Cricket, p.3
Cricket, page 3
Hama sounded greatly taken with her thoughts. In spite of the fact that I had no idea if she was right or talking nonsense, my mind screamed a warning to me. She must not contact the authorities. There was great danger for me somewhere. I had to stop her.
Four
An ocean keeps us
Apart, but distance cannot
Dim my memories
My thoughts blazed so fiercely, I felt certain that Hama must have heard them. But apparently, I was wrong. She put down her bowl with a contented sigh and stretched.
“I daresay there’s no point to it at all and I’m just being hopeful. Your clothes might be good, but you’re not exactly dripping with jewels, are you? And if you can’t remember who you are, there’s no point in annoying the authorities. They don’t like us Ama. They think we’re nothing but gypsies, and if they can tear us down, they will. They might arrest me just for annoying them. And if there were a reward for you, they would only claim it for themselves.”
I smiled and nodded, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Remembering Hama couldn’t see me well in the dark hut, I said, “You’re probably right. Important men like them wouldn’t want to be bothered with a stray woman. And you’re right about me having nothing. I have no jewelry, not even any money. I have nothing I can repay you with for saving my life.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I thought Hama was speaking kindly, but then I understood from her brusque tone of voice that she meant it. “If I had left you in the sea to die, Susanoo would have been angry with me. If he had wanted you, then he would have taken you. He did not, so he meant for you to live. It must have been he who guided me to you. He has placed an obligation on me, and if I look after you, he will be pleased with me.”
Susanoo, god of the sea. I knew of him. I nodded to myself, pleased that another tiny fragment of knowledge had been gifted to me. But still, I was bewildered by Hama’s concern for Susanoo. She had said herself that men thought women unlucky on ships, so why should she care greatly for Susanoo, who was most certainly a man’s god?
“I don’t understand,” I said helplessly. “Why would a woman care about Susanoo? Is your husband a fisherman?”
“I have no husband,” Hama said abruptly. “I told you, I am Ama. We are women of the sea. Susanoo gives us our lives and our living. Without his protection, we are nothing.”
I put my hand to my aching head. What was she talking about?
“I have never heard of a people called the Ama,” I said slowly and very carefully, worried that I might give offense to her. “Please, can you explain to me who you are? Why you care so much for the sea?”
“I thought everybody had heard of us,” Hama said grudgingly. “I think you must come from far away from here. I am Ama. My mother and her mother before her back for as many generations as there are days in each year were also Ama. We are diving women, and that is all I know. I dive each day into the sea’s depths. I dive far more times than I can count each and every day that the weather is kind. I row myself out in my little boat and anchor my boat with a stone. I find abalone and sea cucumbers and lobsters. I also harvest oysters.” She paused, obviously expecting me to comment.
“I see.” I didn’t see at all, but I felt I had to say something. “That’s how you make a living, selling good things from the sea?”
I was on fire to ask her why she didn’t have a husband and a family. She was a young woman and pretty, and she had a long lineage she was clearly proud of. Why was she not raising a daughter of her own to carry on her traditions?
I kept my thoughts to myself as a dawning horror subdued my curiosity. Was it possible that this woman was a hermit not by choice but because other members of her caste had shunned her? Was it possible that she was a leper? I pushed the thought away angrily. What nonsense was this? I had seen her virtually naked. Her skin was unblemished, only slightly roughened by constant contact with the sea. If she were a leper and had been pushed away, the disease would have been far enough advanced to show.
I was ashamed of myself. Hama had saved my life. Even if she did have some dreadful disease, it would be disgraceful of me to worry about it. I almost brightened as the thought came to me that if she were in need of care, then that was how I could repay her. And then my shame redoubled as I realized I was almost wishing misfortune on her simply so I could ease my own conscience. Oh, how very complicated everything was!
