Loku and the Shark Attack Read online

  LOKU

  and the shark attack

  DEBORAH CARLYON was born in Papua New Guinea, where she grew up listening to many stories about village life and evil spirits. When she came to teach at Noosa (where the river meets the sea), all the stories came back to her and Loku was born.

  Adult Non-fiction

  Mama Kuma: One Woman, Two Cultures

  Winner 2001 Queensland Premier’s Literary Award

  This book is dedicated to

  Sienna Ku Bishoff

  Many thanks to Jay Bishoff for

  his tireless editing

  CONTENTS

  Author bio

  Also by Deobrah Carlyon

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Imprint Page

  Chapter One

  Loku’s lean brown body glistened beneath the orange eyelash of the afternoon sun. Drops of saltwater ran down his back as he left the sea and walked across the white-gold sand of the beach. He was listening to the sound of the incoming tide pounding the shore behind him. On the horizon were matchstick-sized silhouettes of fishermen, their canoes lulling in the calm distance. Turning, Loku paused to gaze seaward as his father and uncles paddled over the silky surface toward the breaking waves. He smiled and breathed deeply. His world was shimmering blue.

  ‘Ayi, Loku!’ voices shouted. His cousins were calling out and running toward him. Their laughter warmed the air as they fell in the sand along the way, tripping each other’s feet. As they came closer, Loku’s twin brother, Nul, beamed a broad grin as he kicked a coconut husk high over Loku’s head. The game had begun.

  There were no rules, just running and kicking. All the boys ran swiftly, chasing and tackling each other for the fibrous husk. They kicked it to one another until it was splayed and torn. All the time, the colours of crimson and magenta crept over the sky, as the sun prepared to close her eye.

  Loku and some of the other boys walked down to the sea to help the men carry their nets and catch. Loku’s father and uncles were happy for their help. While Loku was pulling the canoes up the beach, safely beyond the high tide line, he noticed that Nul was not with him. As he lifted the heavy basket of fish, he could hear Nul and his younger cousins laughing in the distance.

  He walked up the beach, toward the cluster of huts, and Loku could see Lapun Papa on the outdoor bamboo sitting-bed. He saw his mother bent over the coals of the outside fire, blowing on the embers. Puffs of smoke sighed in thin wisps above the low-burning fire. All this was familiar to Loku, but today he wasn’t at peace. He sensed that something was not quite right, but he wasn’t sure what was different.

  Loku noticed his feet beginning to drag in the sand. Slowly he came to his mother and lowered the basket of fish beside her. She thanked him by patting his legs, then she placed the fish – head and all, for the head was the tastiest – onto the fire. She didn’t wash the fish in the river water for, like everyone else in Loku’s village, she enjoyed the taste of sea salt on fresh fish.

  Reaching the edge of Lapun Papa’s sitting bed, Loku lowered his head slightly to show respect. His grandfather squinted his soft, nearly-blind eyes lovingly at his grandson, and he patted the bed, motioning for Loku to sit beside him.

  Loku sat quietly because that was his nature. Usually this was a peaceful time, he and Lapun Papa sitting together and watching his mother prepare food. Loku did not have to tell his grandfather much, because Lapun Papa lived with him and knew the rhythm of each day.

  Lapun Papa knew Loku would rise early in the morning and collect sticks for his mother’s fire and then he would pull his father’s canoe down to the soft lapping waves while the tide was out. He knew Loku often spent the day fishing with his father, and that he sometimes stayed in the village, helping other men repair their nets and sharpen their harpoons and spears. Lapun Papa knew Loku would return in the evening to sit with him while Loku’s mother prepared their food.

  But today something was different.

  Loku looked out across the village to the shadows that moved beneath the palm trees. There was Nul, laughing and playing with his cousins. Nul was always having fun while Loku worked. Loku didn’t usually mind. Nul was his brother and that was just the way Nul was.

