Note: This story was written for me by a writer on another website I visit. I like her style and imagery. I enjoyed it so much that I have decided to share it with you.
So Tender the Sea
(1)
In the midst of hollow beats of the snake-skin drums we walked in single file and lined up in front of the jungle- temple. There were twelve of us chosen from the nearby villages, or kampongs as in our tongue: young, pure and beautiful.
We knew what awaited us. It was a night of life or death. Which among us would be the chosen ones?
Our people had dressed up in new sarongs, not that they were eager for us to be outstanding. To prepare us in any way other than the best possible was considered a sacrilege; the witch-doctor would see to that. And no one dared invite his wrath.
I had a green sarong that matched my paler skin. Mira, who came from the same kampong and now stood on my right, was wearing a light blue one. Our shoulders and the upper part of our breasts were visible to all.
I stole a glance at Mira, at the fall and swell of her proud breasts. She would have made such a good bride. I knew many young men in the village who eyed her as a potential wife if she would return home safely after this night… IF she could return home!
I checked myself at such a terrible thought. It was bad luck to harbor such ominous thinking. Why did I have to think about the unpalatable alternative? Was it because I secretly hoped that if Mira was one of the chosen ones, there would be less possibility for me to be chosen?
They needed two girls tonight. It was rare that two of the same kampong would be chosen at the same time. Perhaps I was reasoning that if Mira was chosen then I would be safe. “Rare, but not impossible,” I reminded myself.
I felt a surge of heat rise up my face. Mira had been my best friend since childhood. How could I wish evil for her? I offered a prayer in silence… “Please, please let us both go home safe!”
The chant of the witch-doctor jolted my reverie back to reality. The moment was near. I felt my whole body wet with perspiration.
“Two maidens will be chosen as sacrifice to the gods!” the witch-doctor announced. “…one to the Sea-god and the other to the Mountain-god! Now the gods will choose!”
One of the witch-doctor’s helpers came forward and collected the stones which had our names carved on them. Then he put these into a jute-bag. The witch-doctor tied the bag tight.
Murmuring another round of chants, he shook it with great force. Despite the heat I could feel a shiver down my spine. Then he reached inside and the first stone was picked…
“Tara!”
My lower jaw dropped in shock! It could not be! Before I could protest, two strong hands gripped my lower arms and I was led away to one side!
“She has been chosen to be the bride of the Sea-god!” he declared. “And now the one for the Mountain-god shall be…”
I was still stunned at my fate when the next name was called out loud… “Farah!” It was a girl from the next kampong.
So, not Mira!
I looked towards her and found her to be looking at me too. There was sadness in her eyes, but also relief. So, at least one of us would return home safely.
A sudden commotion brought our attention back. The chosen girl, Farah, started to scream as strong hands tried to lead her away. She struggled and kicked. Under normal circumstances her efforts would prove futile. But something unexpected happened.
One of the witch-doctor’s helpers slipped and Farah took the chance and wiggled free. Then she started to run. “Stop her!” the witch-doctor barked. A young warrior eager to obey aimed a spear at the fugitive girl’s back and cast…
“Arghhhhh…”
The spear caught Farah in the back and went through her slim body. She turned and stared in horror at the shaft protruding out of her breast. Then she crumpled and fell. Another warrior jumped forward, and with one stroke he decapitated her and held the head high for all to see.
“Sacrilege!” the witch-doctor roared. “The gods will be angry! Take her body and dump it into the snake pit!”
Farah’s red sarong was stripped from her headless body. Her naked torso was carried by four men over their heads towards the dreaded place where serpents were kept. Satisfied, the witch-doctor again spoke.
“We will choose a replacement.” Those who had breathed relief a while ago became anxious again.
“Mira!”
“No!”
Her eyes showed terror. But she did not dare attempt to run away. Mira was brought to my side.
Two buffalo carts were pulled forward, each with a diagonal cross of strong bamboo on it. We were taken up the carts meekly, like goats led to the slaughter. Once mounted our sarongs were stripped away and in stark nakedness we had our limbs tied to the beams. In such position our breasts were pushed forward and our sex exposed.
We knew from past experience what would happen next. The witch-doctor came up to Mira first. He was now the human incarnate of the gods who would claim their brides.
I witnessed him fondle her breasts with his hands dipped in thick coconut oil. Mira gave out a moan of despair. She must have harbored dreams to offer these to the one she loved instead of being abused by this hideous man. But what she thought was of no importance to him.
