Authors: Alaya Dawn Johnson
The comparison was so appropriate that Lana burst out laughing. She started to panic when the burning water accidentally filled her lungs. She gnawed her lip and kicked to the surface, where the water was darker than it should have been, and cloudy. She floated while she hacked up what felt like half the ocean. What kind of a fool was she to laugh during a dive? The water left a funny taste in her mouth, though, and she realized that it was burning her throat more than it should. What on earth was that taste?
Panic settled in her stomach, a fear so strong she knew she would never get it to leave.
The water tasted, ever so faintly, of salt.
The next day the rains started and the dives were called off. In fact, by the middle of the day the students were all sent home from school as well-they had to help their parents prepare their houses for the rains. Lana climbed on top of the roof with her father to cover the thatch with a stronger resin and larger palm fronds from the forest. They were soaked through by the time they came back inside, but at least the roof had stopped leaking. Her mother made them change their clothes before they sat down to dinner.
It was a strange, silent meal. The only noise was the insistent sound of rain drumming against the roof of the house. In a few weeks, the whole island would start to flood, and people would have to take barges just to get from one house to another. She usually loved this time of year, but now all she could think of was the salty-tasting water. She stuffed the food into her mouth, but hardly tasted any of it.
"Lana, aren't you going to say something?" Her mother sounded impatient.
"Say what?"
"Like maybe thanking your mother for taking the trouble to cook your favorite dish?" her father said.
Lana looked down at her plate and saw with vague surprise that her mother had indeed made her favorite dish-day-roasted grouper in a sour pineapple sauce. She hadn't even noticed.
"Sorry, Mama. Thank you for making it." She turned back to the food, and struggled to find an interest.
Her mother and father exchanged a worried glance. "Are you feeling okay, Lana?" Leilani asked.
Lana nodded.
"Has ... something been bothering you lately? What happened?"
For a brief moment, her mother's question seemed inviting. Should she unburden herself and tell them what had been chasing her thoughts in circles? But she had hardly sorted it out enough herself to tell her parents. It would only worry them unnecessarily. She was an adult now, after all. If spilling the salt those months ago had caused this problem, she had to deal with it herself.
She forced a smile. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just a little tired, that's all. I think I'll go back to my room to rest, if you don't mind."
"You're sure you don't want any more to eat?"
"No, I'm fine."
Lana stood up and went back to her room.
Leilani and Kapa sat in silence after she left.
"I really thought she'd like the grouper," Leilani said, finally.
Kapa looked at his wife. She was biting her lower lip and a line had formed between her eyebrows. It was uncharacteristic of her to get so upset over food, but he knew how she had hoped to help Lana past her inexplicably dour mood.
He reached across the table and touched her hand gently. "It's okay, Lei. She's growing up. She can't tell her parents everything anymore.
Leilani stared at the table. "I know ... it's just ... I can't help but feel that something is tearing her away from us. Something happened to her that morning, that day she was initiated. I don't know, but whatever happened ... she's changed, Kapa."
Kapa had felt the same thing, but he didn't say so.
Minutes later Lana came running out of her bedroom with her sandals on and reached for her father's waterproof fishing coat, hanging in the entrance.
"Where are you going?" Kapa asked.
"I'll be back soon. Don't worry."
Lana ran out the door before either of them could say anything else.
"Kapa ..."
He hugged her. "She'll be okay, Lei," he said softly. "She's just growing up." But he didn't really believe that himself.
Lana ran through the driving rain, splashing through sandy puddles that went to her mid-calf. She had to find Okilani. She had lain on her bed for a few minutes, thinking about her discovery, when she had been overcome with the terrible sensation that the salty water, and thus the smaller numbers of mandagah fish, were all her fault. After all, hadn't she spilled all that salt on the sand six months ago? Hadn't she hidden the red jewel? This must be her punishment. Kohaku must have been wrong about salt being a rustic superstition-why else would the water, which had been fresh for thousands of years, only have turned salty after she broke the taboo? She didn't mind the stinging rain. It served as a distraction from her thoughts.
