‘When then?’
‘Later.’
‘What are you two whispering about over there?’ Father caught up with us.
Luki made big eyes at me.
‘Nothing,’ I mumbled.
She scowled, but thankfully said nothing as the others caught up and Agkus handed me Baby Baba to carry, now that he had fallen asleep.
We walked on.
Tell him, Samkad, I told myself. Luki is right. The ancients will need to know. But every time the words began to leave my lips, I hesitated. Father would then have to leave me before he had even arrived. And how was I going to explain why I had not said anything?
At last we reached the beginning of the path that led to the village. I was miserable from hesitating. I had to do it now. The words were like a lump of rice choking my throat.
‘Father, there’s something important I have to tell you.’
He lowered Agkus’s bundle to the ground and smiled at me.
‘What is it, son?’
‘In Second Best, I met a—’ I began.
But Father was not listening. He shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up the path weaving through the green above us.
A crowd of people were hurrying down the mountain. There must have been twenty or more of them.
Father turned to Agkus. ‘See! I told you that you will be welcome. They’ve seen us from the distance. They’re excited and pleased that you have returned.’
But when the crowd came closer, all we saw were scowls and bared teeth. Their glares were searching, not for Agkus or Kinyo, but for Luki and me. There, leading the crowd, were the parents of Baby Baba and the bushy baby.
‘WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?’ Baby Baba’s mother screamed as she snatched him from my arms. ‘Feeding time was ages ago. We’ve been searching for you everywhere!’
‘Are you all right, my darling?’ The bushy baby’s mother wrestled him from Luki. ‘You two are in such trouble.’ And she gestured behind her where two young men trailed the throng, carrying Pito and Salluyud on their backs.
The two ancients were waving their sticks. ‘Is it them? Are the babies all right?’ they cried.
But even as the two mothers berated us for disappearing with their babies, the rest of the crowd suddenly turned towards Agkus, clustering around her like a cloud of bats. ‘You’re back! You’re back!’
Then people had their arms around Father, clapping him on the back, and crying out in amazed voices as if they’d never believed that he would survive his mission. Kinyo was seized and spun round and round, his hair ruffled, his ears tweaked, everyone examining him closely as if he were some bizarrely shaped root someone had found in a paddy.
‘He has his mother’s eyes and his father’s ears.’
‘This lowlander hair will grow out quickly.’
‘What big feet! He’s going to be tall like his father!’
The scolding of the two mothers faded away as they realized what was happening around them. Soon, they too were crowding happily around Agkus.
I sighed with relief. Hopefully the new arrivals would distract everyone from the need to punish us.
Luki caught my eye – I followed the waggle of her eyebrows to the forest.
Mister William was hiding behind a tree.
I looked from the American to the noisy crowd welcoming the new arrivals. Mister William knew he would not receive the same welcome.
It was Father who revealed Mister William’s hiding place.
‘Where has the American gone?’ Father cried. He spotted Mister William immediately and waved. ‘Come, American. Show yourself to these people.’
Mister William’s face turned a bright pink as he stepped out from behind the tree, his shoulders rounded as if he wanted to make himself smaller.
But there was nothing he could do to conceal his size. The sight of him made the women wrap their arms around their babies as if they thought he was about to swallow them in one mouthful. The men howled and rushed towards him, drawing their axes from their belts.
Tambul got to Mister William first. The American didn’t resist, meekly allowing Tambul to shove him into the dirt. ‘No! No!’ Kinyo cried, struggling to free himself from someone’s embrace. Tambul raised his axe and would have swiftly parted Mister William’s head from his shoulders had Father not seized his wrist and twisted until he dropped it.
‘What are you doing?’ Tambul gasped.
But now here was Agkus, charging at Tambul. She pushed him away from the American … and suddenly it was Tambul who was on his back, and Agkus straddling him, slapping him so hard, it sounded like a log snapping in half.
