Chapter 3: Canoa

The Alchones are of a good height, and the Tulutarios were thought to be, generally, above the standard of Englishmen. Their complexion is much darker than that of the South Sea Islanders, and their features inferior in beauty. Source: The Native Races of the Pacific States of North America, 1874. Written by Hubert Howe Bancroft.

Inina's parents were on the river bank to say goodbye to her. The rest of the village was there as well. The communal bond was strong. They were sad to see her go, but they knew the personal and spiritual significance of this moment.

Cacique Huimanan approached her, dressed in the most magnificent of feathers and body paint. He handed her a zemi necklace. It was abstract and had a rough exterior with multiple faces. This symbolised the ancestors - the ones that came before that made them Taino.

Chief, I have something urgent to report. Otex's face seemed as if terror was going to inflict something horrific on him. 

What is it? He was looking at a piece of cloth with a stylised image of him hanging from the wall made to show their devotion to him. He liked it. The dyes used were exquisite, and the bone used to create it had to be quite sharp; he didn't even want to count the hours it took to sharpen it. The edges of it were thick, and it captured him well. It personified him as Cacique. This was a pleasant addition to the multitude of extravagant items he held in his possession.

The dangerous side of the forest is encroaching on the village.

He cursed at himself. It had been an eternity since this had happened. The beasts that lived in this section of the forest labelled the Crimson Patch - after the blood of the many fallen that stained the soil - were not to be trifled with, as one could slay the average man faster than taking two steps. I'll contact the soldiers immediately after this. Thank you for your message.

No problem. Otex felt at ease after his short report.

This was the reason for the security. Usually, it wasn't required, but this threat was serious, and to be careless was to be foolish. As a leader, everyone's safety was his responsibility. Despite him going up in age, he made sure to perform his role as well he could. Warriors with stern expressions lined the village perimeter. Several were beside the chief, and others were even in the forest on patrol for anything suspicious. Their bows and arrows, clubs, spears and other weaponry went well with their war garments. The colours and designs varied based on battle experience and rank. Many of them did not want to fight. They preferred peace and happiness. But to lay down their lives, if need be, was a great honour. As men, they would go into the afterlife knowing they were brave, not broken down by fear itself.

Her parents also had something to give - a knapsack comprised of cut and dried strips of tree fibre. It was sprinkled with simple but attractive tribal symbols and dyed sprightly blue. Lastly, she was given a basket full of flowers, fruits and a zemi of a boy in a gentle pose at the centre. It had a handle for easy carrying. The canoe rower, a muscular and long-limbed man, was waiting. And to pass time, he snorted some grounded tobacco leaf from his pouch. He shoved it in deep for maximum effect. 

Inina waved goodbye to everyone as she boarded the boat filled with adolescents. She didn't notice Caltig in the crowd. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to figure out where he could be. It Honestly, it hurt a bit that her friend wasn't there to wave goodbye. It was probably one of the few times they could acknowledge each other to some degree without getting in trouble. Of course, it can't be overt, or else her mother would punish her severely. And considering this moment, the beating she would get this time would make the previous one erase from her memories, for the space it would occupy would need all the room it can get for something that scarring.

Once Inina was gone, Yuika and Otex made a fire after they already gathered and piled the firewood. This was large and had to be kept alive for the time she would be there. If they let it die, then misfortune would befall their daughter. A roof with support beams was there to prevent rain, the enemy of fire, from putting it out. And to purify the area of evil spirits that would bring harm to Inina, they threw in some lemongrass. The scent followed them as they went about their daily tasks. However, they had to manage it themselves; no one could assist them.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...。o○  ○o。..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Caltig didn't go to the goodbye ceremony. He stayed in his hut instead. His parents were outside. He didn't know or care where they were or what they were doing at this moment. The bruises all about his body hurt quite a lot as he lay on the floor like a starfish while staring at the ceiling. However, his mother massaged his body to relieve some of the pain. 

He felt like an idiot about his friendship with a noble. The chance to use her to get noble status failed. He desperately wanted to be like her. To get all the privileges they had; to not be looked down upon and be mistreated. It would have been great if it had worked. There were two instances in the history of Talami where a serf had risen to a noble. One of them even became Chief. But chief is too high a status for him to even achieve. It doesn't make sense to hold onto impossibilities. But to be a noble?... That was reasonable despite the difficulty.

What is he going to do now? She's gone for six months. Caltig didn't care for her when they first met some months ago, and even now he didn't. All he wanted was to mourn his life. His eyes were ready to water, but he wanted to be manly, so he restrained them.

