The Ten Incarnations of Adam Avatar (5 page)

Guacamari's face almost split with delight. I smiled inside my mouth. It was not for nothing I had grown up in his
bohio
– our cacique knew how to please people.

So we were freed from the routines of the village life. Caon and I had wanted so much to be part of the village and, when that had happened, we found a way to separate ourselves from it.

We began work at once. I dug out the log, using a stone axe given to me by the best boat-builder from the village – an older man named Higuo who had forearms like small tree trunks. He was pleased and excited that his celts were to be used by the Preserver in the service of Atabey. He gave me many instructions in the following days, showing me first how to char the log just so and dig and then char again. Caon already had all his own tools - scrapers, gouges, awls made of strombus and conch shell, woodworking rasps made of fresh coral, and several limestone knives. He was to carve a zemi that we would attach to the front of the
canoa
. That had been Caon's idea and, as far as we knew, no Taino had ever made such a boat.

The days passed quickly. We would work perhaps a sun's handspan in the morning, then fish or hunt, usually eating by midday. We would roast the fish or meat right there on the beach. After the midday meal, we would sleep for half-a-handspan or so and do some more work. I worked much faster than Caon – not only was my task simpler, but I never got tired. This was something I had noticed only when I began growing hairs on my face – that I slept less and my muscles never grew weary. The last fact I learned to hide from other people – Tainos in many ways lived a good life, but it was also a very demanding life. That was why so few of us lived more than forty wet seasons.

Caon soon noticed my tirelessness – it only confirmed suspicions he had had since we were children. Seeing his big-eyed glances at me as I went about my work, I eventually told him that Atabey had given me a gift of ever-renewed vigour. But I did not wound myself to show him how, within a day and a night, flesh and skin would weave together without even a scar to show for the injury. That was my deepest secret, which I could share with no one.

Our work slowed as time went on, though. Once we got the basics out of the way – me digging out the centre of the log, Caon shaping his basic design for the boat's prow – we had to pay more attention to the finer aspects of our respective tasks. But there were other distractions – Guacamari came to see us after some days and brought with him a
batey 
ball for us to use. (He did not know it, but it was the same ball, the smallest, which I had often borrowed in my younger days.) Yúcahu, he said, would want to be worshipped as we carried out Atabey's words, and
batey
was the best way to do so. He also offered to have food brought to us every day. Caon wanted to say yes at once, but I told Guacamari that I would have to consult Atabey. (Atabey agreed three days later.) When the bread and the steaming iguana-fish-maize pepper-pot was brought on the first morning, the basket and the calabash containers were carried by Nitika and her older sister, Nakana. I saw that Guacamari knew everything that went on in his village.

So all our appetites were taken care of. Nitika always came, although the girl with her would vary. We were still too young to choose a permanent mate, but Caon preferred to sex with her only. He was afraid of getting the sores that came from sex with too many women. I did not worry – I felt that the same power that healed me would prevent any disease.

Every other day, I went out to sea with the best boatmen from the village. Caon came with us only sometimes, preferring to stay and work on his carving. But we both learned sea-craft – to notice the tides, the currents and the movement of the waves; to fix our position by the sun during the day and the stars at night. I went further, learning how to locate schools of fish by looking for sea birds hunting or, more difficult, the little winks on the water by which a school of fish or a single large fish betrayed its presence. And we learned many little tricks of survival – to always have a large cloth in the boat to protect against the sun overhead and its blinding light off the sea; to keep spare oars, rope and bread; to scrub the hull after fishing so sharks would not be attracted by the blood; to put hooks and lines into a bag tied to the inside in case the boat capsized; and many more things that experience would have taught too late.

I finished the boat within two moons. Caon was still working on the zemi. So while I waited for him, I scraped the boat's hull so smooth that it felt almost like a woman's skin. I wore out five coral rasps and then I spent days just rubbing the pale wood with handfuls of sand held in a cloth. Finally, while Caon put the finishing touches to his zemi, I went into the forest and gathered oil berries to rub into the wood. My boat would glide through the water like a limestone knife through the flesh of an overripe papaya.

