A Dolphins Dream (32 page)

Vito, Moses and Compton walked out into the spectral light of the stars and, as apparitions themselves, floated back down the hillside. The sound of music wafted up the hillside to greet them, a lilting song in harmonies undisclosed accompanied by ukuleles and a guitar. The moment and its magic escaped Compton and he asked Moses what Vito had said.

“He say that you have come a great distance to honor the village and pay your respects and to please excuse the mistakes you might have made when you first came to the village.” 

“That was it? That was all he said? Surely there was more to it than that. Didn’t he tell him about the shark?”

Moses held up his hand slightly and gave a sharp look, which terminated all conversation.

They returned to Vito’s bure where bowls had been laid out to mix the kava. A lantern was lit and Lukey appeared almost as if drawn by the fire, then an elder whose name was Tom arrived soon after, and Aprosa, who greeted Compton warmly. And finally, Isikeli himself.

They sat in a circle as Vito dipped and raised the coconut cup of liquid that spilled into the large wooden bowl. Gauging its color, he squeezed more kava or added more to perfect the brew. When it was blended to his liking he raised a cup into the air and issued a salutation. The cup was lowered and passed to Moses who translated. “Welcome our brother, Keli, from America, an honored member of this village and welcomed member of this house. Let us drink until daylight.”

Moses gave the cup to Compton who drank it down. The circle of men clapped twice and in unison said the word “mothay.” The cup was passed back and refilled and given to Chief Isikeli who raised it and made a brief pronouncement that all agreed to, then emptied it in one swallow. The group clapped again and repeated “mothay.The formalities completed, everyone seemed to sigh collectively and the countenance of the group changed dramatically. Casual conversation sprang up as the cup was passed in the other direction and each in the circle had their turn except Aprosa who nodded at the cup when he held it but did not drink. 

Compton, for lack of conversational direction more than anything else, asked Moses what the word mothay meant.

“It is spelled m-o-c-e, and it means to sleep,” replied Moses. “But it could also mean good night.”

“But the night has just begun.”

“Yes, and it will be a good night, eh.”

When the cup had finished its rounds Isikeli asked Moses to translate as he spoke to Keli. “It is an honor to have the man who saw the Sea God in our village. It brings great respect to have a man of courage sit at the circle. I must ask you from which direction did it come? Was it swimming with the current or against the current? What did it do when it saw you? In what direction did it swim off?”

Compton answered each question accurately, for he had replayed the entire incident repeatedly in his mind’s eye and was certain that he would continue to play it for the rest of his life. Isikeli’s last question was of great importance and Compton had to be most specific in his description of the shark’s direction when it vanished into the depths. “North” was not sufficient.

“There are many islands north of here,” explained Moses, who then drew on the floor the high marks of various islands and Compton pointed to the one in the direction the shark swam. 

“Rabi,” declared Moses solemnly.

All nodded in agreement. Vito lifted a bowl and another round of kava was drunk, apparently putting to a close all questioning regarding the Sea God and thus validating Compton’s role as witness to the affair.

Lavenia joined the group. She was handed a bowl and drank and suddenly shrieked in a high pitched voice. A moment later a female voice screeched a sharp reply from out of the darkness fifty yards away. The men burst into convulsive laughter. The two women continued to shout their conversation at the top of their lungs for the next five minutes. The absurdity of it had Compton laughing along with the others, though he had no clue what was being exchanged.

The evening was warm and all the men, except the eldest, Tom, and Compton, had their shirts off. The smell of their sweat, the earthy aftertaste of the kava, the dancing flame in the lantern reflecting on the glistening bodies, the clucking sounds of a primal tongue, all removed Compton from any suggestion of the century from which he had so recently journeyed. A deep sense of wellbeing pervaded him and settled profoundly in his belly and he stared at the flame in the lantern and unconsciously began to rock back and forth where he sat, as if music were playing inside of him. Vito saw this and nodded to him. Compton did not respond. Instead he, trance-like, removed his shirt, thus making the transformation complete. A warm energy seeped into his skin, permeating his eyes and brain with a growing sense of rightness that his body understood and embraced. There were no words for it. He scarcely knew, much less understood, what was happening but instinctively relaxed and allowed it to unfold.