  But today, when Nul returned for the evening meal, and his mother patted his legs and thanked him for looking after his younger cousins, Loku’s face contorted. He pressed his lips together to hide new feelings of annoyance and jealousy.

  That evening, in the company of his Lapun Papa, father, uncles, brother and boy cousins, Loku did not feel like eating. He left his barely eaten fish head on the banana leaf plate. Quietly, he washed his hands and slowly climbed the steps to the small hut that he shared with his grandfather and brother.

  Clean bamboo mats made by his mother and aunts lay on the wooden floor. He looked out the window-opening, across the moon-shining sea. He was almost night-dreaming when he felt Nul’s hands grab and jolt him from behind.

  Recognising his brother in the dark, Loku swallowed with relief, but he clenched his jaw. Nul was excited and wanted to share a secret with him – a secret of adventure. Nul spoke as softly as he could, but he could barely keep his voice to a whisper as he told Loku what he had done.

  Nul had spent the day secretly following Jikup, the famous shark hunter from another tribe. Nul had paddled out in one of his father’s canoes. He had struggled against the outgoing tide while trying to hug the shoreline. Finally, he reached the grassy inlet to ‘the place of black snakes’. This place was for men only. Boys were forbidden to go there.

  By following Jikup, Nul had arrived at the clearing, and he saw lots of canoes huddled together. From the animal totems carved into the sides of the canoes he could tell that there were many canoes from other tribes.

  With excitement building in his voice, Nul told how he had stepped out of his father’s canoe and pulled it onto the sand. He hid the canoe, with its carved turtle totem, in the tall grass, then followed Jikup’s footprints to where the men were gathered in the special area. Hiding behind a huge rock, he watched them.

  An older man, one Nul had seen once before, lay his spear down and welcomed the men. He did this in four languages including the language Nul and Loku spoke. ‘Our father and uncles were there too,’ Nul whispered.

  Loku held his breath. Nul’s eyes sparkled in the dark as he finished his story.

  The older man had told how the sharks were travelling up the river in order to wash off their barnacles in the fresh water. He also spoke about the dry season and reminded the men how important it was for them to use green leaves when they made smoke signals to let other tribes know they were going on to their territory.

  ‘It was all men’s business!’ said Nul smugly. Listening wide-eyed in the dark, Loku felt a pang of jealousy pull at his tongue. ‘I’m going to have an adventure, too!’ he said.

  Nul laughed and replied, ‘No you’re not. You always do the right thing. You’re a Responsible Boy. You’re like Lapun Papa but young.’ Nul sensed Loku’s hurt feelings in the silence that followed and he tried to explain. ‘You wouldn’t have an adventure because you’re a good boy!’

  Loku was surprised and hurt by these strong words, and he realised they stung more because they were true. He didn’t speak again that night. He lay awake on his mat, resolving to have his own adventure the next day.

  Chapter two

  Loku woke when it was still dark. He collected sticks for his mother’s fire and dragged one of his father’s canoes to the edge of the ocean. He walked back up to the hut an
d told Lapun Papa he was going for a walk along the beach to collect crabs. ‘Okay,’ replied his grandfather. Lapun Papa noticed that Loku had left his delicious fish head uneaten the night before. He was thinking about his grandson, but he chose not to interfere or follow.

  Loku walked along the beach, but he found no crabs, only a broken piece of glass. He reached the river mouth and turned and walked along the banks of the river. When he came to the painted stone and tall stick that marked the edge of his village territory, he did not stop. It wasn’t until he was inside the border of the neighbouring village that he walked into the bush to collect green leaves to make a fire signalling he was in their territory. All the time he walked he thought only of Nul’s words, ‘You always do the right thing. Responsible Boy!’

  Loku tightened his jaw and swallowed. He looked around. There were not many green leaves because of the long dry season. As he gathered leaves, his cheeks began to burn, and his brother’s words grew louder in his head.

  ‘You always do the right thing. Responsible Boy!’

