The Pointed Bone

Short story

By Neal Encledow

EPELI helped Mere through the narrow entrance into the dark ened bure and escorted her across the earthen floor to where their two mats lay. Mere did not even bother to remove her clothes but gently lay down, pulling the covers over her extended stomach. Epeli looked sympathetically into her anguished eyes and asked, “Is there anything I can get you? The bus ride was long and dry, would you like some water?”

She nodded painfully and within a few minutes Epeli returned with a glass and helped Mere lift her head to drink. When she finished she lowered her head and shut her eyes. Epeli wiped her forehead with a damp cloth and said, “There, that should make you feel better. I have to go tell the men about the trip to the hospital.

Try to get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Outside, Epeli’s long strides carried him quickly across the village green to the bure where all the men were spending their afternoon drinking yaqona. Epeli was popular in the village. He was not too bright, so instead of asking questions, he just did what was expected of him; caring for his garden, helping his neighbours and going to church each week. He and Mere had been married just over a year and even when she was not ill, he hated to leave her side. He hoped the men would not keep him long, but it was his responsibility to inform them of their trip to town.

He also knew his burden was hard to bear for his broad shoulders and

that his friends would share his con cern with sympathy.

When he entered the bure the mur mur of conversation died as each man in turn looked up at Epeli. The village chief gestured and Epeli joined him in the position of honour in front of the tanoa. The men glanced down as Epeli stepped over and around them to reach the chief.

As he sat, Epeli felt the chiefs arm reach across his broad back.

“Epeli, first have a drink to wet your throat and then tell us what happened at the doctor’s”.

Epeli clapped a muffled sign of respect when he was handed the bilo.

The dry sandy taste of the liquid blended well with the dust left in his mouth from the bus ride and quenched his thirst. To commend his effort the men all clapped three times in unison and then sat silently waiting.

Epeli spoke low and looked down as he told his story. He was tired and disappointed and found it difficult to look anyone in the eye.

“My friends, I am strong in body alone. My heart is weak and pains from worry about my wife and my first child which she carries. My mind is weak and confused because I have tried everything and nothing helps.

I have taken Mere to nurses and doctors but they tell me that they can find nothing wrong. They give her shots and pills that don’t work and send us home to suffer. I cannot sit by and watch my wife die. I hope that you, my chief and my friends

here might suggest what I should do next.”

“And did this doctor in town also have nothing to say?” asked the chief.

“He said only what the others have told me. He can find nothing wrong, but still Mere weakens and will either die or lose the baby unless she im proves. 1 am so frightened, there is only one month till the child is due and I must keep trying till the end.

I pray every minute, but God has grown tired of my pleas and refuses to help. What else can I do?”

Again a murmur spread through the men as each leaned to his side to consult his neighbour. Only one man, off in a corner, sat silently looking straight ahead. It was Peni, a young friend of Epeli’s. The two of them had gone to school together and had

Neal Engledow

it not been for Peni, Epeli would have had to quit before he did. Peni had an idea, but knew his position in the discussion. Not only had he to allow the chief to speak first, but all his elders as well. Besides, he was held in disfavour by the village. Despite his intelligence he had been con sidered a trouble-maker in school, thinking that all that was worth learn ing could be learned in the village.

He saw no need to discuss Shakes peare or memorise multiplication tables and was not afraid to say so to his teachers. He was a proud Fijian, a bit arrogant at times, but willing to share with and give help to any other Fijian.

After a few minutes brought no comment from the others, Peni called Epeli’s name. With piercing eyes and a confident voice he said, “Epeli, you have done everything but the right thing. The doctors and the nurses with all their shots and pills can’t solve this problem. For once they have even admitted that they don’t know what is wrong. This is a Fijian problem and has to be solved in a Fijian way. There is only one thing left—the thing you should have done first—go see old Samu.”

Epeli looked around to see if everyone was in favour of Peni’s idea.

He would have followed the advice anyway, but with the consensus of the village, he could be sure that he was on the right track.

“He is right, Epeli,” the chief finally spoke. He reached over beside the tanoa, took three bags of yaqona and handed them to Epeli. “Take these to Samu and tell him your problem.

You have wasted enough time and must go now. Mere has only a short time to regain her strength and give you a healthy baby.”

Epeli said his farewells and as he left reached down and grasped Peni’s shoulder. A flicker of gratitude shone in his eyes as he stared at his friend.

IT' was dusk when he left and he had to rush to reach Samu’s before dark. Samu was a strange old man, building his bure in privacy away from the village. Like Peni, only more so, Samu was a proud Fijian. His long white hair gleamed against his dark scaly skin. His eyes sparkled behind the wrinkles of his aged face giving the impression of vitality tempered with wisdom.

Samu was tending his garden when Epeli arrived. He turned and watched as the young man came through the dense jungle shading the trail. “Ah, at last, I have been expecting you,” he said as Epeli approached. “Come in the bure and we’ll talk.”

