I was excited. Today, I finally got to learn about our tribe from a perspective not allowed to the commoners. I listened attentively as my instructor took me through the tales of how our tribe came to be and how we came to live on the seas, away from every other humans. Sure, they are other tribes that live on the sea too, but we took it to a wholly different level.

We are the only tribe that lived entirely on the sea. No one from our tribe has set foot in land for the past several generations. And we live very far away from the land, unlike other water tribes that keeps close to the land. We have almost perfected the knowledge and technology of building structures on the sea without any other support but the constantly moving water. And we have a city on the water, bigger than some cities on land. Most other water tribes has only houseboats. The sea and oceans, and all their brothers speak to us as if we were their kin. And we are indeed. We have no connections to land, and we are proud of it. Because the seas are our home now.

But it wasn’t always our home. A long time ago, so long that our chroniclers have lost count, we were part of a great tribe on land. Our first chief, called Elinja was one of two princes who will inherit the kingdom one day. But his brother didn’t want that. His brother wanted to rule the kingdom all by himself and sought how to dispose of him.

An opportunity presented itself when he committed sacrilege by killing Samino, a sacred animal. His friend’s son had gone fishing one day and caught a very big Samino. The Samino had struggled and pulled the boy underwater. The boy struggled in vain against the powerful pull of Samino. Elinja, seeing that the boy was going to drown, dived into the sea. But Samino was fierce and didn’t want to let go. The only way to Dave the boy was to kill Samino.

Elinja’s brother bribed the priest, who “divined” that Samino was angry for being denied his booty. The punishment was that Elinja’s family and his friend’s family would be put out at sea for Samino to do as he pleased with them.

But Elinja was a powerful sorcerer and used a strong sorcery to mask his presence from Samino. The two families intermarried and grew to be the great Elinja tribe they are now.

“But why do we hunt Samino now?” I asked. I was surprised. If Samino was a sacred animal, why do we hunt it? Samino was a big delicacy of the Elinja tribe. It didn’t make sense.

My instructor was about to reply when the door burst open. My mother burst into the room.

“The Elaenja summons you. There’s trouble.” She said.

…. …. …. ….

Over the next two days, I could feel a palpable tension over our banija. And that’s surprising, because I am normally immune to the atmosphere around me. My mother had said that so many times that I don’t even bother trying anymore. My father says it’s a serious fault for one who would rule the tribe someday not to be empathetic to the people’s mood. But what can I say? If the people would just be a tiny bit empathetic to my mood, then everyone would always be happy. And isn’t the primary role of a ruler to keep his subjects happy?

But the mood was getting to me. I’ve asked my father many times, but he says that if the others knew, it would lead to panic. Previously, the tension was only in our house, but now, it has spread to the whole banija. Previously, the only ones with uncertain faces were the chroniclers and the Maken, a group of elders. I’ve seen some bards in the mix of those going in too. But the people with the greatest tension on their faces were the watchers, the people that keeps an eye out for us to prevent against invasion, from humans or beasts of the sea. I had thought that maybe, we were having an invasion of the latter. But I did not see any warrior preparing to battle the beasts of the sea. I have been mystified since my mother summoned my instructor from our very interesting lesson. I mean, I can understand that something would involve both the Maken and the chroniclers, but watchers and bards? That fit me completely lost.

Now the tension was spreading, I thought I would do a bit of investigation. I untied my small samino skin canoe and rowed the the watchers tower. It was a high structure from where the watchers keeps a lookoutand it was built right in the centre of our banija. From there, I could see all around our banija.

A ladder led right up to the top. Immediately Mali saw my head come over the tower, he rushed and helped me up. Mali was an apprentice watcher and my friend.

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“Whats the Elaenja doing about it?” he asked me once my feet was solidly planted on the floor of the tower.

“Doing about what?” I asked. I knew it was the wrong question the instant it left my mouth. Mali’s eyes shifted from mine as he replied. Because I was the Elaenja’s son, he had assumed I would know whatever was going on. The trouble was that I didn’t know. If only I had acted like I knew, then maybe, I will be able to pry some information from him. I did learn something though, whatever is happening, the watchers knew the most about it.

