Net of Blood

by Selmoore Codfish

Chapter 2

  Sunday morning I put on my jeans and tennis shoes for my long walk. At home people put on their nicest clothes for church, but I didn’t expect to find an active service. Also, I wanted to be comfortable for the walk.

  After breakfast, I followed Flamingo Road in the opposite direction of the President’s Office. Along the way, one building had bins of local foods in front. A shopper gave the attendant a coin and put a coconut into a cloth bag. There were also bins of tropical fruits that I didn’t recognize.

  Two more blocks past them I came to the edge of the town. The last house was in bad repair with part of the roof missing. I wondered if the island had been recently hit by a typhoon.

  The road turned there and went up the side of the island hill. In the lower portions of the road I walked through a grove of palm trees that were in rows. Then it came to the end and entered an area with patchy strands of bamboo. The bamboo was in lower spots where the water collected. The sun rose over the top of the island and came into my eyes.

  I took my time walking, I was in no hurry. I stopped a few times when I heard a bird call, but I couldn’t see it.

  Eventually, the road narrowed to one lane with a rut for each tire. The soil was black, and weeds grew low on the path. I reached down and pinched a loose piece of soil. I inspected it for a moment and decided that it was probably volcanic.

  The road started to slope more up the hill and the bamboo became sparser until the ground was either weed-covered or bare, with large black rocks. I put in more effort to climb the hill. At times, I paused and looked back at the cove and airstrip.

  Then after a while, the road reached a high point. It didn’t go directly over the top where the peak of the volcano would be. There was much more climbing to do if someone wanted to ascend that far.

  As the view to the east became clear, I could see there was a large outcropping on the side of the road. I sat on it a while and rested.

  The sea was endless in that direction. I thought I noticed a ship on the water, but I squinted at it and saw that it was a small island with a few palm trees. It was a few miles out into the water.

  I looked for the town that Jing-Sheng had mentioned. The road went down the hill about a mile then curved towards an inlet. About twenty buildings stood there. If that was New Truro, it wasn’t very big. I couldn’t see it clearly from that distance. Walking would be easier going downhill.

  I felt the wind coming up the road towards me. A few puffs of clouds were in the sky. In the distance, the clouds and sea came together. I noticed the cloud’s shadow on the water not far into the sea. The shadow and cloud were moving together, connected by rays of light.

  As clouds approached me their shadows would race up the hill. The hill wasn’t high, but I imagined the clouds were down at my eye level. The shadow and cloud would join at me.

  Experiencing this was not a feeling that I could have at home in the city. The view there was obstructed by houses and other structures. The realities that I was used to didn’t apply here. At that moment, I had a different sense of distance. My reality was of wide space.

  After a couple minutes, I began walking again. Part way down the hill I could make out the buildings more clearly. Most appeared to be small homes. They were different construction than back in Fusang. Initially, I thought that they might be log cabins. Then, I saw that they were made out of wood planks. They were built on short stilts. The windows appeared to be open-air with no glass.

  Next, I started to see several people moving around. There was quite a bit of activity for a small town on mid-Sunday morning.

  A couple people were down by the water. Several small wood boats, and one larger one, were pulled onto the shore there. The larger one was a catamaran or outrigger with a mast on each side.

  I was coming closer to the town. A couple people were on porches of their houses. All of the homes faced the water.

  Most of the people outside were around the two larger buildings near the center of town. One was made from white stone. I thought that if the town had a church then that would be it. I thought the villagers might be going to church despite having no preacher. That would show persistence. However, without a way to participate in sacraments, the church would consider them lost.

  Most of the men wore T-shirts and shorts. Who was I to judge that they weren’t dressed fancy? It was fine with me. The children wore shirts with cartoon characters on them. I didn’t recognize the toons. One of the kids ran to her mother when she saw me. “Ama,” said the girl. The mothers were in sun dresses, probably handmade. The women all wore a necklace with a single pearl.

  I nodded at one man as I approached. I didn’t rush in too quickly so I didn’t surprise anyone. Most of the people were talking as if they were standing and waiting for something. I didn’t understand the language they spoke. The people looked more Polynesian than the residents of Fusang.

  They could have been speaking one of the many Chinese dialects. I knew about five words in Chinese, but they’d have to speak slower for me to understand even those few sounds.

  One more man came out of the door of the stone building carrying a wood statue. He saw me and showed a welcoming smile.

