Ekewane – The Sorceress
M Rigoni
Copyright M Rigoni 2013
Ekewane
The Sorceress
by
M Rigoni
Illustrations by Benito M. Brancalion
Although the characters within this book are fictional and do not specifically relate to any one culture, the story is intertwined with anthropological information, beliefs and legends from the people who still inhabit the islands of the Pacific.
First published 2013 by Marmolada Pty Ltd
Copyright © M Rigoni 2013
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, in any form or by any mean, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information
storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-0-9873544-1-9
Illustrations
By Sandra Noke
Cover. Ekewane - The Sorceress
By Benito Mario Brancalion
- The Voyage …Traditional Pacific Islander canoe
- The Hidden Lake …A small brackish water inland lake
- The Frigate Bird Game…Frigate bird and roost
- Tribal War…Tribal armour / based on Ergebnisse Der Sudsee-Expedition 1908-1910. Paul Hambruch: Nauru:169.
- Island Village …Traditional Pacific Islander Village
Acknowledgements
There are always many people within our lives that help, support and guide us as we travel from one endeavour to another. It would be impossible for me to list everyone that has helped, supported and influenced me to write this book. However, I shall try and name some of those people that I think were instrumental to the completion of this book.
Sandra for creating a fantastic cover.
Carl and Mary, who originally persuaded and helped me to write a book on the customs, beliefs, legends and history of Nauru.
Clive who contributed with his knowledge of the Pacific Islands and the ‘fresh food packs’ he brought to us when we were living on the islands.
Don who first edited and discussed endlessly the myths and beliefs of people.
My editor Des whose help was crucial in editing the final manuscript.
Joe who finally got to format and see my book printed.
Adrian who helped with the editing and publication of the book.
My mother and brothers: John, Mirian; Johnny, Giulia; Anthony, Sharon; who have always been there for me.
To Susanna, Louis, and Marc.
My wonderful sons Adrian and Denis, whom together with their wives, TuQuan and Penny have always loved, supported, encouraged, and given me the most beautiful gifts of all, my grandchildren: Kiara, Aiden, Raquel, Dante and Poppy.
My husband Mario who has been there in my dreams and adventures and whose talent contributed to this book with his illustrations.
To the people of the islands who shared with me their stories and wonderful cultures.
To all of the above I thank you.
Chapter One.
The Voyage
Traditional Pacific Islander seafaring canoe
It was long before Captain Cook sailed the globe and long before Ferdinand Magellan sailed the Pacific in 1519. It was long before Christopher Columbus found the new World of the Americas in 1492, that the people of the Pacific, explored thousands and thousands of kilometres of ocean, from the east coast of Asia across the vast Pacific Ocean, from Korea to Hawaii, in frail outrigger boats with simple sails. Only the stars and strong ocean currents guided them.
These seafarers colonised and inhabited the islands of the archipelagos, known to us as the North and South Pacific.
Ekewane had little room to move on the overcrowded canoe. Not that she had wanted to; she felt very weak and lethargic. She looked down at her legs that like the rest her body had become very thin and constantly ached. The cramps in her legs were especially bad and her knees were beginning to swell. She tried to massage them to help ease the pain, but the massaging action only brought little relief. Her hair once black and lustrous had started to become dry and brittle. Ekewane now spent most of her waking hours in that special part of her mind that allowed her to dream and drift back to the past. The pain was always there in the background, but she could escape the feeling of her body being gnawed by unseen hungry spirits.
It had not rained on their island for many years. The coconut trees had lost most of their leaves, and had only produced very few and small coconuts. The other trees like the pandanus, mango and wild almonds also suffered from the drought; many had either died or produced very little fruit.
The pigs that roamed freely around the village eating the old coconuts and were killed for festive occasions were very thin. The chickens that were traditionally plentiful were now also very few. They had either been eaten by the hungry islanders, or by the dogs that roamed the village. Even the fish, that had always been plentiful in the sea had disappeared. The fishermen had to travel further and further out to sea in order to find enough fish to eat. Some of them never returned.
The elders of the island had decided that some of their people must leave, so that the others could survive the long drought. Ekewane remembered the meetings that were held between all of the elders, and finally, although she did not know why, her family was amongst those that were chosen to leave. The elders had decided that members of many of the families would leave the island in search of another place to live.
Ekewane belonged to the Eilu clan. She was twelve years old and for all her life had lived in her village. Her immediate family consisted of her mother Emanear; father Erangue, and brothers Enara eight, and Egui four. Her little brother Daboi who was only a baby, had died five days after leaving their island. Ekewane’s family had lived with her grandparents, aunties, uncles and numerous cousins. She did not distinguish between her own siblings and cousins; they were one family as far as her clan was concerned.
The huts in which they lived formed a circle. In front of each hut were stones stacked in small heaps, these were the tombs of their ancestors, their guardians and protectors. A member of the family often left food and coconut milk beside these small tombstones. Some of the families buried their ancestors near the centre pole of their hut so that the ancestors’ spirits still lived with them.
In the centre of the hamlet was a ring of various shaped and sized rocks, where a fire would be lit at night. Sometimes, meat would be cooked on it, whilst at other times it would be used to heat hot rocks that were then placed into wooden vessels filled with water, in order to heat it. However, for most nights it was a place for the adults to sit around and talk, whilst the children played nearby. Altogether the village was very large, as it was made up of the different hamlets belonging to the various families.
