Authors: Padma Venkatraman
Tags: #Young Adult, #Survival Stories, #Asia, #Fiction, #Indigenous Peoples - India, #Apprentices, #Adventure, #Indigenous Peoples, #Social Issues, #Girls & Women, #Juvenile Fiction, #Business; Careers; Occupations, #Shamans, #Historical, #Islands, #People & Places, #Nature & the Natural World, #History, #Action & Adventure, #India, #General, #Andaman and Nicobar Islands (India), #India & South Asia
Island's End (15 page)
28
T
he first thing I see when I open my eyes again is a flat gray smoothness overhead—like the roof of a cave, not the rough brown slope of a thatched En-ge hut. Not a drop of sunshine falls through.
he first thing I see when I open my eyes again is a flat gray smoothness overhead—like the roof of a cave, not the rough brown slope of a thatched En-ge hut. Not a drop of sunshine falls through.
I lie on a raised platform. Beneath me is a mat made of something softer than moss and whiter than the sand on our beach. Another mat, woven just as finely, covers my chest and legs.
But Tawai is nowhere in sight, nor are any strangers.
“Help!” I scream. “Tawai! Where are you?”
Just then, a part of the gray wall opens. Two people enter, their bodies covered in white, their hair straight and black. The man is brown-skinned like Ragavan, but the woman has yellowish brown skin and thick-lidded eyes, like my image of Lah-ame’s friend.
“I am friend,” the woman says slowly in the En-ge tongue. “Do not be afraid.”
For an instant I stare at her in disbelief, wondering if this stranger really spoke our language.
“My uncle teaches me to talk En-ge,” she says. “He is Lah-ame’s friend.”
Although the woman pauses between words, she speaks clearly enough that I can understand her. Hearing her talk about Lah-ame in our language makes me feel safer.
“Where is my brother?” I ask.
“Boy is alive. Do not be afraid. I am healer. I help your brother.”
“You—you heal?” I stutter with excitement. “Are you an oko-jumu?”
“I heal,” she repeats. “My name is Maya. Your name?”
“My name is Uido,” I say.
“Ooo-eee-doh,” she repeats slowly, like a child, making sure she is saying it correctly. Yet she is no child but a living woman oko-jumu. A wave of admiration leaps inside me. I want to ask her what her training was like, if it is harder for her to lead her tribe because she is a woman.
But those questions can wait. First, I need to make sure Tawai is all right.
“How is Tawai—my brother?” I say.
“Safe,” Maya replies. “We are in healing hut. Early morning today my uncle hears you calling for help. He runs to beach and sees you and your brother there. He brings you both here, so I can help.”
“My spirit called to your uncle’s and he heard me. Thank you for helping us.” I take one of her hands in both of mine and blow my breath across it. “Now, will you take me to Tawai?”
I jump off the platform and onto the cold floor. The walls begin to spin around me. I force myself to fight the dizziness, afraid that if Maya thinks I am not strong enough to stand yet she might not let me see Tawai.
“Eat first.” Maya talks in her own language to the man, who seems to be her helper. He leaves and returns holding a basket filled with bananas as green as the ones we enjoy on our island. As soon as I bite into the firm flesh of a banana, I feel less exhausted.
Maya teaches me some words in her language: “room” and “door” and “window” and “chair” and “table,” pointing around us while I eat. My head swims with the newness of everything around me. Even the Otherworld is more like our own than this one.
When I am done eating, Maya helps me into a “dress” made of “cloth.” Finally, she leads me out of the room. I follow her and her helper into a similar room close by.
There, at last, I see Tawai.
29
M
y little brother lies on a sleeping platform. One of his bony arms is pierced by a thorn stuck to a hollow rope that is tied to a shiny pole. Seeing him there, alive, I feel a rush of happiness. But as I run to his platform, my chest fills with worry again, because he still looks unwell.
y little brother lies on a sleeping platform. One of his bony arms is pierced by a thorn stuck to a hollow rope that is tied to a shiny pole. Seeing him there, alive, I feel a rush of happiness. But as I run to his platform, my chest fills with worry again, because he still looks unwell.
Sitting beside him, I bend down to rest my cheek against his forehead. His skin no longer feels burning hot and his breath sounds normal.
“Tawai?” I call out softly. I take his small hand in my palm, but he responds neither to my words nor to my touch.
“Uido,” Maya says, “your brother is alive but not well. I try to heal your brother every way I know. Understand?”
“Maya, you have cured his body without finding his spirit. How?”
“What?” Maya looks bewildered. “Spirit?”
I try to explain, but Maya shakes her head and gives up trying to understand. An awkward silence stretches between us. If this woman is really a healer, she should have sensed that Tawai’s spirit has not re-entered his body. Maya seems to know nothing about the spirits. Yet despite that lack in her knowledge, looking at Tawai shows me that she can somehow heal the body.
But Tawai’s spirit needs my help.
I stroke Tawai’s forehead. Perhaps it should not surprise me that his spirit is still roaming. After all, the strangers’ ways are different from ours.
I untie the rattle from my bone necklace. But when I start shaking it, Maya’s helper comes up and grasps my arm. Placing his finger on his lips, he says, “Shhh.”
Maya steps between us. “What are you doing?” she asks me.
“I am also a healer,” I tell her. “You need my help.”
Maya shakes her head. “Our ways are different.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But let me help in my way.”
Maya stares at me. “I do not understand.”