  Loku dropped the green leaves he had carefully collected and began to deliberately choose dry leaves. Instead of making the fire close to water as custom had taught him to do, he walked further inland. When the river was out of sight, he made a pile of dry leaves and thin twigs in the grass and took out the broken piece of glass he had found on the beach. Turning the glass in his hand, he waited for the sun to warm up.

  When he finally felt the heat of the morning sun on his skin, Loku knelt and held his piece of glass above the leaves. He ignored the ants crawling over his feet, and waited for the small brown ring of heat to burn the leaves. Soon a thin wisp of smoke appeared. Loku bent down and blew with very slow, controlled breaths.

  Slowly, he fed more leaves to the flame that came. He was pleased with himself when he had a steady fire, and he layered it with dry branches full of crisp, brown leaves.

  The smoke rose, but it did not carry the thickness of a proper smoke signal. Instead, the smoke looked like that of a cooking fire, and the fire was bigger than Loku had expected. He watched it nervously and sighed. He had deliberately made a fire away from the river’s edge and he wondered how he would be able to collect enough water to put it out.

  He heard his brother’s voice echoing in his head again. ‘You always do the right thing. Responsible Boy!’ His cheeks reddened again with anger.

  Okay, thought Loku, I won’t put out the fire! though he silently said to himself, The neighbours have seen the smoke and will put it out soon, anyway. This is what he hoped would happen.

  Suddenly, there was a strong gush of wind, and a rush of thick, hot air blew against him. It lifted up some of the burning leaves, blowing them in different directions. There were small fires catching in different places, and the wind did not stop.

  This is not good, thought Loku. He began pulling up grass and grabbing handfuls of earth to put out the big fire. It was no use. Loku felt a thick wall of heat around him, and he looked up. The surrounding bushes were on fire. The wind had carried burning leaves to the tall dry grass and brittle bushes. The flames moved quickly with the wind. Loku’s little fire had become a raging bush fire, uncontrolled and growing quickly – much too quickly!

  Flames were leaping higher than his head. An orange wall of fire raged through the bush like an angry giant. The forest was ablaze and crackling toward him. He could barely see through the thick smoke closing in on him.

  Loku ran as fast as he could. Then he stopped in his tracks. Trapped! He was surrounded by fire and a huge crackling branch – not far above his head – was about to fall. Raising his arm above his head for protection, he squinted and jumped to his right. Crash! The large branch smashed where he had just been standing. A shower of sparks rained down upon him. Stopping to catch his breath, he realised the smell of singed hair was his own. He zigzagged his way through patches of smoking grass. Then he jumped like never before and went over the last burning bush at the edge of the forest. Tumbling to the ground exhausted, he crawled to the edge of the river and collapsed in a heap on the sand.

  Chapter three

  When Loku lifted his head, he was startled by what he saw in the river. A large old turtle with its leathery neck above the water, fixed two solemn eyes upon Loku. His heart sank. The turtle was his tribe’s totem animal. He knew he would be punished for starting the bush fire.

  Avoiding the turtle’s gaze, Loku stepped into the river and lay for a few peaceful moments cooling his heated body. He felt lucky to have escaped without serious burns. Turning over, he was surprised to see an old canoe resting beneath the mangroves not far from him.

  Loku waded slowly toward it. Whose canoe was it? It had no carving of a turtle on it, so he knew it was not from his father’s village.

  The fire had pushed him right to the water’s edge. Loku jumped into the canoe and paddled quickly up the river mouth.

  Taking a stranger’s canoe was serious and Loku was very nervous. Suddenly, the canoe stopped – stuck! He peered over the edge, but only saw the emerald green of the river. Then he jerked in fright. The reflection of a man holding a spear had appeared in the water. Loku looked up in time to see a man disappear behind a tree. His heart pounded against his chest, and he quickly lay down in the canoe to hide. A dark wave of smoke from the fire blew across the river toward him.