Finally, Caon's zemi was complete. It was the best carving of Yúcahu I had ever seen. It was carved in the likeness of a man's head and torso. The zemi's hair was like cassava roots, while the face was part-man and part-fish, with elegantly sloping forehead and straight nose but round eyes and fang-filled mouth. Caon had actually given the zemi's face an expression – a look that was both uncaring and terrifying. Before we attached it, Caon spent the next days carving designs into the front of the boat – patterns that at first looked meaningless, but on closer scrutiny revealed themselves to be intertwined figures of people and animals dancing in many positions. The pattern ran up zemi's torso, so figure and boat seemed as one body.

We had chosen a log with a steep curve at one end to make the
canoa
. The log from which Caon had carved the zemi was similarly curved and he had hollowed it out so it fitted like a sleeve over the front of the boat. We pasted sticky sap from the glatua tree on the outside of the boat and on the inside of the zemi and fitted both together carefully. But it was Caon who had figured out a sure way to hold the zemi in place. He had bored six holes around the front of the
canoa
and matched these holes on his zemi. Then he had carved wooden pegs which we now drove into the holes, making the zemi part of the
canoa
. We also ran a thin rope from a ring carved into the floor of at the front of the boat, through a ring at the back of the zemi's head, tying the rope off to a carved ring at the back of the boat. Not only would this help hold the zemi in place, but we could tie a cloth to the rope to shield us from the sun or the stinging rains we would meet out at sea.

I do not lie – before the coming of the
guamikinas
, our little
canoa
was the most impressive boat to cross the Caribbean sea.

I always remember that time. In the five centuries that I have lived, I have no better memories than of that time on the beach – shaping my boat with the sun beating down on my naked body, the constant music of the forest animals and the crashing sea waves, making love in the cool of evening with the palm fronds waving against the sky, the smell of salt and wood and clean female flesh. Never again would I know the complete calm and satisfaction I felt as, pasting on dye from the jagua tree to keep off stinging insects, I watched the sun sink orange-and-red into the dreaming sea.

But time moves on. So it was that, six moons after Maiakan's prophecy, I left Ciguayo with my best friend Caon, crossing the green and blue waters to visit the other small lands of the Tainos. This was my destiny, although I did not know it then – for it was on this journey that Caon and I became the first Tainos to meet the covered men.

Our journey down the small lands and to the greatland took two years. I shall not give the details here. We sailed down the peninsula called Guanacabibe, which means ‘back of the island', to Xaymaca. It took six moons to reach the island farthest south, Iére, where the Arawaks dwelt and the shouting mouth of the Orinoco river poured into the brown sea. From there Caon and I went on to the greatland and there we stayed for a whole season. Here Caon learned the Mayans' art of making skilful metal jewellery. We then sailed the south current back up the small lands, where the ocean became bluer than the sky above it, until we landed on Guanahan' where the Tainos called Lucayans dwelt. It was a rich island, filled with lakes and thick with forest.

On this journey, I lived with all the Tainos of the small lands, as well as those of the greatland. Since this knowledge of my people was needed for my role as Preserver, perhaps Atabey did place in my mind the idea of building the boat, although I had done so only to escape the village life. It was while we were in Guanahan' that the covered men sailed into our world.

I saw them first. I was fishing on the sunset side of the land when a movement like a fluttering cloud caught my eye. I looked up and I yelled in fear, for it seemed that three
canoas
were about to run over me. I fell back into the sea, dropping my net, and arose spitting salt water. Then I saw that the
canoas
were still very far away. My expectation of size had made me think they were almost upon me. Even at that distance I could see that these boats were five times as big as even the biggest of
canoas
, which could carry people equal to the fingers of seven men. And I noted with even greater wonder that these
canoas
did not have oars and moved on the sea as if by magic.

