Castaway

(Dedicated to the Goddess of Naitauba)

A man floated on the back of a giant sea turtle. The sea turtle paddled towards the shore. The sea turtle breathed in with a big gasp and breathed out a big swoosh sound. He was determined to bring the man towards the shore where he could land him safely onto the shore. He tipped to his left and the man fell off and landed on his back. The man gasped for air and the sea turtle knew he had accomplished his mission—the man would be okay. He pushed himself through a wave and headed out to the deep sea. As he reached the deep seas his form disappeared and what was left of it was a trail of bubbles that were illuminated by the sunshine.

The man dragged himself to the dry shore. He wondered where he was and how he got there. He searched his memory for any clues but couldn’t recall any. He couldn’t even remember his name. He didn’t even recall the term for this—amnesia. He did know one thing, “I am very thirsty,” he said out loud. When he tried to stand, his knees buckled and he fell. The absolute need for water compelled him to get up and try again. He still felt very woozy and weak and slowly dragged his body to the shade of the palm trees. He fell asleep and woke up as the sun was setting. Immediately, his desire for water returned and he knew his life depended on getting some water in him soon. It started to rain and the rain began to fill up a coconut husk. He drank the water and fell asleep again. He didn’t dream. He felt that his body was being restructured. Was he becoming someone else? But who am I, anyways? he wondered.

In the morning, he woke up to a cacophony of birds singing. He studied his hands and thought, are these my hands? His body did not seem familiar to him, but he had all the instincts in place to know how to use it. He wondered why he felt disassociated from his body, surely this must be my body, he asserted. He drank some more water that he found in the coconut husks. His body was already warming from the morning heat that was rising. He thought that it would be a hot day.

He wasn’t sure of what to do next. He was sure that he was not alone. He was also sure that he had never been here before. And he had another thought, another idea that he was sure of—that he had been sent there for some purpose. What purpose? He scanned his mind for any clues. None were evident.

He heard laughter in the distance and got up and followed the voices. As the laughter became louder, it sounded like children chanting a childhood rhyme. It was in a language that he didn’t speak, a language he didn’t know. He understood it anyways. They were singing about the Great Mother of all and how the mother of all of them cared for them. She cared for their happiness. He smiled to himself, he knew that the mother they were singing about was his mother as well. He laughed out loud, feeling her, feeling her as his happiness too. He thought, I am here because of her. The mother sent me here.

The children stopped their singing when they saw the strange man walking towards them. They saw his beautiful smile and were delightedly attracted to him. He opened his arms to welcome them and they ran towards him. He scooped them up into a big hug and the children laughed with delight. They all tumbled over and the man tickled them till they were all worn out.

One of the mothers of the one of the boys was watching the scene unfold before her. Who is this man? she wondered. How did he get here? No one can get here without an invitation and a welcome from the great chief. Since he died twelve years ago no invitation has ever gone out, not even from the wives of the chief, who now lived as sequestered nuns on the heart of the island. Only the supply boat came once a month. She, herself, has grown up on the island and had never left it, even after the hurricane that decimated her village seven years ago. The tribe slowly rebuilt the village and everything was as it should be. The crops grew, it rained dutifully to sustain them and the people continued to thrive and grow their children up. She knew very little about the goings on of the outside world, but she was contented with her life and what the island had given to her. Who was this man playing with the children? How did he get here? she wondered. She noticed that he was smiling at her and he waved to her in a gesture of welcome. She was nervous, there was something about him that attracted her, attracted her too much. She felt that her heart was beating with his. She felt she must turn away, that his magic was too strong for her.

He called out to her, “I am a castaway. I washed up on your shore. I am very hungry and thirsty. Could you help?” She looked puzzled, she guessed that he might need some water or food and shyly, without looking into his eyes, she brought to him a water gourd and some bananas. He drank and ate with great gusto and appreciation. The children gathered around him and the woman gave them instructions to let him be and give him some space. The man looked like a white man, like the great chief, and she wondered if he was a spiritual man, a shaman. She knew a little of the white man’s language as her family had served the great white chief. He had been a chief of love, of God. They had called him the God-Man chief. She stumbled with her English words asking him how he got there. He threw up his hands in a gesture of I don’t know how I got here.

