Net of Blood

by Selmoore Codfish

Chapter 5

  In the morning, I called my family. I thought they would just be getting done with supper in their time zone.

  “Sorry I didn’t call last night,” I said.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “Are you coming home soon?”

  “No,” I said. “The local people invited me to stay a couple nights with them. It’s a once-in-a lifetime chance to experience it.”

  “Oh,” she said, excited. She appreciated travel and culture.

  “I won’t be back to the hotel as much,” I said. “I might not find a good time to call for the next few days.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Call on your way to the airport regardless of the time.” We said our goodbyes.

  I thought over what I should take with me to New Truro. I didn’t need much. In the end, I took only the clothes on my back and my hotel room key. I ate breakfast at the café then started walking. I wished Keoni could be joining me on the trip.

  The sky was overcast again, and it was gusty. I walked up the hill. I saw Roger right away. He only briefly made eye contact then continued briskly walking past me.

  I remembered that the way the men talked, it showed that they valued consensus. However, from what I’d seen, Roger wasn’t concerned with that. My mind wandered as I walked.

  When the Savior, Gei Duk, walked the earth, he taught the people many lessons about how to live. For example, he wanted them to love their neighbors. The Kupe were practicing what they preached when they decided to welcome me into their homes.

  I’d struggled with the idea of resurrection. Was Gei Duk the Savior because he told us to live in harmony or because he arose after death? What was the most important part of his being?

  Gei Duk’s whole life was about helping others. It seemed that if we emphasized his resurrection then we were being greedy.

  If he’d been resurrected, it would be because of God’s effort, or magic, not because of Gei Duk’s power. I had been questioning within myself whether it’d happened. No matter if it happened or not, it was God’s decision to raise him. It wasn’t Gei Duk’s miracle, but God’s.

  We praised Gei Duk for the things he did. Therefore, helping us was the reason to praise him. If we called him Savior, it should because of what he did, not because of what God did for him.

  If there were no resurrection, would our faith be meaningless? If he was just a man, then why would we honor him at church? Would our belief lose power if that is all he was?

  In that case, he would be only a role model, not a Savior.

  I tried to recall what Gei Duk said that could be relevant. In his preaching, one idea he focused on was that the Kingdom of God was coming. This was something that would benefit living people. When that kingdom arrived, we would know it because everyone would begin to behave in a way that supported all others.

  What would that kingdom look like? Would it really be a kingdom, or was that the only word that made any sense at the time? There were very few examples of democracy in his time.

  It is very clear from scriptures that Gei Duk felt that the kingdom would be coming immediately. Certainly, the entire world is not under a just kingdom now. However, there must be some form of an ideal kingdom now, or he was completely wrong.

  One thing that immediately came to mind was the church. That came to life soon after his death. However, there were many churches and not everyone belonged to them.

  Another thing to consider is whether governments could somehow be part of the kingdom. In some countries, the laws made life fairer, but none were really just or balanced. Could they ever become perfect examples of God’s will? That would be up to the people. Still, I thought governments had to remain neutral about religion. If they didn’t, then people like President Xing had the power to block religious freedom.

  Finally, I considered whether communities such as New Truro could be kingdoms of God. I didn’t know enough about them to say. However, I was sure that I’d learn more about them over the next couple days.

  As I reached the top of the hill, I could see the sky was dark in the East. The sea was choppy. Fishing would be challenging. Hopefully, the weather wouldn’t delay my lessons. As I got closer, I noticed no boats were out.

  James and Lydia were on their porch when I arrived. James was carving a piece of wood. It didn’t look like anything yet.

  “Hello,” I said. “It looks cloudy today.”

  “Yes, a storm is coming in,” said James. Lydia went inside.

  I sat on the edge of the porch and James kept whittling.

  “What are you making?” I asked.

  “It will be Keoni,” he said. “Come, I’ll show you the others that I’ve made.” We went into the living area.

  The women were in the kitchen cleaning. I didn’t see the boys. Anna was playing with her doll.