He continued his manipulation and soon Mira’s body was completely covered with shiny oil. He then fingered her maidenhood, ensuring it was damp enough. Then he roughly shoveled his manhood inside.
Mira screamed as he broke her hymen and blood trickled down her thighs. He laughed. All the people in the opening laughed, as though the ill-fortune of Mira was none of their concern. Her sacrifice was simply one which could buy them freedom from fear for another year.
When he finished Mira had become a complete wreck. Her long black hair was totally disheveled, her eyes staring blankly. Her body shook violently when the helpers led her cart to the site of the sacrifice. As she was the chosen bride of the Mountain-god, it was at the top of the volcano that this marriage was to be finally consummated. There her breasts would be cut open, her heart torn out, and she would be left there to be fed to the eagles and crows.
Now the witch-doctor turned to me. I braced myself for his exploitation. As he had done to Mira, he began to fondle my tits first.
I had made up my mind not to show my fear. So I stared back at him. This made him so angry that he threatened with his hands to strangle me. But then he remembered his role as the Sea-god’s incarnate. To kill off the bride would be detrimental to his position and power.
He hissed and hastily applied the coconut oil onto my whole body. He made a half-hearted attempt to penetrate me, which still took my virginity and drew blood down my thighs. Then I was given to his followers to be dispatched.
(2)
They drove the buffalo cart down the winding jungle path to my place of doom. Tied to the bamboo crucifix, I could only move my head.
It was to be the last time that I had the chance to look at the jungle, to listen to all the strange noises from the undergrowth which had long filled our minds with scary imaginations. Now they no longer seemed hostile. What worse thing could happen to me than the prospect of being planted in the shallow waters of the bay to await the agony of drowning when the tide came in?
Strange birds hooted among the trees. Were they saying their farewell to me?
Now I heard the sound of waves breaking on the rocks. It should not be too far away. My heart leapt so fast; I was not ready to die, not yet!
I thought about my parents, my brothers and sisters, especially the sisters. Would they be subjected to the same cruel fate as I several years from now? I sobbed, but the men just turned away their eyes and pretended not to notice.
We reached the place. The vastness of the ocean took me by surprise. It stretched all the way out into the horizon, an expanse of water that would become my grave.
They pulled the crucifix down, having been fixed on a solid base of bamboo beams and mats. Then they began pushing the whole thing into the water with me facing outward as proper for a bride to greet her groom. I felt the cool water washing my feet, then my legs, and finally everything from the waist down. The men anchored the cross by tying a large stone to it. Then they sat down on the big rock and waited.
The water kept on rising…
With each breaker the level rose, and soon it had reached level with my nipples. I felt my breasts rise up and down with the force of the breakers. Soon I would be completely submerged and the drowning would begin!
How long would I remain conscious before my lungs burst for the lack of air? Would there be sharks around? I used to have great fright of them. But now I prayed some would be nearby and my virgin blood would attract them to finish me off quickly. It would be a fearful death, but little suffering…
The water reached my chin and then my lips. It was so salty that I had to continuously spit it out. Now I understood what fear was. It was not death itself, but the certainty of death, of the torture before he finally claimed you.
My nose was under water now. I had to struggle and lift my body up a tiny fraction of an inch to gasp for air. I cried and my tears joined the vast volume of water that was to put an end to my life.
What had happened to Mira now? I was sure she was already dead! Had the birds preyed on her flesh, reducing her to a skeleton? The absurdity of comparing my demise with hers made me want to laugh but for the fear of letting in more water into my close-sealed mouth.
The water finally rose above my eyes. I was fighting for breath now, trying my best to use the last pocket of air that I had sucked in before it was no longer possible to take in another draw. My lungs seemed to be exploding!
How long? How long? I knew I could make it easier if I only let go, just open up my mouth and let the onrushing water do the rest. But something inside me kept me fighting, for one more minute, one more second. Life, oh life! How sweet and fleeting.
And then finally, oblivion…
(3)
When I opened my eyes I was lying on the beach naked. Strange voices could be heard not far away from me. I made an effort to turn my head.
The men on the rocks were gone. For a brief moment I thought that I must have died and this was paradise! But then I began to cough and water spilled out from the corner of my mouth. I was still alive!
How could this be?
I heard men approach me. Strange faces stared down, faces with skin so white, like the ripe flesh of the mangosteen. They gestured in a wild way and laughed.
