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Hulhan'gu: Back on the Island of Blood Part: 4 by Dhon Keyothi As we roar through the lagoon, the Island of Blood and my destiny come surging towards me. Fresh in my heroic mind are the problems and longings of our islands' people, and the koadijehun with the island women. Then something happens. I lean into the back of the speeding boat, feeling the thump of the waves beneath my feet and my whole body begins to vibrate with the drumming of the sea. I realise it is some sort of divine koli, or maybe the lagoon is getting rough. But when the seawater breaks over the bow and sprays into my face, it is a clear sign that I, Dhon Keyothi, have been annointed. 'Looks like the southwest monsoon is here,' someone comments. 'Yes!' I say, suppressing my elation with becoming dignity. 'And I am destined to rule!' A storm on the southern horizon billows black and grey, pumping rolling plumes of cloud high into the sky. Lightning flashes and stabs the darkening sea. Things don't look that promising for a leadership bid. Do I have the qualities required to command the ship of state? And most essential of all, in democratic Maldives, do I have the pedigree? Well, regarding the 'ship of state', my father was one of the first certified Maldivian captains, and he travelled to India and Sri Lanka and elsewhere in the days of Rannabandeyri Kilegefaan, before that noble hero retired to Cairo to be the Sultan of Maldives. My father left government service and captained private vessels and sometimes, his own boat. He must have been important because only high class people had the right to travel. As you know, most ladies have a tendency to accumulate wealth, and men have a tendency to accumulate women. This gave my dad a distinct advantage, or at least so he thought until my mother trapped him. They were married and I was born on her island, as a descendant of the Isdhoo Dynasty. Dad lived on the Island of Blood and after a long time mum decided to leave her island and move in with her husband. After all, how long can a married woman be without her man? When you speak to them you realise how desperate their situation can be. But this first trip to see my father turned out to be a nightmare. Not for me, I was too young and don't remember anything. But the ship ended up in Sri Lanka, and we only got to the Island of Blood with a lot of difficulty. In Dad's house his elder wife and her mother ruled, and soon we went back home. My second trip to see my father was a long one, it lasted three months. The wind changed and we were caught by the northeast monsoon. Food ran short and when ships stopped and dropped cases of condensed milk for me, the crew confiscated the supplies for themselves. When there is no food, humans can behave in unimaginable ways. I survived on mother's milk, and there was a deaf man who collected rain water for me. (I met him again, much later, before he died. It was a difficult meeting because the thanks I had to give him could barely be expressed, or heard.) When boats start drifting around the ocean they come across strange things, like a flame on top of the mast, or a passenger liner, and every time you light a fire the sea gets rough. And there is something Maldivians call kandu mathi elhun, when the boat seems to be surrounded by strange misty energy which makes the craft impossible to control. When things like this happen, people recite verses from the Koran, and apply rihaakuru to the mast. In the ocean there are places where it seems to get very shallow; luminous bubble lights rise to the surface from the deep blue sea. These are just some of the inexplicable events that occur, and they can be quite frightening. Another time I was travelling across an open section of sea, only two miles wide and suddenly it seemed so shallow we thought we'd hit a reef! Some people say it's caused by the peculiar movement of small plankton. Anyway, I have a vivid memory how we finally arrived in Mogadhishu on the Somalia coast. In the harbour I accidently dropped overboard a whistle someone had given me. As it sank I saw the rays of sun in the ocean, and the blurred landscape of the horizon reflected in the waves. Pumpkins floated in the water beneath the jetty. I was only 2 years old and the Mogadhishu chief was wearing some kind of skin which tickled my nose and made me sneeze. The whole tribe started laughing. I was very popular, and in fact Somalia missed out on a good future leader when my mother refused to sell me to the chief who had no children. I guess trading little Dhon Keyothi would have been difficult to explain to my father, or maybe God wanted me to rule Maldives instead. For a long time I have wondered how anyone would ever know. Yes! The Somalis will never experience the sweet taste of the Isdhoo dynasty; I cannot allow my own country to suffer the same miserable fate. Appropriately, the Island of Blood comes into view. People in the atolls must feel sorry for this island, because this is where all their money goes. Now you can find everything here, and nothing anywhere else. The boat skims into the western harbour, docking smoothly, and luckily I manage to avoid any welcoming crowds. People walk past as if they don't know me. But they can't keep up the pretence for long. In the early evening darkness, three large hard-faced men come out of the shadows and walk towards me, 'We're watching you, Keyothi.' I thank them politely; it is a relief to know I have powerful supporters. All was confirmed the following Friday morning when I am sitting in front of a mosque near a graveyard. I look up and see a luminous line. Is it a wire? No! It is a glowing line just behind the clouds but still clearly visible. When I return from prayer the line has gone and for two days I wait and wonder, until a friend suggests we organise a faalu. First, we pray at the mosque together, and then a diviner takes us to his home. There he asks me to recite a few words and close my eyes and touch a sheet of paper containing Arabic letters. He checks his book and it says: 'Almighty Allah will only reveal the Light to the right person. If you hold true to the life-path you have chosen, then success is yours, Dhon Keyothi.' Yes! My name is already written, and my fate is clear. I thank the man for the faalu as modestly as I can, and suggest he take note of an additional interpretation which has just occurred to me. It is his turn to be grateful, and the pen he is clutching begins to tremble as I speak: 'The right path is my foundation and fortress. Woe to anyone who attacks me, for their onslaught will be turned back upon them.' From the street outside comes the sounds of young laughter, a car honks and someone coughs. I stay cool and look out the window into the sky. The line is back, glowing yellow against the clouds. The diviner sees it too, but his face betrays no emotion as I watch his eyes follow the line to where something white flicks in the breeze. He calls out to his wife, 'My singlet's dry.' The omens are all pointing one way — my Presidential campaign has begun. To be continued... Hulhan'gu is the period of the stormy southwest monsoon, May - September/October. 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. Koli is an official announcement. Rihaakuru is tuna fish sauce. Faalu is divination. top

The Adventures of Dhon Keyothi Iruvai Journey Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Hulhan'gu Campaign Part 4 Part 5 Persian Divination Ancient Astrology and Divination on the Web

Maldives Culture is an independent internet magazine of Maldivian cultural issues.
Editors and translators: Michael O'Shea and Fareesha Abdulla, Australia
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