One Big Damn Puzzler

by John Harding

  Lamua’s expression softened as she turned to the other woman. ‘I is not blame you. I is be sorry for shout earlier. Is just be my way. Is not be you fault. Is be this – this – this—’

  ‘Pig,’ said Purnu.

  ‘No, not pig,’ said Lamua. ‘You is keep out of this.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Purnu, bowing his head like a told-off child. Managua had never seen him so meek.

  ‘Now I is forget what I is say.’

  Tigua helped her out. ‘You is say “this – this – this—”,’ he said.

  Lamua glared at Tigua. The she-boy was glad that Lamua wasn’t the person who knew the frog spell. He’d have been chasing dragonflies. ‘Never mind what I is say, there is not be words bad enough for this – this – this—’

  ‘You is already say that,’ said Tigua and ducked out of the door before Lamua could make a run at him.

  ‘You is be right for be angry,’ said Managua, who was now at his most stately. ‘I is do you big wrong. All I is can do is say sorry. You is try for be good wife but I is not can be good husband. All they years I is be split in two. I is think of Pilua when is be my duty for think of you.’ He turned to her with his hands palms upwards in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Now I is not know what I is can do. I is must choose.’

  ‘Hah!’ Lamua tossed her mane of black hair. ‘That is just what you is not can do. You is not have choice. I is already make.’

  ‘You? How?’

  She held out a hand to her side and found Purnu’s. ‘I is go live with Purnu. Now I is not be marry you, I is be free for marry he.’

  ‘You – he – you . . .?’

  She smiled and nodded.

  ‘You is make fug-a-fug with he?’

  She shot a look of adolescent fondness at Purnu and then turned the smile to one of insolent defiance when she directed it back at Managua.

  ‘Ah yes,’ said the older man. ‘I is see now. When you is suppose fetch water and you is not take pot. And he is give you pocket calculator. Of course.’

  ‘He is be plenty good for fug-a-fug. Nice big pwili,’ said Lamua.

  ‘Mebbe so,’ said Managua. He gave her a fatherly smile, a mixture of fondness and resignation. ‘But you is like he? I is find hard for believe that.’

  Purnu stepped forward. ‘I is read she stories she is like. Wilbur Smith. Georgette Heyer. Stephen King.’

  Managua’s face clouded over. He looked as if he would explode. ‘You is READ?’ he shouted. ‘How dare you is read stories for my wife! How you is can read at all?’ For a moment it looked as though he was going to fling himself at Purnu and tear him limb from limb without even waiting until he was dead. But then he caught sight of William. ‘Gwanga! This is be you is do! You is teach this fool read.’

  William nodded guiltily.

  Managua shook his head sadly, still not able to take it in. William could see it was hard for the old man. Not only was Purnu a stronger sorcerer, he now claimed parity in Managua’s previously unique field of excellence, not to mention he’d also snagged the woman who had been Managua’s wife, even though, strictly speaking, she hadn’t.

  Managua approached Lamua, hands outstretched. ‘Surely you is not can prefer they other writers better than Shakespeare?’

  ‘Shakespeare is be plenty boring. All they words I is not understand. All they words you is not understand. All they dull stories.’

  ‘Boring? Shakespeare? You is no longer like Romeo and Juliet? Is be world’s most great love story. You is not remember Othello? How you is cry when I is read how he is strangle Desdemona?’

  ‘Yes, I is remember. But you is see, then I is not hear John Grisham. He is be plenty better writer. Is be more modern.’

  ‘And I is think you is love Shakespeare.’

  ‘I is think so too. Now I is know I is love Shakespeare for you. I is not love you for Shakespeare.’

  Managua nodded slowly.

  ‘So now I is go live with Purnu. Is marry he right away.’ She smiled at Managua. ‘I is be sorry, but you is never love me with all you kidneys anyway.’ She nodded at Pilua. ‘Now I is know why.’

  Managua let go her hands. She took one of Purnu’s and the couple turned and walked together to the door, where Lamua paused and looked back at Managua. ‘There is be one good thing for you in all this. You pig is be quite safe now.’

  Managua smiled ruefully. ‘Yes, if I is ever find she again.’

