Just beneath the surface

The calm before the storm

Do adventurers ever end their journeys alone? In a world where there are so many things we know, and so many things we don't, nearly everything is uncertain. But one thing is for sure; It's that in the course of one's journey, it always ends with a companion treading the same path. So thought Jahmil, until he realised that these proverbs were none but some poetic relief made to comfort those who were alone.

The forest rustled with the ominous winds of imminent destruction. From the shores of the Cuban islands that dotted the Bahamas, the local tribes braced themselves for an impending disaster; a powerful hurricane that was said to hold the power to wipe out a civilization, and that's not all. Tremors hit the islands again and again, rupturing the lands and bringing unexplained tidal abnormalities. The tribal gypsies confirmed that it was the end of the world, and Jahmil believed it. From his sea side hut, he could see the sea rage with wild waves and the palm trees dance in the unsung melody of the brazen winds. He couldn't care less, simply accepting the fact that his miserable life was about to end.

As a boy, he witnessed his parents losing their lives to a powerful tsunami, and it robbed him of his will to live. If it weren't for his caring relatives, he would have long rested in peace. His relatives urged him to evacuate with them, but he refused. He watched as they, along with the other villagers, scrammed to the cover of the forest, heading to higher ground. Once again, the ground shook, and Jahmil knew what was to come. The wind bellowed more fiercely, and the rusted nails that held the roof of his house began to screech and wobble about. An eerie, high pitched whistle, caused by the wind rushing through the window sills reminded Jahmil that time was running out. After the tremors, the winds grew silent, and the waves calmed down. There was a deep and deafening silence. Suddenly the water began to retreat to the deep, a message of warning, and a sign of approaching catastrophe. After the dead calm, the clouds burst with forks of lighting and roared with the sound of thunder. The sky illuminated the sea up ahead, revealing a wall of water steadily forging its way towards the coast. It towered with all its might, and soon its presence resembled that of a mountain. Jahmil sighed. His heart grew as cold as the dense air, stagnant at the pulse of the waves battering the wooden stilts of his house. He felt no sense of regret, and surrendered himself to the sea, hoping that it would take him to where his mother and father rested. Just as the nails holding the roof began to give in, the wall of water collapsed on Jahmil's hut, pummeling him into the cold rough sea. He didn't bother swimming up, and just as he thought he would never see the light again, he heard a faint whisper in his ears.

"Not yet, Child",

A wooden plank then rose from the bottom, and pushed Jahmil up to the surface. The rain pounded his back, and lightning shrieked from all around him. He looked to the coast, and saw the trees disappear as the wave of destruction raced across the land. Still in shock and battered from the initial pain of the wave collapsing on him, he fainted. There was a moment of nothingness, an endless stretch of darkness. Finally, some calm, he thought.

As the sun rose and set over the vast sea, he drifted blindly into a place he never knew.

He woke up to the sound of waves crashing in the distance, blended with the sound of sand pushed and pulled into the sea's wake. His body was limp, and totally rendered immobile, like a statue on a bed of grass, because of the bandages wrapped around him. He looked around, as he was able to slightly rotate his neck. He saw wooden walls adorned with beautiful paintings, and a lamp on the corner of the room.

"Thank god you're awake!" a man said. Jahmil looked over and saw an old man, though his vision was still quite distorted.

"Where... am I?" he asked, his mouth barely opening from the pain.

"You're in Baracoa Cuba. Well, your body was found by some of my relatives at the coast who were fishing, and you were wounded from head to toe", the man replied.

" As one of the Tainos, the locals here, it is my duty to take care of my fellowmen, to nurse them, rather than to turn them over to the Spanish as slaves", he continued

"T-Thank you, sir, I owe you my life", Jahmil muttered.

"If I may ask, what happened and where are you from?" the man asked.

"I'm... from a distant island and it was destroyed by the wake of a powerful storm", Jahmil replied.

"I see. may I know your name, you will be staying here for a while so I better know your name. Mine is Takhamen, what's yours?".

"Jahmil", he shakily replied, still stunned from what happened. He realised his jawbone seemed to have suffered a good blow, as it was in pain as well.

"It's good to meet you Jahmil", Takhamen said. He, then, called out to someone. Jahmil felt betrayed by his own fate. He wanted to end his life, but now he was forced to stay limp for a while, to endure another form of agony, in a land he didn't know.

"I'll take care of you until you're better off by yourself, and when you get better, consider working under me if you will. Don't worry, I'm not forcing you and neither would I treat you as a slave", Takhamen said, and left the room.