  “Here, son,” he said as he handed the statue to a teenage boy. Then the man came to me.

  “Hello,” he said. “I’m James.”

  “I’m Neal.” We shook hands. I was glad that at least one spoke English.

  “Are you here for the parade?” he asked.

  “Oh, I didn’t know there was a parade.” They weren’t there for a church service.

  “Yes. It is the time that we honor our ancestors. It is a special time to uphold traditions.”

  Did James think that I was a tourist? They couldn’t get very many in New Truro considering the long walk.

  “That’s nice,” I said. “Actually, I came here because I thought there might be a church where I could pray.”

  “Oh,” he said. “This is the church but we aren’t allowed to hold service.” We were both speaking tentatively, but I felt safe about opening up since I’d found the right people.

  “I know,” I said. “I’ve been sent to help reopen it.”

  “That’s great,” he said. He smiled more genuinely. Then he spoke loudly. “Hey everyone, he’s from the church.” Some of the people grouped closer to me and James.

  “Welcome,” said one woman. “Have you eaten?” I nodded.

  A young girl stepped right in front of me so I’d see her.

  “Are you a preacher?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, smiling.

  Many other people asked me questions in English. They wanted to know where I came from and how I got there. As we talked, more people joined from their homes.

  A couple minutes later, most of the crowd had gone back to talking among themselves. James and a few men still stood near me.

  “Hemi,” said one man to get James’ attention.

  “Yes?”

  “Is Ahohoka carrying Atu in the pageant?”

  “Oh,” said James. “No, I wanted him to hold it while we talked.” They paused, so I spoke.

  “It seems that some people here are speaking another language.”

  “Yes,” said James. “We are bilingual. We speak the languages of the colonialists and the native tongue.”

  “Was this a colony?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “The harbor was more of a waypoint for protection from storms. Most voyagers kept going after a brief stop.”

  New Truro was like an original tourist spot. People came and went.

  “You seem to mix in words from both languages,” I said. “What does ‘Hemi’ mean?”

  “That is my name,” said James. “Literally, it’s the translation of ‘James.’ We all have a colonial name and a traditional name. I’m James Hemi Kupe. My son is Ward Ahohoka Kupe.” He gestured towards the teen.

>   “…and I’m Edgar Ihorangi Kupe,” said a man. A few other men introduced themselves: Charles, Winslow, and Elias. They all had the last name of Kupe.

  “Are you related?” I motioned around the group.

  “Yes, we are all the same family at New Truro,” said Edgar.

  “We all have descended from Kupe. He was one of the twelve brothers that were born of Atu, the first man created by God,” said James. I thought it interesting that they’d come up with their own name for Adam. “Kupe came to this island many generations ago,” James continued.

  “The Sheng aren’t Kupe,” said Winslow, “they came later.”

  “He’s referring to the residents of Fusang,” said Charles. Charles seemed to be always smiling. I also noticed he was a little older—he had wrinkles under his eyes.

  “Yet,” said James, “Sheng was a son of Atu also. They are our brothers and we welcomed them with open arms. We even adopted their local way of speaking. It’s said that the first men had another dialect, but could understand Sheng when he arrived.”

  Still more people joined the crowd. At about 100 total, it must have been nearly the whole village. Several people held statues or painted portraits. I looked around to see the faces on the paintings. All were men.

  “Who are in the portraits?” I asked the group.

  “The ancestors,” said Edgar. He looked around too.

  “Is it Zou Sin?” asked Edgar, looking back to James.

  “It is not time for the parade yet,” replied James. Where is Makelesi?” he asked himself. “Ah, Ben brings the old mother now.” He gestured up a path. A boy who looked 10 years old held a woman’s arm as they walked. She walked carefully and relied on him to keep her stable.

  James and the other men retrieved the images of their ancestors. I moved out of the way.

  When the old lady arrived people looked to her. Then she sang a song, but I had no idea what she was saying. It was sung their local language. A different woman went around to the men holding statues and paintings and put leis around their necks. She had one extra and looked at me a moment. Then she gave me one too. It was made of pink flowers.

  After the song ended, the crowd started clapping in rhythm. I joined them.

  The older girls started dancing to the rhythm. They moved to the center of the yard in front of the church. A few of the very young children were encouraged to dance. They went up and stumbled around next to the girls. Then the men held their ancestors high and walked in a circle around the girls. Some people hummed; or exclaimed things loudly, or chanted.

