LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC
FISHERMAN’S PRIZE
SECTION 2
(Kaimu).jpg)
Kaimu ceased his labors just as the dusk
(twilight) was encroaching on Earth and returned home with his good bounty of
fish. In his elated mood he first however took added care to wash up by the
shed and wiped clean his mud-caked soles of his footwear, before entering the
sturdy cabin that had withstood many adverse weather conditions.
Ensa greeted him joyfully, with a beaming
face, for thankfully he’d returned all in one piece! Kaimu, resembling a conquering hero, was
affectionately ushered into his favorite chair.
“How is she?” Kaimu asked impatiently,
looking askew at the direction of the sleeping stranger, as he’d same time
grabbed hold on to his wife’s arm and tugged at her sleeve.
“She’s as well as can be expected.
Considering what the poor thing’s been through!” His wife answered, nodding.
“She’s asleep now, so mind your voice!” She admonishingly placed the right
forefinger over her pursed lips. Coyly tugged back to free her left sleeve then
going to the stove, she fetched him a bowl. “Here, eat these while I prepare
you some fish.” She mocked impatience,
putting a bowl of steaming porridge in front of him.
He Knew this was the last ration (speck)
of food, that they had and that she in her unselfishness had reserved it for
him, naturally giving some of it to the girl while going hungry herself all day
long.
“No. No.” Touched by her generosity, he
grasped her sleeve and looking into her eyes, earnestly insisted: “You should
have some as well; you also need to preserve your strength. I’m not really all that hungry; besides, I do
not want to spoil my appetite and would rather wait for the fish.”
“Do I look famished to you? No. You go ahead.” With a gentle tug
releasing her arm, she lied. “Earlier I cooked me some eatable roots that I’d
collected, rather dug up, from that small clearing, you know, that safe patch
at the edge of the creek.” Indicating the sleeping girl with her chin she then
added, “I went there in search of some additional herbs that she might require
for her swift recovery. More precisely, I needed a Yufor plant to treat her
more serious injuries. You’d used up the last batch. While I was there, I
chanced on this bonus of edible roots. You think I would have had this much
energy if I’d gone hungry until now?”
But seeing that he needed more
convincing, she spun a lengthier yarn: “I would have saved you a good portion
of the nourishing root, for it has so many added benefits, far too numerous to
recount.”
“I know, I know.” Kaimu waved a
dismissive hand. “I’ve heard it all before. It will cure all ailments under the
Sky… After all, it’s Heaven’s miracle food.”
“As it were, I know how much you detest
the taste.” Ensa overlooked the sarcastic interruption. “Last time finding it
unpalatable, you nearly retched all over my newly scrubbed floor. Imagine, a
tough man like you, being so finicky about food! Tisk…Tisk.” She teased him
mildly getting him back, as she again rushed off.
Kaimu was in truth, famished. So, after
a moment’s hesitation he just shrugged it off and dug in ravenously. Within
minutes he had polished the bottom of the wooden bowl.
“Need any help with the fish?” He then raised
his head and stretching his bones called out sheepishly in a loud whisper. He
grinned, as at the same time his eyes tracked her busy movements. Such a good, capable wife she was. He was
truly blessed! Yes, it was the blessings from Heaven, on that stormy night the
way his late father’s path had crossed with a stranded scribe (scholar)
burdened no less, with a scrawny frightened, sick child. Despite his father’s
valiant efforts (in aiding, treating the wounds,) the scribe had died of his
grave injuries soon after in a shroud of mystery and unanswered questions. That
little girl, however, had beaten the odds and later blossomed into a beautiful
young girl to in due course become his wife.
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| YOUNG ENSA |
Kaimu was startled from his revere when
the spiraling aroma of cooked fish filled the room. He sniffed the air and
licked his lips in happy anticipation. He did not know how she did it, but she
always managed to transform even the most mundane fare (provisions) into such
veritable gourmet treats!
The wooden plates heaped up with
sizzling delicacies (as she used local herbs previously gathered) were soon
placed in front of him on the table. But Kaimu refusing to touch a morsel
insisted they both sit down together and simultaneously partake (of) in this
welcome feast.
