Turangawaewae
I venture off into the wild, on a search for our most prized creature. The crickets are chirping, and the beautiful night breeze is rushing through my hair. The tips of tall plants, some Aloe Vera, brush my fingertips as I make my way, deeper and deeper when something bright catches my eye. Flashlight in one hand, machete in the other, I was ready to assist my grandfather as he got on his stomach, and reached out to grab the creature by its two long claws and wraps it with kalamomi.
I chuck it into the sack that’s slung over my shoulder and we repeat this process about four more times, and then we go back to our car, exhausted…
My Turuangawaewae is extraordinarily special to me because it is located in my home country Niue. Another thing I find special is that it is not equal to the land.
In other words, forests are on top of land. But my Turangawaewae goes deeper and deeper, sort of like a cave. I always feel plants and tall grasses and vines make contact with my body.
Some rough, some silky, and soft, but all remind me of who I am and where I am from… (Somehow xD)
I can also hear if it’s a full moon, the birds happily chirping in their native tongue getting ready to roost. Almost 1 in 1 million, there is a chance on a perfect night, you can hear the crabs using their razor-sharp claws, to open coconuts.
You can always see young crabs crawling amongst the dry leaves that have fallen above, trying to find their parents who unfortunately sometimes end up in the sack that’s slung over my shoulder.
Crabs are not to be mistaken by their size, is what I heard my grandfather say.
Of course, I decide not to listen and toy with the smallest one, to prove he is wrong.
I get pinched and I clutch my hand between my legs, then shove it in my mouth, as the lingering taste of blood dampens my throat.
I couldn’t care less as I had other worries, such as a BLEEDING hand
The pain is intensely excruciating.
I can also taste the lingering gift of O2 in my mouth as it cannot be in any specific place.
Sometimes, the dry leaves that depart from the tall trees above, catch my tongue as times come where I am panting.
Not because I am hot, but because I find my throat dry-clean one way or another.
I can hear the waves crashing upon the shore as we make our way deeper and deeper down. My foot gets stuck and I nearly fall into the abyss below, almost 250 feet down.
I wave my hands trying to regain my balance as we go to our final place where there will hopefully be our 7th crab for the night.
We successfully end up with 8 crabs, (one very young one in my hand), and I throw the crabs onto the ground in between my legs, all of their claws snipping loudly (well, just loud enough for me to hear).
The soft leather of the chair comforted me as I dozed off with the chair lowered all the way, and the time hitting 1 hour before morning.
As my grandfather shook me awake, he instructed me to go shower.
I obey his command and let the ice-cold water clean my body as I struggle to even keep my eyes open.
It was a long night.
I let the softness of my pillow help my head get comfy, and I let the blanket wrap me with its warmth.
The last thing I hear is my nana calling sweetly, “Goodnight son!”, as I close my eyes for the second time and doze off.
For real this time.
‘Till morning...
I just spotted an error that can't be fixed without me rephrasing the paragraph and my brain is kinda blank...
I can also taste the lingering gift of O2 in my mouth as it cannot be in any specific place.
Sometimes, the dry leaves that depart from the tall trees above, catch my tongue as times come where I am panting.
Not because I am hot, but because I find my throat dry-clean one way or another.
Where it says the leaves catch my tongue, that is also a form of taste (The taste of the dry leaves).
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