  When the dance stopped, the girls returned to the crowd. James moved forward to the center with the statue of Atu. He told a story in English about how the first man rode a whale down from Heaven and tamed the seas. However, sometimes when Atu slept the seas became riled and made noise to wake him again. Other men took turns talking about their own statues, but most spoke in native voices.

  “Let’s not forget Daniel Keoni. May he be safely returned to us,” said one.

  “Yes,” said a woman. Many others people nodded. Some spoke among each other briefly.

  Then another man came forward who I hadn’t met. He was facing away from me. He held a small statue I couldn’t see.

  “Gei Duk,” he said, “Our Lord and Savior first came to us through the colonialists’ ancestors. He was a New Son of God. Hundreds of years ago, he ate with them and shared his goodness with them. He was killed by his people because of his love for us, but he was raised to the sky by God.

  “Amen,” said the crowd.

  I moved sideways until I could see the small statue of him wearing a crown of thorns. I thought it was thrilling that they used their native word, Gei Duk, for the Savior’s name. I’d use it too while I visited them.

  However, I thought that they were infringing on the law about not having church services. Maybe that was one reason that James had been very cautious when I arrived.

  Then it seemed the parade was over. The women dispersed, sometimes a daughter joined her mother. Most of the rest of the crowd sat or stood talking. James approached me carrying a statue.

  “Is it over?” I asked.

  “No. It is the Feast of Zou Sin. You should eat with us,” he said.

  I shook my head. I could tell they were poor and I didn’t want to consume their meager food, but I hadn’t made plans for lunch. I guess that I’d thought I’d stop at a fast food restaurant on the way. That was before I had realized where I was.

  James nodded for me to follow him into the church. It was one large room. The pews were wood benches and had been pushed into a circle.

  The men hung the portraits along the walls and found places for the statues on stands with Gei Duk on the altar. I went with James near the front to where he set down Atu.

  I thought of my own church. The saints were depicted in the stained glass windows. Instead of saints, they hoisted their forefathers who were important to them.

  “Aren’t you taking a chance with your parades?” I asked James.

  “How?”

  “You’re pushing the limits of President Xing’s rules.” The other men approached as we talked.

  “Yes,” James said, “but Ancestor worship is something that the Sheng also does. When the people there honor their forefathers, they honor Sheng, one of the twelve sons of Atu. Xing claims to be a direct descendant of Sheng. That means when people worship his ancestor, they affirm his leadership.

  “We even have a statue of Sheng,” he said as he pointed to the back, near a closet. “Xing may think we honor Sheng, but that one rarely comes out to be honored.” Winslow laughed at the comment.

  “Rarely,” Winslow emphasized.

  I glanced around again.

  “I don’t see any women in the walls with your forefathers,” I said. Charles poked at Edgar.

  “The women are there,” Charles said to Edgar. “They are standing right behind, telling the men what to do.” Charles grinned.

  “Yes, they’re saying, ‘Sit up straight. Comb your hair, honey’,” said Winslow. Edgar frowned. I noticed that his hair was disheveled.

  “Careful,” said James. “If the forefathers hear you, we’ll have a storm tonight.” I wasn’t sure if James and the others really thought that upsetting their saints would cause the weather to turn.

  Edgar’s frown went away. At other times he seemed to always have a look of surprise on his face. He stepped closer to me and tapped the lei around my neck.

  “My wife Lucy must think that you are a man of the Kupe now too,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said. “I appreciate your welcome.”

  “The colonialists that stayed became part of our families,” said James. “We all have them in our family histories.” The other men nodded. Their faces and skin tone were different than the people in the village.

  “That’s nice,” I said. “I’ll be staying only a short while. I have a family back home.” They nodded again.

  A couple women came into the church carrying food. The feast was a potluck.

  “Elias,” called one, and a man went to help.

  The women spread the food next to the altar. I saw every woman come with a fish dish and some sides. Elias retrieved plates from the closet.

  “Do you catch your own fish?” I asked.

  “Oh course,” said Edgar. “Don’t you catch it for your family?” I smiled at his belief that everyone lived by the water and caught their food.

  “No,” I said. “I am bad luck at fishing.” Edgar stepped back. His eyes were showing even more surprise than normal.

