Island Child
by Dory Lee Maske
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2009 by Dory Lee Maske
All rights reserved
Illustration © 2009 by Robert Maske
Cover design by Robert Maske
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Pele, the fire-goddess, is an important deity in Hawaiian mythology. She is the flowing lava that forms the islands and may also take the guise of a young maiden or an old woman.
Island Child
The boy ran through the darkness carrying a torch. He could have seen well enough without a torch from the fire that burned behind him.
"Wake up," he cried. "She comes, Pele comes."
The villagers were already awake. His uncle took the torch from him and put his great arm around the boy's small body.
"You have done well, Lopaka," he said. "Where has your family gone?"
"Pele took our house," Lopaka said with a quivering lip. "They have gone up the mountain out of her path. I wanted to make sure you were awake."
"We will join them with what we can save," the uncle said. "We still have a little time."
The villagers trudged up the mountain with what they could carry, cooled by a soft rain that sent clouds of steam billowing up from the molten rock.
"Pele laughs at the rain," said one of the villagers. "It has no power over her."
It was true; the spreading lava continued to ignite the bushes and trees in its path as if the rain had no effect. They watched as their homes went up in flames. Exclamations of awe went up at each explosion as the spectacle continued through the night.
Lopaka did not enjoy the awesome display. He was angry. His house had been one of the finest in the village. He vowed that Pele would not take another thing from him. Through the night he pondered whether he should leave the island and his village behind. He did not understand why his family did not share his anger. He kept silent and made his plans.
Within a year new homes were built and a new village stood at the edge of the latest flow. Still Lopaka did not forget. He lived outside, close to the beach, where he worked every day on a large canoe. His family was proud that he was building such a canoe. They did not know he planned to leave in it. When his canoe was close to being finished, his sister came down to the beach to tell him that a gathering had been called to honor Pele and bless the new village.
Lopaka joined the villagers at the gathering. There was feasting when the great imu, their underground pit oven, was uncovered. The feast was followed by hula dancing. As darkness fell a tall bonfire was set aflame and the ceremonies continued. Chants and songs in praise of Pele were followed by stories and ancient legends.
A stranger, a woman, stood up out of the darkness and said she was a storyteller from another village. All were surprised by her sudden appearance, but begged her to tell a story that might be new to them. She lifted her face and stretched out her arms as she spoke:
"My mind grows wide, my heart is unshackled and free. My eyes are as new eyes soaring out into space. Come with me as I expand. Below I see our blue world, taken prisoner in the sun's galactic journey. The sun grows old, it will burn itself out. We will perish before the journey ends. See the people—how they hurry the destruction of their world—all reverence is gone and in its place, confusion.
But now we fly close to the blue planet. I see signs of birth within the waters. A molten fire burns first below and then above the sea, growing lovely as a child with green ribbons of forests in her shining dark lava hair. I see people dancing on her shoulders, I see myself, laughing.
This island child is born not of the sun, but of the mother earth. She is bountiful and full of unspent energy. Her forests are plentiful. The waters around her are warm and filled with fish, drawn by the heat of her birth. She has a child's taste in colors—all bright, vivid, bursting with light. She plays with the sun. See the yellow fish, the red flower, the pink sunset. She squanders herself in rainbows.
I watch the fire race down her shiny unclothed back and I rejoice. She grows tall, gravity cannot hold her. I watch the houses burn and I feel her power. I feel myself forever young on the lovely island child that is my home.
The villagers stamped their feet loudly and demanded another story, but the woman disappeared into the shadows. Lopaka was not moved by the story, but he was strangely attracted to the woman who told it. There was something majestic about her, something powerful and free. He would like to know more of such a person. As the villagers began to drift back to their houses to sleep, he looked for her but did not find her. The next morning there was no trace of her.
A few days after the gathering Lopaka's canoe was completed. He announced his intention to leave the island. His family would not be consoled. Finally he agreed to go only as far as the other side of the island for a few years so his family could still visit him often. He took taro to plant and gear for fishing. The rest, the island would provide. He would not build a house for Pele to gobble up, but would live simply near the beach with only a few mats for a shelter and his canoe for fishing.
As the years went by, Lopaka grew tall and strong. He became an excellent fisherman and grew to love his solitary life. His family visited and sometimes stayed for a few weeks. He easily provided for all of them with his fish and his taro patch and the bounty of wild island fruit.
One day Lopaka looked up from his net to see a woman coming toward his camp. She looked strangely familiar. She called him by name and smiled at him. Lopaka was overwhelmed by her wild beauty.
"I see you have no house," she said.
"I fear a roof would stunt my growth," Lopaka said, returning her smile.
"Yes," she said, "you have grown too tall for a roof."
They looked at each other intently and a bond grew up between them. They soon became lovers and Lopaka had never known such happiness. He wanted only to stay forever with this mysterious beauty who would not even tell him her name.
After they had been together several weeks Lopaka told the woman he must be told her name. He wanted to marry her and make a home with her.
"Ah," she said, "you will know my name tonight."
That night they walked up to a waterfall and slept at its foot. Lopaka could feel the warmth of her body beside him in spite of the mist from the falls.
In the morning the woman was gone, though the ground where she slept was still hot. Below him he saw a fiery flow of molten earth that covered the hillside and the place where his shelter had stood. At first he could not believe his eyes. This lava flow seemed to come from nowhere. Then he threw back his head and laughed until his laughter echoed from the valley below. Now he knew the name of his lover and he knew where he had seen her before. She was the island-maker, the fire incarnate. Her love flowed through him in rivers of strength. How could he not have known?
Lopaka returned to his village. In time he took a wife and had a large family. He never thought again about leaving the island. He loved gatherings where stories of Pele were told and often went in search of new lava flows. There he would sit and watch for hours. On leaving he would sprinkle flower petals into the burning rock.
The End