For The Tribe

(Papua New Guinea, 1526) 
    Isa was woken by a sudden banging against the walls of her home. She crawled out of her nest of animal skins and pulled open the leather entrance flap. A gust of wind knocked her back and she struggled to keep on her feet. Outside, rain fell in rapid buckets. The hillside had created a narrow pathway for the downpour to flow into the basin center where the lower-class of the village lived, flooding it with mud and debris. It had come too quick for them to escape its onslaught. Men and women clambered up the slick embankment, only to be tossed down again. Isa tried to run to them, to save them from the storm, but it was too much for her. The wind threw her about, heaving her naked body to the ground. She retreated to the safety of her home, taking a last look at the end of the storm cloud. She noticed the contrast between the black void above them, and the clear expanse of the starry sky after it. Resting between was the storm's edge, the thin line between chaos and peace.
    That night was the worst Isa had experienced. Fat stones of ice were mixed in the heavy rainstorms that battered her thin hut. She sat huddled in the corner of her home. The screams of those that had been stranded at the bottom of the valley pierced her heart and she wept. When the storm had come, it was too late for them to evacuate their homes. Isa was one of the lucky ones, she and most of the tribe had lived on the top of the hillside. Knowing there was nothing anyone could do for them, she closed her eyes and prayed, mourning the loss of her kinsmen.
    May you find peace in the Mother's embrace, Isa pleaded. In the back of her mind, anger snuck its way in, I hope Onaka is suffering as badly as they are, she fumed. She blamed him for this disaster and cursed his name to the storm. He was the one that had forced her to perform the Toliwaga, breaking the sanctity of the ceremony, bringing this upon her people. Isa laid her head down and tried to rest.
    The next morning, after a night devoid of sleep, Isa woke up groggy and depressed. She stumbled her way outside, careful not to walk through the water that had pooled in the middle of her home. The rest of the village seemed to feel the same way she did. There were people already outside, scooping water from their houses with broken shells. Others were pulling corpses from shattered huts. Then Isa got word from her old friend Yauwii that he had found the wreckage of the young hunting expedition they had sent out the night before, during the Toliwaga, down near the beach.
That morning Isa held a vigil on the beach for the deceased. The stench of burnt flesh and briny saltwater hung in the air like a smog. Loved ones of those who were lost to the storm wept at the pyre. Around her men and women bowed to the fire. Many cried, others cursed in mournful anger. Isa stood above them, a blank expression on her cheeks while she recited the blessing of the departed over the pounding waves behind her.
    May you find peace in the Mother's embrace, she said emotionless to the vigil. Turning towards the crowd. And may all of you as well.
Like an immovable stone Isa stood erect in her spot while corpse after corpse was thrown in.

    Afterwards Isa left the village, wandering the jungle in hopes of finding a reason for all of this misery. She crawled over trees blown apart by the wind and clawed through walls of vines that stood in her way. Isa started to run, her bare legs scratched by each small branch that whizzed by her. She pulled at vine after vine, tearing away the jungle as she went. The world was a blur. Her soulava bounced against her bare chest as she sprinted. Isa gripped the delicate shells and ripped it from her neck, throwing it to the ground as she sprinted by.
    All I had to do was refuse Onaka, she thought.
    A small cracked sapling crossed Isa's path. She took hold of it and wrenched it backwards, snapping it in two. Isa's pace quickened until she was in a dead run. The wind whistled in her ears as she rampaged through the jungle. Oh Mother, why did this happen? She slowed to a stop, leaning against a tree. Her heavy panting turned into deep sobs. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she wept. Isa cried, screaming out in anger at the jungle.
    You bastards! Why did you do this to me? She pounded her fist against the bark. Hooking her fingers into the crevices, Isa tore down the tree's covering, exposing the sappy underbelly. She punched until her knuckles bled, cursing the world the whole time.
    A faint voice from the other side of the tree line returned her scream with its own. Isa stood silently, listening for the mysterious voice. It came again, louder this time, past the trees and behind the hills ahead of her.