  FORTY-NINE

  TIGUA FOUND LINTOA by a pool in the jungle. He put his hands on the small of his back as he experienced a twinge in his kidneys at the sight of the big she-boy, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, half in and half out of his torn and dishevelled dress, head in hands, sobbing to himself. Tigua took off his heels, padded quietly to the log and sat down beside him. He put his arm around him.

  ‘Stop it,’ he said. ‘You is cry like girl.’

  ‘Well, that is because I is be girl.’

  Tigua rested his cheek on Lintoa’s shoulder and he didn’t resist. Ah, the times Tigua had longed to be a dress strap upon that shoulder! ‘No you is not,’ he murmured. ‘You is be boy. You is be fine big boy.’ He choked back a sob of his own. ‘Most fine boy on whole island, if anyone is ask me.’

  Lintoa’s sobs ceased. He sniffed loudly and pulled himself upright, dislodging Tigua’s head from his shoulder. He looked into his eyes. ‘You is really think so?’

  ‘I is know so. I is see you in you pubic leaf today, remember? You is have plenty long string.’

  Lintoa reached out one of his big paws and ruffled Tigua’s hair. ‘You is just say this for cheer me up. You is not mean.’

  Tigua reached up and seized Lintoa’s hand in both of his own before he could pull it away and held it against his cheek for a second or so. ‘Oh yes, that is be so. I is just want for cheer you up.’ He let go the hand. Lintoa dragged it through his own hair, straightening himself up.

  ‘Is all go wrong,’ he said. ‘I is want for make everything change so I is can be boy. Now everyone is hate me. They is make me stay girl for say wrong thing.’

  ‘Everyone is not hate you. Girl Perlua is not hate you.’

  ‘You – you is think not? Not even now she is find out I is be she-boy and she is see me in dress?’

  ‘No. I is see look in she eyes when she is realize is be you. I is see how she eyes is walk all over you body when she is see you in you pubic leaf.’

  Lintoa stood up and tried to adjust his dress, what was left of it. ‘Well, is be true. I is look plenty damn good in pubic leaf.’

  Tigua scooped a handful of mud from the edge of the pool and flung it at him. He ducked and it splatted against a tree beside him.

  ‘Yes, you is look good. Is be only one thing bigger than you pubic leaf and that is be you head.’

  Lintoa ignored the jibe. He looked worried again. ‘But what if they is not let me be boy early? You is think Perlua is go wait for me?’

  ‘Oh yes, she is go wait. She is wait sixteen years for boy like you, extra year or two is not make much difference. Anyway, maybe they is let you choose early. They is have meeting in kassa house tonight and is be one of things they is discuss.’

  ‘Yes, but there is be many people who is hate me for what I is say today. You is think there is be any chance for me for choose early?’

  Tigua shrugged. ‘Is depend on what they is decide ’bout other things. If they is agree mans is make babies then mebbe everything is change. Or maybe some things and not others. Who is can say what they is decide once they is start on kassa?’

  The little she-boy rose so wearily to his feet you’d have thought he had an artificial leg. He began to walk away, taking the path not in the direction back to the village, but deeper into the jungle.

  ‘Where you is go?’ asked Lintoa. ‘You is want I is come with you?’

  ‘No, I is like for be alone,’ said Tigua. His voice was flat and did not reveal any emotion. ‘I is see you later.’

  ‘See you.’ Lintoa had too much on his mind to thin
k about Tigua. He turned back towards the village. He needed to change his dress.

  FIFTY

  THERE ARE SOME stories that begin with a pig; there are others that end with one. This story, which began with a woman in a jealous fury over her husband’s pet, is one of the former; Tigua’s small part in it belongs to the latter kind.

  Tigua had no particular purpose in wandering into the jungle other than to get away from everyone because he imagined they would all be discussing Perlua and her luminous beauty, and from Lintoa in particular so he wouldn’t see how upset he was about it. Though what a crazy idea that was! As though Lintoa had ever given a moment’s thought to Tigua’s feelings. He spent more time worrying about his bra straps.