“I do sell the things I harvest from the sea.” I smiled, thinking her words were a truly romantic way of putting it. “But there’s always a chance I might find a pearl in one of the oysters. I’ve only ever found one, and it wasn’t that big, but there’s always the hope that I might be fortunate enough to find a magnificent pearl one day. If it’s a pearl with good color and large in size, I’d get enough for it to keep me in food for a long time and some cash to save as well.” She sighed. There was a world of longing in the sound. “A girl from a village some way down the coast found a huge pink pearl a while ago. Her parents took it to a merchant for her, and it was so fine that he admitted he couldn’t afford to buy it on his own. He got together with two other merchants and, between them, they offered so much for the pearl that her parents were able to buy a real house in Toba and had enough left to give their daughter a good dowry. She married a civil servant’s son, and I’ve heard it said that she’s never lifted a finger since.”
“And she’s happy, away from the sea? Would you be?” I spoke instinctively. It was a long time before Hama answered me.
“She is happy, or so I’ve heard. As for me…I don’t know. I’ve never lived away from the sea. Not that it matters,” she added briskly. “Such good fortune would never happen to me, so no point wondering.”
She poked the dwindling fire fiercely with a heat-blackened stick, ignoring me. There was so very much I wanted to ask about her life. And—selfishly—what her intentions were about me. Would she allow me to stay here? And if she did, for how long? If she told me to go, what would I do? For that matter, where could I go? I felt so helpless and frightened I wanted to cry.
“I’ve only got one futon, but I daresay you won’t mind sharing with me. We can keep each other warm.”
I hunted for some friendliness in her words but found nothing but practicality. I spoke before I had time to search for the right words.
“Hama, I know finding me must have come as a shock to you. And I’m deeply sorry I don’t remember anything about myself. If I did, I might know what to do. But there’s nothing. I don’t know who I am or how I got here or anything at all. I have no money. I can give you nothing at all to pay you back. But please, can I stay here with you for a while? My memory must come back eventually, and when it does, I’ll find a way to repay you, I promise. But if you make me go now, I don’t know where I would go or what I would do. Please, can I stay? I’ll make myself useful, I promise.”
I heard a noise like branches creaking in a high wind. After a moment, I realized it was Hama laughing.
“By all the gods, but you can talk, can’t you? You’ve used more words in one breath than I would need in days. And all of them nonsense. I told you before, you have Susanoo’s protection, so you’re good luck. As to helping me, you can swim. If you can swim, you can dive.”
She fell silent then, as if she had answered all my questions to her satisfaction. I waited and waited, but she said nothing more. Finally, she yawned and stretched. When she stood, she was no more than an outline in the light from the fire. She pointed into the shadows of the hut and, obedient to the silent command, I stood.
“Get yourself comfortable,” she said crisply. “I imagine you’re used to something a lot better than this, but it’s all I’ve got.” She paused as something seemed to occur to her. “You’re sure you can’t even remember your own name?”
I closed my eyes, desperate to find something to tell her. Not even a whisper of a name came to me and I sighed.
“No. I could be called anything. I have no idea at all.”
“Well, I’ve got to call you something, otherwise you might think I was talking to myself.” I laughed dutifully as I understood she was making a joke. “I don’t know any fancy names. All of us Ama have the same name as our mother or grandmother. It’s supposed to tie us to the sea and keep the tradition of diving alive. I don’t think it works that well. In my own generation, I know of two Ama who got tired of the sea and went off to find a living in the city. Whether they’re happier there is another question, of course. Their parents are so ashamed of them they won’t talk about them, but even some men have gone to the city on business and are never seen or heard of again.”
She paused, almost as if she was surprised at herself for talking so much. As the silence stretched, I almost answered her unspoken question.
The lost girls probably found a place in a brothel. They were no doubt young and shapely from the life-long exercise of diving each and every day. A shrewd aunty would whisper tales to the clients about how exotic her new acquisitions were; the men would be instantly intrigued. In any event, where else could they go? Nobody would employ them as servants—they were creatures of the sea with no domestic skills. Even as the thoughts flitted through my mind, I was irritated by my knowledge. How was it possible that I could know so much about how the world worked and yet know nothing at all about myself?
