Ombu'una

By Peter England

ONCE upon a time, said Wasau . .

Now, look, Wasau, I said, the lunch was excellent. The yam was done to a turn. The dried pig, if a little tough, was very satisfying.

I now propose to finish this horrible cigar which you so kindly rolled for me. After that I shall have half an hour’s nap before starting on the ten miles which we still have to complete before sundown. So, some other time . . .

Master, said Wasau, without even bothering to look at me, this is a very good story and a very true one and was told to me by my tumbuna ancestors. Now take out your little hook with the skin of the crocodile, and your pencil, and write it down with all the other stories. Now hear me, master. . .

Once upon a time, said Wasau, there lived a strong and handsome young man named Kapuma; in addition he was a cunning and suc cessful hunter. He had two hunt ing dogs named Tika and Ebom.

One day, when he had been hunting from early morning until late afternoon without success, his dogs finally started a fine big pig.

After a short chase they brought the animal to bay, and Kapuma killed it with one throw of his long polished limbon spear.

By now it was too late to return home, so he cut the pig up into small pieces, placed them on a rough rack made from sticks, and lit a slow fire underneath to smoke the meat. Then he looked around for a place to sleep, and soon found a large hollow log lying on the ground. So he called Tika and Ebom to him, and together they crawled into the log and went to sleep.

Now, while Kapuma and his two dogs were sleeping soundly in their log, it began to rain. It was not ordinary rain, but came down from the sky as if the gods had decided to pour all the water into the world on this one spot. The creeks rose, and before very long they over flowed their banks and the whole of the countryside became one vast river pouring down to the sea.

The hunter and his dogs, ex hausted after their day’s exertions, knew nothing of this until they woke at daylight the next morning.

When Kapuma put his head out he was surprised to see nothing but water; they had, in fact, been swept many miles to sea. They crawled out and sat on top of the log, and thus they drifted for two days and two nights, the log ever sinking lower and lower in the water. On the third day the log finally turned over and sank, and the man and dogs were thrown into the sea. Two

sharks immediately appeared and ate the dogs. (The name of one shark, said Wasau, in parenthesis, was Ongta, and the name of the other was Kombawabogan), but the man swam on and on for a long time until eventually he reached the island of Ombu’una. Now, at this time the island of Ombu’una was inhabited only by women. There were no men. . .

Now just a moment, I said. You say there were no men on the island. Well where did the women come from?

Master, said Wasau patiently, I was just about to tell you.

The only other living things on the island were flying-foxes, and consequently the women were obliged to mate with these creatures And, as everybody knows, in such a mating only women-children are born.

When Kapuma landed on the island he was very hungry, but he followed a bush track until he found a garden with plenty of taro and yams and bananas and sweet sugar-cane. When he had had his fill he hid in the bush nearby, and made himself a little shelter of

saplings and palm fronds. In this way, lying concealed during the day, and getting food from the garden late in the evening, Kapuma lived for several weeks. He knew that if he allowed himself to be discovered he might very well be killed by the inhabitants.

Now, the garden near which Kapuma was hiding belonged to two sisters named Yarak, the elder, and M'wana, the younger. The sisters lived in a house of their own. Yarak was a shrewd and thrifty housewife, and worked hard in her garden each day. M’wana too, helped in the house and in the garden, but sometimes when Yarak was busy she would run down to the beach, to a little hidden cove and gaze out to sea—for she was of that age in young women when strange, untamed, and disturbing things race through their heads.

Well, it did not take long for Yarak, who in addition to being a good housewife also had very sharp eyes, to notice that there were strange footprints in her garden.

And to notice, particularly, that the footprints were much larger than those that would be left by any of the women on the island.

So, one day, having sent M’wana

home early to attend to the cook ing of the evening meal, she laid in wait. Just before the sun went down Kapuma made his daily visit in search of food, but he had hardly set foot in the garden when he was confronted by a woman armed with bow and arrow. He was afraid.

“Are you masalai ghost or are you man?” asked the woman.

“I am man,” answered Kapuma.

The woman looked at him. Then she told him to get into her bilum net bag. She covered him with banana leaves, putting a light layer of taro on top. Then she swung the thong of the bilum on to her forehead and lifted it on to her bcick M’wana sat before the fire on the ground cooking the evening meal. As Yarak climbed the ladder up to the house, she called to her: “To-night you may sleep beside the fire. I am tired of having you sleep with me in the house.”

So that night, and for several moons which followed, M’wana slept beside the fire under the house, and Yarak kept Kapuma hidden. When she left in the day time to work in her garden she barred the door strongly from the outside. She forbade M’wana to ascend the ladder.

But one day Yarak had to visit a distant village, on the other side of the island. As usual, she barred the door strongly, and in addition sprinkled ashes on the rung' of the ladder and on the ground down below. She cautioned M’wana to watch over the house carefully, but not to set foot on the ladder.

When Yarak had Mt, M’wana took a digging stick, and thrusting its sharpened point between two of the split-palm floor boards, she widened the gap until she was able to peer into the room above. When she had seen, she climbed up the ladder and opened the door. When she saw Kapuma face to face, she asked: “Are you masalai ghost or are you man?”

“I am man.”

Then all the strange, untamed, and disturbing things that used to trouble her when she gazed out to sea suddenly crystallised, and she said: “I am woman.”

And she went inside and shut the door behind her.

When Yarak returned she saw at once that the ashes on the ladder had been disturbed. She accused Kapuma and b-came very angry.

She called him many hard names and struck him and threw him down out of the house, and his neck was broken and he died. Then she cried out in a loud voice to the other women of the village, and when they were come .'he said to them: “You must cut my belly and take away what they found inside, and side.” And they did as she asked,

and cut open her belly, and took away that they found inside, and Ysr3,k died But later, when the star of the new year rose in the sky, M’wana gave birth to a man-child, whose name was Lasika. And Lasika grew up with the woman-children of the island, and he played with them in the soft grass that grew at the margins of the gardens, and on the golden sand of the beaches, and soon many man-children were born in addition to women-children, and they became a happy race of people. + m Wasau paused. ‘7s that the end of the story?” I asked.

“Yes, master,” said Wasau, with a sigh—for he is a sentimental cuss —“it is finished.”

“And, master” he added, as he started stowing my mess gear away in a ruksak, “if you are sorry for me, you will give me two shillings so that I may buy some be~el nut.

Also, I have no tobacco.”