I should have been frightened. But I thought what was so frightening now that I had experienced death, or near-death any way? I tried to get up but my body was too weak and I collapsed back onto the sand. A man gave me fresh water and I drank. Then I fell back into sleep.
I probably spent days sleeping. I felt so weak. During this time I could feel someone touching my body.
I had no strength to resist, nor did I want to. He even mounted me a few times, spreading my legs and entering me. I was sure it was the man who gave me water. Maybe it was a way to show my gratitude for saving my life.
After many sunrises and sunsets I was finally able to get to my feet. I found out that all this while I was sleeping in some kind of swinging net. I was no longer naked but was dressed by these men: a white linen sheet cut down in sizes that served as wrapping cloth around my tits, a sarong worn by the males of our people around my waist.
I did not ask where they got the sarong from. If my memory was correct, one of the witch-doctor’s followers had worn a similar thing before he and the others planted me in the water.
I was totally surprised when I discovered that some of these men spoke our language. These included the man who had given me water and who had used my body. When I finally mustered enough courage, I asked him if he had saved me from drowning.
He and his men laughed aloud but did not reply. I felt I was regarded as some kind of fool and I became angry. But the man held me tight and began to shower me with kisses.
He took me to a quiet part of the jungle and took off the white wrapping cloth and the sarong and entered me again. I did not complain. Actually I came to like him a little and did not mind him doing this to me.
Once I teased with him. He laughed and cradled me in his arms and spoke of love. It was good to be loved, to feel I was being loved. Or so it seemed.
(4)
It was quite some time later that we had visitors. It was the witch-doctor who came with several warriors. My skin crawled at the sight of him.
I did not know what was conversed between him and the men who saved me. But what began as negotiation turned to an angry exchange of words. Before long, a fight broke out.
Several of the witch-doctor’s men were shot dead by strange weapons which made a loud noise. I knew they were dead when I saw so much blood flowing out from the bodies. One of the men on our side was wounded by a dart and later died of poison. The witch-doctor escaped.
There were more fights in the following days. The men who rescued me always got the upper hand, but there were casualties on our side too. I was grateful for these men who defended me from the witch-doctor as it was now quite clear to me that the witch-doctor had come to demand me back but was refused. I remembered the man had spoken to me of love and I was so happy that he was willing to fight for me because he loved me.
One evening the witch-doctor came again. But this time there was no fight. The men talked and parted with nods of heads. I felt uneasy.
The man whom I slept with every night came back and said nothing. By now I knew he was the leader of the rest, and what he said the others obeyed. When I tried to ask in his tongue with broken words he hushed me and calmed me down with kisses. Later, we made love.
(5)
When I woke up, they were gone. The witch-doctor and his men were waiting. I looked round in fear and searched for familiar faces, his face! But they were not to be found!
The witch-doctor told me that the men had agreed to the terms. In exchange for information on the site of an earlier sunken galley I would be returned to my people. “They say there is much gold in the sunken ship,” the witch-doctor added.
I stood there as if turned into stone. So much for love. Not much in the face of gold.
I was no longer suitable to be a bride as I had been soiled. But that did not mean I could expect clemency.
The witch-doctor had insisted on getting me back, to inflict punishment. This was the only way to appease the Sea-god.
I did not protest, or fight, or try to flee. My heart was dead. How could I care for this body?
I asked one of the men what happened to Mira. “Bones,” he said. I sighed.
I spent one more evening in captivity. The witch-doctor sent four men to watch over me. But there was really no need to do so. I had accepted my fate.
When the sun set the following day, they prepared me for the execution. They removed my white wrapping cloth and exposed my breasts, the breasts that man had cupped and fondled so many times while speaking of love. My sarong was cast away and I was taken to the bamboo cross.
“Can I make a final request?” I asked. The witch-doctor nodded.
“Tie me upside down,” I said. He remained silent, then nodded.
It was a more painful way to die, but the end would come quicker.
Two men took my waist and turned me head down. I volunteered my limbs to be fastened. When they finished with the tying up, the whole structure was taken out to the water.
It felt so strange looking at the world upside down. The sea seemed to surge and was about to drown out the sky. My long black hair swept along the sand as if caressing the place where he and I had left footprints only to be washed clean by another tide.
They planted the cross in shallow water. My temple and forehead was immediately below the surface. The tide sang, its music beautiful and true.
It did not say it loved me. It only promised a quick death. So tender the waves as they kissed my eyelids.
This time I did not have to pray for sharks….
(End)
(Written for riwa Apr 14 ’14 by Hitomi)