“Perhaps they moved further away,” I said lamely. Hama shrugged.
“Maybe so. Not that it’s got anything to do with your situation. Anyway, how do you feel about answering to Shinju? It’s quite a common name amongst us Ama. It’s supposed to bring good fortune.”
For the first time, Hama sounded almost shy. I wondered if the name meant something to her, and I answered quickly. Shinju means pearl, and I thought it was entirely appropriate for me.
“That’s a lovely name. I’ll be honored to be called Shinju.”
“That’s settled then,” Hama said, once more her usual brisk self. “Get on the futon, Shinju, and don’t steal all of it. If you need to go for a pee in the night don’t trip over me and wake me up. I might think you were an intruder and try to kill you.”
There was no humor in her words and I had a feeling she meant them.
Five
Look at my pearl! The
Sea gave it to me as a
Love gift from his heart
I awoke with great suddenness to find I was being smothered.
The only thought in my mind was that Hama had reconsidered and decided it would be to her advantage to take me to the authorities. It would be far easier for her if I were unconscious or even dead.
Instantly, one of my hands went to whatever was covering my face and tore it away. The other sought blindly in hopes that Hama’s sleeping body would still be there. I started to my feet, my body taut and ready to defend myself in any way I could. A moment later and I relaxed, almost shouting with astonished laughter.
A dog was sitting close to me. If a dog’s face can be said to express surprise, then his did. He bent down and picked up the bundle of feathers I had taken from my face and pushed it into my hand. I picked it up, my distaste changing instantly to pleasure as I saw it was a fine, fat, wood pigeon. We would feast tonight, Hama and I. Assuming she knew how to prepare and cook it, that was. I had no idea where to begin.
“Ah, Ken, decided to come home, have you? And I see you’ve brought a present to keep me from beating you.”
Hama was awake and sitting up. Her tone was so indulgent, I blinked in amazement. She did have a softer side, then. I patted the dog and instantly her expression changed from pleasure to fury. To hide my bewilderment, I concentrated on the dog, tickling behind his ears. I was genuinely pleased when he closed his eyes in obvious enjoyment and pushed against my hand.
I said, more for something to say than because I cared, “he’s a fine dog. What breed is he?”
“Leave him alone.” Hama’s voice was ice. She clapped her hands sharply and the dog immediately left me and lay down at her feet, his head down and his whole body stiff. “Ken is my dog, understand? He doesn’t like strangers. I don’t know why he didn’t attack you.” She poked Ken in his ribs and spoke angrily to him. “Bad dog.”
“It’s not Ken’s fault.” Absurdly, I felt I had to defend the poor beast. He had been nothing but friendly. I was no threat to him, and he had recognized that. “I guess I like dogs, and they like me too. He must be very intelligent to know you had invited me to be here.”
Hama flared her nostrils at me. Her face was crafty as she demanded, “And how do you know dogs like you? I think you’re lying to me. I don’t think you’ve lost your memory at all. I think you’re trying to take advantage of me.”
Her words were so absurd I forgot my manners and laughed out loud.
“Hama, I have nothing at all. But you have very little more. What do you have that I would want?’ Her face darkened and I babbled in apology. “I promise you, until Ken woke me up, I had no thoughts about whether I liked dogs. It just seems that something happens, and I know it’s right. The dog made me feel a happiness inside, so I must like them. And since he was not hostile toward me, even though I am a stranger, dogs must like me too.
“I have no intention of taking him away from you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. He’s obviously your dog. He’s only tolerating me.”
I was right, I was sure. Ken’s eyes had never left his mistress. He whimpered when I stopped speaking and moved as close to her as he could get. I envied her and wondered if I had once had a dog that was as loyal as Ken.
“I suppose you might be right,” Hama said sulkily. Still, she looked at me suspiciously. “You talk in a strange way. I’m sure you’re not from around here.”
