One Shark, No Swim

3. Analysis

3

Analysis

Kahuna Niuhi

An expert in the ways of the Niuhi; a human who speaks with Niuhi.

Uncle Kahana said, “Research? For what? School’s over. It was pau last week.”

On TV, the dive crew was back in the boat, heading toward shore. The narrator was talking about the long strings of buoys that held nets stretched along the mouth of the bay, pointing out how they keep swimmers and tourist dollars safe.

Good, a diversion.

“You think they work?” I asked, lifting my chin to the TV.

Uncle Kahana glanced at the screen. “No,” he said, “they don’t. If anything, they attract more sharks to the area.”

He sank into a chair next to the couch. ‘Ilima curled near his feet.

“Why?” I asked.

“What do you mean, why? It’s obvious.”

I pointed at the TV. “Earlier in the show, that guy in the green shirt said stringing fishing nets between the deep ocean and the beach is necessary to keep sharks away from people. He said if all the sharks that got caught in the nets made it to the beach, tons of people would get bit.”

Uncle Kahana rolled his eyes, but before he could speak, I held up a hand so I could keep talking.

He gave ‘Ilima side-eye and turned to the TV.

“Mmmrph,” he said.

“Now according to the other expert, the one in the blue shirt, the nets don’t work because they attract sharks.”

Uncle Kahana started nodding.

“The sharks come because they’re curious about the nets.”

Uncle Kahana stopped nodding and started to frown.

“He says the nets disrupt the electromagnetic forces in the ocean, confusing the sharks.”

Uncle Kahana shook his head from side to side, reminding me of a great white sawing through frozen fish heads.

“You listening, ‘Ilima? That’s their expert opinion. Codeesh!” he said.

He rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That’s it, ‘Ilima. We’re making our own documentary, except ours is going to be about first aid for shark bites. We’ll put ‘em on the internet right next to the videos of the all baboozes who like to hand-feed sharks. Think of all the lives we’ll save.”

‘Ilima chuffed and flopped on her side.

Uncle Kahana pointed at the screen. “Use your eyes, Zader. What do you see?”

The images were horrifying. All kinds of fish, sharks, turtles, and even dolphins were tangled in the nets. Lurking in the distance on the deep-sea side, I saw bullet shapes of sharks, cruising. They were waiting for the camera crew to move on so they could move in, I was sure.

“The sharks aren’t confused. They come to the nets because of all the dead and dying. It’s snack time,” I said.

“‘Ae, Zader. That’s right. Something has to clean that mess up.”

“Niuhi?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, but didn’t change his matter of fact tone. “Would you eat a pilau hamburger you found on the sidewalk or would you go buy a fresh one?”

“They’re common sharks,” I said. “They aren’t aware. They aren’t Niuhi.”

Uncle Kahana nodded as he watched the images on screen.

“When you were a kid and the hukilau fishermen lowered their long nets off Keikikai beach, you said a Niuhi shark came.”

He sighed and wiggled a little in the chair, fussing with a cushion.

“Yes,” he said.

“The Niuhi shredded the nets and bit people.” I swallowed. “He ate them.”

“A few,” Uncle Kahana said, squishing a cushion.

“On the program it showed tons of long nets out in the ocean. They’ve been there for years. Uncle Kahana, where are the Niuhi?”

Uncle Kahana prodded the cushion some more then lifted the bottom of his t-shirt. He picked at an imaginary speck along the hem.

“Uncle?”

“Hah?”

“Where are the Niuhi?”

“Niuhi? Ocean. Where else?”

“I mean over there.” I waved my hand at the TV.

He peered nearsightedly at the screen. “Where?”

“On the TV!”

“What?”

“Niuhi!”

“Niuhi?” He squinted his eyes and canted his head. “No, that’s just a regular hammerhead. Now they’re showing common white tip. Get plenny on the reef.”

I heard a suspicious noise like a dog chuckle, but when I looked down ‘Ilima quickly made a sneezing sound too tiny to be real. While I kept starting at her, she smacked her lips and licked her nose.

“Allergies,” Uncle Kahana said.