When he had fully satiated his hunger
only then, he spared added thought to the girl’s future predicament. Hmmm! But
that discussion (entailing some details) will have to wait. Throwing a sideways
glance at his wife, he mused. As it were, his good wife had waited patiently
for him to tell of his day’s adventures. He, he! He devilishly grimaced.
Suspense must be killing her!
His belly bursting with food, the old
fisherman with a broad, mischievous grin on his lips sat back contentedly and
rubbed it for relief. Belching and
burping he then with some elaboration, taking certain artistic license, told
his captive audience the thrilling (sequence of) events of the day. Well into the night, in an unusually good
mood Kaimu simply rattled on, reveling in his latest triumph, meanwhile trying
his wife’s patience.
As it became her turn then, “Suffice it
to say, you are a good healer Ensa!” He responded with pleasure to the
promising report on the girl’s prognosis.
“I’ve always said we are complimentary, twice
as strong we are, as a pair. As always,
I’m glad to see my efforts had not been in vain.”
Hah…he. He then repeatedly chuckled to
himself, grinning from ear to ear lost in some mischievous thought. His wife
meanwhile had busied herself with clearing away of the empty dishes from the
table.
Halting her beehive of activity at one
point and turning, “What are you concocting in that diabolical brain of yours,
Kaimu?” she asked. “Silly man, I should think you’d be exhausted after such an
adventurous, grueling day. As you have nothing further to do, why not go to
bed.” In jest, she mockingly scolded him.
But he’d not heard a word of it. “I was
just thinking, what luck, a sure gift!” His head reeling with excitement, he
suddenly burst forth (rejoiced) in a chortle, with his body pumped up now with
sheer delight like a bloated puffer fish. “I tell you; we are truly blessed!
Here we are worried sick that we could never be able to amass (accrued,
accumulated) enough cash, even for a measly dowry, to enable our son to marry.”
Then growing serious, (in a grave tone) he stressed. “You must admit that over
and above the living expenses, we had no means to afford even a cheapest bride;
therefore, faced a bleak prospect of being deprived of our God-given right to
grandchildren in our old age. Ha-ha! Then
the blessed sea sends us this good catch!”
Grinning broadly now from ear to ear, in his exalted state he jovially
slammed his palm (hand) on the table with such force that it rattled the mug of
hot tea, as it was filled to the brim, that she’d moments before had brought it
over for him to drink.
“Ha-ha! Who would have guessed…? What
luck! It’s a sure gift from the sea!”
His wife, in fear of more spillages had
at once rushed over and grasped (clutched) the mug’s large handle in order to
steady it. Subsequently mopping up the
spillage, “Have you gone mad? Shush!” She taxed (admonished) him meekly.
Deferring (postponing) his ready response, in silence they both listened
intently for a few minutes with both heads cocked in (turned towards) the
direction of the girl. Fortunately, the girl did not even stir; she remained
fast asleep, dead to the world.
“Kaimu,” she then turning to face him,
reasoned in soft, though somewhat serious tone, “aren't you being too
presumptuous? How can you talk as if you
owned her? She might belong to someone
…Might have a spouse (husband) already. In any event, she certainly has a
family… A family that might come looking for her! She is not some fish that you can lay claim
to as easily as that!”
That did it!
Her words in one stroke had blown away
his entire prior good, fluffy mood and replaced it with dark equanimity and
anger.
“What family?” Kaimu snapped. “Can you deny that she was cast off at sea?
Shipwrecked, as the result of that fierce storm that had passed! If she has, had any family, they too would
have perished in that storm.”
“Even if it were so...still, I cannot
help wondering.” Ensa insisted on braving his wrath. A brief silence ensued as she then hesitated
to sort out her concerns. Meanwhile
Kaimu sullenly sat, pondering, seething in anger.
“Besides,” she then hurriedly added,
“have you not noticed that something is very odd about her?”
What are you talking about now?” He
jeered, shaking his head. “Stirring up
trouble where there is none, that's what!”