He didn't want to go to his parents for comfort. They could never understand how he felt. He could only rely on himself - on Caltig. He needed some way to cope, especially with what happened recently. And he found something: talking to himself. 

"I hate you, Inina. I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!  I hate EVERYTHING about you. And I hate my parents too. All they do is let me suffer. I'm just a bother to them; a useless mouth to feed."

Each word slowly made his plight more bearable. It helped to keep his mind intact. 

He couldn't get Inina out of his thoughts. Maybe if they were on equal footing, a true friendship could blossom somehow. 

His father shouted for him to come outside. The ceremony was over and they had to go join the hunting group. An occasion such as this didn't mean they were free from the forest. Those of superior ilk will spend the rest of the day singing, dancing and drinking. All they had to look forward to was their jobs. The sole difference now is that there will be some protection by the warriors. The supply of meat couldn't stop. 

Caltig wasn't responding, so his dad asked his mother to call for his son. He cracked his fingers as he waited.

"Caltig! Come outside now before your father punches you in the face again."

He cut his self-talk and ran out of the hut. Caltig didn't want to get kicked as well. "Coming daddy!" He suppressed the pain he was feeling - both physical and emotional. He got on his gear and he and his father - along with the hunting group - began walking to the Scarlet Patch, where wild beasts roamed.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...。o○  ○o。..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

They were in the open seas. Inina poked out her head to see flying fish along with the canoe. Their ability to glide fascinated her. She thought they would've suffocated from not being in the water. Nature produced some strange creatures.

"Those fish are really cool, aren't they? Matolo pointed at them. Her finger was so close, she could've scraped the surface.

"I guess." It was cool but not amazing for Inina. She took a look at the girl. Her soft, light skin, polished teeth and full cheeks were the highlights for Inina.

"Don't worry. You haven't seen anything yet. There's jellyfish, whales, turtles, sharks and even glow in the dark fish below the ocean."

Inina was blown away by such fish. Glowing in the dark sounded amazing. From her knowledge, the only thing that glowed was the star in the sky that burnt them into numerous shades.

"What's the name of that type of fish? The one that glows in the dark."

"I can't remember to be honest."

Inina was disappointed she forgot the name.

"I do live near a beach where it glows in the dark. Only at night though." Matolo hoped she broke her disappointment. She wanted to make a new friend, and she wanted her to be her first outside the tribe. She didn't know how to approach her. Was there some special greeting they did? Did she say something wrong? If so, did she make it worse? Interacting with another people and culture excited her.

I have to tell my parents about this when I get back. "What tribe are you from?"

"It's Tofoa-Koloua. Yours?"

"Taino."

Matolo liked talking about where she came from. It helped to ease homesickness. To leave the village was something that made her curious about the greater world. She was eager to learn of other tribes and even how other persons from within her tribe lived in other areas of Tumulo - the name the Tofoa-Koloua gave to Yamaye. 

The rower eased his rowing, eventually coming to a complete halt. "Place your offerings in the water."

Storm clouds formed in the distance. The sea deities in relation to each tribe needed an offering to increase the probability of safe passage as much as possible. For Inina, this was the youthful god Guataubá. Everyone stared at the clouds to see if they'll approach or retreat. 

The pantheons were observing; scrutinizing each basket created to please them. They conversed amongst themselves - gods of mountains and valleys, rain, fertility, food, the underworld; they were as diverse as their opinions, and after a short time, they came to a conclusion. The clouds dissipated, leaving not one to cause booming thunder to scare even grown-ups. The gods and goddesses were delighted by the exquisitely tailored offerings. 

The rower continued onward - his worries abated. 

"Hey, girlies," A boy named Yomil came towards them. "What's your names?"

They gave him their names and he did the same.

He presented himself as a very neat boy. He had a low cut and meagre amounts of facial and body hair. His breath smelled like peppermint, something he loved to chew after the time a kid back home called him out for his stinky mouth. He got the nickname 'Turd Mouth' as a result.

They went into small talk for hours, going into their likes and dislikes and a bit about their tribes. The canoe was full of chatter, of young, promising people that will be part of something that meant a lot to their respective tribes - one of the few things they all had in common.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...。o○  ○o。..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

As they were sleeping, the canoe was gradually moving along the sea current. 

The rower glanced at them and decided that this was it for the night. He pulled the oar into the boat and got himself in a good position, placing his pouch - which was of a good size - below his head as a makeshift pillow. He shut his eyelids, and like that he was at rest. 

Outside their knowledge, a fluctuation in temperature in the water came not long after, causing it to change direction, and sending them off-course. 

They were now drifting. To where? They can't tell. How could they when they were asleep? 