Well into the second or third hour -- Compton had lost track -- he believed he was beginning to understand the conversations. When they began to speak about white men, he became more certain of it. Lukey spoke to Compton in English as if he had participated in all aspects of the conversation over the last few hours.

“I have seen the white men in the resorts. They very weak. I think the money make’ em weak, eh.”

“Money can make anyone weak,” replied Moses. “It is a strange hunger, money. The weakest Fijian is stronger than the man who wears the gold around his neck.”

“I have watched them,” said Aprosa. “They walk full of strength but they lack theselves, their eyes hold much fear.”

“Not all white people are this way,” explained Compton. “But the ones you see at the resort are more likely to have money because it costs so much to stay there. They believe their money can buy them the strength they lack.”

“We are better off with our poorness,” said Moses. “Money cannot buy what the heart lacks. Money cannot buy the beauty that is in Fiji.”

Compton seemed to awake from his slumber and shook his head in disagreement. All in the circle turned to him. In a compelling voice Moses had not heard he said, ”You are wrong about that, Moses. Unfortunately money can buy the beauty of Fiji. Money can destroy Fiji as it’s destroyed Hawaii and Tahiti and a hundred other similar island paradises.” Moses translated his words and the circle grew somber. Vito poured more kava and the men pulled out their leaf tobacco and tore newspaper and smoked pensively. “Money is a force,” Compton continued, “that is difficult for those without it to realize. It can do great good as it can destroy. It is the ultimate power in the world today. Never underestimate that power,” added Compton softly, almost to himself. Isikeli muttered something but the others remained silent and finished their tobacco, pondering the significance of Compton’s words.

When the smoke was done the conversation picked up again in the familiar lighthearted fashion as before.

The kava was being drunk in heroic quantities. The four-gallon container had been refilled and Vito was squeezing a fresh batch. At the open door behind him, out of the black void of night and into the yellow, smoky, lantern light, stepped Sinaca. She wore a white sula and had a large, white flower in her hair. Lavenia made a place for her and she sat without acknowledging Compton. Taking her cue, he refrained from openly staring but nonetheless stole glances whenever he could. Out of the water she possessed nobility and a presence that was more feminine, with less the raw animal power she generally displayed. Though she was a woman of sublime beauty, he thought it most peculiar that the men paid little attention to her. Lavenia, not one to miss much, caught Compton’s furtive glances and raised an eyebrow in recognition. She nudged Sinaca, who then gave him a full smile that brought involuntary warmth to his face. The bowl of kava was handed to her and she grasped it with graceful hands, tilting it up, exposing an elegant throat, and swallowed the liquid as sweat rolled down the center of Compton’s back.

Moses rose to go outside to relieve himself and Compton followed, stumbling in the pitch blackness. “That kava make banana leaf of your knees brother, be careful.”

“It’s not the kava, it’s Sinaca. She’s so beautiful. How did she know I was here?”

Moses shook his head in mild disbelief. “Everyone in the village knows you are here. Sinaca came to see you.”

“Is it all right for her to do that? Is it proper?”

“Oh yes, anyone is welcome after the men have spoken their business.” He paused for a moment. “Be very careful with that girl. Things must be done the Fiji way. Already Lavenia knows about you two. Soon the village knows, eh. You must be patient. Keep your brain in front of your prick.”

“That’s easy to say, hard to do.”

“Don’t make it hard, brother.” Moses began to giggle and Compton caught the giggles as well. They stood with their peckers in hand, laughing hysterically. “Shit, I pissed on my foot,” cursed Moses, and their laughter reached new crescendos. They returned to the circle with tears on their cheeks and, as Compton crossed over the center of the circle where Sinaca had casually stretched a leg, he brushed against it with his foot, igniting a voltage that ran up his thigh and lay crackling in his stomach.

