Out in the waves the canoeman was worried too. He knew that if he lost control, the waves could flip the canoe over, sending the woman overboard, and that in the speedy approach to the sand, the canoe could smash into her father and something serious could then happen to either of them. To the woman, for she wasn’t used to how the sea behaved, and to the old man, because of his age, because he wasn’t used to the water and because, as we could all now see, he was sick. So, quite close to the shore, the canoeman lay his paddle down, jumped into the water and grabbed hold of the back of the canoe. He wasn’t heavy enough to halt the canoe or stop it being violently pulled in to the beach, but his efforts had some effect. The canoe came rushing in onto the sand and the canoeman told the woman to get out right away, something women can’t really do at speed. But our mother was already soaked, so there was no need for her to take care, and she got out as fast as she could. The next thing was to try and keep the canoe upright so that the waves would help push it up the beach, even if just a bit. Then our hands and the hands of our mother were needed, for while the two men held the canoe steady, we had to unload it as quickly as possible and take everything as far away from the water as possible. Everything, no matter how heavy it was. We gave it our all, and we dripped with sweat, even though we were in the water, and we managed to get the canoe unloaded. Mission accomplished. But then we had to move everything again, further up the sand, for the tide was coming in fast. So we did that too. When it was all done, grandfather told our mother, the one who had been in the canoe, to take us home. He hoped it wasn’t too late to contribute to the offering to the king, so he said to tell grandmother to take the water filter that was on the table in his room. He said all this in a voice that was so low we couldn’t make it out. We only knew what he said because our mother told us afterwards. And because she was being honest with us, we dared ask her about what grandfather had strapped to his side, or stomach. What was it?
We did as grandfather said and carried the load home on our heads, and when we got there grandmother brought the water filter down to take for the king. It was a sort of bottle, like a vase, and I knew of it because it was one of the things we’d seen in grandfather’s room when he’d gone out, which happened so very, very rarely. I liked that filter a lot and considered it a precious item. It had a tap on the front, in the bottom corner. I thought the filter was the most beautiful object in the whole house, certainly the most beautiful thing I’d seen upstairs, and it made me sad to see grandmother taking it away. That afternoon I didn’t go down to where they performed the orations. I wanted to watch the canoes from the shore nearest to the house. I didn’t want to be around other people while I was busy questioning whether the king took what was tipped in the water for him. I wanted to be on my own, able to take it all in and keep my doubts to myself, my doubts about the people in the canoes not looking. Not looking to see who took the things, out of fear of what might happen to them. Practically the entire island was gathered by the vidjil, filling the beach from one end to the other. I think the only people not to watch the ceremony were grandfather and the canoeman. When we left the beach with our loads on our heads, I was at the rear, behind my other brothers and sisters, and I looked back to see grandfather and the canoeman sitting on the beach talking. It was one of the very few times I saw grandfather talk and that canoeman was one of very few people to hear his voice. What did they talk about? What did grandfather say to him? Interesting things no doubt, so interesting that a few months later, the following thing happened.