and non-alky drinks, in deference to the Tibetan monks who he had asked to be here today, Gabriel slid through the people, with Marty and Sharon in tow.
He walked around the house until they reached the edge of the beach and the jungle. The site on the beach brought a smile to his eyes. He kicked off his canvas shoes and turned to Marty and Sharon.
“You should go and see Mariko. She’s upstairs in the house. I have to take care of things down there.” And he nodded down at the beach. They nodded in unison and turned to the steps leading up to the deck of the house.
Walking around the back of the people in the chairs to the water’s edge, Gabriel angled back until he stopped short of the large carpet that the monks were sitting on, and knelt down. The hubbub of noise from the crowd hushed within a few murmurs to a silence. Gabriel bowed his head to the carpet in front of the monks.
A gong sounded. Its clear metal tone spread over the silence on the beach. Gabriel, his hands on his thighs, sitting with a straight back, looked over to where the white stones met the deck of the house. The gong sounded again, each minute representing a year.
Mark appeared on the deck by the top of the stairs. Gabriel knew it was him only by the black trousers and the stick that he still used to walk with. One step at a time, his brother came into view. Limping and using his stick but smiling. In his other hand he held a gold framed image on a stand clutched tightly to his breast.
The gong sounded twice more before Mark knelt down slightly behind Gabriel.
I knelt before the monks and placed my forehead on the ground. Bringing my hands together under the tip of my nose, I pushed my hands back through either side of my head then placed them on my thighs.
Gabriel shuffled forward on his knees. My damaged knee was beginning to really hurt so I slipped sideways, taking the weight off it, and slid my folded legs behind me. Gabriel placed the image of our parents in front of us. He had discovered it in an old archive in an aboriginal community center. An image of Philip and Mariah, his arm around her, smiling at the camera, a gum tree in the background. In the image, Mariah was clearly pregnant. With me. They looked young, happy and at peace.
The head monk handed Gabriel a lotus bud, a large yellow candle and a single stick of incense. A wooden bowl filled with water was placed in front of the image. Gabriel laid the lotus bud on the edge of the bowl. Using the taper of flame provided by the monk, he heated the wax on the bottom of the candle until it was soft. With the same taper, he lit the candle and stuck it so that it angled out over the water in the bowl. The hot wax dripped into the cool water.
Reaching over, one hand on the carpet, he lit the stick of incense. Gabriel sat up straight then lifted the incense between the palms of his hands until his hands were resting on his forehead, his eyes open, declining his head slightly in prayer. I did the same. The gong sounded again and the monks began to chant. My knee hurt again. I forced myself to ignore the pain and focus on the chanting. It had meant a lot to Gabriel to organize this and it meant a lot to me too.
Suddenly my thoughts were awash with the minds of the monks. I almost keeled over, but then Gabriel thoughts came strongly into my mind.
“We’ve come a long way my brother and we had to do it alone. Now we can cast our demons aside and look to the future. We remember her, we remember him, just feel now. Open your mind and feel them.”
Feelings, fleeting images, emotions felt and seen by Gabriel with Philip and Mariah began to enter my brain. I was overwhelmed. The chanting of the monks and gong occasionally reverberating across the beach, blended and focused my thoughts until I was in the well of Gabriel’s mind. My eyes were open but all I saw was the years that Gabriel had spent with Philip and the months with Mariah.
A clear piercing thought from Gabriel, “My gift to you, my brother.” An image of my mother smiling down at me came to my mind. The image was sharp and came with the emotion of the love she felt.
I thought, “Thank you my brother, this is a wonderful gift.”
I realized that the gong hadn’t sounded for a while and the monks had stopped chanting. Thirty-five minutes had passed. A gong for each year since my parents had been taken from us. The head monk stood and another monk picked up the wooden bowl with the water and the wax from candle in it. We waied as he dipped a brush made from small twigs into the bowl and, saying a prayer, flicked the water over us three times. He moved away and walked over to the aborigines, blessing them in a similar fashion. Once he had covered the entire crowd of people, he returned to the carpet and sat down again.
Smoke wafted around me. Gabriel shuffled off the carpet, and waiing at the monks once more stood up. I did the same. We stood together and faced the path of white stones.
Mariko, Marty and Sharon stood just inside the clearfilm doors which were open to the deck. They looked out to the sea across the white sails partially covering the beach in front of them. Mariko walked forward across the deck with Marty on her left and Sharon on her right. The baby in her arms was dressed in a long, flowing white gown.
As Mariko went down the steps to the beach, Sharon held her arm just above her elbow. She turned and smiled at Sharon. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to get the gown for the naming ceremony,” and she cocked an eyebrow.
Sharon flicked her eyebrows up in the affirmative, but didn’t say anything. Her eyes scanned the seated crowd, head calmly turning left and right. She hadn’t been in any crowds since she’d been blinded and it made her a little nervous.
“Well, the reason is that it’s tradition that the child’s godmother buys the gown.” Mariko turned to face straight again, walking on the white flat stones to where Mark was standing. Sharon was shocked.
“Why me?” she asked as they walked.
“Because there’s only one other woman who’s maybe tougher, and perhaps smarter, in the entire world,” and nodding her head sideways at Marty. “And she’s pregnant with your other godchild. So you’re my best choice.”
Sharon looked at Marty around Mariko’s shoulder. Marty smiled at her and nodded and held out her hand which Sharon took in hers. Tears in her eyes, she understood that Mark and Mariko had given her what Sir Thomas had taken away. A family.
I walked around the fire until my back was to the ocean. Taking off my black jacket, I laid it on the sand next to me. Maloo and the elders began chanting in Waalpiri, their tribal language. Mariko walked up to Gabriel and held out our son. Gabriel took the boy and carefully unwrapped the gown until the baby was naked. He turned to Sharon and held out the child.
“As the boy’s godmother I ask you to carry him to his godfather,” Gabriel said, and nodded at Maloo chanting in the wafting smoke.
Sharon reached out, and with a glance at Mark who nodded and smiled, took the baby in her arms. She sat down in the sand next to Maloo who was waving the smoke towards them.
The chanting by the elders increased in volume. There was not another sound on the beach. Maloo gestured to Marty and she sat down next to him, gracefully folding her knees below her. Maloo gestured then to Mariko to sit by Sharon. Gabriel and I were next, Gabriel sitting alongside Marty and I next to Mariko. The chanting reached an even higher level and suddenly I felt it again. This time the Elders and Maloo came into my mind.
Maloo picked up the naked baby and held him high above the smoke. The smoke swirled around and I felt Mariko’s uneasy thought. It was smoothed with thoughts from Gabriel and Maloo. “It’s OK. The baby will not be harmed. This is to cleanse the evil passed to him through us and protect him from sickness.”
I saw Gabriel nod to Maloo who handed the baby back to Sharon and showed her how to lay the baby’s head with the top against Marty’s stomach. Marty got Sharon to take one of the baby’s hands and Mariko the other. Then Maloo took Marty’s hand and Sharon’s in his, and nodding to us, I picked up Mariko’s hand and Gabriel’s. Now we were all physically connected.
The chanting of the Warlpiri elders was suddenly joined by that of the Tibetan monks and I felt all of our minds connecting.
I breathed out slowly and let my mind float free. And there we were. All of us joined as a golden orb of feeling. Within the orb I could feel my son’s mind and then, a surprise, the mind of another, almost indistinct, but there in Marty’s stomach. Gabriel squeezed my hand.
Maloo’s clear, loud thought came through as a feeling more than words, and the feeling was the path to the
