ore e-mail, this time the witch.
I doubt that I should, and that I will e-mail her again.
9
Feb. I guess I wore myself out on writing Thursday. I see I wrote nothing yesterday. To tell the truth, there was nothing to write about except my swim in Hanga’s bay. And I cannot write about that in a way that makes sense. Beautiful beyond description. That is all I can say. To tell the truth, I am afraid to go back. Afraid I will be disappointed. No spot on earth, even under the sea, can be as lovely as I remember it. Colored coral, and the little sea animals that look like flowers, and schools of blue and red and orange fish like live jewels.
Today when I went to see Rob (all right, Annys warned me, but I think she is full of it) I said he probably likes to think God made this beautiful world so we could admire it, but if He had, He would have given us gills.
“Do I also think that He made the stars for us, Baden? All those flaming suns hundreds and thousands of light- years away? Did God create whole galaxies so that once or twice in our lives we might chance to look up and glimpse them?”
When he said that I had to wonder about people like me, who work for the Federal Government. Would we be driven out someday, like the people Rob talked about? A lot of us do not care any more about ordinary people than they did. I know P.D. does not.
A woman who had cut her hand came in about then. Rob talked to her in her own language while he treated her, and she talked a good deal more, chattering away. When she left I asked whether he had really understood everything she said. He said, “I did and I didn’t. I knew all the words she used, if that’s what you mean. How long have you been here now, Baden?”
I told him and he said, “About five weeks? That’s perfect. I’ve been here about five years. I don’t speak as well as they do. Sometimes I have to stop to think of the right word, and sometimes I can’t think of it at all. But I understand when I hear them. It’s not an elaborate language. Are you troubled by ghosts?”
I suppose I gawked.
“That was one of the things she said. The king has sent for a woman from another village to rid you of them, a sort of witch doctress, I imagine. Her name is Langitokoua.”
I said the only ghost bothering me was my dead marriage’s and I hoped to resuscitate it with his help.
He tried to look through me and may have succeeded; he has that kind of eyes. “You still don’t know when Mary’s coming?”
I shook my head.
“She’ll want to rest a few days after her trip to Africa. I hope you’re allowing for that.”
“And she’ll have to fly from Chicago to Los Angeles, from Los Angeles to Melbourne, and from there to Cairns, after which she’ll have to wait for the next plane to Kololahi. Believe me, Rob, I’ve taken all that into consideration.”
“Good. Has it occurred to you that your little friend Hanga might be a ghost? I mean, has it occurred to you since you spoke to him?”
Right then, I had that “what am I doing here” feeling I used to get in the bush. There I sat in that bright, flimsy little room with the medicine smell, and a jar of cotton balls at my elbow, and the noise of the surf coming in the window, about a thousand miles from anyplace that matters, and I could not remember the decisions I had made and the plans that had worked or not worked to get me there.
“Let me tell you a story, Baden. You don’t have to believe it. The first year I was here, I had to go to town to see about some building supplies we were buying. As things fell out, there was a day there when I had nothing to do, and I decided to drive up to North Point. People had told me it was the most scenic part of the island, and I convinced myself I ought to see it. Have you ever been there?”
I had not even heard of it.
“The road only goes as far as the closest village. After that there’s a footpath that takes two hours or so. It really is beautiful, rocks standing above the waves, and dramatic cliffs overlooking the ocean. I stayed there long enough to get the lovely, lonely feel of the place and make some sketches. Then I hiked back to the village where I’d left the Jeep and started to drive back to Kololahi. It was almost dark.
“I hadn’t gone far when I saw a man from our village walking along the road. Back then I didn’t know everybody, but I knew him. I stopped and we chatted for a minute. He said he was on his way to see his parents, and I thought they must live in the place I had just left. I told him to get into the Jeep, and drove back, and let him out. He thanked me over and over, and when I got out to look at one of the tires I was worried about, he hugged me and kissed my eyes. I’ve never forgotten that.”
I said something stupid about how warmhearted the people here are.
“You’re right, of course. But, Baden, when I got back, I learned that North Point is a haunted place. It’s where the souls of the dead go to make their farewell to the land of the living. The man I’d picked up had been killed by a shark the day I left, four days before I gave him a ride.”
I did not know what to say, and at last I blurted out, “They lied to you. They had to be lying.”
“No doubt—or I’m lying to you. At any rate, I’d like you to bring your friend Hanga here to see me if you can.”
I promised I would try to bring Rob to see Hanga, since Hanga will not go into the village.
S
wimming in the little bay again. I never thought of myself as a strong swimmer, never even had much chance to swim, but have been swimming like a dolphin, diving underwater and swimming with my eyes open for what has got to be two or two and a half minutes, if not longer. Incredible! My God, wait till I show Mary!
You can buy scuba gear in Kololahi. I’ll rent Rob’s Jeep or pay one of the men to take me in his canoe.
11
Feb. I let this slide again, and need to catch up. Yesterday was very odd. So was Saturday.
