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Part 3 by Dhon Keyothi   follow the sound of bleating and go to where my goats are. The person looking after them is the island chief, and I learn he is a close friend of the Araa Fura Bandaara Vazeeru. This is a frightening situation for my animals. Are they destined to be mere playthings on the Vaaru dhoani? I decide to sell them to the island chief before there is serious trouble. He pays the money with great sadness because he realises he is losing the glory of caring for Dhon Keyothi's goats. I must have done the right thing because the chief finds a good bed for me that night. I need it too; all that hard work saving myself from going overboard, and dreaming on the holhuashi, has brought me close to exhaustion. The following day an old man comes to take me fishing nearby, but the boat has no shelter so I tell him this is my holiday and I'm already darker than a chocolate bar. Let's leave the cooking for the fish! There's been too much sea water in my life lately, so I walk inside Goat island for a few hours before I leave. 'I am so happy to see you go Dhon Keyothi,' sighs the chief. It is an emotional moment. 'Don't worry,' I say, 'I'll be back.' The tears filling his eyes are genuine and truly touching. On my arrival at the fisherman's island, the people bow deeply and shiver as I pass. No-one wants to speak to me because they think I am a policeman. Gently they begin to ask questions, and so they discover I am just a hero having a few days off.  Most of them became friends, especially the children who always have smiling faces when they see me. I buy them lots of sweets. A lot of their fathers are working in resorts and the women have to take care of the family and house. It's a hard job but they seem to accept it. In the house where I'm staying there is a young girl, who has finished her O levels, and she is working for the Island Office. The island chief visits her, and when he sees me he pretends he doesn't even know me. I understand immediately that this is for my own protection. Truly he is a great friend. He greets me like a stranger and we both know the game we're playing. I introduce myself. Naturally he is a little overawed, and I grasp the nettle of opportunity and tell him a bit of what can be done to improve the island. For example, I say, what about garbage disposal, and the sanitary system that isn't there? I also tell him that I will help if he gets the projects going. But after two days of infrastructure negotiations he stops visiting! Maybe there are more important things to do. Meanwhile, I notice a few more handis and jinnis following me, so I guess the chief asked them to make sure I'm not lonely. Then it is time for the island's Eidhu carnival. Wise men decree that big-deal official No: 1 celebrations shall be held in certain islands selected by the government. Just in case people get exhausted thinking about what's happening at the official festivals, most other celebrations are neglected or cancelled. Now I realise why the chief had no time for sanitation and waste! Normally islands have something like 10-12 different games — thin mugoali, fanlun, dhelimaali, mandi kulun, bailun, bodu mas dhuvun, dandijehun, and so on. But due to these official festivals our island has only three items. Tug-of-war and bai bala are held, along with a music show to keep the young people happy. For many, the result is unhappiness and great disappointment, because a lot of islands, like this one, end up with nothing and they argue a lot to get it. Inter-island competitions such as Tug-of-War, and even worse, bai bala with its physical contact, provide opportunities for violence, and by the time Eidhu is ending, some people don't want to travel to the celebrations again because there have been incidents, and they expect bad behavior on the final day. It is time to act! Can a holidaying hero let his people suffer from chronic boredom? No Way! I'm at my best in an Eidhu fight! One strange thing is that from the day I arrive, the telephone booths don't work between 6 p.m. and 12 midnight. Some people ask me why the telephones were out of order and because they expect a reply, I say maybe the solar batteries are down. They just laugh about it. The night before I leave, I check and they're working!  Feud Island Within minutes of arriving I am in serious battle with the Feud Island ladies who plan to have koadijehun with me. Fortunately for no-one, they had heard about me and wanted to do it earlier but they were getting ready for the competition and had to forget about it. Thank God, I come to learn all about this later. In koadijehun the ladies will make a wonderful hat and put it on my head and if I want to pass the thing on to someone I have to climb up a coconut palm and place it there. Then the ladies have to find some other guy to bring it down. When the other person gets up the palm, the men will paint the trunk with smelly slippery stuff and the man coming down will jump to avoid it. But there's no way to escape because women and men surround the palm. So the man gets messy and the women take him to the sea to clean him with sand, and then to a gifili! There is a big ritual around this custom. As far as I know, three older ladies also take the man and give him a shower in the gifili. Is this hero's work, or what? How about it!