Moments later, he went back to the room and said, "I still have some business to attend to so my daughter will tend to your needs in my stead", he continued. Jahmil was frustrated, but he couldn't get to clench his fist. All he could do was hope that the life ahead of him was going to be more meaningful than the one before. A woman spoke to Takhamen, then entered the room, carrying a bowl of food and a cup of water.

"My father instructed me to feed you, so you better eat up", she said. The woman had flowing black hair, and green eyes, and she immediately caught Jahmil's eyes.

"Oh- Uh, thanks, you don't really have to,'' Jahmil said, trying to lift his arm, but it was too weak, and he barely raised by an inch. The woman looked at him and laughed.

"I think I should really feed you", the woman said.

"No, no, I'm good. Perfectly fine", Jahmil replied, still trying to lift his arm.

"You know it's still badly bruised right? Forcing it, would only make its recovery time a lot longer than how it should be", the woman said. Jahmil sighed, and gave up.

"I didn't want to do this either, it robs me of my dignity, but please cooperate", she continued. She then fed Jahmil spiced fish and seaweed, and though they were his personal favourite, he kind of lost his appetite to eat.

"Thank you – uh , what's your name?" Jahmil asked.

" Alyaha, my name is Alyaha and yoooou're welcome!, though I really don't fancy feeding strangers'', Alyaha replied, and she left the room. There was nothing he could do, as he couldn't move his body. All he could do was stare at the paintings, and wonder just how he got to the point he was at. Jahmil felt like a rock, binded to the bed, with no freedom whatsoever. Oftentimes, he would overhear Alyaha complaining about why they had to take Jahmil in, of all the families in their neighborhood. If only he could walk, he could have left the place already. Personal necessities were the most troublesome parts of all, as he had to be helped over the bathroom.

Finally, after two weeks of hardships, he managed to walk. Instead of leaving, he decided to work at the Takhamen's house as a helper. His original source of livelihood back home, fishing, was no longer in demand at Baracoa, and he couldn't even get to rent a boat. Though he didn't receive much pay as a helper, he had free food and lodging. He immediately got acquainted with the town and its surroundings, to the point where he could go and do errands. One day, he was told to bring a box to the shop. He doesn't like much in the shop because it is so quiet that will add remorse to his feelings, but since he was asked to go he carried the box and went fast and thinking that it is a task to be done. When he arrived, Takhamen was there and immediately opened the box. While Takhamen was busy, Jahmil stared at the shop outside and realized why there are less people interested to go in thinking maybe because the shop is so odd looking which seemed more like a run-down shed from the exterior. The wooden frame tilted slightly downwards, and moss grew on the wooden walls.Without hesitation he went near Takhamen.

"Why don't you at least make the shop look better, or more presentable?"

"I don't want to risk it as I might spend too much on the renovations and not earn enough in return to compensate for the expenses".

"Well, have you even tried to, you'll never know", Jahmil asked. Takheman looked down and thought of it. Takhamen went outside and took a close look at his shop. He was surprised. It seemed like his eyes opened for the very first time. From the outside, the shop really looked like a run-down mule shed.

"Make it better, hmm" he said to himself.

He began to think of ways to actually make the shop look better, just in case Takhamen would ask him for one.

The lighted lamp illuminates all over the living room and a silhouette of a lady is seen outside at the balcony. Jahmil is still thinking of how to make over the shop. Alyaha then passed by carrying a canvas and some paints and went to the other side of the living room, where the easel was. She then started to splash colors over the canvas, and Jahmil was intrigued and went over to see what she was doing. Soon the random dabs of different shades of colors slowly began to form a vivid image, a scenery of the coast with islands in the distance. It was his first time to see such a beautiful kind of painting, with such beautiful hues and a major tint of reality, compared to the tribal paintings which he so zealously adored back home. Now, they seemed to pale in comparison to what Alyaha painted.

"Where did you learn to do this?" Jahmil asked.

She startled and blushed seeing Jahmil standing behind her.'Has he been standing there the whole time?'.

"I am attending in a fine arts university, where they focus on pictographic and literary arts instead of theologies and philosophies", Alyaha replied trying to maintain her composure.

" You didn't understand, did you?" she continued, and smiled.

Jahmil really didn't understand what she said. All he understood was that she learned it from school. A strange idea then came to his mind. He continued watching her as she painted a different scenery, and tried to understand the possibilities of the paintings. Takhamen then arrived home, with naught but a few gold coins in his hand.