He pointed to himself and shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t remember how I got here or even who I am.”

She looked into his eyes—again his magic was so strong and she turned away. “Come, my husband can help,” and she pointed to the road that led to her village.

He got up and followed her with all the children following them from behind with great laughter and merriment. The men stopped their work and watched the strange foreign man come towards them. They noticed he was tall and he walked with confidence. They too felt that his magic was strong—strong as the God-Man chief, but different, like he was not from around here, perhaps not even from this world, maybe from one of the spiritual worlds or realms that they had heard the Great God-Man chief talk about. What did his appearance here mean?

Sittu spoke to her husband and informed him that the white man didn’t remember how he got there or who he was. This surprised Naja, he was unsure of what to do or say to the man. He gestured for him to sit down and offered him the local drink, a light relaxing alcoholic drink. They drank together and the white man lifted his cup for more and smiled and nodded at him. Naja couldn’t help but laugh and both men laughed a hearty laugh like two men who had not a care in the world. The other men sat down and drank and soon enough all were laughing as well.

Sittu shook her head in disbelief and thought again, “His magic is very strong.” Surely, the reality that no visitors (or in his case castaways) were allowed to come or stay on the island would be the business of the day. The men would soon realize this and find a way to be relieved of him. Perhaps the supply boat could take him to the mainland. The boat had departed a few days ago, so it would be almost another month before its return. He seems to have the same effect on the men as he had on the children, thought Sittu.

Yahoot was worried. She hadn’t received a transmission from her husband in over a week. Whenever he went off world—travelled through to other dimension worlds—he always thought-transmitted to her that he had arrived and was steady on his mission. He hadn’t informed her of the details of his mission. He usually sent internal detailed images of the places he went to and the people he met and that’s how they shared their lives while he was away. She had searched for him in dreams with her ability to dream lucidly. She was unable to find him but she did visit Yakaboobis (his teacher) even though he was no longer physically alive, but that is another story. She tried to deduce: was the connection severed, was he hurt? Or worse, something went wrong with the reconfiguration on the other world and he didn’t survive? She couldn’t accept that a failed reconfiguration was the case, that he was no longer alive. He was the best at off-world to other-world travels and he had assured her often that what he did to appear in another time, place or world was the safest form of travel if you were taught the method correctly—and his teacher Yakaboobis was the master of it. Why then couldn’t she feel his thought transmission pulse?

Naja reflected on the white man’s inability to remember how he got there and who he was with the men of the tribe. Should we inform the nuns and the men caretakers of the nuns? they asked each other. Should we turn over this problem to them? His brother, Tatum, thought perhaps the man was related to the chief, the God-Man’s family. They thought that was a possibility.

He was not out of the woods yet. At times the white man was animated, other times he stumbled and fell and they laid him down on a mat where he would stay in a deep sleep state for hours. They were at a loss as to what to do with him. They nicknamed him Ta-ta-boof. The children were absolutely attracted to him and they also felt the same way.

“Big manpran this man, this fellow has,” said Naja.

Tatum agreed, “Big attracting force like how the God-Man chief was.”

Everyone shook their heads in agreement. Sittu was still worried about Ta-ta-boof. Why was he here? She felt his appearance here on her island signaled a great change was to occur. She liked the rhythms of her life on the island and her point of view was very fixed. She had no longings for adventure. Having the Great White God-Man come to her island when she was a very young child was enough change to last her lifetime and her children’s lifetimes. They were still trying to understand his ways and how he worked to save the world from unhappiness. Her people respected his followers, his tribe. They were devoted to their great chief. Their lives had served the survival of the God chief’s life and his followers and that gave them a certain security.