Angrily he slammed his fist on the table. His tone had risen despite his
forced restraint. He inhaled deeply, let it out, then spoke poignantly (keenly)
with intermitting bouts of pleading tone. “For once, can we not take what’s
been freely given to us without question? Aren’t you tired of our hard lot? In case you haven’t (been made aware) wised
up to the fact, let me spell it out for you: We are getting on in years! A
scant number of good years are left ahead. Now you may be willing to endure
endless crap (discomfort), but my patience is at an end. I want what is my due
and, also a far better turn for us both from here on!”
His wife maintaining her sweet
disposition had lowered her head. She understood the source of his anxiety.
Using softer tone and more amiable words she now affected her submissive role
while endeavoring to placate her husband's mood.
“You mustn’t complain dear. Hasn’t
Heaven always been good to us? All this
time we lacked for nothing, why, because we’ve never strayed from the righteous
course (path) however desperate we’d been! We’re strong in spirit and body, all
thanks to the Gods.”
“It’s all a bunch of malarkeys!” He
burst. “No, I’m fed up, I tell you… I’m tired of always making do… There will
be some changes from now on. I’ve listened to you long enough. In future, I mean to do whatever is necessary
to…!” Kaimu grunted defiantly, and then relenting, chewed on the reminder of
his words.
“Dear husband,” Once more she gently
interrupted him wanting to get her point across, before he unleashed his usual
tirade. He was a stubborn fellow, but he
had a good, honest heart. As for her, she had a strong, unyielding spirit and
willpower that refused to sacrifice her innate ethics, refused to give in to
prevalent bad elements that surrounded them (was all around them).
Considered one of the worst postings in
the country, the exiled venal government officials, for the last decade and a
half had found this troublesome Province a serious liability for the scant
returns. To meet the taxing demands of the Capital, therefore, the newly
appointed Provincial governor had underhandedly permitted and even encouraged
all sorts of illicit activities. This held particularly true in all the major
townships, where the exact prize for the local inhabitants had been to have no
real, legitimate local government or enforcement law officers of any kind for
justice and order. Meanwhile the region being a powerful magnet for dissidents,
rather, rejects of civilized society: the mushrooming, underground
organizations- secretly sanctioned by the government- had in due course
(flourished) thrived through unbridled extortion. There were dealings in
illegal drugs, prostitution, trafficking contraband goods, kidnappings and more
often than that, cold-blooded maiming, mutilations and murders. Naturally in
this dangerous environment, the stranded, muzzled, honest citizens lived by the
skin of their teeth. The unscrupulous, puppet government after all, had had a
major stake in all the illicit gains. As it were, resultant gruesome episode of
the last decade, the authorized contentious power now rested in the hands of
two rival gangs that to date had ruthlessly controlled (dominated) the
allocated, segments -the so called, parcels of land and people.
The same held true even for this remote,
desolate stretch where Kaimu and Ensa lived. The other inhabitants, the
so-called fishermen, fared better, only because they’d succumbed to temptation.
Accordingly, engaged in the endless trafficking of contraband goods and other
vile, illicit acts (goings on) swelled their bellies (abdomen) and purses but,
as Ensa had so often pointed out, stained their reputation, and more
importantly, their eternal soul. The repercussion of gruesome premature end
unfortunately was not a good enough deterrent, as the material benefits far
outweighed the perils.
Unrelentingly, she again pushed once
more to get her point across.
Kaimu was perhaps uncouth, at times even
sacrilegious, but he loved her. And in the end always came around to doing the
right, honorable thing. Married when she was barely thirteen and he well into
his twenties, despite the age difference and bumpy start, to date they had had
a blissful cohabitation. Nor had he ever given her a serious cause for any
regret!
But this time- and this she was to learn
later- she’d seriously underestimated his desperation.
“No, no.” she insisted, changing the subject. “I'm talking about her clothes.”
“Ha? What about them?” he asked
agitated.
“Why, they are man's clothes.”
“So, what!” he grumbled, leaning back.
“I could see that for myself wife, I’m not blind!”