  “I made all of this except for that one,” he said. It was a small one. It looked more cartoonish than a real person.

  “Is it Atu?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are the others all ancestors, too?”

  He nodded.

  “Sometimes I make sharks or toys for the kids,” he said, “but they take them and lose them.”

  “My house is a mess,” I said. “My daughter’s toys are scattered and we can never find the one she wants.”

  He smiled.

  “It looks like you use various types of wood,” I said.

  “Bamboo is the light one. Palm is the larger dark ones.”

  Looking around, I noticed hammocks were gathered onto hooks on the front wall. I hadn’t seen them before because I’d just peeked through the front door. They didn’t have much privacy or personal space.

  “Does everyone sleep on these?”

  “Yes,” he said. “We pull a curtain across the middle.” The curtain was behind the door. That probably separated the genders.

  I didn’t anticipate the sleeping arrangements. I assumed that sleeping here was part of the deal. To minimize their inconvenience, I should see if I could hurry the fishing lessons despite the weather.

  “Is there anything that you can tell me about fishing?” I asked.

  “It’s best to stay away from the men today,” said James. “They get edgy when they can’t get on the water.”

  I nodded. I wondered if that meant he was in a poor mood too.

  “Anyhow, the best way to learn the names of the fish is to go net fishing with the women. They catch the most variety,” said James. “It’s hard to tell you their names while swimming under water.”

  We walked to the kitchen door.

  “Lydia,” said James.

  “Uh huh,” she said.

  “When you net fish, take Neal,” said James. “He needs to learn our way.”

  “Good morning,” said Lydia. Makelesi was there, too. She said something in another language to me.

  “Talk in English to him,” said Lydia.

  “I am talking in English,” said Makelesi. Lydia smiled.

  “She said good morning and asked if you’d had breakfast,” said Lydia.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I ate before I came.”

  Makelesi spoke in the other language again.

  “Neal will be like another son for a while. He didn’t know sons always come with an empty stomach.”

  “I’m sure I’ll have an empty stomach later,” I said.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” said Lydia. “I wanted to do some gardening before the rain comes. Do you want to help?”

  I turned to see that James was gone. Maybe he was like the other men and liked to be left alone when the weather was bad.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll help.” I thought I could ask her about fish.

  The two of us went out the back door. Their backyard was the garden. There were rows of several types of plants. Lydia bent down and started pulling weeds.

  “I think I can see which are weeds and which aren’t,” I sai
d, “but let me know if I start pulling the wrong ones.”

  “If you do, you’ll have to eat it,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said. She was sitting faced away so I couldn’t easily talk to her. I moved to another spot. Where the rows were further apart, and I could sit.

  “What can you tell me about fish?” I asked.

  “Each fish has a different taste and texture. There are hard and soft fish.”

  “You want to pair vegetables with them that compliment them. For example, some root vegetables are bland and we cook them till they are soft. Other root vegetables are bold and eaten raw. Then we have sprouts, green vegetables, and lefty vegetables.”

  Her mind was on gardening, not fishing. I didn’t believe that knowing how to cook was part of my required learning on how to be a good fisherman. Then she turned again so I didn’t follow up with any more questions.

  We pulled weeds for a while. I recognized a few vegetables, such as radishes. A question that I pondered while I worked was about how humans could make a kingdom that was just. Most of life was mundane. What made a kingdom just? Did pulling weeds work into it in any way?

  “The eggplants are ready,” said Lydia. “We should pick some for lunch. Do you know how to get them?”

  “No,” I said. There were some vegetables that looked like purple zucchini that might be them.

  “Is this them?” I asked.

  “Yes.” She came over.

  “This is the color that you are looking for,” she said. “That is ripe.”

  I reached for one and gave it a yank. It didn’t come free.

  “Most vegetables, you pick by snapping the stem.” She demonstrated by twisting the fruit up.

  I began picking them.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “As many as you can get into two hands,” she replied. She watched, and then looked to the clouds.

  “It might rain soon,” she continued. “Do you have a jacket?”

  “Not with me,” I said. I had one in my hotel room.

