The rain stops, and a new day dawns. No words are spoken; we only whisper. I have cramps in the lungs, and then a stitch, and when I piss, it feels like volcanic razor blades. It hurts, and you know the salt’s runnin’ the show inside your body.
The next day there’s nothin’; and still we sit. That’s when I think my uncle’s gonna die. I say to Taea, “I’ll help you bail the water.” I can’t even sit on my arse ’cause there’s a rash from rubbing over the metal. I try to help Taea bail the water, but I’m not feelin’ so good.
“You have to do it, ’cause I can’t bail, and if you don’t, I’m gonna finish myself off. I got fishin’ line here. I’ll tie it to the side of the tinnie, and hang myself. I know how to do it. Soon as my uncle goes, I go. I’m sick of …
Taea starts cryin’, and says this’n that.
“Listen, I tried; we all tried.” I talk to him in a reasonable way, but he just bawls and cries. We hug each other. I’m really tired, on the point of total exhaustion.
“My skin’s softer than yours. I’m half-caste. I’m pissin’ razor blades. I can’t even talk. I’m dead tired.”
It’s hard to look at Uncle. If he dies, we’ll tie him up, and take it from there. We have to keep bailing water, and that’s the hardest thing.
Next day, Uncle starts comin’ back to us, as the sun comes out; he starts talkin’ a little. We sit back, and then we say our last prayer at lunchtime, we say, this is it. It’s real calm water, a little heavy lift, with us goin’ up and down, up and down. My uncle turns and speaks.
“Why don’t we call it a day, say our prayer, and that’ll be it?”
We end up sayin’ the prayer. It’s awkward, ’cause we usually cover ourselves when we pray, and here we are buck naked, shorts on top of our heads.
“Listen Lord, you can probably see us here. This is it. We’re down to our last legs, and we’re not feelin’ good. We know you can see everything that’s goin’ on. We beg you for help in some way you can provide. You see … we can’t even cover ourselves. We’re not human beings anymore. We got nothing left, so, whatever you got for us, we’ll just cop it, but please try to help us; we’re in a bad situation. Let our families know we love ’em. Amen.”
After praying, we all start cryin’. It’s the last prayer, and we’ll never be a group again, and prayin’ together.
A couple of hours later, we’re all sittin’ there, no word spoken, but then you feel the urge to lash out and cry if you want. Taea can’t stop cryin’. I’m down one end, cryin’ about my family, and my two dogs I left behind, cryin’ about my son, and everything. We have our little lash, ’cause just before that we said nuh, we weren’t gonna cry, cause it can’t be good for you if you cry this much. At this point, I don’t really care. I want to cry … to die, whatever. I want to know why I’m dyin’ like this? Then it happens, right outa the blue.