“Very well then dear Husband,” she
poignantly reasserted, “You must then also acknowledge that no matter which
part of the country one comes from, which background, whether rich or poor, the
standard, the quality of clothing is markedly different for each. Now while her outer garments, without a
doubt, are that of a mercantile class, her embroidered undergarments are of
such fine quality of silk and lace- that it’s befitting nothing short of a lady
of highest rank and substance! I venture to guess, could even be that of
nobility! I’ve hung them all up to dry in our son’s old room, go see for
yourself, if you doubt me!”
“I’m no pervert. When have I ever looked
or handled woman’s undergarments that I should do so now? Imagine all this fuss
you’re raising over mere clothes! I may be an uncouth fellow, certainly not as
learned as you but I too have some worldly (sophisticated) experience, there
was no cause for your high-handed speech. Now be straight with me… What are you
really trying to say, what’s the actual point woman?” he scoffed with a
jeer. But without waiting for her to answer
he then added, “Besides, why should that make any difference?”
“Husband, ignorant as I am,” she began
humbly, after being so chastised, “I think it's safe to (say) speculate that
she was under disguise at the time of catastrophe at sea, for a definite
reason! It may even be that...”
“Bah!” Kaimu interrupted sharply. And now having lost all patience, with a
retort he dismissed her words. “What
difference does it make whether she was wearing men's clothes or not, whether
she has a wealthy family or not?
Nobility! Bah! Next thing I know, you’ll be claiming that she’s a
Princess! Women, why are you trying to
provoke me? Stop trying to spoil my
happiness, or I swear you'll see the back of my hand!”
This threat could be prelude to a
beating. A thing he’d sworn never to do since that last time, a long, long time
ago, when as newlyweds they had both been headstrong and young. His face now
flushed with anger; he reaffirmed this threat with a slam of his fist on the
table.
“You are such a sour old woman, always
trying my patience, confusing my head, always dampening my spirits with your
web of tales, with your uncontrolled imagination running amok and your daunting
pious beliefs! Don’t get me started
now!”
He shook his head as he gritted his
teeth. He took a deep breath, then after a brief repose, before she could
respond, he begun again. “Tell me, where did all this careful, virtuous living
or all that morality get us? Why aren’t you discontented with the scant
reserves and our meager livelihood? Always living on the edge, we are no better
than scavenging rats! We’re the worst of the lot. Why? Because of your
insistence of being upright and proper! When I had that accident, we’d suffered
greatly because we exist on the margin. What’s wrong with wanting a bit more
out of life now and then, if only to soften the next blow, to cushion the next
(subsequent) inevitable adversity…Or catastrophe! I cannot always be strong for
you; I’m getting on in years. When I become too old and feeble, what will
become of us then? We’ll fall prey and be consumed as easily as flies being
swatted!”
She always had her fate to keep her
strong. But Kaimu being more a pragmatist, the growing concerns robbed him of
any solace. In his restless state Ensa feared he would seek unwarranted
trouble. Especially since Kaimu’s raised concerns could not be disputed or
dismissed.
Reduced to silence, her head riddled
with worrisome thoughts, Ensa left to fetch the pot (on the burner) to anew
refill his mug. Knowing that any attempt to dissuade him from his aim now would
be in vain: she’d sought this opportunity to get away to provide him with time
to calm down.
The fear of vulnerability that his
accident had evoked; being so incapacitated, it had changed him somewhat!
But as if deranged, he’d continued (to
explode) with his long-winded tirades (diatribes), perhaps, in part trying to
convince himself to override any intrusive moral reason. “I found her and as a rule of the sea she
belongs to me. Me, you understand! Not you!
Me! Besides, if I had not saved her life, she would have been fishmeal
by now; so what are you gibbering this nonsense about, foolish woman!”
His anger and fury now unleashed he
continued to cuss (swear/curse) under his breath. Why does she persist in taking contrary
(opposing) viewpoint and spoil everything?
Obstinate woman! How can she be so blinded to their despondency? He’d
realized his worst fear when he’d been incapacitated, admittedly, for the first
time in a long memory. But the so-called “alarm-bell” had resounded so loudly
in his head and chest that to date he quaked in fear for her wellbeing, her
welfare!