  I collected the eggplant and arose. We went into the kitchen. Makelesi sat on a stool there.

  “If you go out in the rain, you can use one of the ponchos,” she said as she pointed to a small pantry. “They’re made from fish skins.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Which fish?” That might be useful to know.

  Makelesi said something to me. I didn’t understand.

  “Any big fish,” said Lydia, “except sharks. I don’t like the feel of the skin.”

  Makelesi spoke again.

  “In English,” reminded Lydia.

  “Big fish are better,” said Makelesi. “It’s less sewing.”

  “For lunch, we’ll have smoked fish. That will be easy to prepare. However, you could help cut the eggplant,” said Lydia. I nodded.

  “Makelesi, show him your knives.” The old woman got some rusty knives from a shelf.

  “The old ones are made from a shell,” said Lydia.

  “Oh,” said Makelesi. She went back in and pulled out large sea shells that had an edge sharpened.

  “She inherited these when she was young,” said Lydia. Makelesi smiled.

  “Do you still make utensils from shells?” I asked.

  “The men made them. We keep them as a reminder. You can try one for the eggplant,” she said. “First, wash it in the bucket. Then, cut on the counter.” She got out a large skillet.

  “Old mother, why don’t you peel the taro?”

  Makelesi went to under the counter.

  “What am I doing?” she asked.

  “Getting taro root,” said Lydia.

  “There are only two large ones left.”

  “It’ll be enough. I’ll have the boys dig more later.”

  The old woman got the roots and put them on the counter. I was cutting the eggplant into one inch segments. The knife made of shell was awkward. It took more force to cut the vegetable than a metal knife.

  “I forgot what I do next,” she said.

  “Wash them and peel them,” said Lydia. “I’ll check the fish.” She turned to the pantry.

  After Makelesi washed the roots she stood staring blankly. I hand her a metal knife.

  “Do you use this one to peel?” I asked. She nodded and started working. Once she got going, she kept at it.

  Lydia clanked in the stove behind us.

  “Kindling is getting low too,” she said.

  After I finished slicing, I watched Makelesi. She finished her peeling then stood there.

  “Do you cube your taro before cooking?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Do we?” she asked.

  “Yes, we do,” Lydia said. The old woman cut it and put it in a pot.

  “I have the fire under these two burners warming,” said Lydia. We put our pots there. Then she added fresh water from another bucket to the roots, and oil to the eggplant. She poured it from an earthen pot.

  “Coconut oil,” she said. “I’ll watch it if you want to talk to Anna. Maybe she’ll tell you about fishing.”

  “What are you saying about me?” Anna asked.

  “Tell Neal about fishing,” said Lydia. I went to the living area and sat on a chair.

  “Do you fish?” I asked. I doubted it since she looked only five years old.

  “I help mom,” she said. “I pick out the good ones, but fish are too squirmy.”

  “What else do you do?” I asked.

  “Play, garden, see friends,” she replied. “Has it started raining yet?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. I glanced out the window.

  I’d noticed the women all wore a pearl on a necklace, but Anna didn’t.

  “You don’t have a pearl like the others,” I said.

  “I’m not married, silly,” she said. “I’m just a girl.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Yes, you are.”

  “Why did mama make you cook?” she asked. I thought for a minute about what was the right answer.

  “I scared away the fish,” I said. I had to learn what it was like to be a Kupe in order to please the ancestors.

  “Did you yell at the fish and make big splashes in the water?” asked Anna. “Mom says I scare them when I do that.”

  “That must have been what I did,” I said.

  Anna looked behind me, then back towards the wall. She pulled a small carved shark figure from behind a board.

  “My brothers would take this,” she said.

  “I won’t take it,” I said.

  She held the carving in one hand and the doll in the other. She moved the shark around the floor.

  “I’m going to scare you away,” she said as she held the doll. “Please don’t,” she said in a deeper voice that must represent the shark. “I just want to catch fish, too.” Then she switched voices. “Let’s be friends.” “Okay.” Then she made the two swim around the floor.