‘He’s with me, Tambul, don’t you dare kill him!’ Agkus cried. ‘He’s our guest! What kind of welcome is that! What is he going to think, after all the promises we made him—’
I was amazed to see a crooked grin spread slowly across Tambul’s face under the bright red print of Agkus’s slap.
‘You remember my name?’ he said softly.
Agkus slapped him again. But this one wasn’t as hard a slap as the first – it barely made a sound.
Tambul swung himself to his feet, at the same time picking her up and holding her high above the ground by the armpits.
‘Put me down, you brute!’ she cried.
‘Eh heh, it’s nice to know you still remember,’ Tambul said. ‘I was barely a man when you left.’ He lowered her gently to the ground before turning to the American.
Mister William had rolled up onto his knees, his blue eyes round, both hands high in the air.
By now, the ancients had dismounted from the backs of the young men. Old Salluyud shuffled forward. ‘Who is this, Samkad?’ he asked Father.
Pito was following close behind. ‘You brought an American to Bontok?’ Pito knew what an American was?
Mister William got to his feet, then, muttering something in his foreign tongue. His great hands slowly reached into his pocket and he showed his teeth as he tugged something out of his pocket. He held it out to Pito and Salluyud, head bowed.
Pito hesitated before he accepted it, turning it over in his hands. It was a slab of something, rectangular in shape and a cloudy blue colour.
‘What is it?’ Tambul said, peering over the heads of the two ancients.
‘It’s called a book,’ Agkus said. ‘It is precious.’
But Pito threw the book down. ‘Does the American think such a trinket will win our trust?’ He spat and several dark, wet spots appeared on the book’s blue cover. He glared at Father. ‘We don’t want his kind here. We will have no part in their war.’
Luki and I exchanged glances. The ancients knew about the war!
Agkus put herself between the ancients and the American. She threw her shoulders back. ‘With respect, old one, if this American comes to harm, we will come to harm. The Americans will punish us. You know that, I’m sure.’
‘Ah, Agkus. It is good to see you again but I have to say, you are still as insolent as when we last saw you,’ Pito grimaced.
‘He is our friend!’ Kinyo blurted out. ‘Our very good friend.’
The ancients looked at Kinyo as if he’d suddenly turned into a stinky mound of dung in the middle of the path. Nobody spoke for a long moment.
Then the two old men began to shout questions at Mister William.
‘Why are you really here?’
‘Are the Americans going to attack us next?’
‘Are you cracked in the head?’ Salluyud shouted. ‘Are you stupid? Are you a total idiot?’
Mister William stared at them, his white face uncomprehending.
Agkus wrung her hands. ‘With respect, old ones, isn’t it obvious to you that he does not speak our language?’
Father stepped forward. ‘I beg you all to listen,’ he said. And he told them what had happened when he arrived at the burning village, about the lowlanders attacking, and Mister William saving him.
‘He did not have to do all the things he did to help me. He has a good soul. I tr
ust him. And I believe you can trust him too.’
Salluyud opened his mouth to say something, but Father seized his hand and said in a firm voice, ‘I will take responsibility for the American. I can vouch for him.’
Salluyud and Pito looked at each other, then Salluyud turned and put his hand on Father’s shoulder. ‘Samkad, you departed for the lowlands under the shadow of disgrace. But now, you have redeemed yourself. You have retrieved our beloved son and daughter from a dangerous situation, at great risk to your own life. We thank you.’
Pito nodded. ‘The spirits of our ancestors have smiled upon you and brought you back safely. They would not have done so, if they did not have faith in you.’
Father gave a deep sigh and bowed his head. ‘May the wrath of Lumawig fall upon my shoulders if I am wrong.’ He turned to the crowd.
‘Young Samkad!’ he cried. ‘Where are you, my son?’
I felt the urge to turn around and run away. But I felt hands on my back, propelling me forward.
Everyone began to laugh and chant. ‘Sam-kad! Sam-kad! Sam-kad! Kinyo! Kinyo! Kinyo!’
Father stood me against Kinyo’s shoulder.
