Saturday 21 April 2018

Chapter Sixteen Preparing to Return

Chapter 16
That transformative first day held true.  'The Fisher Folk' as we called them, were principled, fun loving, highly protective people.  Their hospitality never wavered. Communication between us grew stronger, with the use of the odd word of Oshlosh, a dominant language as in these parts, and the language of drama, expression and shared values being more powerful.  Our hosts were aware that as slaves, there would be a bounty on our heads.  There was a lively trade in catching slaves in these parts as More profit could be made from slaves than any other life form.  We were kited out in fisher folk weed, with crinkly waterproof seal gut raincoats.  We also began to pick up the fisher folk lingo, a lilting language with most sentences turned into quizzical questions by the time they reach their conclusion(?)
Our new friends, showing little regard for their own safety, were keen to work out what our destiny might hold.  Though expert sailors, they had nothing to do with the large ships that plied the fiord, that linked to all major ports along the coast.  Their contacts were limited to bartering superb fresh fish for cloth, or metal ware.  But largely they maintained their ferocious reputation as tough nuts, who hated outsiders, and might be scrubbed of the edge of the world, if only anyone could be bothered.

Honya, the wonderful Honya, with her vivacious character seemed to be the first to fully pick up the fisherfolk language. She was always surrounded by the little children, climbing all over her and loving to sink their hands into her luxuriant frizzy hair.  I guessed Kinti also quickly gained a full knowledge of everything going on, because she was sharp.   Her character was not to reveal much at all that was going on inside her incredible brain.  Soon into our stay we discovered that quite a few of our hosts had once also been slaves.  There were the tell-tail signs of scared ears, but their marks were hard to detect.  The fisherfolk explained that they had undergone operations to repair their damaged ears, and soon this service offered to us.  A people who skilfully create breathable waterproof garments from seal intestine have the handicrafts needed to rebuild delicate parts of the human body.  All five of us assented to the operation which would restore our tattered ears.

Next was the matter of what to do.  We knew that sooner or later someone would spot our presence in the midst of  such a small community.  Kinti and Roti blended in well with the fisherfolk.  We wondered whether their families might be related.  They discovered shared expressions from their native language in common, creating much excitement with the young and old.  The old were very curious about the possibility of shared heritage.  Roti was a name they recognised, and she became a favourite. Their community had stories about how they happened to be located right on the very edge of Oshloland.  "We live right on the edge so that if we need to get away, we will just disappear into the sea, and everything about us will be gone.  That is why we fear no one. We are vapours, spirits, here today, gone tomorrow." Certainly we were most grateful that they were not vapours .  They seemed very real to us, but we admired that fearless and positive spirit.

Honya and I were considered by the others to be related.  We both had much darker skin, and thicker black curly hair.  The fisherfolk referred to us as siblings.  Honya had forgotten her native tongue, which grieved her.  She was delighted when I recalled words from my past, which she repeated in a reverent tone.  Yewdis, well Yewdis was unique.  No one could place his broad tooth grin, and people doubted whether he every had a language before pillage brought him to Oshlo.
When I asked him where he thought he was from, Yewdis would say 'wherever you are is where I am from.'
As discussion about our destiny became more pressing, the questions often asked was where  did I want to go? I knew that while I had a loving family waiting for me, Tilda, my parents, and my whole community, there was only one answer I could give.  I needed to return, and I felt more and more able to do this alone.

Roti, Baralard (who's position was that he wanted what Roti wanted), and Kinti planned to travel to the Ice Islands, come what may.  The fisher folk seemed delighted to learn all about this place, a land where ice was steaming hot.  They seemed to have an affinity with all they heard.  As for the fishing, it sounded like heaven had come to earth.

There was much curiosity created by an examination of the coins we had collected. Baralard was very impressed, but the fisherfolk, like us, had no idea what they were worth.  They certainly recoiled when money was offered to them. In the end, and after many technical debates, the fisherfolk pronounced that they would, as a community, take any of us who wanted to go to the Ice Islands, to the Ice Islands, by boat.  In fact, they would see whether they could emigrate and be rid of this place, and stake a claim in heaven. Roti was delighted.  Kinti, ever pragmatic, wondered how a whole community of about sixty people could cross a vast sea in kayaks, the only boats we ever seen the fish folk use.  Mind you, there were experts on the sea, with amazing survival gear, and technique to bemuse a dolphin.


Within two weeks, the fisherfolk had devised a plan that was inspirational. The Design and production of a small flotilla of vessels, based on the kayaks, but longer and stronger, was under way. These were not original designs as I had seen some larger boats with sails used to get to the other fisher folk communities nearby. They were also used on seal hunts. I noticed that the work undertaken was conducted with the minimum of fuss. A visitor to the community would not notice that timber from the communal hall was being removed, and other parts of the village were steadily being recycled into a floating village. Next came the decision when the best time to go might be. Seasonal storms were to be avoided, and knowledge of fish migration routes helped build confidence that food would be provided on the journey. But I knew my journey was to be a different one, though the knowledge created a pain in my heart. I loved these people.


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