Capítulo 5: - Gram and Bobo
Fortunately, after stripping me and tossing my clothes away, the two fisherman sighed in relief and did not continue to assault me.
After a bout of confusion staring at them while they chatted in their foreign language at me, I slowly got the feeling they were friendly and not a bunch of of twisted pedos.
I get to keep my butthole's purity! I hope... They're not just trying to convince me to bend over. Right?
Being unable to comprehend their language is really inconvenient but after a bunch of gesturing at one another, I believed that they wanted me to follow them.
Although slightly suspicious, the other choice was to stay stranded on this island with no food and water and so I relented.
Climbing on their long carved wooden canoe, I was forced to sit down or be unbalanced and fall into the water. One followed after me and the other pushed the boat to deeper waters before hopping on the boat by himself, immediately using an oar to steer the canoe.
We paddled with wooden oar (with me just sitting silently) and after a while reached a small village located on a large island.
***
Children and women(clothed quite decently, unfortunately) greeted us and chatted with one another.
I guess they are asking the men why they came back early from their fishing trip? Or maybe they were asking about me?
Must be quite surprising to row out with two men and come back with three.
I also noticed that the women handed over clothes, one set each to the fisherman.
Must be their spouses.
The men eagerly wore them, their looks now more akin to barefoot sailors instead of uncivilized tribesmen.
Unfortunately I continued to be a naked boy as they did not seem to be prepared and thus they sent off some of the children to fetch someone else.
After a while, the children were seen leading a bald and bearded middle aged man. He wore knee height black leather boots, brown rough khaki-looking pants and a simple white singlet. He had a brown apron that seemed stained with brown and grey and was pulling along a rope.
At the end of the rope was a dog, the mangee ridden fur giving me the impression it was a stray mutt but it's wagging tail and happy strides meant that the old man was a relatively good master. Or maybe dogs are just too damn loyal.
The man tossed a simple linen robe towards me and I happily wore it. It was slightly oversized but I shan't complain.
He then trudged over to me and began inspecting me. I would not say that he was rough but his hands were quite firm as he grabbed my arms and pulling them up as if I were some kind of merchandise.
He turned towards the fisherman that had rescued me and began talking with them while still not letting go of me.
After some back and forth which seemed more like housewives haggling in the market, the dog owner nodded in satisfaction.
The two fisherman than smiled at me and waved. And then pointed at the dog owner and walked back to their wives.
Huh. Did I just get sold? Am I a slave now? At least they did not tie me up or something...
The middle aged men beckoned towards me and began walking away. I followed him and first thing I did was give the doggo a headpat. Upon noticing my appreciation of his not so majestic mutt, he stopped and pointed at the dog and said something.
After repeating his actions for a while, I figured out that he was either saying dog in his language or saying its name. I repeated the word he said while also pointing at the dog "Bobo!"
I later learned that 'Bobo' is the dog's name and was not the word for dog in their language.
Pleased, the middle aged man then pointed to himself and said, "Gram".
He then pointed at me and waited in silence.
Guessing his intension, I simply pointed at myself and introduced myself, "Arthur".
Gram, if i did not mistranslate, nodded and then passed the rope he was holding on to me. Then continued walking towards his destination.
Dog in tow, I followed him, hoping that I am not making a mistake.
Along the way, I noticed that the architecture on the island was quite simple. Most huts had stamped soil or sand as a front yard and the buildings were made of wood or bamboo. The roof was some kind of dried leaf or straws and none of the area were fenced, making me believe the area is quite safe.
The children playing outdoors also led me to believe that.
The further away from shore we trudged, the denser the area become, some of the huts even built side by side. After a while, we reached a clearing and it was surrounded by stalls.
A market? Pots and fish and fruits. Yeah, definitely a market. The stall owners seems to be more concerned about napping and snacking rather than peddling their wares though...
I was led to a stall that had baskets and baskets of seafood. Gram took the rope leashed to the good doggo and tied it to a post nearby. Then took an unidentified red blot, probably some fish guts, off a wooden surface and fed the dog.
Gram then took a clever and began to scale and gut fishes from one basket and tossing the finished 'product' into a cleaner basket.
I stood around waiting until he raised one of his eyebrow and pointed at an empty basket, then at a spot a distance away.
I shrugged, took the basket to the spot and was greeted by a youth. Not understanding his words, I simply silently stood and stared at him until he grabbed the basket away from me and entered a well shaded building. After a while he got out, the basket filled with fishes and dropped them in front of me and crossed his arms with a smirk.
Looking at the basket two thirds my height and probably heavier than my current body weight, I simply smiled back and lifted it to his shock.
Bwahaha! Fear my beyonder strength you weak mortal!
***
It took me a few trips back and forth from the fish depot to Gram's stall before I realized that I had become a victim of child labor.
True, my mind was relatively mature and my body apparently have semi superhero strength but... There should be a law against child labor!
As I lampooned to distract myself from the repetitive labour, the passage of time continued and evening approached. With my final delivery, I waited for gram to finish his work.
After some thoughts, I guess he is more of a labourer compared to being a fishmonger as the cleaned fish he gutted were taken away without receiving payment.
Or maybe this village does not have a trading system? Some kind of communal job system? Some become fisherman and some process the caught harvest? Who gets to decide who gets what jobs though?
As Gram cleaned his stall, I volunteered and helped to tidy and wipe some of the surfaces. There was no soap though, only sea water was used so honestly the area looked neat but still smelled quite a bit.
C minus for hygiene. I'll say it will definitely fail a health inspection of the pre-Epoch times. Hope they at least don't eat their food raw or a pandemic might be quite common...
After 'closing shop', i.e. tossing knives and other tools in a basket and shoving it under the stall without locking anything up, us lovable trio soon continued walking once again. It was until dark that we arrived in a large building. To describe it as a hut would be inaccurate as it resembled more of an open air shrine.
Towards the back end lf the building, a turtle shell was placed on a pedestal and a bowl of incence was burning to it's front. An old lady was chanting in some kind of prayer before noticing us and walked out to greet us.
She casually chatted with Gram and after a while Gram looked at me and pointed towards her, "Muriel".
I introduced myself to Muriel by pointing at myself and saying "Arthur" in turn and was met with a grandmotherly smile and nod.
Gram took off Bobo's leash and then washed himself in a well in the front yard. I followed his actions and thankfully was provided with a change of clothes from Muriel.
Muriel walked away from the building towards some unknown destination and both me and Gram finally slept on the floor in front of the turtle.
Despite the bugs and hard wooden floor, I had a good sleep and only woke up the next day when my sleep was interrupted by the glare of the morning sun peeking through the frameless windows.
Estado de energía semanal
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