Okilani's house was all the way on the other side of the island, and in the rain it took her nearly an hour to get there. As the head elder, she lived in one of the ancient kukui trees-an even larger version of the one that held the schoolhouse. The rope ladder was flapping in the wind, but at least Okilani hadn't pulled it up for the night. Lana didn't know how she could have gotten the elder's attention in this weather. She climbed it and tossed herself on the landing. Despite the waterproof coat, the rain had soaked her through nearly half an hour ago. Now she was beginning to shiver. She pounded on the wooden door, forcefully enough for Okilani to hear her over the wind.
The door opened and Lana fell inside. Okilani shut the door behind her-already the floor was covered in puddles of rainwater. She sat shivering on the floor.
"Lana?" Okilani's face was unsurprised. "I had thought you might come here. Let's dry you off."
Okilani left and came back a few moments later with two large towels. Lana wrapped them around herself gratefully and tried to stop shivering.
"Well, come on, get away from the door at least. That's the coldest part of the house."
Lana nodded and stood up. She walked with Okilani to another room that had shelves lined with books and comfortable-looking cushions on the floor. She took off her wet sandals before stepping inside. The room was warm-there were hot ashes in metal braziers on the floor, which she was careful to avoid.
"Sit down," Okilani said, gesturing to one of the cushions. She sat down next to Lana. "Now, I imagine what brought you pounding on my door in the middle of a rainstorm was important, so we can skip formalities. What happened?"
Now that she was sitting in Okilani's house, she began to wonder if she had not overreacted. How salty had the water been, after all? And how could spilling the salt possibly have caused it? She frowned and fought back her doubts. She knew as well as every other diver on her island that the mandagah were dying, and yesterday she had just discovered why.
She clenched her fists. "I'm sorry for barging in like this ... I thought it was important. Yesterday I discovered ... I mean, by accident, of course, but ..."
"What is it, Lana?"
"The water ... it's salty. Tayi and I couldn't find any mandagah fish and were swimming much farther out than normal and she made me laugh and when I came back up to cough, I realized that the water was salty. And see ..." Lana blurted, unable to stop herself, "I think it may be my fault, because on my initiation, when I was curing the jewel, I accidentally dropped some salt. I said a prayer and I tried to clean it up, but maybe ..."
"Are you sure you tasted salt, Lana?"
Lana cringed and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said.
Okilani's eyes were grim but she still tried to smile reassuringly. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. I had suspected that might be what's happening, but the salt is still undetectable close to the island. Something like this ... it has nothing to do with whether or not you dropped the salt. This is something much bigger. I can't say I understand it yet, but I have sensed a change.
"Our way of life may be ending, Lana. If the water continues to get salty, then all the mandagah will die."
Despite the warmth of the room, Lana began to shiver again. Could the situation really be that serious? "But ... how could that possibly happen? The mandagah have lived here for thousands of years!"
Okilani shrugged. "The spirits are restless. We may be at the beginning of some sort of upheaval. But I'm just an elder, not a diviner. I can't tell you what will happen to us."
Lana felt like crying. Once again, divers would be forced to give up the ocean. Even now, in Okilani's warm room, she could smell the seaweed and the fishy bilge from the boats docked near her house. She wondered how all that could possibly end. She thought of Yaela, forced to leave the sea forever to offer herself as a sacrifice. All the years she had sung that song, she had never imagined that one day the words would describe her.
Okilani's voice broke the long silence. "We may be able to save a few of them," she said.
Lana looked at her. "How?"
"Tomorrow ... we have to harvest the fish themselves, not the jewels. We still have the freshwater lake at the center of the island. A few of the mandagah may just be able to survive there. Maybe, in time, the water will return to normal and we can take them back to the sea."
"Will that work?"
"Who can say? But I think we should try."
Okilani stared at Lana for a few long minutes. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me, Lana?" she asked.
Lana stared at the glowing embers and tried not to cry as she kept her silence.
