19

I slept for what must have been hours, and in my dreams, I saw Togbe again. He told me I was in my place of healing and that he would watch over me. When I woke up, I felt him still with me, as surely if he were by my side. The sun was high in the sky, and the day was warm. Although I was sleeping on the bare earth, I felt cocooned in the sublime rest I had been granted. I rose to my feet with difficulty. My whole body ached, and once fully awake I started to feel the itching of insect bites. I began to walk, looking all around me. I was alone, but I didn’t feel lonely.

I was on an island again, twice the size of the boat master’s. On every side, water stretched out, merging into the horizon as it mirrored the slate-blue sky. But there was white sand beneath my feet, green all around me, and large trees that gave generous shade. I saw coconut and Borassus palms, pawpaw trees, baobabs, and a giant silk cotton rising above all the others, a large nest silhouetted in its top branches.

I had no idea if there were any dangerous creatures around, but hunger was even surer to kill me, so I had to risk venturing inland. I walked through tall grasses up a sandbank to a stand of pawpaw trees with clusters of fruit and climbed up the thickest trunk. Most of the fruit was still green, but there were a couple with light streaks of yellow. I twisted them off and shinned back down. I broke them open against the ground, scooped out the soft black seeds, and gnawed the firm flesh right off the skin. It was not very sweet, but it was so good to be eating again! I thought of getting more food, and some form of shelter before nightfall. The day was still bright, but night was not far off, and it would fall as rapidly as always.

With difficulty I started climbing one of the large trees on the island, but I was arrested by a shrill cry and a sudden scrambling in the upper branches. Then it went silent again, but the leaves were still moving. Clearly, I was not as alone as I thought! There was something, or some things, up there. Poised for flight, with my heart thumping, I peered closer, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. A grayish-black tail was hanging a few feet above my face. No—two; more… Monkeys!

I was not afraid, because Togbe had taught me that most animals only attacked if threatened, and out here I had a chance to meet them without anyone else antagonizing them. As my eyes adjusted further, I realized that a pair of eyes was staring back at me with equal curiosity, set in a dark little face framed by bushy white hair like an old man’s beard. At that moment there was a crashing and rustling as another monkey leaped from our tree into the next. The one staring at me turned around, almost reluctantly, then ran off and jumped in turn. In all I counted eleven leaping monkeys; I admired their silhouettes as their limbs stretched against the brilliant blue sky, and then there was no further movement.

I climbed farther up. If I could break off some of the smaller branches and balance them across a fork in the lower boughs, I might be able to create a sleeping platform. It was hard work because I had no tools, and I was weak. But it had to be done, so I found the strength. After laying small branches across the fork as supports, I went down and stripped fresh stems off some leafy shrubs. I dipped them in the lake to wash off insects. I cupped my hands and drank from the lake. God knew I had drunk enough on my journey, but I was sweating now, and I poured water over myself to cool down. Then, fanning out the leaves, I laid them as a lining in my new bed. I climbed in and stretched out gingerly. It would take some getting used to, but it would do. My stomach rumbled and I climbed down. There was still work to be done.

I gathered some of the tall grasses and wove them into a crude net. I didn’t have the materials for a proper fish trap or net, but with what I’d learned from Togbe and from my fishing work, I was able to create something in between. It looked like a cross between a coal pot fan and a crude scrap of netting, but it was all I needed, because the fish came right into the shallows. They were a good size—tilapia and other species I knew from the fishing work. It was exciting to scoop out such prizes so easily, knowing they were all mine for a change, and my mouth watered at the feast I was going to have. Now I just needed to find a way to cook them.

I looked for dried grass, leaves, and more twigs. The sun was setting as a pearly wisp of smoke curled out of the furious blur in my hands. I had worked as a fisher boy for five months, but in all that time I had never tasted fish. That evening I ate grilled fish for supper, tender and delicious with the smoky tang of the open fire, and it brought back the happiest times of my life. Once again I felt Togbe right there with me, and I was perfectly content on my lake island.

As I lay back on my leafy bed, I heard the squeak of bats flying overhead. The moon was almost full, and by its light I watched them fly to the lake, some dipping down and skimming the surface to drink. A loud cry pierced the night, and I sat bolt upright. It sounded almost like a human. My heart began to race, but then I remembered Togbe describing such a thing from his trips with his grandfather—cries so loud they carried from island to island. He said they were made by a tiny nighttime animal.

I calmed myself and began to study the skies, finally seeing what Togbe had described from his childhood. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been able to see them from the master’s place, but I’d felt a disconnect there from everything, including the beauty of the natural world that was all around me. Like the other boys, I’d stare without seeing, shrinking inwardly. But now I stretched out to the full, savoring my own place in the wonder around me.