  “Some people have to eat food from a can,” said Winslow nodding towards me. “Xing has a cannery in Fusang.” The men looked at me with sympathy.

  The room looked full, and the women must have all returned. James handed me a porcelain plate.

  “Let’s eat,” he said.

  “Nobody else is eating yet,
” I said. I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.

  “They are waiting for you. You’re the guest. It is good food. Taste and see.”

  I nodded and stepped to the front. There was lots of food, so I decided I was not depriving anyone by eating.

  I sampled a portion from many colors and sizes of fish. Most were cooked whole then split. A couple were fileted and one looked like it was raw.

  “That one is best when uncooked,” said James. That was reassuring, so I took a sample.

  There were also fruits, root vegetables, and other foods to take. I returned to where I’d been standing. James and others followed me with their own platefuls.

  “Eat,” he said. I tried everything. It was all unbelievably flavorful. When I’d vacationed on the coast, I’d had fish that tasted good, but usually at home it was flavorless. It was like my mouth had been dead, but now suddenly it had come alive.

  “No manna fish today?” asked Edgar. The others shook their heads and continued to eat. We stood, but most others sat on the benches. Groups of children clustered together on the floor. They ate the quickest then ran out of the door.

  A woman approached. She looked at my emptied plate. Then from behind, she put her hand on James’ shoulder. He turned to her.

  “This is my wife, Lydia,” he said.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “You must eat more,” she said. “Does your wife never feed you?”

  I shook my head. I’d eaten a large plateful.

  “You’ll offend us if you don’t,” she continued. I smiled and nodded. I went back and tried a vegetable that I’d missed, and more of the sushi. I returned and started eating it.

  “Leave a little on your plate,” said James. “An empty plate makes your hostess think that you are still hungry.”

  “Okay,” I said. The last vegetable wasn’t my favorite, so I left some of that. Some older children who’d occupied benches left and the men and I took their seats. A couple of the older girls collected plates. I gave mine to them.

  “That was very good. Thank you,” I said. Even Edgar smiled a moment. Then he started picking at his teeth. The other men got up, leaving me, James, and Edgar. Groups of women remained too.

  “It is nice that you are keeping many of the traditions of the church going,” I said. Edgar left too as I spoke.

  “However, the essential one you are lacking,” I continued. “You are prevented from communion.”

  “…but we did do it,” James said. “We partook of the breaking of the bread.” I hadn’t seen them do the sacrament, and there had been no priest to bless it.

  “When did you do that?”

  “You took part too,” he said as he gestured to the food along the altar.

  Had I missed something? There hadn’t been bread or wine, and their preacher had been deported.

  “Do you consider eating lunch to be communion?” I asked. I wasn’t intentionally trying to be difficult. I wanted to understand him.

  “It was more than having lunch,” he said. “We all brought food and shared it.” It sounded like he meant potluck was communion.

  “How does that make it a sacrament?”

  “Food is life, and without it there is death. Food was scarce in Gei Duk’s time and that is sometimes true now too.

  “The scarcity made our ancestors share food only with family members. A family shares the same blood. We came from the same father, so our fate is tied together. By preserving our kin, we support our own extended self, and our forefathers, too.

  “Giving food to strangers is not done. The street people were strangers to Gei Duk, but by feeding them he made them his family. He was making them his body and blood. The same is true for the twelve disciples; he was sharing himself with them.

  “You are our family through the church, so you may eat with us.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “That food is in your blood now. We are in your blood. The energy it gave may go away, but the life preservation does not. It stays with you as long as you live.

  “Likewise, the gift of bread and wine from the colonists is still in us, passed down through generations. It is the blood and life of Gei Duk. Despite having no priest, Xing can’t take away our blood and the life that the Lord has given us.”

  “I see what you are saying,” I said. However, the church wouldn’t agree that they were in communion with Gei Duk and the saints.

  It didn’t bother me if it really counted or not. I felt that a loving God wouldn’t penalize them for the actions of President Xing. Nevertheless, my employer would absolutely never accept their way of the sacrament. The dogma said that God’s authority came down from the church leaders to the clergy and then to the people. Lay people had no power to invoke the sacraments. Therefore, it made no difference to my goal. I had to arrange for the President to allow a priest to return.

  The women were picking up the leftover food. Also, I felt a need to use the bathroom.

