Chapter 17
If it was hard for me to decide to separate from my new family,
and the community who had taken us to their hearts, it was far worse for Honya
and Yewdis. I shall never forget the pain on Honya's face, the tears, and deep unbearable
tearing sensation that we all shared. It was very much like death. Perhaps just
as a device to ease the pain, I was reminded again of Mosako's words about
parting. "So we part. But parting and reuniting are a pair. As
with all cycles in life, as day follows night. We awake from separation
to reunion." It made parting more bearable. Honya would not be parted from
me, and the fisherfolk once again said that as we were siblings we should not
be parted, and Yewdis too. So we were three.
The fisherfolk decided that we were to have everything they could
not take. Each of us was to be fitted with a perfectly designed personal kayak,
complete with spray deck. These were sea going boats, with internal traveling
containers. We also towed a supply boat, containing seal skin sacks of
drinking water.
As the day for the great exodus approached, it became very
apparent to all around, that something was up on the rock plateau. The coastal
community, like most nosy neighbours, gathered their courage to snoop and
discover choice gossip. One such venturer found Honya sitting by the sea
with a fishing line. He asked her in Oshkosh what was happening. If
Honya had been Fisherfolk, she would have been trained in the art of hostility
and self-preservation, but being Honya, she spoke about the great move.
He then asked more questions, including where she learnt to speak Oshlosh
so perfectly. Honya caught herself there, but realised her
incongruent looks and friendly nature had put us all at risk. Later that
evening she was very scared and fearful about the likely consequences.
Honya's experience sharpened everyone's resolve. There were no
recriminations. Honya was young and naive. But within the week, the boats were
floating off the coast in a quiet bay, a little way from our exposed rock
platform. And the village of ten houses had been dismantled. Soon there
was nothing at all to be seen. Like the fisherfolk prophecy, the village
had disappeared into the sea, and vanished like a vapour.
So that day came, when a whole community clasped each other in a
long aching embrace. I was suddenly overcome with a desire to say the
blessing. The fisherfolk seemed delighted with the idea. Now to remember
not only the blessing that I had last heard as our expedition left the gorge,
but to translate into fisherfolk. I asked for all of us to look up into the
sky, and I called out, "Creator, sustainer, liberator, we live for you, be
with us now as we cross the sea. Be with us as we separate. Show us the
way. Bring us safely back together." For some reason the whole community
cheered and clapped at this point, which I had never heard before, but it
seemed quite appropriate.
So with the wind in their sailed, the flotilla of ten boats, a
floating village, exchanged rock for water and set off to seek new lands, and
new fish. As the swans headed in one direction, the signets left in the other,
both of us dwarfed by the vastness of the ocean. My plan was to hug the
coast, only moving out to sea to avoid passing settlements. Although none
of the fisherfolk had ever been to Jokou, they felt that it might take us about
ten days, and we had been left with a moon cycle of provisions. The money
was felt to be of greater value to us traveling east, than the party going
west. Roti could not recall ever seeing coins in the Ice Islands. Kinti
said nothing but seemed to have a great distain for it anyway. I knew
from experience that in Jokou money was King. So we took the money, even though
the wretched stuff weighed us down.
Honya and Yewdis were skilled in the use of the sea kayak.
We were able to make good progress. The only delays that affected
our travels were the need to rest, and avoid trouble, after all, catching
unaccompanied children was likely to delight the local population as much as a
lively reindeer chase.
No comments:
Post a Comment