The stars looked so much bigger, so much more radiant than I’d ever seen them before. The sky was ablaze with the myriad of their infinite glimmerings. I could see the path of light he had talked about, illuminated from within and stretching from one end of the sky to the other. A gentle breeze blew over me, and the water lapped serenely at the riverbank.

I began to feel drowsy, and as I dozed off, I thought about this world and the things we humans struggled for, and all the ways in which we imprisoned ourselves, and each other. It seemed to me that greed was just as much of a prison as poverty, only worse. Here I was alone on this island in the middle of nowhere, stripped of whatever meager possessions I had ever owned. And yet in nature’s heart I felt liberated and endowed with a splendor beyond anything humans could ever purchase. What greater wealth was there in this world than freedom? I might be marooned on an island, but I wondered if I would ever feel this free again in my life.

The following morning, I woke to something dropping on me. A seed. Then a couple more, on my belly, and I heard the chatter of monkeys high up. They were feeding on seedpods hanging from the tree. As I stirred, one of them ran down and peered at me from behind a branch with its curious old-man face, and I could have sworn it was the same one from the day before. The sun was high again, but it was less hot, and the hills around the lake looked hazy. I realized the harmattan season was starting to blow in. As I swung my legs over the branch, my observer ran up into the crown of the tree to join the rest of the troop, but they didn’t flee this time.

I climbed down and went foraging on the island. I broke branches off trees and bushes to build up my firewood stocks and plucked fresh leaves for my bed, and palm fronds to weave more fan-nets. I found wild berries—a type I knew from clearing the bushes for farming. They were not very tasty, but I knew they were safe to eat, and my choices were few. I caught and grilled fish again, eating them with the berries for my lunch. I spotted the monkeys in the lower branches of the tree, watching me. I left a few scraps on the ground, and when I climbed up into my nest to put in fresh leaves, they dropped down and darted over to eat them. They glanced up at me to see if I’d do anything, but I didn’t, so they grew bolder.

After they had wandered off, I improvised a broom from dried stems and tidied up, sweeping away the embers. As the light started to fade and a breeze furrowed the surface of the lake, I saw a sudden movement in the water and heard a breathy sound. Oddly, I felt no fear and went closer to have a look. Bubbles were rising to the surface. I dived in and swam down.

Down below was a large creature that did not flee as I approached, and another, much smaller, swimming next to it—a baby. From a distance they looked like massive fish with paddle-shaped tails. I approached with caution, but they just looked quietly at me, so I grew bolder and swam right up to them. They were not fish at all! They had large, intelligent eyes and rounded muzzles that reminded me of friendly dogs.

It was uncanny how they looked like water and land animals at the same time. As I watched, the baby swam between the front flippers of the larger one and began to suckle. This was a mammal! And yet its lower half was so fishlike. The mother and I surveyed each other the same way I had looked into the eyes of that monkey—like people getting to know each other—and images began flashing through my mind, of creatures half-this and half-that. Was this the same thing I’d seen trapped in the net the day Seth had passed out? Was this Mami Wata?

Clearly these were flesh-and-blood creatures before me, and yet swimming this close to them felt magical, as did my entire presence here on this island. So I decided just to live in the moment and ask questions later. The two lingered like new friends wanting to get acquainted, swimming around me with slow but powerful undulations, their grace astounding. And it was there, watching them, that the longing finally stirred in me to make friends with the water, and to move with it in effortless harmony, like they did.

I swam back to the surface and lay on the shore with my body half immersed. I closed my eyes and let myself relax until I was limp. The water bore me up and my body moved, undulated with its swell, lifting gently off the shore. It felt so natural, I didn’t resist. I let go some more, giving in gradually—almost like giving in to sleep—and I began to feel weightless as it took more of me. Togbe’s words came back… You’ll sense it buoying you up, whispering softly to your body about the lightness, the deliciousness of floating…

And it was like that moment in class when you finally understand something, because all of a sudden I was adrift on the water! It was a little scary, but I realized that the more I relaxed, the lighter I grew. I lay back as if the water were a bed, spread out my limbs, and inhaled deeply. Immediately I rose higher, my lungs buoying me up like balloons.

What a feeling!

That was the day I really learned to swim. Up till then I’d just been flailing for survival. My lake friends came to the island every day at dusk and swam around till daybreak. They’d feed off the plants on the riverbank. I tried eating some of the ones I saw them browse on. It took some getting used to, but at least it was a change from fish and berries.

I spent the next few days glorying in my new friendships—with them, and with the water. I felt like a bird that had finally learned to soar after flapping endlessly from branch to branch. I played underwater with them and copied their undulations. I learned every imaginable way of swimming, and at night I floated on my back under the stars.