much. Sunday only day to fish."
"So he left because he couldn't fish when he wanted to?"
"He say there is no freedom to be a man. That they are not Fiji men anymore, they are American men who are weak with too much work and no time for fishing."
"Did you go to school?"
"I have been at the school but the sea is my teacher. The knowledge is greater, eh."
A wave rolled in and Sinaca opened her legs to it as a child might. The water stroked her thighs, gathered and foamed at her womanhood.
"You must be hungry," said Compton to distract himself. "Would you care for something to eat?"
Sinaca looked at the sky. "Yes." she said simply. Compton hadn't expected that answer and had not really considered what they would eat. "I have no fish but I can get my spear and find us some dinner. Would you like to come along? I have only one face mask so..."
"Give the mask to me. I get fish."
"Can you work the pole spear?"
"No spear, only the mask."
He suspected that she might have some fishing line in a pocket and so retrieved the mask, curious to the outcome.
"Here you go. It has a snorkel. Just blow out the water when it comes in."
"Yes," she said putting on the mask. "I know how."
"Do you have fishing line or something?"
She held her hands, palms up, with fingers spread wide. "I have these," she said and lifted her head back with laughter, exposing the roof of her mouth as pink as the palate of a cat. She skipped and dashed directly toward the water, then slipped into the sea. With easy, powerful, breaststrokes she gained the far edge of the finger reef and made a dive. Sitting on the beach, Compton watched her bare feet flash white just before they disappeared beneath the water. Her dives were lengthy, often over three minutes. Once he ran to fetch his fins for fear that she had drowned but when he returned she was afloat again, heading into shore on the kick of her legs alone. She came through the coral and onto the beach holding in her hands a silver fish with a red dorsal fin. It lay stilled in her hands until she handed it to Compton who, in a state of utter astonishment, did not
properly grasp it and it wiggled free and leaped into the sea. She pounced on it, quick as a lioness and snatched it out of the sea foam. When she handed it to him again he grasped it with both hands and carried it up to the kitchen. Had he not seen her do it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that a human being could catch a fish with their bare hands in the open sea.
She put the mask and snorkel down on the table. "This mask is good, Fiji diver could spear many fish with this." She paused for a moment in thought. "Maybe too many fish, eh."
Compton brought the fish to the cutting board and filleted it out. While he cooked, Sinaca sat on the beach and dried herself in the warm wind of the sun's last tendrils, its zephyred fingers lifting her sula ever higher, exposing the full length of her muscled thigh. Its symmetry arousing him to new heights of desire.
They ate greedily. She licked her fingers clean and drank long gulps of water. In the last light of the day, Compton had stopped eating and was devouring her with his eyes, his shameless fervor causing her to turn away with a shy smile. Compton reached for her arm and she pulled away laughing, then leaped over the sea wall and ran to the water's edge. A half moon lifted darkly through the dense jungle and the night turned black as a bat's ear. He stumbled along the shoreline unable to find her until he stepped on her dress and blouse that were lying on the sand.
"Keli, I am here," she called from the sea.
Silhouetted against the shimmering glow of the low moon on the water, she stood waist deep near the edge where the coral dropped off.
"Come," she shouted.
"I can't see where the coral is," he shouted back. "I'll get all cut up."
She made her way back towards the beach and he was relieved that she had changed her mind about the swim. In the opaque light of the half-hidden moon, her breasts and shoulders, slick from the water, glistened like freshly oiled bearings. With strong fingers, she clasped his hand.
"Come, I show you the way, no cuts," and she lead him into the water with his clothes on.
"No, wait, let me take my clothes off."