  “James, where is the toilet?” I asked. He arose and we walked out of the door.

  “That is the closest one.” He pointed to an outhouse. I nodded and went to use it.

  When I came out I looked for where I could wash my hands. Along the road were some of the girls rinsing off plates near a stone well. I walked over to them.

  “Is this where I can wash hands?” I asked.

  “Yes,” one said. Also I got a drink from a cup.

  I didn’t see James. He may have gone into the church again.

  Some boys were kicking a ball around. I watched them for a minute, trying to see if I recognized the game. It was similar to soccer, but more like keep away with two teams.

  I looked for James again and went to the church. He came out with Lydia.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “It was wonderful that you could join us,” Lydia said.

  “Thank you,” I said. I felt like it was a good time to leave. “Will you be around tomorrow if I return?” I asked James.

  “Here or there,” he replied. “You are welcome to return.”

  “Good,” I said. I started walking back to the hotel. I looked back a few times to see if I could catch which house they went to. It was the same as where the old woman had come from. Since it was a small town, everyone probably knew where James lived, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to worry about where to find him.

  It would be another long walk back to the hotel. The road was steeper going up on this side. I had to put effort into the climb.

  I thought about how the people of New Truro, the descendants of Kupe, had views that disagreed with teachings. They’d made their own version of the sacraments. That made me reflect on what I believed.

  I had struggled with lots of issues, even whether I believed in God. However, over time I’d come to accept him.

  I’d had a few conflicts with the church because my ideas didn’t always line up with what was said on Sunday mornings. I believed that Gei Duk was Savior, but what did that mean?

  The story the preachers told was of a magical being, essentially Superman, who could do any miracle that he wanted. It didn’t fit with what I saw in daily life. Men of God could not perform magic, no matter their claims. They said they got their power through communion with Gei Duk, but when they failed to move mountains it made me question whether the Savior could have done them either. It seemed that God very rarely made a big show. Nothing was unexplainable.

  The key miracle of church was resurrection. It was the center of my current doubts. I had been back and forth many times about it.

  The way that his followers behaved after his death was the source of my questioning. When Gei Duk died they scattered. I can understand how seeing him dead would have unsettled them. He was their leader. However, if they had seen daily miracles, they should have expected his resurrection.

  Then the way that he appeared to them later didn’t give me much confidence
about resurrection either. The scripture describes how he appeared to them in a locked room, and still they don’t recognize him. Also he approached them as another person and they didn’t recognize him then either. In both those stories it is as if the storytellers are using fanciful language to dance around the truth. Was it really Gei Duk or did they merely see him figuratively reflected in that person?

  If I had to rely on those stories, I wouldn’t believe in his resurrection. However, I had other ideas that made me hesitate about making a decision. For example, when the disciples proclaimed that he was resurrected, if it hadn’t happened then their naysayers could have gone and found a body to disprove it. Something must have happened, but I didn’t know what.

  This issue was related to communion because it defined who we communed with. Did we connect to a magical being or to a man? The question for communion is ‘How does it work?’ but the question of resurrection was ‘What does it mean?’

  I’d gone past the top of the hill and was walking quickly down the other side. I was headed into the sun like I had been in the morning. A small freighter was edging into the cove. It approached the wharf as I came to the hotel.

  It was soon suppertime. I wasn’t very hungry, but I ate a little anyhow. Again, no other hotel guests joined me.

  I thought about calling Angela. It would be Sunday morning there, but still early. I forgot about it for a while and checked email. When I checked my watch again I thought it was almost too late because they’d head to church soon. I quickly buzzed them and Angela picked up.

  “Hello,” she said. I told her about my walk, meeting people, and lunch.

  “It’s hard to believe that you are half a planet away,” she said. “That’s so far.”

  I had an idea. I could see the setting sun out of my window.

  “Do you see the sunrise at home?” I asked. I knew that if it was a clear day there, she could see it from the kitchen.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I’m looking at it too. Our eyes are meeting in space. We are not so far if we see the same thing.”

  “…but you shouldn’t look at the sun,” she said.

  “I know, but just for a second right now we both see it.”

  “Oh,” she said. We were both silent for a moment. Then, our daughter said something in the background.

  “I still have to get Melanie dressed,” Angela said. “We need to hang up.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  The call ended. We were connected by more than a Wi-Fi signal despite having great distance between us.

  * * * *