‘Tonight we will feast and celebrate!’ Father bellowed. ‘Our sister, Agkus, has returned with her nephew, Kinyo, who will become brother to my son, Samkad. Tomorrow, these two boys will be given the Cut and our village will be stronger by two men.’
19
How was I to speak to Father when all those people were shouting my name? Was I meant to hold a hand up and say, Thank you, but hold the celebrations, there is something I must tell you? Father was grinning, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, hand held high, nodding and accepting everyone’s congratulations. I didn’t want to spit on his joy. I couldn’t just say, Excuse me, Father, but there’s a Mangili in the forest and we should stop being happy and sort him out before anything else.
I watched, helpless, as everyone celebrated, beating their gangsas and shouting my name.
Deep in the crowd, I saw Luki’s small face, straight-mouthed and grim.
When people finally began to ascend the trail to the village, the sun had begun to drop behind the mountain. A group of young warriors surrounded Mister William and escorted him up to the village.
Under the trees, Tambul was standing talking to Agkus, with his face so close, he was probably sprinkling her with spit. But she didn’t push him away. Instead, she leaned towards him the way a whole field of rice leans towards the sun. ‘Eheh!’ someone called. ‘Are you just a little bit distracted, young Tambul?’
When Father shouted that there were pots to boil and food to be prepared, Tambul and Agkus stared up at the trail, clogged with murmuring people.
Tambul ran up to me and grabbed my elbow. ‘Samkad,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We are going to stay here a little bit longer. Tell the ancients I left my axe in the forest and we’ve gone to fetch it.’
‘Why?’ Kinyo said. ‘Why are you two staying behind?’
But Tambul and Agkus had already turned their backs and were meandering into the moss-furred trees, his head bent low over hers.
‘What does he think he’s doing?’ Kinyo muttered.
‘I think he likes your aunt,’ Luki said with a giggle.
Kinyo had a forlorn expression on his face. Was he upset about his aunt walking off with Tambul like that?
‘You’ll like Tambul …’ I began.
But he shook his head. ‘It’s not that. What did your father mean by the Cut?’
‘The Cut?’ I frowned.
Kinyo blushed. ‘When he said “the Cut” … did he mean … well, are they going to cut our foreskins?’
Luki smacked her forehead. ‘Are you joking? Don’t you know what the Cut is?’
Kinyo glared at her. ‘Of course I know.’ He looked around nervously.
‘But aren’t you looking forward to becoming a man?’ I said. ‘Isn’t that why you returned?’
He shook his head violently, mouth scrunched up in horror. ‘We came to escape the war. My aunt didn’t say anything about my foreskin being cut!’
I stared at Kinyo with horror. He did not want to become a man?
He shoved Luki aside and leaned up close to my face. ‘And another thing,’ he said softly. ‘My name is not Kinyo. It is Antonio.’
What sort of name was Antonio? It was peculiar and foreign. The name of a stranger. I had looked at Kinyo and thought I was meeting my brother at last. But he was a stranger, an impostor pretending to be one of us.
I turned, half thinking I ought to race after Father, grab his elbow, warn him that there were strangers among us. But my knees were suddenly wobbly and I staggered like a just-born animal on spindly new legs. Sensing my distress, Chuka whimpered.
Luki grabbed my arm and held me steady. She glared at Kinyo. ‘Are you saying you’re not really Kinyo?’ she demanded.
‘Hush, hush.’ He looked furtively over his shoulder again at the crowd toiling up the hill behind us. ‘Look, Kinyo was the name given to me when I was a babe. But of course when I was growing up in the lowlands, I had to take a lowland name. I would have been ridiculed if I’d used a Bontok name. I needed a name the lowlanders understood. So Agkus’s husband gave me the name of his dead brother.’ He shrugged, ‘I don’t mind if you’d rather call me Kinyo!’ But there was a sour twist to his nose as if the name had a bad smell.
Luki frowned. ‘But your aunt Agkus has not changed her name.’
He shook his head. ‘Her lowland name is “Anita”. I never heard her called “Agkus” until your father came along.’