“I brought Tawai here thinking his spirit would be cured by your medicines. Somehow you have kept his body alive. I thank you for it. But his spirit is not inside him yet. Maybe his spirit will listen to me now that I have followed it to your island. I want to coax it back into his body.”
“How you do this?” Maya asks.
“I will stand near Tawai, shake my rattle and call to his spirit.”
Maya speaks to her helper. “All right,” she says to me.
I stand at the head of Tawai’s sleeping platform and close my eyes.
Then I move my hands over my little brother’s body to search for the lau inside. Somehow, Maya has taken it out and the evil spirit is not inside Tawai any longer. But neither is his own.
“Come back,” I say. “Return to me, little brother.”
I look around Tawai’s sleeping platform but see no glimmer of his spirit light hovering by it. Slowly I move around the room, searching for the glow, shaking my rattle and calling out to it. In the light pouring in through the window, I see a brighter shape. Sensing Tawai’s spirit there, within reach, I want to rush toward it at once. But instead, I wait for it to approach me.
“The lau is gone,” I say softly. “Now you must return to your body.”
The light comes a little nearer. I sense it is weak because it has stayed outside his body for so long. But I force myself not to worry.
“Come.” I stretch out my hand and coax it nearer. “I am Uido. You have known me all your life.”
Tawai’s spirit hovers above my hand. “Trust me,” I whisper. “I can guide you back. I am a healer.”
The light loops itself around my wrist like a glowing bracelet. Slowly I walk back to Tawai. The spirit lets me carry it along.
“Tawai,” I say, standing beside his sleeping platform. “The strangers are healing your body. But your spirit and body must come together if you are to stay alive.” I move my hand close to Tawai’s ear. “It is not your time to leave us, little brother,” I whisper, stroking Tawai’s earlobe.
The glow of his spirit disappears into his body. “Tawai?” I reach for his hand.
Tawai’s eyes open slowly.
“Uido?” His voice is frail as he slides his fingers through mine. His grip is weak, but his touch is warm with life.
I bury my nose in my little brother’s thick mat of curls. His hair tickles me, making me half laugh, half sob with joy.
30
T
hank you,” I whisper to all the spirits of the Otherworld. ‟Thank you for helping me save my brother’s life.”
hank you,” I whisper to all the spirits of the Otherworld. ‟Thank you for helping me save my brother’s life.”
When I finally look up at Maya, she says, “I am healer for long but I never before see anything like what you do.”
Tawai’s eyes open wider as he looks around the room. He speaks slowly. “Where are we?”
“Do you remember falling ill, Tawai?” I ask. “Lah-ame could not save you, so I brought you to the strangers’ island. This is Maya, oko-jumu in the strangers’ tribe. Her uncle is a friend of Lah-ame’s and he taught her our language. She cured you.”
“Your sister helps me,” Maya says. “I keep your body alive. That is all. I cannot heal you without your sister’s help. I need her. She heals you like magic.”
“You are much prettier than your tribesman Ragavan,” Tawai says.
“Ragavan?” Maya’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Ragavan comes to your island?” Maya says, as though she wants to be very certain she understands.
“He brought us very sweet bananas.” Tawai yawns. “Can I have a banana?”
“Sleep,” Maya says. “I give you banana later.”
“Your nose is round and pretty,” Tawai says. “Not as long as Ragavan’s.” Tawai wiggles his own nose and Maya’s helper laughs.
“Tawai,” I say firmly, “you need to rest, like Maya says, so you can get better soon.”
“But I want to know—”
“I will answer all your questions later,” I promise.
Tawai’s eyelids droop. An instant later, he is asleep again.
Maya, her helper and I leave Tawai’s room. Taking my hand, Maya leads me to another room where we sit on chairs. I feel awkward not sitting cross-legged on the firm earth.
Now that I know Tawai is better, my thoughts turn to Ragavan. “How do you know Ragavan?” I ask. “He looks different from you. He must belong to another tribe.”
“In my tribe, not all people look same,” Maya says. “My tribe has many people with different color skin and eyes. Ragavan is my tribe. But he is bad man.”
“Do not worry,” I tell her. “Tawai likes Ragavan, but I do not. He brought the disease spirit that made Tawai ill.”
“I am sorry Tawai becomes ill after Ragavan comes to your island.” Maya sounds upset. “Some illnesses that do not harm us very much cause great harm to your tribe. Many of my people do not know you can catch diseases from us that might kill you. But I think Ragavan does not care even if he understands this.”
It pleases me that she seems to distrust Ragavan. “Why do you dislike him?” I ask.
“Ragavan wants much.” She points at a tree outside a window. “My uncle says Ragavan wants trees.”
“Trees?” I ask, unsure if I understand Maya correctly. “Why would you need trees? You use stone and metal to make everything. Only Ragavan’s small boat was made of wood—and how many canoes could your tribe need?”
“We make many things from wood.” Maya runs her fingers across the edge of my chair. “This is wood.” Her eyebrows come together and she thinks for a while before she says, “Your wood is precious.”
“But trees grow everywhere.” I still do not understand at all. “A rare shell or beautiful feather is precious.”
“My tribe is much much much much bigger than your tribe.” Maya spreads her palms as wide apart as possible. “We need many things. Much land. Our island does not have much wood now because we cut trees. So your island wood is precious for us now.”
“But if our wood is so precious, why did Ragavan not come to our island earlier? Why did he leave us alone all this while?”
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