The men were at a standstill as to what to do. Sittu thought the caretakers of the nuns should be informed right away. She expressed her opinion to her husband and the men. Naja looked at the other women faces that gathered around. Yes, I can see, this man is already affecting us, he thought. But why, he wondered. Surely Sittu was being most logical and practical. Why not give the white man to the followers of the God-Man chief. He might in all probability be a follower of the God- Man’s religion. Naja thought on this but in his bones he knew that the castaway was not a follower of anyone. He didn’t know how he washed up on the island, no boat had drifted near—the fishermen would have seen a boat drifting in their waters. He wanted to be able to understand, to solve the mystery of how Ta-ta-boof got here. He could see that his wife was anxious but when he looked at the faces of the men and the children who had also gathered around, he felt that everyone wanted to know the castaway’s story—how he got there, why he was there—and no answers would be forthcoming if they turned him over to the nun’s caretakers. They did not have that kind of relationship with them. He needs to get stronger, he needs to rest. We must allow him that, Naja thought. Sittu’s anxiety was not relieved when everyone agreed with Naja, to let the castaway rest and get stronger. She knew her people were a curious people, but she feared that if the castaway healed, got stronger, his already attracting force and the bond that his force would create with her people, would grow stronger and deeper. She was nervous and wary and yes, she knew already— too damn attracted to him.

The man the natives called Ta-ta-boof felt himself to be in a curious position. He knew he was not like these people who were kindly tending to him. How did I get here? he wondered. Did I intend to come here? he asked himself. The natives gave him a curious name as he didn’t remember his own. When he asked what “Ta-ta-boof” means, Naja told him that it meant, “One who freely travels.” The name resonated with him but he didn’t know why. He searched his mind to see if he could recall any memories that revealed where he could be from and who he could be related to. None appeared. Rather than grow frustrated by his lack of identity and origin, he decided he would “be as here”: grow accustomed to the people he was with and their ways. He lent a hand in any way he could, doing what they considered woman’s work—cooking, cleaning, etc. as well as the men’s role of fishing and building. He didn’t feel the need to be in a gender-defined role or work and the men noticed that right away. The women did too and they whispered about it among themselves. How well he could cook, how well he played with the children. They were hoping that the men took notice.

His fluctuations grew less and less in duration. After two weeks, he was able to function continually with only minor drains on his energy that lasted for only five minutes. He felt it was important to gain his memory back. When Naja saw his strength had returned, he recommended to him that the shaman—their healer—could provide assistance to him through a ceremony that could call up ancient memory or vision. It was how they knew that the Great God-Man was coming to their island. If this didn’t work, it was getting closer to the time that they would have to reveal his arrival to the nun’s caretakers. This would prove awkward with his employers. Everyone in his village liked Ta-ta-boof and some even (secretly) felt that he was part of their lives and their village and didn’t want to reveal him to their employers. They weren’t eager to see his departure.

There was one native girl, about nine years old, who had adopted him as her dad. She had never known her biological father, as he had passed from life when she was quite small. Her mother’s brothers, her uncles protected her, helped her along, but no one played with her like Ta-ta-boof did. He danced with her and made up silly songs. His dancing was so weird, unlike the dancing her people do. She thought he looked so funny doing it and when he encouraged her to mimic him and try it, she felt too shy to do it. Eventually, he broke down her reserve and she followed his dance moves. She felt so free and happy when she danced with Ta-ta-boof. She followed him around as much as her mother let her and taught him their names for the sand, the sea, the trees, their food. He was learning the language of her people, quickly and easily. Her name was Mittu and Ta-ta-boof nicknamed her my u friend. Mittu reminded him of someone but he couldn’t recall who—or why a young nine-year-old girl would call up such a thread to his memory. His mind offered no clues but his heart felt a tugging, a yearning when he was around Mittu and he guessed that he must have a daughter in the life he did not remember or know how to return to.