"This is all I have today", he said

"It's alright father, at least", Alyaha replied with a smile.

"You know", Jahmil said.

"I suggest we use these paintings to decorate the shop and this will attract people to see what's inside. I found the temple back home, so attractive because of the paintings that were adorned on the walls. I'm certain that this will work if we put up paintings on the walls of the shop", admittedly Jahmil can't detach his eyes from the paintings, especially the painting that looks like the coast that he had during childhood before he arrived in Baracoa.

"Is it alright with you?" his father asked.

"I don't know. I mean, It's up to you". She smiled, as she felt exalted. She loves to paint and most of her doings are carefully touched with passion and intricate details. One of them that she painted a long time ago is the coast with the islands in the background, and in the middle, there was a golden ring with an emerald embedded on its brim, encircling a couple dancing on the shore line. The paintings made his father stare endlessly and remember Alyaha's mother, which made her keep the painting in her room.

The breezy morning eludes the salty air into the cool scent of gumamela as the sun rose slowly. They arranged the new slabs of wood, straightened the wooden frame and patched up some holes of the shop, Alyaha began mounting the paintings on the walls. As they almost finished adorning the shop with designs, and as its façade began to look more like a shop than a shed. The people passing by stopped and were intrigued and entered the shop. They were fascinated with the display of few but exquisite gold necklaces, rings and trinkets, and the beautiful paintings on the walls. The vibrantness of the paintings captures the eyes of those who watch, making the rooms more enthralling .

Stories start to fly across the neighboring village. And soon more and more people come and go and others buy even the paintings. After several weeks, they reap what they sow. They earned more than what they expected.

"I am very glad of what you advised for the shop. If it wasn't because of your advice I can not have what the shop earned". Takhamen thankfully says and taps Jahmil's shoulder.

"Drink! For our success!" Takhamen raised the cup as he pointed to Jahmil

"No Sir, if it's not with Alyaha this seems not to be going this way" Jahmil looked at Alyaha with sincerity in his voice and watched her as his brown irish fade to spark.

"Alyaha's paintings captivates a lot of eyes of the passerby. If it's not with her and her beautiful paintings" as he continued, but interrupted by Takhamen.

"Of course...of course, my angel, my dearest...my Alyaha" Takhamen walked closer to her and held her hands and swayed as he asked for the dance. The night was echoing with happiness with the sparkle of thousands of stars to the three people.

Four months passed, and Alyaha celebrated her nineteenth birthday. They had saved up a lot ever since the shop's renovation. So, they managed to prepare a big celebration. They invited the close Taino neighborhood over, even sharing some food to the Spanish guards station nearby. After a good time, inside the house celebrating and dancing, Jahmil decided to go outside to have a moment of serene silence. Outside, he saw Takhamen sitting on his porch, looking up to the starlit sky.

"Anything bothering you sir?" Jahmil asked.

"Oh please, it's been four months, please drop the formalities", Takhamen replied.

"Oh, sorry Sir", Jahmil said.

"Actually, I'm not bothered by something particularly bad, it's just that I heard about good and bad omens, and how they come in many forms. The way things are going now, it seems like taking you in brought good omens to this house. Everything seems to be in place, especially with the shop", Takhamen explained.

"I was flattered?" Jahmil says with an anticipation.

"I'm serious", Takhamen replied.

"Well, to be completely honest, I didn't want to live. After the storm and tsunami, I surrendered myself to their powers. Yes, I despised life, and I badly wanted to die. But now, it seems like I've found a new purpose", he sighed as his vocal cord retracts with impunity of the sadness of his heart.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize. I'm too careless, please, forget it. Have a drink", Takhamen surrenders his intentions. He handed out a cup of wine, a kind of wine he craved for back then when they are unable to buy the expensive wine. Now however, he could easily get his hands on it, even giving him the capacity to collect even more kinds of wine.

"It's actually good", Jahmil remarked.

"I know, right. Have some more", Takhamen replied.

They drank under the glow of a thousand stars veiling the lands beneath it. The moon shone bright, reminding Jahmil how his parents were watching over him, just as the moon did. Spanish guards carried lamps as they roved the city, heading to the port through the moonlit alleyways, where the harbor stood. Ships were lined up in rows. Their masts towering like sentient shadows in the dark of night, while lanterns illuminated the wooden bridge below. Though under Spanish occupation, the city was rather peaceful. 'Not a bad start at all' Jahmil thought as he wished to stay.