I wanted to give him stink-eye, but I didn’t dare. Uncle Kahana was also my Lua instructor, a Hawaiian form of hand to hand combat similar to karate or kung fu. He didn’t look like much, but I knew he could tie me into a pretzel without breaking a sweat.

I tried again. “Uncle Kahana?”

“Yes, Zader?”

“Last Christmas you told me a story about your father. He didn’t want the fishermen to use hukilau nets off Keikikai beach because that would make a Niuhi shark come. You said Niuhi sharks don’t like long nets because they trap everything—good fish, bad fish, things nobody is going to eat. It’s wasteful. Those nets on TV are bigger than any hukilau net I’ve ever seen. Where are the Niuhi?”

Uncle Kahana and ‘Ilima exchanged another look. ‘Ilima immediately put her head down and closed her eyes. She squiggled, making herself comfortable on the carpet. Her breathing slowed as she started to snore.

“Chicken,” said Uncle Kahana.

She snored louder.

He turned to look at me. “I don’t know,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t know.” He pointed at the TV. “That’s Australia, not Hawai‘i.”

“But you’re the expert! What do you mean you don’t know?”

He rubbed his chin. “You missed the point, Z-boy. People have been fishing a long time with all kinds of nets. The nets aren’t the problem. It’s where they’re used. Fishing with hukilau nets off Keikikai beach is kapu—it’s forbidden. Breaking kapu has consequences—that’s what my father was trying to tell the fishermen. The Niuhi shark coming was the consequence of breaking the kapu.”

“So Niuhi sharks are like cops? They show up when laws are broken?”

My words made Uncle Kahana’s eyes bug out just like a big fat bufo. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I jumped up, alarmed at the rising purple in his cheeks and forehead and the pale tight circles around his mouth and nose.

“Uncle?”

‘Ilima rushed to her feet, leaped onto Uncle Kahana’s lap, and jammed her cold nose in his ear.

“Aiiiieee,” he gasped, sucking in a bellyful of air. “Water,” he croaked.

I ran to the kitchen, jammed the yellow dishwashing gloves on my hands, flipped on the water faucet, and filled a glass. By the time I made it back to the living room, his purple face had faded to red, and he was breathing normally.

“Uncle?” I held out the glass.

He took it from my gloved hand, waving his thanks before swallowing half of it. ‘Ilima was back at his feet, her head tilted up with worry.

“Alexander Kaonakai Westin, you will be the death of me yet.” He took another swallow. “And you, ‘Ilima! What are you trying to do? Sticking your wet, clammy nose in my ear! I’m lucky my spirit never jumped out of my body just to get away from your ugi nose!”

‘Ilima chuffed and licked Uncle Kahana’s hand. She lay back down at his feet, but didn’t take her eyes off him.

He motioned me to sit while he drained the glass. I slipped off the gloves and threw them onto the coffee table, checking my hands for blisters or pain, but the gloves were dry inside and had protected my hands from the water.

“Sore?” he asked.

I shook my head. On the TV the credits were rolling.

He cleared his throat. “Zader, hear me. Niuhi sharks are not cops. Cops aren’t bosses. They just uphold and enforce laws created by governments; they don’t make them. Niuhi sharks are like old-time Hawaiian chiefs. They are the law.” He coughed and cleared his throat again. “You aren’t going to learn about Niuhi by watching TV.”

“I know.”

“So why? You like watching big teeth chomp in slow motion?”

Uh, yeah.

I loved watching razor-edged teeth sink into anything—live seal, frozen tuna, fake surfboard—it didn’t matter. I liked the way the chum looked oil-slick on the water too, like ocean rainbows when the light hit it just right. But somehow, I didn’t think Uncle Kahana would see it the same way. Jay thought I was crazy when I tried to explain. He said it was morbid—one of our last vocabulary words of the school year.

Uncle Kahana was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

I shrugged.

He rolled his eyes. “Fo’real? You like watching big bites in action? That’s it?”

I picked at a scab on my arm, unsure if he would laugh or not. Finally, I decided.

“Uncle Kahana, you ever have dreams?”