My Heart and the Sea

Where I come from, people worship an invisible snake. It’s always been our protector and provider, though no one has actually seen it. Old stories written on yellowed papers named it the Saffron Serpent, and people have called it that ever since. Its skin color is like the peel of a banana, its body stretching across eleven straw houses, its width the height of two food chambers. My parents would tell me about how, at night, people would go missing and food would get stolen by the Saffron Serpent. The only evidence were the slithering and hissing sounds of the creature at night and the loincloths on the ground – covered in blackened blood – at day. At first I thought they were stories to keep children from going outside at night, for my mom would say, “Cordelia, if you don’t get back home by nightfall, a really big snake will eat you, and mommy’s heart would break into a million pieces.” But after losing both my mom and dad, the realness of the stories has never been so real. I wanted to hate the invisible snake, but I couldn’t. When I tried to think of ways to avenge my parents, tranquility would fill me as my mind got taken to the sea.

Never in my life have I grown such fondness of the waters I fish in, of something non-human. Every day, I would, as an infant, be carried, as a young girl, skip, as a grandma, limp to the wooden pier my mom and I made – to see the waves and ripples and feel what’s within. Dolphins and small fish would pounce from the sea, and I would feel their movements in my body. Even when the surface was blurred, my skin would feel as if it’s been enveloped in tender clouds, my joy within would touch the sea with its fresh fingers. But the reason I have been paying a visit to the sea daily was because of the strange red light in the sea that would, when the stars were dancing in the coal-black sky, flicker until dawn cracks, acting as a town hall for the fish in proximity. Small fish, turtles, dolphins and sharks would swim to the beat of the strange red light in harmony. It would flicker twice, pause for a beat, and repeat until dawn. When the sun wakes, it would become like the Saffron Serpent: invisible.

Unfortunately, I could only feel and see these heartwarming moments during my infancy, childhood and dotage; my adulthood was overflowing with work. Mostly hunting and gathering. I would spend most hours of my day finding eggs in tree hollows and in bushes. If luck was on my side, the bushes would hide berries in them. But fish are the main food source of our tribe. Almost fifty nets and spears would dive into the sea water each day, but only a few would bring up fish. I would use the special wooden fishing pole my mom gave to me as it had a circle hook to it, which would do least damage to the fish.

Men would wake up before the sunrise, before us, women, to bring big animals back to the village. Some days, animals hide and meat would rest on their shoulders; other days, their clubs would be blood-free, their quivers stuffed with arrows. I, too, would hunt for land animals, but only at night. It was risky to hunt during the day – not because of all the wild turkeys or the roaming emus or the Saffron Serpent, but because of my own people. It’s against the traditions to, as a woman, hunt land animals. If I got caught, I would be forced to leave the tribe. But the pain every time a fish is caught breaks me a little. I had no choice but to hunt as many wild turkeys, opossums and mutton-birds and as few fish as possible.

When I reached sixty-two years old – that was seventeen years ago – I belonged to the dependent group once again; I no longer needed to find food. The young grown-ups would do it daily instead. Still feeling the pain when a fish dies, I would revisit the strange red light. The sensation of all kinds of fish jumping out of the water would be there, but not as strong as when I was little. All kinds of fish would gather around the strange red light. It tickled. I could feel it in my heart. I would trace the path one of the fish had created and jump to the next one. It felt good to feel like a child once more.

The skin of the sea glinted moonlight as I dove deeper into the sensation. Though my eyes had a hard time trying to keep up with their speed, I felt the sudden rush of the fish. It was…strange. No longer did I feel enshrouded in clouds. No longer did the fingers of joy touch the water. The fish started swimming away from the strange red light, away from me. Hollowness crept in as I turned my back to the sea and went to my straw house. A huge gap in my chest expanded to the walls. And I fell asleep, my heart flooded with dismay.

I woke up to the sound of the commotion outside. More loincloths laid about the land. Fewer food left in the chambers and bags. Different comments on the Saffron Serpent’s doings soared into the air, all insulting and aspersing. One of the complainers, whose voice almost created a borehole where he stood, said, “let’s spear those fish and circle our village with their blood. Once the creature comes, we will execute it. I don’t want to lose any more of our food and people. Let’s settle this once and for all.” Hundreds of shouts responded, almost shaking the earth. Their battle-cry still drifting in the air, each of them grabbed a weapon and marched makai. 

My mind wanted to rush to the pier and stop them, but my body thought otherwise. I was in my sixties, going up against an army of armed men and women wouldn’t be wise. I sat under the shades of a tree, looking at the enraged people lining on the pier. But then I heard it – the Saffron Serpent. It was hissing and slithering behind me. Surprisingly, my heartbeat remained unhurried. I looked behind with great curiosity but saw nothing but trees and straw hats. That was when the slaughter of a hundred fish ensued. Hunting spears pierced the sea’s skin. Clubs battered the scuffling fish in blood-soaked nets. Arrows flew into the flesh of the sea, into the hearts of a sea of victims. Countless lives met their demise that day; I, too, died on that day.

My life as a human has gone by like a flash. The moonlight leaps from my skin as I now feel and see the lives under water enjoying themselves as clear as my rippling skin. No one in my tribe has made it to today. They became the victims of their own hatred towards the Saffron Serpent. Though it would be sane if I thought such an occurrence was a misery, my life is in its golden age. Life has never been so serene. The beauty of the sea animals has never been so lovely and elegant. I continue to feel the presence of the sea animals circling around my glowing red heart as the Saffron Serpent saunters along the wooden pier.