Stranger, 2024
Stéphane Foucaud

Offshore, the horizon blazed with the blood-red hue of a setting sun, heralding, in our eyes, some cataclysm that had occurred on the other side of the earth. We had our answer five days later. The sea carried improbable objects onto our beach. A terrible storm must indeed have raged a good distance from our place of life. This was evidenced by the artifacts of an unknown culture that clashed in the surf.

This unpredictable shipwreck represented a good pretext for going on an adventure. It didn't surprise me that a new mission was ordered in a large pirogue. We had already taken possession of two islands to the south and made exchanges with a people very similar to our own, whom we had discovered on lands located further west. I too hoped to be part of the next team of great travelers. "No thanks! They cook the sailors before boarding!" protested my little sister to counter my desires for escape. It was actually a rite aimed at protecting the crew against evil spirits. Our magician smeared each passenger with smoking cordyline leaves, taken from a hearth fed by essences specific to strengthening the mind. Never had an absence seen so much time pass since the last campaign of our people. We hoped that they had been able to colonize another land without too many setbacks. The other way to disappear in our regions, apart from during internal tribal wars, was limited to getting lost in the forest with evil goblins.
Baxë was almost a brother, as we were born on the same day. It was in his company that I joined the adults who were collecting their booty from elsewhere. On the calm water floated carved combs, kinds of kava receptacles, and even a lizard unknown to our fauna that floated on the surface, its belly swollen. The same idea germinated in our heads and we hastened to do our own hunting, secretly, at the other end of the bay. My eye was immediately intrigued by a glowing material swimming between two waters. I hastened to extract it from the plant conglomerate that evolved in orbit around it. My frenzy suddenly subsided when I realized that it seemed to be a vulgar tuber. Then Baxë stirred my curiosity again. "Extraordinary brother! If it turns out, we can eat it!" suggested this glutton. So we decided to pamper this strange root and make it proliferate, without the knowledge of our clan. They would surely take away our paternity of this discovery if it turned out to be edible. In order to keep our experimental sprout away from any visit, we planted it on the edge of the cursed forest. I found us a bit excessive in this search for adrenaline. The journey was made at nightfall, we pretended to be refilling the gourds of our respective huts with water.
The watering was then done in pairs, the fear gauge at zero, at high speed, jumping at every rustle of leaves or every hoot. One evening, it was especially Baxë's mother's hoot that I took in: she was annoyed by the whistles I sent, to wake him up, to that fool of a "brother". To the one who boasted of being as alert as the owl, on the alert at the slightest whistle, I launched mockingly, still speckled with his mother's spit: "Bravo Mr. Owl! On maximum alert! In my opinion, the rats can come and tickle your nuts without flinching!" Our watering in stealth mode paid off, small leaves with intertwined stems, whose shape mixed that of yam and taro, ran on the ground. It was certainly by dint of talking about it that we attracted a real owl, which came to stand guard to keep rodents away from our secret garden. On the evening of the introductions with the bird of prey, we heard a groan in the canopy. We ran away without saying good evening, dropping Baxë's mother's gourd on the spot. The next day, the brother hooted loudly at each blow of the stick he received for this oversight, which allowed me to think: "Ah! Well, here's an owl on alert!"
Then, the density of the foliage no longer progressing, we began to dig with an adze. We finished the digging by hand, so as not to damage our precious protected ones. Just like with yam, a lot of roots clung to the branches. The red and pink colors of the clones showed variations compared to the original. The internal texture, on the other hand, tended more towards white. Pretending to leave for a notou (large local pigeon) hunt, we prepared to begin our daytime cooking, so as not to miss this long-awaited moment. My "brother" had the good idea to bring, in our distant kitchen, a future problem taking the form of his mother's pot. Focused on softening our tubers in boiling water, we didn't even think that our smoke was going to make us spotted. Crowned king of spontaneous regurgitations, I was designated to taste this potentially toxic dish, while a team of warriors was busy meeting the individuals who dared to make fire on their territory. I then tasted a vegetable of extreme sweetness, with a sweet flavor, releasing a perfume of the same tenor. A well-being immediately invaded me at the first bite. Baxë didn't have time to swallow the "foreign yam": mouth wide open, but also eyes wide open, that's how he was surprised by the elders who surrounded us.
On the way back, we both assimilated walking on tiptoe, our hands pulling on the arms of our companions, in order to limit our body weight. They were unfortunately dragging us by the ears. I left it to my torturer to return his pot to the person concerned, thus taking my revenge. A flurry of slaps committed with a wooden spatula fell on the eardrum maniac, enriched by a flood of insults related to the unauthorized loan. My adoptive aunt greatly expanded my vocabulary that day.
I stayed on watch all night before the council of elders allowed themselves to eat our harvest. Our sorcerer demanded an exemplary punishment for "embezzlement of property belonging to the community". Fortunately, the committee of elders, won over by the aroma and the satiety immediately produced by our tubers, did not hear it that way (theirs at least were not damaged). They thanked us for our pugnacity and the precautions taken to preserve this nourishing discovery. It would join the pantry of the great navigators. And, the height of happiness, we would be part of the next conquest.