“You don’t know?” He asked, his eyes still avoiding mine

“Know what?”

“If you don’t know…” his voice trailed off. I decided I had had enough of the secrecy. If my father wasn’t going to tell me what was happening, I will pester him till he does. I turned around to leave. Mali held me back, thinking perhaps that I was angry at him for not telling me. I decided not to correct him.

“If I tell you, I will be breaking the Watchers’ Oath…” his voice trailed off again. “But you should know, you are the future Elaenja…”

I got tired of him also, but I didn’t want to leave yet. I came for a purpose. I walked to the railings and looked out over our banija. Once again, pride swelled my chest at how great we were. I could barely see the end of the houses, boats and canoes that made up our banija. The sun was directly over head, so the blue ocean between the houses sparkled. The houses swayed gently with the waves, but I knew they could withstand many times that, still swaying just as gently. Then I noticed something and frowned in confusion. There was an unusual amount of boat activity in the banija. And it wasn’t from men going out to fish or coming in from fishing. It seemed all the men in the banija were rowing to the court. My father stood on the stern of his canoe, waiting patiently. He was on his biggest canoe, which made him tower above the other men in their boats and canoes. This was no ordinary assembly. It was an official announcement, which means that the prince of the tribe must be there beside the Elaenja, to tell the tribe what they must do. I bade Mali farewell and went down the ladder to my boat. The watchers tower mustn’t be bereft of watchers, no matter what. A messenger would relay the message to them when the assembly is over. Finally, I was going to know what all the fuss was about.

…. …. …. ….

I reached the assembly just as the last of the Maken rowed into position beside my father. There was a space, small enough for a small canoe between him and my father. My position. I took it and waited. The men waited with tense faces.

“In the ages past, our ancestors has had to move from the place they established their banija many times.” My father began after the customary greetings. “It was caused by various reasons. Sometimes, the gave dried out, or the fishes and their brothers moved out. Or the ocean just didn’t like them where they were, in which case it sends its storms after us. Five times, this last has happened. Five times we had moved our banija. And three places on the sea had known our greatness. The last two times, we simply moved to places we had been. The bards tell of these, and even a child that knows his folklores could row to these places if he has enough food to last the journey.

“But the gods have finally caught up with us. A great storm is upon us, appearing out of no where as if conjured. And alas, they come from the directions of these three places. We can’t follow in the routes our ancestors had rowed. We must make our own journey, and find a new place to establish our banija.”

A gasp went up from the women. Everyone knew the implications of those words. Everyone who knew the folklores knew how difficult it is to establish in new places. The oceans are vast of full of the unknown. Once in the past, we have settled at a place not knowing it was the nesting grounds of ganenas. When the season came, female ganenas had battled the tribe with all the fierceness of a mother protecting her unborn offsprings. It had been a bitter battle and many Elinjas were lost. But we succeeded in showing we meant no harm and the ganenas had become our friends now. The children plays with them in the water and they lead us to mining grounds we didn’t know.

“Yesterday, we sent up the signal to call back any Elinja not in the banija. Anyone not yet back can only fend for himself. We are leaving, the storms are already upon us.”

It was the men’s turn to protest. How were there to leave their relatives that were out fishing just because they couldn’t return fast enough? When my father commanded every family to tether their house to their biggest canoes and reduce the length of their anchors, a full blown protest ensued. No one moved.

But the storm was closer than they had thought. The waves were suddenly upon us from out of nowhere, as if conjured. The sky darkened. Thunder clapped incessantly. Everyone forgot about their relatives and prepared the necessary things in a rush. As the Maken would say, mine is better than ours, me before us. In ten minutes, we were racing against the waves. The skilled dived into the waters to call the ganenas to our aid. We needed every bit of man power and beast power we could muster if we were to win the race and get to safety.

As I dived in, I heard the song of the conches, filled with tension and warning. I knew the song. We had only heard it in the folklores. But it sounded even more foreboding now we were hearing it from the right instruments it was originally made for.

It said: everyone, tether your houses, cut your anchors row your boats, keep your women and children safe. For we are going into danger. We are moving into uncharted waters