Ekewane did not know which hut was hers, because many families lived together in the bigger huts and the children kept sleeping in the different huts. In a way they were like different rooms of one big house. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered all the laughter and the games played with her cousins and the rest of the children of the village; but that seemed so long ago. Now all she could see was the vast expanse of sea; all she could hear was the sound of the waves beating against the canoe; all she felt was fear.
The canoe had been drifting for nearly seven weeks. Her father Erangue had asked her mother each day to cut a small mark on the side of the canoe; forty-six cuts were now visible.
She had seen the sun come up from the horizon, again, and again. Each time it rose, everyone looked over the endless
miles of sea always hoping that the light would show some sign of land in the distance. But, each day brought only the flat blue sea and the hot scorching sun.
Ekewane had always loved the sun; after all, she was born on a tropical island where the sun shone for most of the year. But here on the canoe, the merciless sun had become their enemy. Their skins were no longer golden bronze but a strange burnt orange. Blisters had appeared on everyone’s bodies; even though her mother and the other women had rubbed coconut oil over them, it did little to stop the blisters and the strange colour. Eventually, even the oil along with the food, the dried pandanus cakes, coconuts and other vegetables, had finished. They had been living only on the raw fish they were able to catch, and even though the men would often fish from the sides of the canoe, or dive deep into the dark blue sea, the fish were very scarce; they often went hungry.
It had rained on the fifteenth mark. Ekewane remembered, lots and lots of rain. At first everyone felt happy, and lifted their faces to let the rain cool their bodies and trickle down their parched throats, but soon the rain felt icy cold and painful as it slapped their hot burnt bodies.
The rain had turned into a severe storm as it often did in the Pacific, and the canoe was thrown in all directions; it was difficult to cling onto the sides as it went this way and that. The long awaited rain began to feel cold and threatening.
One of the other canoes still nearby, smashed in half. The sails were swept away by the strong wind, and the outrigger shattered as if it was made of flimsy sticks.
Ekewane was too bewildered with terror to be able to shed any tears. They had helped the remaining members into their own canoe; they had been desperately clinging onto what had remained of their upturned craft against the winds, her father and the other men frantically rowed closer in order to reach them. Every now and again they would disappear under the towering waves. Their ancestors had looked down upon them and had helped save the stranded terrified survivors.
“Surely there are now too many people in this canoe!” she thought.
But somehow the long canoe they had built for this journey was able to stay afloat. Other canoes were also spared in the storm; she could see them in the distance. Even though the storm had brought with it the much-needed water, it was now running out yet again.
“Now that there are even more people on board, we do not have enough food and water for ourselves, “how can we survive? The people in the canoe thought. But they all knew they could not have abandoned the stranded members of their tribe.
When they had begun their journey there were ten people in their canoe. All of the other canoes also had ten to eleven people in each; the very small children under the age of two were not counted. The first two years of a child’s life were the most dangerous. Small children often died before the age of two, so when a child turned two there was always a great celebration in the village. A pig was killed and cooked in an underground oven. The pig was covered with banana leaves, yams, and other vegetables wrapped in leaves. The oven was then covered with hot stones.
Ekewane remembered the excitement and happiness she and the other children felt on these occasions. They would get up as soon as the sun appeared and would help collect wood for the fire where the stones were heated. They would help the women wrap the yams and sago in banana leaves, and would watch the men dig a large hole in the ground oven and put the hot stones in it. Then the pig went in, and layer upon layer of vegetables would go on top. After which more hot stones would then cover the mound. She could still hear the singing and dancing that went on all night. Somehow, she knew she would never feel that carefree and happy again. Her years as a carefree child had ended.
“A storm is coming!” cried Emanear, her voice trembling.
Ekewane looked over the endless expansion of blue into the horizon. The threatening dark clouds were swiftly moving towards them at an incredible speed, and although it was hot and sticky, she moved trembling closer to her mother.
Her mind returned to the oncoming storm. The canoes had weathered the last storm; they were built to take them far away from their island. The canoes were built especially for this voyage with wood from the great tomano trees.
The men with axes made of large clamshells, had cut long wide planks. They then drilled small holes, and later using large needles made of bone had sewn them together with coconut rope. Glue, also made from the tomano tree, was used to make the canoe stronger. The outriggers were made from the hibiscus tree because the wood was much lighter. These canoes were more than twice the size of their normal fishing canoes. They were about 12 to 15 strides, and the boards were about four to four and a half hand spans so they were sturdier.
Ekewane remembered the women of the village had prepared dried pandanus preserves and cakes for the voyage. The pandanus cakes were usually made for pregnant women and she had never tasted them until now. But the elders had told the women to prepare them for the long journey.
The children in the village that were leaving were excited at the prospect of their new adventure. Many canoes had left the island; now only a few could be seen in the distance, and each day they became fainter and fainter on the horizon, it was hard to believe that she would not see her friends again.
Ekewane could not cry, her throat hurt from breathing the salty dry air. She knew that they had powerful magic in their canoe. They had dug up the remains of some of their ancestors, which were buried in front of her parents’ hut; their spirits would be needed to help them survive the voyage and in their new lands. The ancient remains were carefully put into a fine woven casket and wrapped in an intricate mat with the patterns of her tribe; she had helped her mother weave the fine thread of the pandanus tree, into the patterns of her ancestors.
She knew that the other villagers had great respect for her mother. Her mother Emanear had magical powers that were handed down to her through generations of the women of her family before her. Ekewane knew that she too would one day inherit this magic from her mother; she had already been shown the power of plants and flowers that helped heal many wounds. She felt a little better thinking of these things; it gave her courage to hope.
Chapter Two.
Leaving the island