My OTHER Wainibokasi Story!

While writing the previous post, I remembered something else; something which still rankles with me even after all these years.

What happened? Well, I mentioned the enormous cyclone that wiped out Rewa delta ... but I didn't tell you that the copious amount of rain dumped in the mountains also made the Wainibokasi River flow like a cascade with endless eddies and brown roiling water, full of trees and logs and other debris, all of which made kayaking down its length the subsequent Sunday afternoon even more fun than usual.

However that day a certain unnamed family member was in a huff with me ... and, never gifted with an ability to see the Big Picture, and with exceptionally poor impulse control, at the first opportunity I was tossed out of our shared kayak and into that brown swirling water. She then rowed away fast.

It was frankly terrifying, trying to keep my head above that brown swirling water, in a current so strong that I - only about six years old - had no way of fighting it to reach shore.

Fortunately shortly afterwards the current changed direction as it came to a bend in the river and I was pulled towards shore. And even more fortunately a tree had toppled into the water and, still in a blind panic, I was able to grab at a branch and pull myself along to the trunk.

After I'd caught my breath I decided to make towards the shore. Still hanging on to the trunk, pulling my way along its length, fighting against the cascade of water over the top and the current pulling underneath, I was flailing around with my bare feet trying to find the bottom, when finally my toes got purchase on something.

It took me only seconds to realise something was wrong  ...

... I couldn't see a thing in the brown water, but I could feel it. Whatever I was walking on felt so very odd that I ran my feet over it: Was it a very large cloth bag filled with mud? But why would anyone fill a cloth bag with mud?  But, but ... were those buttons?  Why would someone put buttons on a cloth bag? Really and genuinely curious, right?

So I put my foot on it very hard ... and ... well, that's when it happened.

I first thought it was an enormous snake ... but then I saw what it really was. A large, grey, water-sodden hand rearing out of the water before flopping back again.

I screamed and leapt away from it, only to be pulled back into the current and, again panicking furiously, was again swept downstream.

It might have ended very badly but that's when a crystal clear thought entered my head:  I wasn't wearing shoes.  That meant if I reached the shore, I'd have a very long walk to the bridge several miles downriver. On a very hot day too. And, hey, on land there was only the choice of walking on the sensitive grass-ridden embankment or along the rough gravel of the road and neither of those made for pleasant prospects.  And then the second thought: what was so wrong with the water anyway?: it was taking me exactly where I wanted to go and, hey, my feet would thank me for it. 

And that's when I grabbed a passing log, hung on and rode down the river that way. It was very pleasant indeed and it was only when the bridge was finally in sight that I threw myself back into the water and struggled towards shore.

I made it ... and immediately wished I hadn't because, honestly, there was such a kerfuffle.  The story went that I'd dived overboard of my own volition and Mum was furious with me. "Don't you realise how dangerous that was?" she shouted at me ... but I didn't care ...

"There's a dead man trapped in that tree back there on that river bend." I told her.

"Don't be silly!" she snapped.

I really did try to convince her, but she must have been very worried because she was in no mood to listen. And all the way home I constantly interrupted her rant about my irresponsibility and stupidity with "There's a dead man trapped in that tree back there on that river bend."which just made it all the worse. But I didn't care.  I really thought my news was the most important issue and it made me very cross that I remained unheard.

It was only that night when, on the Radio One news, there came an announcement that a Fijian policeman had been swept away while trying to save four children in the upper reaches of the Wainibokasi River.  That's when she looked at me hard ... and then went off to make a phone call.

But I never got an apology. Not from her, and not from the other one either.  And that still, after all this time, rankles.

Gosh, how on earth did this all become about me?