Something we agreed on, then. I was also sure I was a stranger here, but as with so much else, I had no idea why I knew. The knowledge made me both angry and confused, and I decided to change the subject.
“How did Ken come to catch a wood pigeon?” I added flippantly, “Can he fly?”
“He’s a kai ken.” Restored to good humor, Hama took the pigeon from Ken and weighed it in her hand. Her words meant nothing to me, so I stared at her, waiting for more.
“What’s a kai ken?”
Hama looked at me and then laughed loudly, pointing her finger at me in the rudest way. “You don’t know anything, do you?” I shrugged my shoulders, determined not to be baited. “It’s a very special breed of dog. They’re very loyal, and very clever. Normally Ken doesn’t leave my side, but I think there must be a bitch in season somewhere about. He must have got the pigeon around dawn, before it was awake, as a present for me to apologize.”
“Really?” I said sweetly. Did the woman think I was a complete fool? “Ken can climb trees, can he?”
“Of course he can. All kai ken can do that. He swims as well. I take him out with me when I dive. Sometimes he comes in the water with me and tries to catch fish. Other times he stays in the boat and watches out for me. I like him to be there, in case I suffer any misfortune. I know he would dive and help me if I needed him.”
This was too much. “If he’s so amazing, how is it I’ve never heard of such dogs?”
“Maybe you forgot it, along with everything else,” Hama sneered at me. I glared back at her. Ken looked anxiously from one of us to the other and then howled loudly. Hama bent to pat him. When she stood, I could see from her expression that she was pleased, no doubt because she felt she had managed to put me in my place. I simmered with anger. Did she really think I would fall for her tall stories about dogs that could swim and climb trees?
Ken made a move toward me and stopped abruptly when Hama hissed at him. I realized with dawning surprise that she was jealous of the dog’s liking for me. I hid a smile and then felt guilty about my amusement. Ken was all she had. Naturally, she treasured him. I had truly been delighted when the dog appeared to have taken a liking to me. Was I really so different from Hama?
“You could well be right,” I said peaceably. “What do I know? Nothing at all.”
Hama stared at me and then shrugged. “There’s some rice in the pot. The weather’s good. We need to eat quickly and then get busy.”
She made no move, so I guessed I was supposed to serve the food. At last I could do something to help. I split the remaining cold rice in half and handed Hama her bowl. It was only when we were eating—with Ken looking hopefully at us both—that I remembered that she had said “we.” I spoke through a mouthful of rice.
“Am I to come with you?”
“Certainly you are. Do you think I can afford to feed you and get nothing in return? Can you dive?”
“No.” I spoke so quickly I surprised myself. Why was I so sure? I had no idea, other than an instinctive dread of sinking beneath the surface of the sea. I had a vision of myself going down, down, down until the breath left my lungs and I had nothing to breathe but water. I felt sick and put my bowl down with a little rice still in it. Ken pounced at once. My bowl was licked clean before I could protest. I was annoyed, I was still hungry.
“If you leave food within his reach, he will steal it.” Hama was grinning at my mistake, but her expression clouded quickly. “Are you sure you can’t dive? You must be able to swim or you would have drowned.”
“I suppose I don’t know if I can,” I said carefully. “But the idea frightens me. Perhaps I survived by just clinging to the mast.”
I could see my response had disappointed her. She shrugged and stood abruptly.
“You’re useless, then,” she said cruelly. “I should have left you to Susanoo’s mercy. Or taken the risk and turned you in to the authorities.”
She turned and clicked her fingers. Ken was at her side in an instant. I hesitated and then got to my feet and followed her as well. I owed her my life. Surely there was some way I could repay her.
Hama was pushing the small boat into the sea when I caught up to her. I waded into the water at her side silently, pushing at the boat to help shift it. I began to feel anxious when the water reached my waist, and I was grateful when Ken—who, to my astonishment, really was swimming effortlessly and with obvious enjoyment—put his paws on the side and heaved himself on board. Hama nodded and followed him in a graceful slide. I scrambled in clumsily.
