Douglas

by hIrSch

It was only a matter of time, really, until it would happen. Conscious of this, nevertheless, the reality of the situation was something I was unprepared for.  The week was over, and the weather was perfect. Papa and I grabbed a big rock for an anchor, hoisted the canoe, and placed it in the great saltined expanse. Someday, I'll paddle east to go west...but that's another day. The ocean is quiet today. I notice a small leak in the canoe, nothing to worry about, but bailing this frequently is tiresome. My papa takes his knife, pointing it towards his leg, cuts a swath of material from his shorts. A patch. It's fixed. In a comfortable silence, we paddle. 

About one kilometer out, I can step out of the canoe, and the water is barely above my waist. The reefs of Gaua, unlike a fantastic dream, they never end. Here? Here. I purposely fall out of the canoe and take a look. Yes...here. Hello friends. Your death will sustain my life, I try to explain. A fish defecates, perhaps not a random event, but a message intended especially for me. 

With a deep breath, I descend. I become a piece of coral, volitionally paralyzed. Patience...not yet...wait...now! I, in rare form, don't think, just do. An empty sense of power which I find both tempting and forbidden. The spear rests in the struggling fish. A foreign blood fills my body, while blood leaves the body of my friend. I slowly rise, my lungs screaming for oxygen. My friend, in tow behind. Life for me, death for you. Life in death? Let's hope so. I thank my friend, but I don't believe I'm welcome.  A stingray with a wingspan of no less than six feet flies low to the coral. A graceful motion. The waves are his teachers. 

I watch my papa, like a man in space, he suspends his body between the surface and the coral, equilibrated to the density of salt water. I watch him, and I can't help but think. Curse the day this island is developed. Curse the roads, the trucks, the running water, the generators, the electricity. Curse pro((re?)(di?))gress. Curse the whiteman and the whitewoman...and their "saving" grace. I look at my skin and laboriously; deliberately blink. Curse my chromosomes. 

A dugong (a real dugong of the ocean, not one for the tourists to come "pet") drifts happily, without a care in the world-or so I like to imagine. I could reach out and touch him, but why? So I could leave my scent on him and ruin his socialization patterns? Nothing gives me such a right. One day he'll be placed in an aquarium, and at the sound of a special whistle, he'll do tricks for people who pay money and clap at appropriate moments. Ah yes, "Come See Douglas the Dugong." In neon. Different colors. Flashing. His captivity contributing to the continuation of the corruption of capitalism. I can translate his high-pitched sounds for you now. He is crying. He is crying for home.

Enjoy the moment hIrSch. Can't you just enjoy the moment?

Useless mantra.

The dugong returns...

...that's not a dugong.

Shark. I'd heard about them. Supposedly full up. But I'd yet to see one. And now I'm suspended above a seven foot shark. It's ninety-one degrees, but I freeze. No part of me moves. She passes beneath me. I remind myself to breathe. Breaths so short and rapid that I seemingly inhale the carbon dioxide before it leaves my pipe. For a brief moment, nothing exists, except the shark. She passes me, seemingly uninterested...but very close. I swear her eye stared at me. A glorious death this would be, I think fleetingly. My death would contribute to her life. I could complete the circle. I'd prefer feeding a shark more than feeding worms and maggots; or a fire, it that were my preference. But as the distance between myself and the shark increases, I figure today is not the day for that. Almost out of sight now, her tail makes a sweeping motion. 180(. Maybe today is the day... She passes me again. Our eyes lock. Her intentions; hidden, mysterious. I'm overcome with anxiety. I slowly lift my head. The canoe-about 50 meters. Slowly, I swim. My movements seem to go unnoticed. Soon, my vision of the shark is lost in the blue abyss. With my hand in the canoe, my body soon follows. I paddle towards the pipe of my papa. I relay my encounter.

True?

True.

Soon after--it's still early--papa jumps...rather quickly...into the canoe with me. 

He had just seen a shark...seemingly the same one.

We both laughed-I nervously, him sincerely-and paddled home.