Free Loku and the Shark Attack by Deborah Carlyon

Chapter One

    Loku’s lean brown body glistened beneath the orange eyelash of the afternoon sun. Drops of saltwater ran down his back as he left the sea and walked across the white-gold sand of the beach. He was listening to the sound of the incoming tide pounding the shore behind him. On the horizon were matchstick-sized silhouettes of fishermen, their canoes lulling in the calm distance. Turning, Loku paused to gaze seaward as his father and uncles paddled over the silky surface toward the breaking waves. He smiled and breathed deeply. His world was shimmering blue.

    â€˜Ayi, Loku!’ voices shouted. His cousins were calling out and running toward him. Their laughter warmed the air as they fell in the sand along the way, tripping each other’s feet. As they came closer, Loku’s twin brother, Nul, beamed a broad grin as he kicked a coconut husk high over Loku’s head. The game had begun.

    There were no rules, just running and kicking. All the boys ran swiftly, chasing and tackling each other for the fibrous husk. They kicked it to one another until it was splayed and torn. All the time, the colours of crimson and magenta crept over the sky, as the sun prepared to close her eye.
    Loku and some of the other boys walked down to the sea to help the men carry their nets and catch. Loku’s father and uncles were happy for their help. While Loku was pulling the canoes up the beach, safely beyond the high tide line, he noticed that Nul was not with him. As he lifted the heavy basket of fish, he could hear Nul and his younger cousins laughing in the distance.

    He walked up the beach, toward the cluster of huts, and Loku could see Lapun Papa on the outdoor bamboo sitting-bed. He saw his mother bent over the coals of the outside fire, blowing on the embers. Puffs of smoke sighed in thin wisps above the low-burning fire. All this was familiar to Loku, but today he wasn’t at peace. He sensed that something was not quite right, but he wasn’t sure what was different.

    Loku noticed his feet beginning to drag in the sand. Slowly he came to his mother and lowered the basket of fish beside her. She thanked him by patting his legs, then she placed the fish – head and all, for the head was the tastiest – onto the fire. She didn’t wash the fish in the river water for, like everyone else in Loku’s village, she enjoyed the taste of sea salt on fresh fish.
    Reaching the edge of Lapun Papa’s sitting bed, Loku lowered his head slightly to show respect. His grandfather squinted his soft, nearly-blind eyes lovingly at his grandson, and he patted the bed, motioning for Loku to sit beside him.
    Loku sat quietly because that was his nature. Usually this was a peaceful time, he and Lapun Papa sitting together and watching his mother prepare food. Loku did not have to tell his grandfather much, because Lapun Papa lived with him and knew the rhythm of each day.
    Lapun Papa knew Loku would rise early in the morning and collect sticks for his mother’s fire and then he would pull his father’s canoe down to the soft lapping waves while the tide was out. He knew Loku often spent the day fishing with his father, and that he sometimes stayed in the village, helping other men repair their nets and sharpen their harpoons and spears. Lapun Papa knew Loku would return in the evening to sit with him while Loku’s mother prepared their food.
    But today something was different.
    Loku looked out across the village to the shadows that moved beneath the palm trees. There was Nul, laughing and playing with his cousins. Nul was always having fun while Loku worked. Loku didn’t usually mind. Nul was his brother and that was just the way Nul was.
    But today, when Nul returned for the evening meal, and his mother patted his legs and thanked him for looking after his younger cousins, Loku’s face contorted. He pressed his lips together to hide new feelings of annoyance and jealousy.
    That evening,