She would not survive a day without him!
His hand violently shoved aside the mug
that she’d just refilled to the brim. The careless, angry act however had its
consequence. The mug’s hot contents had spilled all over the table, not sparing
his hand. Scolded, the pain gave him added reason to bellow. His head exploding
now with all that fury, his face flushed bead red and his fists, despite the
stinging pain, clenched. Frowning, (with knit eyebrows) he burrowed his fierce,
piercing gaze (eyes) on her back as she’d rushed off to fetch him some soothing
ointment. He started to say something ugly, but then on second thought he
relented. Staying (holding) his tongue, he sprang from his seat and darted
outside without so much as a word.
In the cool, crisp air, unrestrained, he
unleashed his anger on any hindrance. He kicked around indiscriminately and
fumed, swearing, cursing, and grumbling animatedly under his breath, until his
rage was spent.
Though very much concerned, she knew
better than to go after him, and so had let him be.
After a period of absence (spell) he
returned, seemingly pacified, closing the door behind him.
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With cool heads prevailing, he was now
ready to resume sensible discussion, or failing that, with his ready rebuttal.
Seated at the table once more, he with disdain pushed away the soothing paste
she’d kept ready in hand, “There’s no need.”
“Bring me that wine.” After the momentary
stalemate stare, he grumbled, still bearing a grudge. “Not that one!” he
stormed anew, when she’d rushed him the small jar of homemade wine. “I want the
one we've been saving for!” Then he added adamantly, leaving no room for a
discussion. “Tonight, I mean to
celebrate!”
She did not dare raise any more
objections or in any way contradict him this time, not when he was still in
such a foul mood, so in obedience (complying,) she quickly went off to fetch
the wine that she had hidden in a secret place at the back shed. She had concealed this jug of wine there for
quite some time now in happy anticipation of their son's safe return.
As she dusted the cobwebs and dirt of
the jug she vented her anger in a mumble, deeming that her husband had finally
lost all sense and that he had gone stark, raving mad. “Acting like a senseless
youth, imagine claiming ownership to a person as if he is some lord or God!”
When she returned to the cabin with the
sealed jug of wine, she found Kaimu better disposed, having once again been
transformed into his earlier gentler self. In her absence, Kaimu had inwardly
redressed the innate problems, in the end choosing not to dwell on the negative
aspects or the possible repercussions for keeping the girl. Instead, he chose to concentrate on the
future happiness and on the expected prosperity (prosperous returns) the bounty
would bring”.
Smiling, Kaimu now watched his frowning
wife place the jug and a single cup on the table. He reached out but instead of
the jug, affectionately grabbed hold of her hand and looking into her eyes said
in a gentle, placating tone, “Wife, let us not argue. This is a very lucky day for us. We should be happy. We should be rejoicing, yes,
be celebrating the good catch and of my being restored to good health. My love,
do bring over another cup and join me.”
Somewhat pacified, she went to fetch
herself a cup. When she returned, she
warned, “But only one turn, you know I cannot tolerate spirit of this
strength.”
Feeling more masculine, “Sure, sure.
You’ll get only the pious drops.” he chuckled jesting, then proceeded to fill
both cups to the brim.
“You shouldn’t make fun of my faith (belief).”
She feigned admonition as she reached for hers. They both laughed, feeling
lighter in their heart.
This storm inside had been averted as
well. In his conciliatory mood, he now
grinned from ear to ear.
Besides, the less she drank, the more
there’d be left for him to consume.
She had outwardly given in; inwardly
however, as she slowly sipped the unsavory drink, she still could not help pondering
on the concern that his celebration was bit too premature: Undoubtedly the girl belonged to some
powerful family. Why, everything about her spoke volumes in gentility.
Furthermore, someone had gone to a lot of trouble, when faced with certain
peril, to secure (fasten) her on a solid piece of expensive furniture or cabin
door. This she’d deduced from Kaimu’s description of the wood. That singular,
courageous act had definitely saved her life. In this small community, with so
many unlawful opportunists running amok, her presence would be noted, and being
seen as a valuable commodity, sooner or later someone would come to lay claim
to her. In the wake of that, Heaven only
knew what other unforeseen repercussions may follow.