They sat facing each other in the centre of the bure. Samu just smiled

and looked at Epeli’s worried face at first but soon said, “Don’t frown so, my son, your troubles will soon be over. Would you like me to help you with my tanoa?”

“Please, I must find the answer to my problem somehow,” Epeli said as he reached over and placed the yaqona beside Samu. “I only hope that your tanoa will not fail like the doctors I’ve seen.”

The old man was excited with the challenge. With child-like motions he crossed the room and returned with the large wooden tanoa that hung in a special place on the wall. Then he slipped out of the bure and brought a bucket of water and a straining cloth. As he sat to mix the drink the look of excitement and anticipation left his face. He began a chant with words that seemed strange and foreign to Epeli. As he sang he circled the edge of the tanoa

with the straining cloth and stared into the mixture.

Epeli also looked into the liquid and was amazed when the opaque brownish yaqona turned to a dark blood-red. When Samu’s chant finished the liquid was so glossy that Epeli could see Samu’s reflection across from him. Samu’s gaze went beyond the surface. He began telling Epeli about the shapes and things which were beyond ordinary perception. “I see your wife, tossing in bed. Her head pains her so she cannot sleep.

She has a girl child in her womb.

But you came because you may lose both mother and child. The doctors have been unable to help because your wife’s illness is unknown to their medicine. The cause is not un known to me!” Samu glanced up but Epeli responded with a pleading look on his face.

“I see a village,” Samu continued

“The magic needed to cause death is very strong . .

when his eyes returned to the tanoa, “the one downstream from here. In the village three women live by them selves in a bure. There is a grand mother, a mother and a daughter who is about your age. The three of them have very strong, but very strange powers. They live alone because love means nothing to them. They wish only to live together and practise their selfish and evil magic. They come from a long line of women witches that make love only to pro create, and kill all male offspring.

They consult a tanoa to discover the best man to bear their children. The daughter is old enough to bear and the tanoa has told them that you would be the best father. It said that the child would inherit your strength, and that your first child would be a female. The girl tried to attract you, but you were already in love with Mere and would have nothing to do with her. Now that Mere is pregnant, she has no chance of bearing your first child unless either Mere dies or the child is still-born—or both.”

“And she has cast a spell to kill Mere?” Epeli asked anxiously. “I would gladly go to her if Mere could be spared.”

“She doesn’t want you, Epeli, she only wants your first-born.”

“Can you stop her then?” Epeli asked in a frightened voice.

“The magic needed to cause death is very strong. There is nothing I can do.”

“But, there must be something!”

Epeli insisted.

“To cast the spell of death, the dead must be defiled. Your only choice is to plead with the girl, but she is evil and I doubt that that would help. She has robbed the grave of a chief. She has taken one of the bones from its resting place, chanted over it and buried it, pointing towards your bure. You must either get her to remove the spell, or force her to tell you where the bone is, dig it up and cast it into the river.

Only then does Mere have a chance to live.

“Oh thank you, Samu! I’ll go immediately and do just what you said!”

“No. Don’t go yourself. If the girl sees you, she will flee. Send someone you can trust to watch her. See where she goes, how she spends her time and find how best to surprise her alone.”

“I’ll do it! Thank you. Samu. With out you my wife would surely die.”

Running back to the village, Epeli decided to ask Peni to be his spy.

Peni was smart, he would not be caught and he would be more than willing to help. When he arrived, Epeli went straight to Peni’s bure with his request. Peni agreed and left that night. All Epeli could to then was to wait and try to comfort Mere.

ON the afternoon of the third day after the visit to S'amu, Peni returned. “I have watched her every day since I left. Epeli, I found that she bathes alone, about an hour before sunset everyday, in a secluded spot upstream from the village. You can recognise the spot because of a huge rock jutting from the far bank.

There is also a fallen tree on which she hangs her clothes. If you leave now, you can catch her there today”.

Epeli took time out only to tell Mere where he was going and that if he were successful, her headaches would be gone by nightfall. After kissing her feverish lips, he was off.

He reached the bathing spot in plenty of time, found a good hiding place behind a bush and waited.

Within half an hour he heard the sound of footsteps along the trail.

He spread the branches apart just enough to see and watched as the girl approached. As she sat down on the fallen log to rest before undres sing Epeli came out from hiding and sneaked up on her.

When he grabbed her arm, she rose and tried to pull away. “Stop!

Stop, I won’t hurt you!” Epeli claimed as he struggled to hold her. “Just tell

me what I want to know and I’ll let you go”.

“Let go! Let go!” the girl shouted.

“I know nothing! Let go, you’re crazy!”

“Listen,” Epeli said as he grabbed her other arm and started shaking her. “I know what you are trying to do to Mere. You must stop or you’ll die before she does.”