    Laying face-up in the mud was a pale-skinned man dressed in soaked cloth the color of the sun, the shoulders of it puffed up like clouds, besmirched by mud and grass. Isa prodded him with her foot, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him. He laid there motionless.
    Isa rolled him over and searched his face for any sign of consciousness. Cautiously, she lowered her hand onto his chest, pulled back his strange clothes and felt for a pulse. A slow rhythm pumped beneath her palm. She knelt beside him and rummaged through his pockets hoping to find any clue of who he is.
    She laid a small hide casing out in front of her. Inside was some kind of shiny thin rock with a cloth handle on the end. It fit her palm nicely, the edge no longer than her foot. Isa rubbed her finger along the side of it. It sliced easily through her calloused skin, leaving a shallow cut.
    She held the sharp object up to the light to gain a better look and it caught the sun. The blinding flash made her eyes water and she turned her head from it. Her mind raced with questions she was afraid to find the answers for.
Isa crouched next to the oddly-dressed man and held the flashing edge against his pale throat. She looked at his battered frame, his clothes were torn apart and blood had stained the thick garments where the ferns had caught him on his fall down the hill. He reminded her of the children she would care for in her younger days. When they, while on the beach playing, would come running to her with tears streaming down their cheeks after cutting themselves on the barnacles. She would hold them tight, saying that everything would be ok, that the world was a harsh place. That the Mother let this happen so that they would grow stronger from it.
    Through adversity comes strength, she would tell them while wiping the blood away. Then Isa would send them home to their parents after they had come back from their long days in Onaka's taro fields.
    Isa knew her only option left was to bring him back with her. It was a worrying thought though. As much as she hated it, she wouldn't be able tell the village of this stranger. Especially if he is one of Onaka's lackeys or a spy from a rival tribe. The chief would find a way to twist this around on her. Even if he wasn't one of his underlings, Isa couldn't let word get out about him or else Onaka might use him to further enslave the village. The chief might try to negotiate a deal with the stranger's people for his release and that could only go one way. War. She knew what she had to do.
    Isa wandered the jungle for a while longer, gathering large leaves and thick vines to drag him behind her. She rolled him onto the makeshift sled and trekked back to her hut.

    It was night when the Isa arrived back in town with the unconscious stranger. While the villagers slept, Isa dragged the man inside and tied him up to the post. Before she went to sleep she double checked her knots and tied a gag around his mouth. Just in case.
The next morning Isa awoke to the man sitting quietly in the corner of the shack. His clothes had dried, but still smelled like earth and algae. His hands were still bound by the woven jungle vines. Isa stood there analyzing him, his gaze never meeting hers.
    Isa knelt down, inviting him to share. How did you get here? Where did you come from? The man sat silently, ignoring her questions.
    There was a small gash on his left temple with stale blood caked on it where he must have been struck by something. She stretched her fingers out to touch it but the man recoiled from her. His quiet demeanor turned to panic and he struggled against the bonds, screaming through the gag.
I'm not going to hurt you! Isa tried to calm him down.
    She held her arms outstretched above her head, showing him she meant no harm. Isa started backtracking towards the entrance.
Then the man stopped struggling. He was crying, dirty tears trickling off of his beard. Isa cautiously knelt in front him. He continued to sob through the cloth in his mouth.
    Please, I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to talk. She pleaded with her words and gestures. The stranger ignored her and continued to sob, now mixed with muffled words Isa didn't understand. Isa held her finger to her lips to quiet him and, when the man had stopped his bawling, Isa pulled away his gag.
    The man spoke in a worried voice. Although the words he said were foreign to her, his tone belied his fear.
Why doesn't he answer? Isa pondered. Maybe he doesn't understand me. I've heard of some border tribes that speak in a different tongue.
    Isa heard a splash from the puddles outside of her home. She quickly shoved the cloth back into his mouth, cutting him off. The man started to fight the bindings again while Isa stood up to greet her unexpected visitor.
    As soon as Isa stepped outside she was met by Kubal's malicious smile.