But despite (all her misgivings and) the
sense of foreboding, Ensa in the end, as she’d so often done, conceded to the
fact that they could do nothing or little else to alter the inevitable outcome
of things, being but mere pawns at (in) capricious fate’s hands.
Oh well, tomorrow
was another day. Perhaps Gods will be merciful! She’d therefore with a shrug, went about her chores quietly and
got the bedding ready. Then before her husband got too intoxicated, she asked
his help in transferring the sleeping girl to their son’s room that had been
temporarily (previously used for) converted into storage space. There, things
already put away, in a cleared space she’d already prepared more comfortable,
suitable bedding for their guest.
“Also, in that room the girl would be
less disturbed.” She’d reasoned, providing Kaimu with an opportunity of break.
He’d obligingly responded, then
unfortunately, forgoing sleep, returned to resume his drinking. In the small
hours of the night, as he drained one cup after another, he was placed still at
a more jovial mood. His bouts of
laughter resounded like a loud bell in that small hut and his excited chatter
was enough to wake the sleeping mouse of the habitant.
“What fortuity, what a delicious, good
luck! Not one, but two good catches in
one day!” he chuckled, in a self-congratulatory mood. “I am a fortunate man this very night. With such a prize, things are bound to look
up for us from now on.”
Ensa
could barely keep her eyes open, coming over she reached down to urge him to go
to bed, when he suddenly grabbed her hand. Insistently hanging on, he
eventually persuaded her to sit by his side, to keep him company. “It’s no fun
drinking all by my lonesome. Here love; won’t you share another cupful with me
to celebrate?” He winked with a devilish grin on his lips.
Not waiting for her response, he then
quickly filled another cup and reaching forth, pressed the rim to her lips in a
forceful persuasion.
Seeing that he was tipsy and not wishing
to antagonize him, she complied.
He was not going to see sense this
night. She might as well try to be
amicable. She therefore took another forced sip against her better judgment;
but jerked her head back almost immediately, short of more intakes.
“Go on, drink it,” he persisted
generously, again pressing the rim to her lips to force her to more intakes
(consumption).
“I’d rather not, dear husband’” she
protested in an adamant voice. “You know I get sick if I drink too much. But you go on ahead, as you seem to be having
no ill effects.”
When the other showed his displeasure
with an obvious frown, she hurried to coax him, “Besides, what do I know about
the taste. It’s all the same to me. You
would only be throwing it away. A sure
connoisseur you, drink it all, or better still, save some of it for yet another
day.” After all, past experiences had
taught Ensa how best to handle her husband.
“Quite right, very well,” he acquiesced,
smiling sheepishly. With that, he downed
both cups in two quick consecutive gulps, emptying them in repetition all at
once into his grateful belly.
Afterwards, he smacked his lips with pleasure and winked at his wife,
“Come closer you ravishing beauty, come sit on my lap.”
She simply shook her head, and ceasing
the chance, rushed off, half turning only to say coyly, “You forget, we have
company.”
“After all these years, you’re still
playing hard to get. Do I have to come get you?”
But as he’d been unaccustomed to strong
spirits, even though the contents of the jar had been only half consumed, when
he tried to stand up, feeling light-headed and vertiginous (woozy), he slumped
right back into chair.
“Woo- look at all the stars! Hey, the room is spinning! Are we caught in a
typhoon?”
Before she ejected a response however,
(his head reeling,) feeling giddy he simply passed out, with his head and torso
collapsing on the table.
With some difficulty his wife finally
got him to bed and tugged him under the warm quilt. Snug as a bunny, he snored
loudly till daybreak, in most part keeping her awake.
Rising at dawn the following morning
with a terrible hangover- however maintaining his uplifted and happier spirits
of the night before- he still managed to leave for the sea, as the conditions
of weather continued to be favorable.
(End of section 2)
(Be sure to check back for the next post of Fisherman's Prize, Section 3)
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