Anita and Antonio. They were not to be trusted. And perhaps Mister William was not to be trusted too. Why did he allow his people to burn down the homes of his friends?
I took a deep breath, trying to soothe the chaos in my head. It made sense, I told myself. You cannot take your ancestors with you when you move away. People who moved to other villages always changed their names to that of an ancestor more local to their new home. That was what a name was for, wasn’t it? To protect you.
Kinyo’s face became pinched. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful,’ he said. ‘Mountain folk are like dirt to lowlanders. No lowlander approved of my aunt marrying her husband and when he died, they couldn’t wait to get rid of us.’ He frowned. ‘I’m glad to be here. But nobody told me anything about having my foreskin cut.’
I tried to breathe slowly. It wasn’t his fault, I thought. It was the fault of his aunt, who didn’t raise him correctly. She may have taught him to speak our tongue but there were other things he had to learn that were just as important. How could he have lived all his life without looking forward to his manhood? All the pride that had filled me when Father had named us both his sons trickled away like blood emptying from a wound.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t look like that.’
‘Like what?’ But I knew what I looked like.
We three were the last to reach the top of the mountain. Luki looked exhausted and Kinyo looked miserable. Disappointment weighed in my belly like a stone and my feet struggled to make purchase on the stony path. How had this happened? When Father had announced our manhood, I’d flushed with pride and relief … and sure, maybe I was a little bit anxious. But now … I was confused. My brother was not who I thought he was.
We walked into the courtyard. The House for Men shone in the leaping glow of the fire. It was night now and people cast long shadows as they bustled about, feeding the fire, hanging cauldrons, preparing for the feast. Small children ran about with the chickens, shouting gleefully, glad that the time for sleep had been delayed by the need to celebrate. It was a happy scene. But deep shadows quivered on the edges.
Father must have gone back to the house to change. He was wearing his grand hornbill headdress again. Around his neck he wore crocodile teeth.
‘Father!’ I cried. ‘Father!’ I was trying to find the words to tell him about what I had just found out about Kinyo when I heard Mister William’s voice, calling. He wa
s towering over the ancients, who were sitting in their stone circle. He was speaking to Kinyo.
Kinyo just nodded, unsmiling, keeping his American words inside his throat as he sat down on the log.
Mister William smiled, as if Kinyo had greeted him warmly, then knelt on one knee and reached for something on the ground.
A strange sound emanated from the ancients’ stone circle, a rough croak, like a toad in the muddy bottom of a rice paddy calling its brothers. Slowly, the croak sweetened to the quiet trill of a morning bird. And then the trill was chased by more bird-like sounds, high and low, all coming together in a single song.
It was a strange wondrous sound. Heads turned and the courtyard’s happy bustle stilled. Even the children settled down and began to listen with wide eyes.
The sound was coming from a gleaming dark box on the ground. Attached to it was a handle that Mister William turned gently.
It didn’t sound like anything I had ever heard before. Not the mournful wind moaning between the canes in a bamboo grove. Not the rhythm of the gangsas to which we danced during feasts. Not the sweet notes of a bamboo flute. It was a hundred bamboo flutes. It was a hundred melodies played together. It was a flowing, lilting, rushing stream that climbed high and then swung low. It was beautiful.
It brought such a strange aching to my breast that I pressed my palm against my chest to make the throbbing stop.
I looked round me. Every face gazed up at Mister William, eyes wide, mouths open and childlike. We were enchanted. It was as if everything that mattered had fallen away – there were no crops to worry about, no Mangili to fear, no invisible spirits to beware. The strange sounds made us free.
And when Mister William stopped turning the handle and the music ended there was a catch in my throat and a terrible sorrow had sprouted inside me like a vine that spread everywhere. I gazed upon the glimmering courtyard, the children, the men and women, the young warriors, the ancients. All that I had always known. And all that I could lose. Why had I delayed? I had to tell the ancients about the Mangili. We were in danger.
Bone Talk Page 8