    Isa, I'm glad to see you awake. After all the deaths you caused the other day I thought you may even not try to wake up at all. He noticed the scabs on her knuckles from when she had been hitting the tree. Are you feeling alright Isa? I would hate to see you start to lose it.
    It was too early and there was too much on Isa's mind to deal with Kubal's taunts.
    What do you need boy? She replied.
That's no way to talk to your Bwaga'u, perhaps a little more respect next time.
His father's arrogance was one of the worst traits he'd inherited. From the day he was born Onaka had rooted in him his lust for power. It was horrifying to watch. When he was a youngling, Isa did everything she could to shield him from his father's selfish influence. But in the end blood is thicker than water.
    Isa tried to walk past him but he grabbed her shoulder and whispered in her ear.
    The next time you screw up a Toliwaga and cause a storm to kill a third of my servants, at least have the decency to apologize before you go storming off into the jungle.
    How dare you! She hissed.
    Isa turned and clubbed him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. The commotion drew the attention of some villagers as they were heading for their duties. Now Kubal had an even bigger smile plastered across his bony face and Isa knew what this had looked like to the people. In their eyes she just hit Kubal for no reason. And with whatever lies Onaka had spread about her after her sudden disappearance yesterday, who knew what the tribe thought of her. Even after everything that she's done for them.
    Isa bowed her head to avoid the accusing stares of her kinsmen and stormed towards the garden to perform her morning blessing.

    Isa was in a very foul mood. After the commotion with Kubal, and the lackluster garden blessing, she was excited for a change of tone. Isa was eager to get back to her hut and check on the stranger.
    He was sat sprawled against the post, asleep. He didn't stir even as Isa knelt in front of him to check his head wound. It's looking better, Isa thought. The man's eyes blinked a few times as he woke up. He began to struggle against the bindings again upon seeing her, but gave up soon after.
    Please, I just want to talk. Isa smiled as wide as she could, trying to show him that she wasn't a threat. I'm going to take off the cloth so you can speak, but you need to stay quiet. She held a finger to her lips to show what she meant. The man just stared at her. Isa reached up and pulled the cloth from his mouth.
    Alguém me ajude! The man screamed out.
    Isa shoved the gag back into his mouth to silence him. She sat quietly for a moment, listening for any sign that someone had heard. I'm just trying to have a conversation with you. Just a couple of questions and I'll let you go. Why are you making this so difficult? Even though she had no intention of releasing him anytime soon, she had to say anything to calm him.
    Isa stood up and pulled the man's weapon from underneath her sleeping mat. She shoved it in his face which shut him right up.
   I'm going to pull that gag from your mouth, and I need you to not scream, or I will have to hurt you. To emphasize this Isa made a slow cutting motion in the air, which made the man's eyes widen even more. She made the raised her finger to her lips again and he nodded his head in agreement. Isa pulled the gag out, keeping the strange weapon to his throat.
    Let's start with something simple. What is your name?
    Não te entendo. The stranger said, worried.
    Isa pointed at herself and repeated her name slowly to him. Ee-sah. She pointed to him next.
    Meu nome é Jorge. He responded.
    Jorge? She asked. He nodded his head, a nervous smile painted across his cheeks.
    Isa continued to mime her questions for Jorge. After little success, Isa walked behind him and held the weapon to his throat while she untied his bindings. She gave him a small knick just to make sure he wouldn't run off. With his chest pressed against the post, Isa tied his hands together in front of him so he could use them. Then she started asking him questions again.
    How did you get here? Isa asked, frustrated. Jorge just shook his head, unsure of how to answer. She grabbed a spare pendant hanging off of her wall and started drawing a shape into the ground.
    Boat? Isa asked, pointing at the drawing of a canoe she hastily drew in the dirt. Jorge nodded his head and drew his own boat next to hers. It was larger, much larger. With what looked like a giant leaf attached to a pole in the middle of it. Now that she knew how he got here, she needed to find out why. Isa spelt Onaka's name in the ground, along with a symbol of a cross, Onaka's family crest. Jorge got excited at that, nodding his head and pointing at the symbol.