The next morning, the divers assembled on the beach a few minutes before dawn and waited for Okilani to explain what she had decided to do the night before. Everyone's face wore the same mixture of fear and determination. Even the men had come to the beach that morning. They would risk bringing their boats out in the driving rains to help the women harvest the fish. The shore was lined with tubs filled with freshwater to hold the mandagah while they were transported to the lake. Okilani had to shout to be heard over the wind, rain, and the waves pounding on the shore. They had to be crazy to dive in weather like this, Lana thought. Still, she felt brave standing beside her mother. She was aware, though she didn't want to be, that this might be her last dive.
The waves were so huge that all the divers had to take their air before they got near the surf. After she dove, it was hard to see because the heavy waves had turned up so much of the bottom, making her feel as though she were swimming through an impenetrable cloud of sand. Still, she and her mother made sure to stay close to each other while they searched for mandagah. The fish were so big that they could only bring one at a time to the surface. She and her mother were the first two divers to find any. They handed the fish to the men waiting on the boats and then dove back under, looking for more. Again and again they dove, often not finding anything. Okilani told them to stop around midday, when the rain had grown so fierce they could hardly see even on the surface. Despite all of their efforts, they had collected only about one hundred fish. Lana tried not to feel disappointed, but she knew everyone else felt it too. How badly had the numbers of mandagah dwindled while she and the other divers refused to notice?
Everyone helped carry the fish to the lake. Lana insisted on carrying a tub herself although it dragged at her shoulder muscles and she was already exhausted from the morning dives. By afternoon the sky had grown dark as twilight.
"Mama?" Lana said softly, when she and the other divers had taken temporary refuge in the schoolhouse.
"Mm-hmm?" Her mother was leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.
"There's something I ought to tell you ... about my initiation. The mandagah was dying. It gave me two jewels. I don't know what it means ..."
Her mother snorted abruptly and her eyes flew open. "I'm sorry, Lana, were you saying something?"
Lana turned her head away. "No. Nothing important," she said.
There was an impromptu party at Eala's that night. Lana's father and a few other musicians played determinedly upbeat music. Kohaku had come, but he sat by himself in a corner of the room, taking notes. He was always like that, Lana knew-an observer rather than a participant. For all Kohaku was fascinated by her island, Lana always got the sense that he considered himself above them. Lana smoked a great deal of amant weed and danced around giddily with Kali. On a strange level, she felt happier than she had in weeks, if only because she felt she was doing something about the things that had been worrying her for so long. Of course, there was still Kohaku's proposal, but the amant was doing a great deal to help her forget about that.
Later that night, after she had stuffed herself full of food, she and Kali were dozing against each other in one corner. Kohaku, whose walk was unsteady (although Lana hadn't noticed him consuming much palm wine), staggered over to them and sat down.
"Enjoying yourself, Lana?"
Lana stared at him. There was an uncharacteristically sarcastic bite to his words. She wondered what was wrong. "I guess so," she said. "It looks like you are, too."
"Yes, well. Perhaps I did imbibe a bit too much in the spirit of things." He suppressed a burp. "Have you thought about what we discussed, Lana? I'm thinking of going back to Essel a little early. All this rain, the disaster with the mandagah fish ... not very good for the research, you know? I'll probably leave in a week or two. I'd like you to come back with me."
Kali opened her eyes and yawned. She looked at Kohaku and then Lana, and seemed a little startled at their grim expressions.
"Are you two okay?"
Kohaku ignored her. "Well, Lana? I need an answer."
No, it was too soon-he couldn't force her to decide now. There were too many aspects she hadn't even considered, like convincing her mother to let her leave the island in the company of an outsider. Lana put her hands to her suddenly queasy stomach and avoided meeting Kohaku's challenging gaze. She had thought she would have more time. Things had been so hectic lately ... and now with the mandagah and the rains, how on earth could she leave the island now? How could she leave her parents, Kali, Okilani, and all the other people she loved here? It would be too much like abandoning everything she loved.