  Mostly what Tigua felt at the moment was alone. He didn’t want to be with the rest of the islanders, including Lintoa, because none of them knew what it was like to be him. Not even Sussua, who would, in the end, for all his gushing about fashion pictures in Miss Lucy’s Vogue, Tigua knew, turn out to be a boy, the way she-boys almost always did. No, Tigua didn’t want to be with anyone on the island, but he did not want to be on his own either. A twinge in the small of his back, a feeling deep in his kidneys, made him afraid of himself.

  So when he pushed aside some adula fronds and found a pair of frightened eyes staring back at him, Tigua was relieved. When the pig didn’t move, but carried on staring right at him, Tigua knew it was no ordinary pig. Any regular pig would have screamed like a child in pain, turned its squiggly tail and run like hell. This one didn’t, which could only mean it had come across humans before.

  ‘Cordelia,’ crooned Tigua softly. ‘Come here girl. Come see you Aunty Tigua.’ The pig didn’t bat an eyelid. It was the exact opposite of the twitchy American. It simply continued to stare at Tigua. It wasn’t about to blink and maybe get brained by an artificial limb the way had happened to its mamu.

  ‘Is you not remember me, girl? Is you not know who I is be?’

  The pig decided to risk a blink at this. It was a pretty dumb question. How could it not know Tigua? How many boys in green cocktail dresses were there on the island for fug-a-fug’s sake? Tigua took a step closer and held out a hand as though offering the pig a snack. The pig took a couple of steps back. It wasn’t falling for that one. It wanted to see the snack before it got near a human.

  ‘Come to Tigua, little one. You is come here for see you old friend. I is give you something nice for eat. I is give you plenty nice stroke. You is only must come.’ All the time Tigua was speaking he was shuffling closer and closer to the pig. The pig didn’t move at all. It didn’t heed Tigua’s exhortations to get closer because as far as the pig could see the she-boy was managing to close up the ground between them pretty well on his own.

  Tigua got to what he judged was an arm’s length away from the pig. Carefully he shucked his handbag to his left wrist from his right, because his right hand was the pig-grabbing one, and he was just about to fling himself at the animal when it let out a squeal that made Tigua almost jump out of his dress and then bolted, leaving only the shaking of the adulas where it had vanished.

  Tigua pushed through the bushes in time to see the squiggle of the pig’s tail vanishing into another clump a few yards ahead. In this fashion he pursued the animal until the jungle opened out into a spacious clearing. As Tigua burst through the surrounding shrubbery into the open he found before him a herd of maybe twenty pigs.

  He advanced slowly towards them. He wasn’t forgetting that black bantam pigs have teeth like razors. Although they didn’t usually attack unless cornered, he had no idea how they might behave en masse when confronted by a solitary she-boy. The pigs all had their heads down, eating something growing among the scrubby grass that carpeted the clearing. They looked like they’d been at it all afternoon. Not a single one appeared to be out of breath. It was going to be plenty damn hard to identify Cordelia.

  ‘Cordelia!’ called Tigua suddenly. He watched the pigs like a koku-koku watching a green shoestring, where a failure to spot the slightest movement can be fatal. He’d hoped to catch the pig out, but none of them paid any attention. Eventually a fat old sow, which was nearest to the she-boy, lifted its head and gave him the once-over, then it turned to the well-tusked boar that was obviously the leader of the herd because he was bigger than the rest, although that doesn’t amount to much when you’re talking black bantams, and – it was Tigua’s impression, at least – raised a quizzical eyebrow. The boar gave a shrug of its shoulders that seemed to say, ‘Come on, it’s only a she-boy. What’s it going to do, attack twenty of us with its shoe?’

  The mixture of indifference and hostility the pigs gave off towards him made Tigua suddenly think of how things would be when he returned home. He would have no-one any more. You simply couldn’t count Sussua, who was nice but nothing more. And he would eventually have to see Lintoa with Perlua on his arm. He walked among the pigs which just shuffled aside to let him pass, but in no way else registered his presence. He looked from one pig to another but they were all the same; none of them showed signs of ever having been exposed to Shakespeare. As he inspected the pigs, Tigua realized what they were eating. Once you got among the animals, you could see the grass carpet was patterned with tiny orange domes.