Compton feigned indifference poorly and eventually succumbed to his desires and could not refrain from showering long, steady glances at Sinaca. However, it was less obvious if her feet became his study and in that discretion so went his eyes. Her feet were almost as large as his own, which was not unusual. All Fijians had enormous feet but hers remained a fascination in their singular prodigiousness. There was a power in their size alone but beyond that, the symmetry of muscle and bone structure gave him twinges. Then there was the wide perfect toes, brown as macadamia nuts with that beige underbelly that spoke to him in colors of sex and play of the kind he had never known. Never had he studied a foot such as this nor seen one that so attracted him. She was born with a pair of swim fins, he mused. It’s no wonder she could out swim me. One leg was well hidden, tucked as it was under the sula. However, a muscular calf, as dark and sinewy as mahogany, stretched out across the circle, smooth and protracted. He could almost smell the beads of sweat that glistened on that sweet skin. She kept her eyes hidden and to look into them might have been more than he could bear but her laughter with Lavenia displayed her perfect white teeth and the sight of her pink tongue stirred his loins to distraction. He noted the ease with which her laughter came and it fed his hunger. Lost in his delicious distractions he became startled when she abruptly stood and bid everyone “Vinaka,” giving Compton a parting glance before exiting into the night. He wanted to follow her, believing that perhaps that was the signal she was sending but his kava-addled brain swirled in indecision and he sat in a stupor unable to make a move towards the door. Lavenia called something out to the darkness, which generated hoots of laughter from the men. She looked at Compton and raised her eyebrows in the way of a shared secret.

After a short eternity of internal discussion and further wavering, Compton rose to his feet and staggered for the door. Moses guided him and followed him out.

“How are you doing, brother?” asked Moses.

“Should I have followed her? I was afraid of making an impropriety.”

“On this night you did the proper thing,” affirmed Moses.

“The kava is ruining me. I can’t go much longer. I don’t want to offend but I can barely stand up.”

“There is no offence when a person has had enough. It is not a sign of weakness. Do not worry about it.”

They returned to the circle and after another couple of rounds Compton lifted his hands in surrender. “No, thank you, I’ve had enough.”

Lavenia motioned him outside and led him to the kitchen where she served up cabbage cooked in coconut milk. He ate with a dead palate and upon returning to the main bure only Vito, Isikeli and Moses were left in the circle, slumped immobile, enveloped in their narcotic cocoons. He walked by them unnoticed and crawled under the netting. Lavenia also retired and slept with the children in the bed. When Compton awoke in the night the lantern was still going, Moses was sleeping next to him under the netting and Vito was curled up on the floor snoring fitfully, wrapped in a blanket to protect from the mosquitoes.

The next morning, drunk and prostrate beneath the netting, Compton listened to voices in the kitchen for an hour before groggily rising and stumbling outside wearing the same clothes he had slept in. The kitchen fire was going and Lavenia offered a cup of lemon grass tea.  In English, Vito said, “Low tide,” and gestured toward Compton. Moses giggled as Compton drank the tea and blearily watched women gather at the stream that ran along the far side of the kitchen, collecting water in plastic containers. Collectively they peeked into the open kitchen to view “the Man who saw the Sea God,” and smiled shyly when their curiosity had been satisfied.

Breakfast was pawpaw and rice cooked in coconut milk. Moses would be leaving on the tide and would be back in a few days. After breakfast everyone accompanied him down to the mangroves. Little Jack reached for Compton’s hand and walked proudly by his side. Viage children gathered from all corners of the hill and waved Moses off in a princely fashion. When he rounded the mangroves and had disappeared from sight, Lavenia grasped Compton’s hand and led him up the steep hill with the children parading behind. They stopped in front of an old bure where an elderly woman sat beside the door burnishing palm fronds over a stone. She and Lavenia exchanged words and out from the open doorway walked a short, rotund man with a high forehead and a wide, gum-filled smile, who introduced himself as David.

“You are Keli, the Man who saw the Sea God,” said David in crisp English.

“I expect that’s how I’ve come to be known,” replied Compton, embarrassed by the rather odd moniker that now seemed to have taken a life of its own.

“It is an honor. Only one other from this village has seen the Sea God from under the water. It is a frightful thing to see from a boat, eh. You spear the big wailu, also.”