  As Anna kept playing by herself, I didn’t want to disturb her. There was nothing else that I could do.

  I turned my chair towards the front window to watch the clouds and sea. I could occupy my time thinking, but nothing came to mind.

  I wasn’t used to this lifestyle. On a day like this, the Kupe spent a lot of time sitting around. I felt like I needed to keep busy. Maybe some people could sit still, but I couldn’t. I had to keep moving or mentally stimulated or I’d fall asleep. Part of the issue could have been that, but also some of it was that I felt insecurity about work. If I sat and did nothing at work, I felt guilty for being paid for it. Also, if this trip turned out to be a failure, how would I explain what I’d done for several days? It wouldn’t sound good if I said I just sat and watched things.

  While Lydia cooked, I spent a long time sitting and resting. However, I couldn’t ever sit still.

  I thought that if I pretended it was a vacation then I wouldn’t mind the inactivity. That wouldn’t solve my problem with my supervisors. I could get out o
f that worry if I declared most of my days here as vacation. However, that didn’t help with boredom. On vacation, I rarely sat because I was doing things.

  I started to hear a patter of rain on the roof. I looked out and saw the visibility was reduced and I could see only a few palm trees swaying in the wind.

  Ward and Ben came in the door. They had raindrops on their shirts.

  “Is it lunch time?” Ward asked.

  “I’ll check,” replied Lydia. “Yes, it is soft.” Plates and pots clattered in the kitchen. Lydia came out with two plates. Ward put his hands up.

  “For your father and Neal,” she said. She kept walking to the porch. I followed her.

  The porch was covered, so we could sit there without getting wet. However, James pulled his legs back from hanging over the edge. The boys came out with their plates and sat flat on the floor too.

  “What is Neal doing here?” asked Ben.

  “Leaning all the ways of fishing,” said James. “He’ll be just like you. You can show him how you do it.”

  “Will he spearfish?” asked Ward.

  “Yes,” said James. “Show him your spear.” Ward left his food for a moment.

  I didn’t know if I could spearfish well. I could swim only as good as an average person since I’d never been on a swim team.

  Ward came back with a bamboo pole and chunks of shell and bone.

  “These will be the barbs,” he said. He held a half carved bone up to the spear.

  “That’s going to be real nice,” I said. He set it down and started eating again.

  “I saw you with a spear with metal tines,” I said to James.

  “Yes, that’s for everyday use,” said James. “However, making a spear has been part of our tradition for becoming a man.”

  “Will Neal have to make one?” asked Ben.

  “I guess he should,” said James. I didn’t mind because it’d give me something to do.

  The boys took their empty plates away. When James finished, he took his plate too, so I followed.

  The boys were playing a game on a wooden board. On the way back out, I stopped to watch them.

  It was checkers. The board was handmade and the checkers were different colored stones. Ward was black and Ben was white stone. Two stones on the same square meant it was a king. They let me play a few games with them.

  The rain was fast for a while but then slowed to a sprinkle. Ben kept checking the window while Ward and I played.

  Lydia came from the kitchen with a handful of fish-leather ponchos. She walked up to us.

  “Before you disappear with your friends, we need more taro,” she said.

  “After this game,” said Ward.

  “Root or stalk?” asked Ben.

  “Root,” said Lydia.

  “Aw, it’s hard to dig.”

  “Neal can help you,” Lydia said. “Get your father to sharpen the shovel if it’s dull.”

  “I don’t need to go. The two of them should be enough,” said Ben.

  “No. Go with them,” said Lydia.

  We put on the ponchos, and headed out of the back. I thought we were going to the garden, but that was just to get the shovel.

  They led me down the path to the spring. The sea was still riled. I doubted that we’d be able to fish today.

  “This is taro,” said Ben pointing to a plant with big leaves growing near the creek bed. Some were underwater presently, but we avoided those.

  “Dig like this,” demonstrated Ward. Then he handed me the shovel while he rubbed off the dirt. I did the same and handed the shovel to Ben.

  “How many?” asked Ben.

