Night fell an’ we tromped back to our stores an’ drawed lots for sentryin’, then partyin’ began in spesh dwellin’s named bars. I did my sentryin’ early on, then showed Meronym some places with Wolt an’ Unc’ Bees b’fore the musickers drawed us back to Church. A squeezywheezy an’ banjos an’ catfish fiddlers an’ a presh rare steel guitar there was, an’ barrels o’ liquor what each tribe bringed to show their richness an’ sacks o’ blissweed ’cos where there’s Hilo, oh, there’s blissweed. I skanked deep on Wolt’s pipe an’ four days’ march from our free Windward to Kona Leeward seemed like four mil’yun, yay, babbybies o’ blissweed cradled me that night, then the drummin’ started up, see ev’ry tribe had its own drums. Foday o’ Lotus Pond Dwellin’ an’ two–three Valleysmen played goatskin ’n’ pingwood tom-toms, an’ Hilo beardies thumped their flumfy-flumfy drums an’ a Honokaa fam’ly beat their sash-krrangers an’ Honomu folk got their shell-shakers an’ this whoah feastin’ o’ drums twanged the young uns’ joystrings an’ mine too, yay, an’ blissweed’ll lead you b’tween the whack-crack an’ boom-doom an’ pan-pin-pon till we dancers was hoofs thuddin’ an’ blood pumpin’ an’ years passin’ an’ ev’ry drumbeat one more life shedded off of me, yay, I glimpsed all the lifes my soul ever was till far-far back b’fore the Fall, yay, glimpsed from a gallopin’ horse in a hurrycane, but I cudn’t describe ’em ’cos there ain’t the words no more but well I mem’ry that dark Kolekole girl with her tribe’s tattoo, yay, she was a saplin’ bendin’ an’ I was that hurrycane, I blowed her she bent, I blowed harder she bent harder an’ closer, then I was Crow’s wings beatin’ an’ she was the flames lickin’ an’ when the Kolekole saplin’ wrapped her willowy fingers around my neck, her eyes was quartzin’ and she murmed in my ear, Yay, I will, again, an’ yay, we will, again.
Get up now, boy, my pa biffed me anxsome, this ain’t no mornin’ for slug-gybeddin’, cuss you. That bubbly dream popped an’ I waked proper under itchy Kolekole blankies. The dark girl ’n’ me was twined, yay, like a pair o’ oily lizards swallowin’ each other. She smelled o’ vines ’n’ lava ash an’ her olive breasts rose ’n’ fell an’ watchin’ her I got the tenderlies like she was my own babbit slumb’rin’ by me. Blissweed was foggin’ me still, an’ I heard near-far shouts o’ wild partyin’ tho’ a misty dawn was ’ready up, yay, it happens so at harvest barterin’s, times are. So I yawned ’n’ stretched, yay, achin ’n’ feelin’ all good ’n’ scooped, y’know how it is when you shoot up a beautsome girl. Smoky brekkers was bein’ cooked nearby, so I put on my pants ’n’ jacket ’n’ all an’ the Kolekole girl’s eyes opened fawny an’ she murmed, Mornin’, goatman, an’ I laughed an’ said, I’ll be back with grinds, an’ she din’t b’lief me so I settled I’d prove her wrong an’ see her smile when I bringed her brekker. Outside the Kolekole storehouse was a cobbly track runnin’ by the Town Wall, but northly or southly I din’t cogg, so I was puzzlin’ my path there when a Honokaa guard dropped from the rampart an’ missed killin’ me by inches.
My guts shot half up an’ half down.
A crossbolt shaft stuck out his nose an’ its point thru the back o’ his head. Its iron point jolted that mornin’ an’ ev’rythin’ into, oh, its horrorsome place.
That near-far wild partyin’ were battlin ’n’ fightin’, yay! That smokin’ brekker was thatch burnin’, yay! Now my first thinkin’ was my people, so I backrabbited t’ward the Valleysmen’s store in the town hub shoutin’, Kona! Kona! Yay, the dark wings o’ that dreadsome word beat furyin’ thru Honokaa an’ I heard a thund’ry splint’rin’ an’ a diresome shout kicked up an’ I cogged the town gate was busted down. Now I got to the square, but whackaboom panickin’ blocked my way an’ fear, yay, fear an’ its hot stink turned me back. I roundybouted the narrow roads, but nearer ’n’ nearer Kona roars an’ horses an’ bullwhips came, fillin’ them misty ’n’ burnin’ alleys like a tsunami an’ I din’t know what way I’d come nor was goin’ an’ ker-bam! I got shoved into the gutter by a milk-eyed old ma clubbin’ thin air with a roller pin bansheein’, You’ll never lay your filthsome hands on me, but when I got up again she was still ’n’ pale, see, she’d got a crossbolt blossomin’ her bosom an’ suddenwise whoah a whip binded my legs t’gether an’ whoah up I flew an’ whoah down my head dropped an’ aieee the pavestones smashed my skull, yay, fiercer ’n a chop from a cold dammit chisel.
When I waked next my young body was an old bucket o’ pain, yay, my knees was busted an’ one elbow stiff ’n’ bruised an’ my ribs chipped an’ two teeth gone an’ my jaws din’t fit no more an’ that lump on my head was like a second head. I was hooded like a goat b’fore slaught’rin’ an’ my hands ’n’ feet binded cruelsome an’ laid flat on ’n’ under other sorrysome bodies, yay, I hurt like I’d never knowed b’fore nor since, nay! Cartwheels was groanin’ an’ iron shoes clip-cloppin’ an’ with each sway pain sloshed round my skull.
Well, there weren’t no myst’ry. We was bein’ slaved an’ carted back to Kona jus’ like my lost bro Adam. I weren’t speshly gladsome at livin’ still, I weren’t nothin’ jus’ achin’ an’ helpless as a strung-up lardbird bein’ bled from a hook. A squirmin’ foot squashed my balls, so I murmed, Anyun else awake here? See, I thinked I may yet manage to rabbit out o’ that hole, but a rook-raw Kona voice yelled jus’ inches away, Shut your mouths, my strappin’ lads, or I vow on my blade I’ll slit the tongues from ev’ry last dingo-shat one o’ you! A warm wet quilted my arm, as someun lyin’ on me pissed, what cooled to a chill wet as beats went by. I counted five Kona speakin’, three horses, an’ a cage o’ chicklin’s. Our slavers was discussin’ the girls what they’d torn open ’n’ shooted up durin’ the Honokaa raid, so I knowed I’d been hooded half the day or more. I din’t have no hungry but, oh, I was thirsty as hot ash. One o’ the Kona voices I cogged but I din’t see how. Ev’ry long beat’d bring a thund’rin’ o’ war hoofs ’long the road an’ there’d be a Howzit, Captain! an’ a Yay, sir an’ The battlin’ goes well! an’ so I learned the Kona’d not made jus’ a reccyin’ raid on Honokaa but was seizin’ the hole o’ northly Big I, yay, an’ that meant the Valleys. My Nine Folded Valleys. Sonmi, I prayed, Mercysome Sonmi, minder my fam’ly ’n’ kin.