Child, do you want to know where we came from? Child, it was new moon but the stars were so bright that it hardly mattered at all. They were all over the place, in the sky and in the water. Spangling the trees and twinkling over anthurium petals. And they were in the coconuts, a whole galaxy of them, all you had to do was peer into the holes.
The first of us stepped out of a bivaled moullusk shell. This child wasn't the first of man to walk the Earth. She wasn't the second or the third. She wasn't even the hundred-thousandth. But she was the first of us. The first to leave her little footprints in the sand of Mokokki.
Her eyes were bright and full of life. And the fireflies loved her. The stars loved her. And those soft little orbs, the ones that lift out of the coconuts and drift to the heavens, they loved her too. They followed her, every little light. They followed her to the waterhole where she stooped down for a drink but the water had drained, as though there were never any water in it at all.
And how she despaired because she was so thirsty. There is very little water in a cramped bivaled moullusk shell. Those little orbs, they circled around her. Around and around until it was she who followed them. And do you know what they did? Child, do you know what they did?
They swarmed up the palm trees knocking down coconut after coconut.
Oh there were thousands of them by the time they were through, thousands and thousands. And the little girl she carried them one by one to the waterhole and filled it until it brimmed. And the jungle lit up; sparkled and glimmered like a cloud of dinoflagellates. The the island thrived. From the rich waters of coconut, Mokokki as we know it blossomed lovely and bright as a hibiscus in the sun.
And that, child, is why you must never let a coconut go to waste.
.oOo.
Mokokki is bright with the first rays of early morning. The sun throws itself over the open ocean, sending its surface into rippling golden glimmers. The air is perfumed by a breeze that carries the scent of coconut and freshly harvested banana. A tang of pineapple sweetens the mix. Shells on strings and tied into trees tinkle in the balmy gusts. The usual sounds of morning, the rustling of palm fronds and the birds nestled in their branches, the rush of waves as they drag sand and shell out to sea, and the scuttling of crabs as they make their way across the beach are interrupted by a steady grating of saws and axes. The coconut harvest is in full swing. It is a portrait of sunburned, sweat slicked backs and muscled arms. It is a careful art, their saws never knick the surface of the coconuts they make sure of it. Their arms rise and swing in elegant, meticulous arcs. It is a tough day's work, a slow day's work, but one by one they drop into the sand and dirt.
Makani isn't one for work. He ought not to be at the harvest at all, he is better suited for lazing on the beach, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and awaiting the others to bring him drinks served in hollowed coconuts. The reward, he thinks as he scoops up a coconut, may not be worth the effort. He gives the coconut a little twist and turn. Not when he can sit back and receive it all the same.
He rubs his fingers along the rough fuzzy outerwall of the coconut before chucking it into the jungle. He watches it bounce and roll into the underbrush.
"Makani, you absolute..." Kapono grits his teeth. "Go get that!"
Makani rolls his eyes. "It's one coconut, Kapono. You got a bunch more..." he flails his arms about, gesturing to the shaking palm fronds, "all over here."
"You know what the elders say about harvest coconuts!"
Makani fiddles with his necklace, a fish hook on an old rope. He quirks a brow, "Kap, you still believe in those old tall tales?"
"I've seen them for myself. I've seen those twinkling lights rise out of the holes in the coconuts."
"I've always called those fireflies." He shrugs.
"Do fireflies come in purple?"
"I guess they could if you see them while you're sleepwalking."
"Go. Get. It." Kapono's voice dips.
"I can't even see it anymore."
"Because you haven't looked." Scowls another girl. He thinks that she might be Kapono's sister. Keala, Kaeleo, Kealo, something of that nature.
"I also don't know which direction it landed in."
"Then go find it." They say at once.
Yes, they are certainly siblings.
With a groan Makani gets to his feet. He supposes that it couldn't hurt to shuffle around in the undergrowth and pretend to look for that damn coconut. Better than hacking away at the ones he can see. "Alright, I'll fetch you all a coconut." He waits for his words of encouragement, for his thank you.
He is sent off with glares as potent as the sting of a coral reef snake.
With a sigh he
He doesn't see what's so important about one absurdly small, unripe coconut. Even less, he understands why everyone is so ridiculously rigid about this harvest, it happens every year. And every year it is like the one before it. The festivals lost their spark and intrigue when he rose into manhood. He looks towards the mouth of the jungle where the sunrays coax him towards the sand just beyond it. Why should he grunt and sweat on such a fine day?
He'd much rather help with raise the banners and erect the torches and strings of lights.
If he never saw another coconut in his life that would be spiffy indeed. At the very least he can take comfort in knowing that he will never see that particular coconut again.
YOU ARE READING
Coconut Water
Fantasy"Child, do you want to know where we came from? Child, it was new moon but the stars were so bright that it hardly mattered at all. They were all over the place, in the sky and in the water. Spangling the trees and twinkling over anthurium petals...