  “You know she’ll say the ancestors were let down unless we each have an armful,” said Ward.

  “Well,” said Ben, “it’s the ancestor’s fault for not making me like digging taro. They should have settled somewhere else, away from the water.”

  Their talk of ancestors reminded me of Keoni. I wasn’t sure what James had told his sons, so I didn’t mention it.

  “Boys around my home are much different than you,” I said.

  “How?” asked Ben. I didn’t want to say that boys never worked in the garden because they’d use it against Lydia to say they shouldn’t either.

  “Well, one way is that we’d never be quiet if there was a dictator that had our grandfather sequestered,” I said. “The boys would march together and shout their demands.”

  “He means Keoni,” said Ward.

  “I know,” protested Ben. We worked without talking for a minute.

  “We should watch for Adaro,” warned Ward. “He likes this type of weather. He may come take us, too.” Ben warily looked around.

  “Who is Adaro?” I asked.

  “Sort of like Xing,” said Ward.

  “He’s a beast made of half man and half sea monster,” said Ben. “He has webbed feet and gills on his ears. He comes out in bad weather. He’ll take you away like Old Father.”

  I took it as a superstition, so I didn’t do anything. However, my ears seemed to be listening for footsteps just in case.

  They gathered the taro. I carried the shovel and my load, and we went back to the house. I thought about Xing on the short walk. I had no ideas about what to do with him. I’d wished that China would invade and remove him from power, but they would bring different problems.

  After dropping off the roots, the boys disappeared, probably to find friends. I sat on the front porch again.

  “Here,” said James handing me a file and a piece of shell. “You can start carving your own spear.”

  The shell was from Ward’s pile. It was a piece he hadn’t worked on yet, but it had been cut into a flat segment.

  “Ward won’t need it?” I asked.

  “As long as he doesn’t break any, he only needs three to make a trident.”

  “Did he already work on it to cut it?”

  “No, I did that,” said James. “I cut them from a large shell I found.” They had a few modern tools like files and saws.

  “How did they make them before metal tools?”

  “They used rocks to rub it,” he said. I took the tool and shell, but didn’t know how to start.

  “What should it look like?” I asked.

  “Start by following what Ward did. Then you can model it after the one on the wall.”

  I inspected Ward’s pieces, then started filing. The shell was tough.

  “How long has Ward been working on it?”

  “Less than a year,” said James.

  It would take a very long time to make the spear. If Ward had made only half of one piece in a year, or even over a few months then I’d committed to too much.

  I started rubbing the file more vigorously. The shell came off more quickly.

  I pushed the file very hard. Then it slipped, and I cut my finger on the other hand holding the shell.

  I stopped for a minute to hold my finger on the gash. A drop of blood fell onto the porch decking. I had nothing to wipe it with. My stain would be there forever.

  James had said that his ancestors were present in the buildings. I thought of it figuratively, as if they really weren’t there, but they were. Their blood would be soaked into it in places.

  Another thing that James had said was that the Savior Gei Duk was in his blood. To him, the sacrament of communion was eating together because sharing food was sharing life. Gei Duk’s blood may have not physically been in the bread. However, it could have been in the bread the same way that James’ ancestor’s blood, sweat, and tears were in the wood for the house. Gei Duk’s life was put in the bread that was shared with his followers and everyone who has communed with them. The sequence of the sharing of life was a chain that went back in time.

  James’ ancestors were alive in the house timbers, and in James’ blood. In the same way, Gei Duk was alive. He lived in our bodies and everywhere we’ve lost blood.

  In western culture, we ar
e defined by what we do, but in New Truro, it was the actions of the community that defined who they were. Even in the West, we saw each other as social beings. Therefore, we were limited or enabled by what others around us did.

  If someone were to say that Gei Duk was resurrected because he was in our blood, could I disagree with them? Where was his body? The Kupe would say we were it. Where was his mind? Again, we have become new people because of what he said long ago. According to the Kupe, our collective actions represent him being alive.