FIVE DAYS LATER

Food. Water. Shelter. They lacked these vital resources. An underwater current - called the Bravadang - behaved erratically, sending them off-course. The Yamaye delegation, made of many tribal nations, was under the powerful midday gaze that casts over this world.

They should've arrived in a coastal town by now. Three days was the estimated time to reach one of them, but now they were two days past that. Being out in the middle of the blue desert, and far away from friends, family, and dry land, they now depended on each other and a spiral haired man that was the canoe rower.

The Inter-Island Seafearing Network was the nexus of transport, communication and trade for millions throughout the archipelago which allowed the dizzying diversity of all types to flourish.

Zocrix saw the anxiety and terror etched on their faces; he was one used to the sea, this was his job. Rowing was of high value and great rewards came as a result. He tried to warn one of them to save what little water he had left in his gourd, but his cracked lips, dried tongue and parched throat got soaked by a stream. He drank it all. Their resources just shrunk at that moment. Zocrix lambasted them, stating that they'll die if they're not careful. They were confused. It didn't matter. It was only delaying the inevitable. Some listened but others forsook his message. They wanted to have their last meal or drink before their deaths. To not even make it to Alliouagana for their course. Sad, isn't it?

He realized that most - if not all - had no nautical experience. Zocrix could comprehend much of their frustration and confusion. No that that long ago, he was stranded like this, contemplating his life choices - him and his uncle.

He didn't have much to think about. Nothing eventful had occurred in his life. Drawing in the dirt and counting leaves as they were being blown by the trade winds were the most notable things to write about, even though his tribe only left oral stories and memories, not paragraphs and sophisticated drawings.

His uncle Tinal wanted to take him out to appreciate the ocean and all that it offers. He spent too much time loitering and needed genuine time to see why he adores the sea. But Zocrix solely knew of the droning of the fishermen; of how hard it is to get a good catch, the long hours casting their tightly woven nets and the need for new canoe makers to help facilitate the burgeoning shellfish trade. That wasn't exciting. He would rather be a top-tier batey player.

Tinal was worried that he would never be able to gamble or party again. They had one chance of survival - a conch shell.

He took it out of his punch, just like his uncle's own some years prior, and blew into it. With the white-pinkish item, he trumpeted a sound of desperation. He then paused and placed his free hand by one of his ears for a response, but he could only hear his passengers and the ocean waves. Zocrix kept at it for hours, pacing himself in the process.

The sunlight changed to an orange with a pink and violet blend. It was sundown.

He told everyone to get a good night's rest. Zocrix would have to wake up the earliest to blow the shell once more. Their lives depended on it.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...。o○  ○o。..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Inina's parents were already having trouble keeping the flame alight. The cool evening wind was stronger than expected. Yuika grabbed one of her blankets and tied it to two beams to stymie the rush of air. It started to recover, but the sheet was touched by it, and from there, it was being devoured.

Otex braved severe burns to rip it off and threw it in the fire.

"Otex. Are you okay?"

"Of course I am." He winced. His forearms were burned. Fortunately, the breeze had eased, so that meant one less worry.

Yuika had some paste made of various herbs stored in a cup for injuries like this. She passed her hands over them, ensuring that she's not too harsh in doing so. Once done, he felt better. The discomfort became a thing of the past.

They now sat under the moon with the whistling, chants and chirps of forest creatures. Yuika tapped his cheek with a swift kiss. The couple shifted closer together, sharing their warmth.

Inina will be fine. They had faith in her.

Hope you liked chapter three. For those who were wondering, the title canoa (canaoua), is where the word canoe is derived from. For the Carib/Kalinago, the other famed indigenous group, this was called the pirogue (piragua). The seas were the main highways for indigenous people of the Caribbean and canoes/canoas served as the primary mode of transport and trade. There were even back and forth trade between the mainland and the islands. 

For the Taino, like many tribes of the Americas, they were polytheistic. Some of their gods include: 

> Bayamanaco, the god of fire. 🔥

> Guacar, the god of caves, soil, stone, and deep places. ⛰️⛰️

> Coatrisquie, the goddess of rough seas. 🌊🌊🌊

>Juracan, the god of storms. (and where the word hurricane comes from) 🌀🌀🌀🌀

> And Guataubá, the god of strong winds and clouds. (who was highlighted in this chapter) ☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

I also want to take note that this book will have aboriginal groups from other parts of the world. Like the Melanesians, Australian Aboriginals and Polynesians (including Hawaiians). The Tofoa-Koloua tribe is an example of the other groups you can expect to see in the story.

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top