    Cristo! Cristo! He exclaimed.
    Panic swelled up in Isa's bosom, cascading through her body. I knew it, I knew you were working for him! Why did he send you? To spy on me? Tell me Jorge! He hid his face behind the post in fear, his arms shaking. She kept asking him questions, but he stayed silent.
    Isa was getting frustrated. How does he do this?! Tell me Jorge, how is it that he's always one step ahead of me? Answer me! Isa screamed at him and slammed her palm against the pole. Jorge squealed into the cloth and cowered in his hiding place. Isa took a step back and leaned against the wall, letting herself slide down until she was sitting with both legs sprawled in front of her, defeated.
    She looked over at the frightful man and sighed. I've spent my whole life trying to fight his influence over this village. My whole life! First it was the chiefdom, then his son, and now he's taking their pride. Working them like animals and giving them no time to spend with their families. He's been nothing but a plague on this tribe since the day he was born. He cares nothing for these people. Onaka takes what he wants and destroys whoever gets in his way.
    Isa was fighting back the tears. He forced me to perform that ritual! I didn't want to, I knew what would happen. I tried to stop him, to tell him of the sacredness it held, but there's nothing I could have done. If I had refused he would have denounced me as a traitor. I couldn't let him do that, the people need me. I did it for the tribe. Now he's turned them all against me. The people I've committed my life to protect. He did that to me. Isa paused. He has to pay. Shells clink together from outside the entrance. She stopped talking, listening for the intruder.
    Kubal, she thought. That bastard thinks he can sneak up on me like that. I can't let him know that I have his agent. Her mind raced as she frantically scanned her hut for a solution. Then she remembered the stranger's tool she still held. It flashed in her memory again, a cold hard blaze.
She crawled closer to the entrance, while Jorge sat in silence in the corner, watching her. Isa stopped talking as she stood at the leather flap. Her arms flew out the door and latched onto Kubal. She slashed out with the weapon, hitting home with every strike. Isa closed her eyes and pulled him closer to her, plunging it into his gut. She felt his warm blood pour over her hands as she tore into him. Stab, stab, stab. She drew the weapon in and out of his torso. Isa held her hand over his mouth to keep him from making a sound.
     The blood made her hands too slick, and the weapon slipped from her palm, landing in the dirt between them. He grunted in anguish and tried to pull away, but she held tight to his shoulder and dragged him into her hut. But when she opened her eyes to look at her fallen enemy, all she saw was Yauwii's face, surprise etched into his withered brow. His eyes were sad, full of confusion and pain. He struggled to speak, to ask why, but only blood spilled from his lips, staining his dark skin. Then the life left his body and he went still.
    No, Yauwii... I didn't mean to... I thought you were... Isa's voice trailed off. She dropped to her knees. I killed him... My friend, I...
    She picked up the weapon from the ground, Yauwii's blood dripping off the end. Isa stared at her the lifeless body lying next to her. She brought the sharp edge to her throat.
    Jorge stared at her, stunned confusion in his eyes.
    I have to do this, I'm a monster, he told him. I killed my friend, I'm no better than Onaka. Isa took a deep breath and drew it back for a long slice. He closed his eyes and turned away from her.
    He's taunting me, Isa thought. He thinks I won't do it. I will, don't doubt me Jorge.
    She paused for a moment, contemplating what she was about to do. Isa brought the weapon from her throat and approached the man.
You know I have to do this, she explained to Jorge. He responded with a grunt and continued to ignore her. What is he trying to do? Isa wondered. Holding onto his shoulder, she spun the man back around until they were locking eyes. What do you want from me? She questioned. I deserve this, so quit your silent judgements.
    He hastily drew in the ground the symbol of the cross again.
Onaka. He's right, I can't die yet, not while they still need me.   
    The weapon fell to the ground with a soft thud. Isa agreed. Ok, I'll hide the body, then figure out how to deal with Onaka and Kubal.