Faced with temptations such as these, I decide to hire a speedboat owned by a private guy and visit another island. I book this boat two days before the final day of the competition and just then the local chief impounds my boat. He wants it in case there is an emergency during the celebrations. It is astounding that despite the medical and research opportunities all the fighting provides, there is no doctor here. So for the good of all, I am marooned on Feud Island. I stay with some very pleasant people and do some fishing in the evening from the beach. Once again the islanders think I am a policeman at the beginning, but when they come to know who I am, they invite me for food and explain their frustrations. I sometimes think they must be reciting horrible rumours, and I have to be very diplomatic whenever I speak.
(By the way, I have since learned that my bike was accidentally splashed by my nephews and nieces who were mixing colours for the holiday fun. But the mystery is even deeper now, because why did I smell blood?) Most people on Feud island are very honest and kind. Sometimes I feel reluctant to accept their invitations but close my eyes and just go for it. I meet one little girl I will never forget. 'She is usually so quiet,' they said. But on the first day we meet she is happy to speak to me. I take her by the hand and buy her a little drawing book, color pencils and some biscuits. She starts crying and tells me that her mother stops her drawing and doing things like that. Later her father tells me the terrible story how her brother took her for a ride on the back of his bicycle, and while they rode through the lanes she got her toes jammed in the wheel and started crying. The brother didn't realize what was happening and pedalled on. Some people saw and made him stop. But by then her toes were gone and already eaten by the crows. Her elder sister, an epileptic, went into shock and ten people could not hold her down. This is considered a spiritual thing, because treament is expensive and time-consuming. These children have the love of their parents, who themselves have faith, but more is needed to give them what they need to play and grow. But enough of such seriousness! This is a hero's holiday, and the atolls are my stage. On the east end of the island the wise men have made a jetty, and during rough weather it can't be used. The waves sometimes surge through the island into a salt water lake where big crabs live. Never see one on a dinner table while I'm there; no problem, there are lots of other things to eat. Once again people think I'm a policeman. Later they invite me in for meals and explain their frustrations. I have to be diplomatic whenever I speak. Of course, this comes easily to me, and as reward for my efforts the chief lets me use the speedboat at last. 'I wouldn't miss this moment for the world, Dhon Keyothi,' he says, waving goodbye. Next episode — Hulhan'gu: Back on the Island of Blood Notes Araa Fura Bandaara Vazeeru means 'visiting state minister', often renowned for his consumption without payment of an island's poultry. Vaaru dhoani means tax-collecting boat. holhuashi is a shaded public bench/seat at the edge of an island beach, traditionally made of screwpine trunks with a palm leaf roof, and often referred to by Maldivians as 'the information centre'. gifili a house's outdoor washing area with a well supplying water for a open-air shower. thin mugoali is maldivian baseball (three bases). fanlun is chasing and trying to touch a group of people in a circle. dhelimaali is a charcoal-coloured apparition wearing a dress of hessian bags. mandi kulun is maldivian cricket. bodu mas dhuvun is dancing inside an effigy of a big fish. dandijehun is a stick dance. bai bala is another name for fanlun or fan, chasing and trying to touch a group of people in a circle. koadijehun is a game for men and women in which a man is given an ornate hat, koadi, prepared by women which he must place in a coconut palm before another man can take his place. keyn is a feast served in a wooden platter. Koli is a government announcement; also means town-crier. sihuru is black magic. |
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MaldivesCulture is an independent internet magazine of Maldivian cultural issues.
Editors and translators: Michael O'Shea and Fareesha Abdulla, Australia
We invite contributions from Maldivians and others interested in Maldives.
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