Page 3 of Ghosts and Ginger Tea

Lonely she dives, her heart kept small,

A fisher with spears, but she dreams of it all.

As I played with words in my head, a light wind blew around Kalae, the jumping point. Riddles always helped pass the time faster. My small canoe bobbed on the waves while the sun beat down on my back. The black cliffs rose high above me on one side, and the blue water sparkled on the other.

I chewed some kukui nuts, then spat them into the water. The oil from the nuts did not mix with the seawater, providing a clear view into the ocean below. Colorful motions signified that there certainly were fish down there.

My favorite spot never let me down.

I held the ‘ō, a fire-hardened spear, in my right hand. In my left hand I held the hempen loop of the pōhaku kōi, a smooth basalt stone as big as my head.

Here we go. I took three deep, purging breaths, packing my lungs until they hurt.

Then I stepped off the canoe.

The ocean swallowed me as the weight of the stone dragged me down. Down to the depths. Down to the place where the rainbow fish–the best fish–swam.

I didn’t kick, only keeping my body rigid and straight to sink below the underwater cliffs of South Point. The sun filtered down in dramatic rays of light, illuminating the drop-off where the island ended.

My ears throbbed, and I swallowed to clear the pressure.

Deeper and deeper I sank until the light grew dim. And that’s when I saw them: a school of massive, blue-green uhu. The fish had a parrot-like beak, and it grazed on the coral blooming at the mouth of a dark underwater lava tube.

I slipped my wrist out of the stone’s loop, letting the pōhaku kōi sink. I’d pull it up later. For now, I was weightless, hanging in the deep.

My lungs screamed for air but it was a familiar fire I had trained myself, since childhood, to ignore. Kicking once, I glided towards the cave mouth, where some of the uhu swam away.

Seawater burned my eyes, but I focused on one flashing fish in the dim light.

With a thrust of my torso, I drove my ‘ō straight through the scales behind the uhu’s gill. The fish thrashed wildly, kicking up a cloud of sand and blood, a scent that would bring predators in minutes.

Minutes were all I had though.

I grabbed the recovery line tied to my waist and slowly pulled myself up. The dimness turned into brilliant golden light until I broke the surface, inhaling a large gulp of air.

The fish continued to thrash lightly, but I threw him onto the canoe and pulled myself up.

A good day, I thought, looking at all I’d caught, a rainbow of scales and colors that would earn a good fortune if I sold all of it at the market.

And it will pay for mother’s medicine.

Since I got the medicine a few nights ago, mother’s health improved. Only when she could get up and walk about did I return to fishing. I didn’t trust Kiki coming with me, afraid that if either of us left mother’s side for too long, mother would wear herself to the bone again.

Usually Kiki pulled me back up from the depths, or we’d lift the canoe up the sea cliffs together, but… I’d be doing it all alone today.

I’m strong enough, I told myself as I hauled up the pōhaku kōi.

We weren’t sure what sickness came over mother, but we knew it came from the foreigners. In our little, quaint village, only missionaries came once or twice a year. Sometimes whalers or merchants would stop through, but those brief visits were enough to introduce sicknesses our people weren’t used to.

Including my mother.

She caught the cough from a neighbor… and that neighbor had died from it. For a time, mother coughed blood, had constant night sweats, and fatigue that left her bedridden. Kiki and I watched as she disappeared before us, her already thin body morphing into a skeleton of who she was.

We thought we’d lose her, but she miraculously healed. For a time.

The cough and exhaustion returned.

Then it left.