  FIFTY-ONE

  ‘THERE IS BE many possible explanations for my daughter skin colour,’ said Managua. He was sitting against one side of the kassa house with the rest of the island men in a semicircle in front of him. Several pipes of kassa were being passed around and the air was thick with its scented smoke and the coughs it induced. It made William’s eyes water so much he could scarcely see. He hadn’t expected to be allowed in to witness the debate but when Purnu had suggested he be invited Managua had not merely assented but had positively insisted he be present.

  ‘You is scrub she until she is be white I is suppose?’ said N’roa. ‘Or perhaps you is leave she out in moonlight? Everyone is know moon is suck colour from things.’

  Other members of the audience instantly raised cries of protest at the interruption, shushing him with cries of ‘Shut up, N’roa!’ and ‘Give you big mouth plenty rest, N’roa!’

  ‘Such as what?’ said Purnu, returning to Managua’s original statement. He sat in the centre of the front row of the crowd, directly before Managua. ‘You is have cause that is be more sensible than N’roa is suggest?’

  ‘You is must remember she is stay indoors all she life. Is hide in Captain Cook. You is look at gwanga.’ They all turned to stare at William. ‘You is mebbe notice that when he is come here nearly one moon ago he is be white. Now he skin is be start for turn brown. Is be sun is make he brown. America is have weak sun so they Americans is be white.’

  There were murmurs of assent as the men peered at William, as intently as if he were a piece of his own crap, trying to assess the depth of his suntan in the dim light.

  ‘But there is be some Americans is be more brown than we. They is call theyselves black. Most of they soldiers is be black when they is here for plant bombs,’ said Purnu.

  Managua gave a dismissive wave. ‘America is be big country. Is be some parts where is be more hot than here. Is make people there be black.’

  This brought so many more nods and shouts of agreement you’d have thought most of those present were intimately acquainted with the geography and climate of the United States.

  ‘This is be all plenty well,’ said Purnu when the hubbub had died down. ‘But all babies on island is be brown when they is be born, and that is be before sun is shine on they.’

  Managua thought for a moment. ‘Yes, but mebbe they is not stay brown if you is keep they out of sun.’

  Purnu nodded, as though to indicate he took the point. Then he raised a finger in the air. ‘But if Perlua is not be white when she is be born, what for you is hide she and she mother? What for you is pretend they is be dead?’

  Managua didn’t answer. He bought time by reaching for the nearest kassa pipe and taking a lengthy drag. William declin
ed the offer of another pipe with a wave of his hand. He was already high on the fumes that filled the cramped hut. It occurred to him that he was possibly the world’s first victim of passive kassa.

  Finally Managua passed the pipe on. ‘Is be just one possible explanation. Is be others as well. For example, perhaps someone is put spell on Perlua.’ Here he stared determinedly at Purnu. ‘Perhaps is be evil magic is steal she colour.’

  ‘Who you is think is do this?’ replied the little sorcerer angrily. ‘I is not be able for do such thing even today. Time when this is happen I is hardly be man. I is not even be sorcerer then. You is tell me is be someone then who is can make spell I is not can do now?’

  Managua shrugged. ‘I is say is be possible. I is not know who is be responsible. Is happen every day, someone is fall sick, someone else is die, we is all know is be magic but is not always know who is make spell.’

  Muttering broke out around the hut again. There were those who agreed this was possible. William heard them saying it was a much more plausible explanation that bad magic had taken Perlua’s colour than the unlikely argument that sperm caused babies.

  ‘OK, suppose you is be right and is be bad spell is make she is be white, what for you is hide she away? You is answer me that!’

  This time there was silence as everyone waited for Managua to get out of that one. The older man smiled and looked relaxed. ‘Is not be obvious for anyone who is have half brain? I is fearful some sorcerer is work against she. I is hide she and pretend she is be dead for protect she from other spells.’

  ‘Huh!’ said Purnu. ‘One moment you is say she is be white because you is hide she, next you is reckon you is hide she because she is be white. You is not can have both ways.’

  ‘You is ask for possible reasons what for she is be white. I is give you two. I is not say is be both reasons. I is say one of they is be possible. You is can pick which one.’

  ‘Is be true,’ said N’roa. ‘Purnu, you is have one reason, this story ’bout sperm. But he is give two reasons. I is believe Managua. Two reasons is be better than one. He is must be right.’