  That would mean our actions were his actions. Sometimes I would not want to have that because of the way people behaved. However, when we acted with love, it did make sense. For example, if we ever made a just world, a Kingdom of God, then Gei Duk would become alive in us. We would have made him our king because we would finally be doing what he told us to do.

  It was easier to believe in that sort of symbolic resurrection. It didn’t require the magic of raising dead flesh from a tomb.

  I wasn’t ready to make up my mind yet. I wanted to ponder more of my biases. The bleeding had stopped. I picked up my tools and carved for a while as I thought over things.

  Later, I began to smell cooking again. I heard the sizzle of frying. Ben came back around that time and watched how I quickly I had carved. I swept the scrapings off the deck with my hand.

  “Let’s eat together,” said Lydia.

  “Okay,” said James. “Is Ward here?”

  “No,” said Lydia. James called for him loudly, and then we went into the living area.

  Anna was setting plates in a circle. Lydia and Makelesi brought the pots out and set them on the floor. It was smoked fish again with taro that was fried this time, and pea pods from the garden.

  Ward came in as we sat down. James asked him to tell about his day, and Ward talked about the weather and where he and some other boys were at.

  I started to miss my family. We’d eat dinner together on a typical night. Melanie wouldn’t have much to say, but Angela would remind her about the things they’d done.

  There was no way to call them. There was no cellphone service and I hadn’t carried it with me this morning anyhow. I’d seen a wire come into town, and it led to a phone booth, but I’d never seen anyone use it. Maybe it was for emergencies. It’d likely be very costly to make a collect call to home from it.

  After we ate, James and I were the only ones who remained. The boys left again and Anna helped clean the plates.

  I noticed the couple books on the shelf. One was a Reader’s Digest version of Charles Dickens’ writings.

  “Do you read much?” I asked James.

  “Yes,” he said. “Have you read Hard Times?”

  “Is that Dickens?” I asked. He nodded.

  “No, I don’t think I’ve gotten to that one,” I said.

  “You can read it. It doesn’t give a very pleasant picture of the West,” he said. I recalled Dickens was a critic.

  “Things change,” I said. “There are always problems, but society is always improving. Living conditions were bad in his times—life is better now.”

  “The rich factory bosses aren’t as abusive?” asked James.

  “No,” I said. I was defensive about my home. I knew I wasn’t being completely honest with him. The rich and poor were in a major conflict. I’d been on a case at home several months earlier where arguments between the two had infected a local church. I didn’t like the way things were going at home, but I was stuck with it. I couldn’t change society.

  “…at least they aren’t as rough with workers as before,” I said.

  I picked up the book. The other one was Sherlock Holmes.

  “How did you learn to read English?” I asked.

  “The preacher before the last one taught the some of us who were unmarried when I was a young man.”

  “Do your children know how to read?” I asked.

  “Not much. The last preacher had other priorities, and I can’t show my kids much with two adult books.”

  I nodded. Both of his books dealt with gritty life in England a century or two ago. I wouldn’t read them to my three year old daughter either.

  I realized that priests had multiple roles in a small village. I saw that even if the Kupe felt they could still worship without a clergyman, they would benefit in other ways with the return of a priest.

  I read for a while. Later Ben returned and played checkers with his father.

  I wondered if a new preacher would be expected to be a good fisherman like I was supposed to be. Did they bring bad luck?

  “James,” I said, “are priests expected to fish?”

  “In a different way,” he said. “We provide for them so they can focus on other things.” I nodded, and then read more.

  When the light started to dim outside, Ward returned. Lydia pulled the curtain across the two sides of the living room. The women were on the side with the kitchen door. James was on the side with the front door. He closed it and shuttered one of two windows.

  As the sky darkened, we all strung our hammocks across the room. I guessed that I was using Keoni’s.

  I got in and tried to sleep. I wasn’t used to sleeping in that pose. It was ironic. I had three beds: at home, at the hotel, and here. Yet, I was stuck in the least comfortable one.

  Eventually, the fresh air and the sounds of the sea helped me drift asleep.

  * * * *