The Memories of Rob Cru

I thought I may work in the cemetery today. It’s both a depressing and an exciting task. Depressing because I can look forward and see my future. Exciting because I can look back and see my ancestors. About 350 years of Crusoes, from Robinson to Rob Cru, my late father. From time to time, usually after the rainy season, some of the graves need repair. Weeds, washed down stones, washed down soil and protruding bones demand attention. On the bamboo cross on each grave is carved a given name and a number. CCCXXIV for instance. Those numbers are just about all the reading I get to do. It denotes the position of the Crusoe buried there. I’m sure it started with Crusoe 1st.

The legend handed down to me by my grandfather, was that Crusoe 1st was washed up on this island after a ship sank in a storm hundreds of years ago. He survived and remained here. There has always been a Crusoe on this island. Alone, abandoned and not wanted by anyone who was prepared to venture close enough to rescue them. By some quirk of fate, all these hundreds of Crusoes have been males. I will answer your first question now and get the mystery out of the way. 

“How could there be new Crusoe children if you are the only living male here? Don’t you need a mate?”

“Yes. You need a mate. Once every few years, a boatload of women from some nearby island comes crashing onto the beach. The women, who are all young and nubile, climb out and have some sort of coming-of-age ceremony around a fire. They start off by drinking a liquid and then they strip and dance. It’s something to see. They go quite crazy.

“See that clump of palm trees over there? I hide in there and watch this ceremony. I go quite mad myself, even though I haven’t tasted a drop of the drink. Eventually the dancing breaks up. I creep out of my hiding place, grab a woman and carry out the ‘Seed Planting Ceremony”, as handed down by Crusoe 1st. The next time the boatload arrives it brings a little boy and they hand him to me with signs that I interpret to mean, ‘here is your heir and follower’. He is small and fair. And they are right about him being my follower - he follows me everywhere.  

There is no way to calculate age and I have to guess, but the sun-calendar thing that an ancestor carved in the big tree which grows inland and which supposedly counts the years, shows that I have been here for more than 20 years, meaning hundreds of moons. So I am fully grown... And finally, I am Cru and sole inhabitant of this land.

The history of this island and all the folklore has been handed down from Crusoe to Crusoe. Not all Crusoes were complete in all respects, so some of the legends are a little strange and not to be believed. One of these tells of a hidden object about half a day’s hike from here. It sounds as though it has been there for many, many, maybe hundreds of years.

The legend goes on to tell the story of a numberless Crusoe, may he rest in peace, who built a boat. He claimed that he was tired of his life here and decided to change it. So he felled a tree, spend years hollowing it out by the fire and scrape method, added paddles, placed a thin stump as a mast in the middle, made palm tree sails, and pushed the entire contraption into the sea. And it floated. And when the wind blew, it sailed.

He filled the boat with coconuts, climbed in, and off he went to find a new life. He found it. He hated it and it took him many moons to find his way back to Crusoe Island and his home. “This is the happiness I was looking for,” he said.

A few years ago I left my home close to the sea and walked inland for some days. After a long search, I found this boat. I then spent many moons repairing it, replacing the rotten parts, tightening the old liana creeper lashings and making it seaworthy. I had no plan to use it. I was simply occupying myself with something different for a change. When I was satisfied that the boat would float I tied it to a sturdy tree and walked back to my home.

Years passed and from time to time my thoughts drifted back to the boat. Get it to the beach, push it into the water, pick up the oars and get yourself off this island, I thought. Perhaps you’ll find the island of those women that come here? Perhaps there are islands full of men? Perhaps there is a better world somewhere out there? Maybe things have changed since your ancestor visited there? Perhaps you’ll like it out there? A million thoughts gnawing at the rope that kept me tied to Crusoe Island.

And one day I did it. It took almost a year to move that boat to the beach. I had to cut a path through the growth using the sharpened edge of a rock. But I did it. Then I sat on the beach for two moons looking out to sea and wondering what was wrong with me, while I fought the demons, daydreams and nightmares.

And on a bright sunny day, I did it again. All as I had imagined a thousand times. I pushed the boat across the sand and into the water. I jumped in, grabbed the oars and started rowing. After a while, I maneuvered the mast into place, tied the sails in position and sat back while the wind took over. I ate coconut meat, coconut bread, coconut chips and coconut rings. I drank coconut milk. On the third day a fish made a mistake and swam into the side of the boat. It was his last mistake and he made a nice change.

Some days later I found Women’s Island. I landed and walked about, arousing some women into a kind of frenzy. I made it back to the boat and got it into the water and away from those women.

I found the Men’s Island, landed, tried to talk to a bunch of men and fled when they started to shout and throw stones at me.

Back at sea, many moons passed slowly while I ate coconut meat, coconut bread, coconut chips and coconut rings. I drank coconut milk and ate an odd fish. Then one day I saw land, a big land with high mountains. Aha! The outside world! Here I come!

I couldn’t find a beach to land on – there were building structures everywhere. Wherever I saw a gap and tried to land, men in uniform shouted and chased me away. I landed at night when they couldn’t see me. Away from the beach, there was much activity, mainly caused by speeding boxes on wheels. Great idea, I thought. Next time I have to haul large tree trunks back home I will make those wheels.

I also saw many lights moving around. And lots of noise. And people moving around. Don’t they know that darkness means sleep?

When the sun rose I was looking at a scene of chaos and madness. At home at this hour, I would mix a drink from the coconut milk and sit on the shore watching the sea. That was my calming medicine for the day. Here in the city each day was more irritating than the last. But I wanted to be sure that I didn’t like this place enough to stay, but my thoughts kept returning to my former life. Half a moon passed and I had seen enough. I was sure my life was better and I made plans to return home. It was a long process. Luckily my memory is good and I remembered directions set by the sun and the stars.

One evening as the sun was dipping I felt the warm and welcoming sand under my feet. I knelt down, kissed the earth and thanked all the Crusoes on this island for looking after me and bringing me home.