The Island

Chapter 10

Day Four.

I got up early, headed out to the fishing hole, but first stopped by the calendar to ritually move the stones. I aligned them to Tuesday, February 9 and sat down in the center of the ring to think and pray.

I started with a prayer of thanks. I am filled with relief and gratitude to God that I am not alone on this island; even if those people are total strangers. I feel in my heart I need to provide them with food. So I'm going to catch three fish and cook them on a fire. It didn't rain last night, and the morning sun looked promising. I've got enough dry tinder nests and kindling stored in the life raft, so getting a fire going should be a piece of cake. I'll also bring some coconuts; one each for them.

In my hurried generosity, I neglected to consider how I'll be able to carry everything. The three fish I can string on a cord and carry with one hand. The coconuts? Nope, I'll have to gather ones nearby. So I'll present the fish, then get coconuts and crack them open as they watch. They'll see I can provide; I can be trusted. I'll make them proud.

Why do this? Why show kindness when they show fear?

Well, this is what I'm learning. Respond to hate with love and kindness. There's no reason to see these women as enemies. Maybe to them, I'm a male infidel, a stranger who they fear desires to take advantage of them. If first impressions mean anything, it doesn't help I was shirtless. What if they're not accustomed to seeing a half-naked man? No wonder the lady with the pointed finger kept nattering away.

I took a moment and prayed for all three of them, that God would use this act of kindness to break their fears. The added drama these women bring is welcomed in comparison to the solitary confinement over the last few days.

I grabbed my net, went to the fishing hole, and routinely pulled out four similar-sized white fish, whacking them hard on the rocks to knock them out. Then I strung them up by the gills on a length of cord. Fishing in cold Alberta lakes was never this easy!

I carefully made my way over the rocks with my catch and returned to camp. The sun was rising above the trees as I patiently made a fire, gutted the fish, and placed the entrails in one of my coconut bowls. I took a well-deserved trip to the latrine tossing in the entrails too. I found some long, thin dry bamboo and skewered the fish, slowly roasting each one over the fire. I ate the smallest one and downed it with fresh stream water and some coconut juice. The breakfast of champions.

These women leave me puzzled, curious and filled with inquiring questions. Who are they? Where are they from? How did they survive? And of course, the big winner, the one that matters for all of us; did you radio for help?

I stopped by the stream to fill up a shell I made with water. I sealed the hole with a roll of fibres. I'd like to bring more water, but I don't think I can safely carry the fish and the water over the rocks. The water will be my negotiating tool. I can always come back and fill it, or if they have bottles, maybe they can come to the stream.

My heart is racing, as I nervously put on my jeans with shaky hands. This time I'm wearing my shirt over my undershirt, leaving no bare skin exposed. I need to make a better impression; my credibility is at stake here.

And so I set out, roasted fish strung around my neck and side, the coconut in my right hand, leaving my left one free for clambering over the rocks. In my back pockets are two proven coconut scraper stones, I'll leave one with them if they want it. And I've got my rock-knife in my left pocket; it's so hard to walk with these object bulging through my pants. I'm hoping to leave a better impression and depending on how well they receive me, I'll crack open some coconuts.

As expected, I make better time going through the rock outcrops the second time. I remembered the safe spots for footing and carefully hold the coconut canteen, maintaining balancing. I stop to rest whenever I get fatigued and check on the fibre stop in the canteen. It holds well. Finally, I arrive at their beach. The yellow and red life raft is still there; perched against the rock face. I exhale a sigh of relief that they didn't run off into the jungle with it, but also some anxiety takes hold of what I'm about to do.

The sun is still rising behind me in the morning sky, the air here feels cool and fresh. My watch says 9:34 am. I mutter out a quick prayer. Let's do this!

I don't see anyone on the beach or in the water. The life raft and canopy are still. There is no breeze, I hear the squishing sound of my feet on the dry rocky sand.

"Hello! It's me. Mark!" I shout out, continuing to make my way towards the life raft at a brisk pace. I carefully step from sand patch to sand patch to avoid the sharp rocks. I feel water running down the sides of the canteen so I slow down and keep my hand steady.

There's a sudden movement in the life raft and out poke two faces hidden behind burqas. I am greeted with high pitched screams; stopping me in my tracks. I glance around quickly; wondering where Gun-lady might be – I don't see her. I'm about thirty meters away from the women and decide to slowly walk towards them. All I see through their head coverings are eyes filled with panic and terror. I halt and slowly pull the fish string off around my head, holding it up with one hand. I hold out the coconut canteen in the other.

"Food!" I cry, gently waving the fish over my head. "Water! I have food! and water!"

The two black burqa-faces scream louder. I feel a sharp sudden pain above my right ear. The world starts to slowly spin. I can't walk straight.

Then everything went black.

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Mark's attempt at showing kindness to frightened strangers doesn't go as planned. Read on to continue...