It was early, and most of the village was still sleeping. The only sounds were the constant thrum of the ocean in the distance, and a few birds. Mano laid in bed, thinking about the vision he had. Sometimes you got words, sometimes you got images, and sometimes you got feelings. Mano never worried about what he didn't understand, the Purple Tiki would tell him if he needed to know. Most of his visions were about his island and his people, PukaPuka, and the Sand Maru. Last night's vision showed him a group of strangers. The vague images were vanishing from his head, but the feelings associated with them were lingering in a curious way. Guests. Friends. Family.
Voyagers from other islands visited PukaPuka often enough that it was common, despite the fact that the closest neighbor was a two-day paddle in a va'a; one of their double hulled canoes. The men in his vision were not neighbors, they were strangers. Mano thought they might be sailors based on their skin and clothing. It had been eight years since the last trade ship stopped at PukaPuka, but it had happened a dozen times in his lifetime. Mano had been one of the village elders called Kupunas for over a decade now, so he had experience with travelers.
The feeling of family was curious. As the village Kupuna Mano was considered a father to everyone younger than him, which was most of the island. He often joked about his many children and their demands on his time. There were 181 Sand Maru villagers living on PukaPuka and he was friendly with most. He felt he was good friends with about a hundred villagers, and nineteen of them were direct members of his family. Koko was the island word for blood and family, and that was intentional. You had friends, you had family, and then you had Koko. Koko was the family you chose, the people you surrounded yourself with. Mano thought about all the people he knew on his island and ran down the list in his head. There were only eleven people he considered Koko.
Koko was an honor. Just because you are related to somebody did not automatically make them Koko. You can have friends, but still not be Koko. Koko was much more than that; Koko was blood.
His vision from last night left him with the feeling of Koko. He didn't know yet if it was tied to one of the visitors, or all of them. While Mano didn't fully understand the vision or the feelings associated with it, he believed it. He believed in the Purple Tiki. Nearly all of his visions or premonitions had come to pass, so he never doubted them. Mano believed the only reason a few had not appeared yet, was because it was not time for them to appear yet.
Last night's vision was going to happen in the next few days. Three days ago, Mano had cut his hand on a jagged rock. The cut was shallow and healing just fine, but the scab was a half-circle on the outside of his thumb. When Mano greeted the unexpected guests in his vision, he still had the scab on his thumb.
He was undecided if he would mention his vision at today's gathering. The Kupunas met for an hour each week to deal with small things called small fish, and then once per moon to deal with big things called big fish. Mano was aware his prediction would be met with many questions he did not have answers to. Still, it would give others some time to prepare.
There was only one small fish today. Ulu wanted to leave his marriage hut and live alone. His partner Suni said he could leave, as long as he kept feeding her. She wanted half the fish he caught. This was the fifth time Ulu had moved out in the last few years; the separation would last about two moons.
"Any more fish?" the leader asked. He was about to brush off his hands signaling the end of the meeting when Mano spoke.
"Visitors coming this week, at least three." The others watched and waited.
"How?" another leader asked.
Mano held his palm up alongside his right ear, facing forward, near the edge of his vision. It was the sign for the Purple Tiki. The others nodded.
"Neighbors or travelers?" somebody asked.
"Travelers I think, based on their skin and clothes," Mano said.
"A ship or canoe?" another asked.
Mano held an empty palm out in front of him, the sign for unknown.
"Will they be friends or something else?" another asked.
"Friends, I think," Mano said, making the motion for the Purple Tiki with one hand, and unknown with the other. All the Kupunas nodded and made a noise of understanding. The Purple Tiki never told you everything.
This is an excerpt from
GERARD'S FORTUNE
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