The girl screamed and began kick ing Epeli. In turn he slapped her and demanded her secret. She tried to scratch his face and he fought to keep her claws at bay. Finally in the excite ment they tripped and fell against a log. Epeli got up, but the girl just lay sideways across the log crying. Epeli reached down to help her up, but felt warm blood when he touched her side. He tried to lift her but with each movement she screamed in agony.

Epeli felt the area on the log beneath her body and found a sharp broken branch jutting into her side like a long knife. He realised that she was hurt badly and would probably bleed to death unless help was found. He stood in confusion for a minute before remembering his original mission.

“You’ll die,” he told her. “I won’t help you unless you tell me where you hid the bone.”

The girl only looked at him and cursed.

“It’s no use cursing me, you are the one going to burn in hell. Tell me! Only you can save Mere. There’s no use her dying. You will never bear a child after this.”

The girl thought for a moment but said nothing.

“If you don’t tell me, I will drag you back and forth across that log!

Then you’ll really know what pain is like. I don’t want to hurt you any more, but if you force me . . .” Epeli leaned forward to grab the girl, but she screamed, pleading, No! no! I’ll tell, just don’t hurt me anymore. The bone is in my bure, underneath my mat. Look beneath the pillow. Please, when you get to the village, please send help!”

Epeli barely heard her last words.

He ran as fast as he could and reached the bure just after dark. “I must hide till everyone goes to sleep”, he thought, forgetting the girl stretched painfully across the log.

Within two hours the bure’s solitary kerosene light was out. To be sure that everyone was asleep, he waited another anguished hour before enter ing.

He stood at the door till his eyes adjusted to the dark. Looking around

he saw the girl’s empty mat, walked slowly to it and kneeled down to lift the end where the pillow lay. The earth below was soft and damp and the digging was easy.

Just as Epeli’s fingers touched something hard, he heard a sound across the room and turned to see the girl’s mother light a match. He realised that the woman had probably been awake the whole time thinking that Epeli was her daughter. The woman just started with her mouth open, when she saw Epeli’s face in the dim light. He turned quickly, snatched up the bone and ran out of the bare.

He went straight to the river and tossed the bone in the water. Only then did he remember the girl on the log and decided to take the river trail home. When he reached her, she was cold and stiff. He felt guilty as she might have lived if he had sent help from the village. “Well,” he thought, ‘she got what she deserved.”

And he continued his journey home.

ENTERING his bure, he saw in the dull kerosene glow that Mere lay peacefully asleep in her bed. As he approached he noticed her deep breathing and saw that she had a relaxed smile on her lips. All his effort at once seemed worthwhile as this was the first good night’s sleep she had had in months. He slipped quietly into his own bed and fell into a troubled sleep.

When he awoke he found that Mere was up and had prepared breakfast. When he sat down to drink a hot cup of tea. Mere came over, hugged him hard and said, “Please tell me how you did it. I feel wonderful. You saved my life.”

The horror of the previous day returned immediately to Epeli’s mind.

Despite his happiness for Mere, his smile melted from his face, as he told the story. When he finished, Mere was nearly in tears and sadly asked, ‘Will they take you to prison?”

“I don’t know,” answered Epeli.

Epeli spent his day in the normal routine helping several men clear bush for the village garden. The men were all glad to hear that Mere was improving, but only one man noticed the fear behind Epeli’s smile. That one person was Peni.

He tried to get close to Epeli all day to ask what had happened, but chance never left them alone. On the way back to the village he took Epeli aside and asked for the story. By the time they reached home the two friends shared a sad silence.

Peni was the first to notice the big black car sitting by the highway.

“Here comes trouble,” he said pointing at two policeman approaching.

The officers arrived and asked Epeli his name. “I’m sorry,” the older policeman said, “but we have to take you in for questioning. A young girl in the next village was killed last night and her mother claims she saw YQu jn their bure." ~, ’ , As they walked to the car, Mere rushed toward the police officers. She grabbed the senior one by the arm and pleaded, E)on t take him. He didn t mean to do it. She was evil, she was trying to kill me.

While the officer explained that they were only taking Epeli in for questioning, Peni, Epeli and the other officer reached the car.

“You should have told Mere to keep quiet,” Peni commented. “You should have denied everything—tell them that the old lady was mistaken in the dark. I would have backed y° u U P- I would have told them that y° u , wer .f, at m y * ast night. The whole village would have been behind you. Wc know thcit you did wti&t you had to. We understand . . . we’re Fijian. The law doesn’t care that yesterday Mere was dying, and today s k e j s on way to recoV ery. The law doesn’t care about your child. The j aw doesn't care that that girl was evil, or t hat she tried to kill Mere.

The law doesn’t understand ... the law is not Fijian. The law wouldn’t listen to Samu, it doesn’t believe in magic.”