I ran back to the village, shouting for the villagers to come down to the sea to see the giant
canoas
and, as soon as I reached, I turned and ran back to the beach. Young Taino men followed me like a flock of eager birds. By the time we reached back to the beach, the giant boats were nearer to the shore. We saw the figures of men on them, pulling on ropes and folding large cloths and throwing what looked like large arrow-headed hooks into the sea.

Surely that is too big to catch any fish
, I thought, then saw how the ropes attached to the hooks became stiff and the giant boats stopped in the middle of the water. And then I saw that the men who were masters of these clever craft wore cloths that covered most of their bodies.

‘
Guamakinas
,' I said, but too late.
Canoas
were already being launched, some of the Tainos were even swimming out to meet these strange visitors. I shouted at them to come back, but my voice was torn away by the winds and the crash of the waves. Caon joined me.

‘Is it them?' he asked.

The Lucayans'
canoas
, looking like small fish beside the visitors' ships, were already circling, while the rowers and the swimmers shouted greetings. I held my breath, expecting lightning to branch down from the sky and swat my people like so many insects. But nothing happened.

‘I do not know,' I said.

Some of the Lucayans had grabbed up darts of cotton thread, wooden carvings, and a few parrots as they ran out of the village, for Tainos were great traders. That was why they were so excited to see these giant boats – the size alone told us that the strangers would have valuable goods. And so it was. After looking at the Lucayans with some caution – which made think that the strangers might have met the savage Caribs of the outer small lands – they lowered small
canoas
from their ships and rowed to shore. I stood waiting to meet them. For I was the Preserver, the Precious One, I was
guaikanique
.

The strangers pulled their smallboats onto the sand and stood in a close group. The Lucayans now became shy and stood behind me. The strangers were covered in cloths of various colours. Only their heads and hands were bare. Some held shiny metal sticks, others small bows, not like those of the Caribs, but cunning devices with the cords pulled and notched so an arrow was held ready in them. It was these bows, plus the strangers' caution, which made me point to ourselves and say, ‘Taino'. For, though all of us called ourselves by the names of the places where we lived, Taino meant ‘good' and also ‘noble', which the Carib raiders were not.

The strangers' leader stepped forward. I already knew he was the leader, for he had stood at the front of the others as soon as they came on shore. He pointed to himself and said, ‘Christophorens Colón.'

‘Colón?' I repeated.

The man nodded. He was much taller than any of us, and taller than most of his companions. His hair was mostly grey, but with streaks like sunset in it. His skin was pale, as though he had dwelt beyond the sun all his life. But it was the stranger's eyes which amazed us most. They were the colour of the midday sky, and his gaze seemed blind and sharp at the same time. I heard the whispers begin behind me –
Surely he must be sent from Turey by Yúcahu!

I made a wide gesture with both hands – the leader had given me his name but not those of his people. He glanced at the men behind him, who still held on tightly to their metal sticks and bows. I thought at the time that these sticks were symbols of their religion, like our zemis. Only later did I realize how wrong I was, and only later still how right.

‘Español,' he said.

I pointed to the forest and made a sweeping gesture. ‘Guanahaná,' I said. Then I gestured to the horizon, made a motion like a sea-wave with my hand, and raised my eyebrows inquiringly.

‘España,' he said. I nodded to show my understanding. The man raised his stick in the air, and spoke as if he were speaking to us yet also speaking to himself. I thought he was praying to his gods. I cannot remember all his words, but the words ‘dios' and ‘hésus' and ‘fernando' and ‘isabella' were repeated often.

When he had finished, he planted his stick in the sand and motioned to one of the men behind them. The man came forward with a basket which was filled with strange and wonderful objects. The leader took out these objects by the handful and began giving them out to the villagers. There were rings of a shiny yellow-brown metal, impossibly smooth, and ringlets made of a substance like clear smooth stone, and small metal cups that when shaken made a sound like a bird singing like a drum.