  Soon Loku was gasping for air. Everything went hazy and then black. He did not see a man’s hand reach over the edge of the canoe, but he felt himself being pulled to the river’s edge. Two men helped drag the canoe out of the water. A pair of long spindly arms grabbed Loku’s limp body and lifted him from the canoe. The men bound his ankles and his wrists and lay him on his stomach beneath a tree. One man placed a rock on Loku’s neck. The turtle watched from the water, wide-eyed and still.

  Loku woke much later and he felt a heavy weight on his neck. He was thirsty and he swallowed hard, but he kept his eyes shut tight. He didn’t want his captors to see he was awake. He could hear the deep voices of three men. One voice sounded familiar, but he could not tell who it was.

  ‘The place of the large turtle is in the old cave.’

  ‘It’s a long swim across, and the cave is deep.’

  ‘We should go before the next tide.’

  Loku listened carefully – not only to their words but for their spirit voices. He hoped to hear kindness, but all he could hear was harsh laughter. First it was the men who laughed, then a chorus of birds joined in. When they flew away, silence descended. Loku wondered if the men were watching him closely or if they had left him. Then two strong hands grabbed his ankles. The rock was taken from his neck, and a piece of moist bark was placed in his mouth. He was dragged by his ankles across the rough bush grass on his belly. He was so busy sucking water from the cool bark, he barely felt the grass scrape against his skin.

  Suddenly the men stopped and let go of Loku’s feet. Thud! His hands were untied, and he was rolled onto his back in the centre of the men. The three men spoke to each other in more serious tones now.

  ‘He’s out of his village territory.’

  ‘Came onto our land without permission.’

  ‘He started a bushfire and stole a canoe!’

  ‘He’s a foolish boy.’

  ‘Not a boy – he’s a baby whose mother did not know he was playing with fire,’ one man jeered.

  After much laughter there was a moment of silence. A gruff voice made a suggestion.

  ‘We do need something to use as bait.’

  Bait! thought Loku, and he flinched. I’m going to be used as bait!

  Just as he was about to open his eyes, a man ruffled his hair. The familiar voice said, ‘Don’t open your eyes yet. Save that for when you’re under water.’

  Clenching his jaws tightly, Loku swallowed with a gulp. His stomach churned and he felt weak. He lay very still.

  ‘The shark will swim in from the sea to wash his barnacles off. He’ll come up the river mouth before the sun closes her eye. We just
need a bit of live bait to lure him in.’

  Loku broke into a sweat. He wanted to cry.

  ‘We should feed the boy, so that he has strength for his task ahead.’

  I don’t feel like eating at all, thought Loku, but someone shoved a piece of smoked fish into his hand. A rough hand wrapped around his own and guided the dry fish to his mouth. Another person lifted him so he was sitting upright. He gulped the fish down.

  Then the stranger with the familiar voice moved to within an inch of Loku’s face. He spoke slowly. ‘We will take you to the edge of the river mouth. The ocean will be coming in to meet the river. You will swim out to the rock in the middle of the river and dive down beneath the surface. Do you understand?’

  Loku nodded. His eyes were still closed, and he felt sick in his stomach.

  ‘You will find a cave entrance. Inside the cave there lives an old turtle. Bring it to us.’

  The stranger moved away, but the others spoke now.

  ‘We will tie the turtle to a vine and pull it beside the canoe.’

  ‘Yes. We will spear it, so its blood will attract the shark.’

  ‘The sun is beginning to close her eye. Let’s go!’

  Loku was horrified. How could he betray his totem animal? He wanted to run, but he felt the tightness of the vines around his ankles.

  A pair of strong arms lifted Loku to his feet and the binding around his ankles was untied. He was told to open his eyes and to walk down to the water. The men followed close behind.

  Loku stared out from the riverbank into the dark, swirling current.

  ‘See where the rock sticks out above the water; the cave is just below it.’

  Loku looked out across the river. The rock was a small dot in the middle. The ocean was reaching for it. Could he swim to the other side of the river and escape? No! It was too far away and he was already weak.