Little Ebony Fish

The Trobriand Islands in Papua New Guinea - volcanic outcrop islands and sand cays mingle with coral reef and dark indigo waters to form a magical place.
My “banana boat”, carrying food, fuel and passengers, was greeted by locals at a jetty at Kaduwaga. They sold ebony carvings, Golden Cowrie shells, turtle shell fish hooks and various other creations.
I left the boat to walk towards the white sand and palm trees. Behind the local greeters an elderly man, more gum than tooth but with the widest of smiles, was sitting obscured and hunched in the sun. He held a single tiny carving.
I shook his hand, sat down and gestured to look at what I now realized was a fish carving no bigger than a large closed fist. It was delightful - the lips, mouth, gills, fins, scales and eyes were carved to an impossibly intricate detail in the ebony wood.
“How much?” I asked too eagerly. A hesitant and muffled “turty kina” was his price (K30 = ~$US10), a bargain for hours of working tired fingers to the bone. I whipped out my money and made the exchange, shook my artisans hand and began inspecting my prize. My fingers grazed over the smooth underside of the ebony fish and over a small but worn marking. The imperfection formed the inscription “1976”.
The hunched shape of the old man was now staring at me through saddened eyes. I recoiled at myself and shoved the little fish back into his hand to extinguish my growing guilt. I saw a lightening of his eyes as they glazed; he smiled a massive pure smile after a couple of moments of confusion and grabbed my hand.
He led me to the beach where we sat in silence. I tried to piece together the story of the little ebony fish, it was significant and in my “tourist” moment had almost stolen it from him. Occasionally we’d nod or smile at each other as we watched the ocean. It was so peaceful and comforting to sit with this old soul, like a lost friend he’d already forgiven me. Soon, other locals came and chatted with the old man, sometimes gesturing to me. The old man mumbled responses and I smiled and shook many hands.
My captain eventually gestured our leaving, after unloading his payload and accepting more passengers. I stood up and shook the old man’s hand as he mumbled a “tank-u” and nodded. I smiled and jogged to the banana boat, a little perplexed but happy and relaxed.
A ticket from Port Moresby to the Trobriand Island capital Lousia is about $300. When there, head to the beach and hitch a ride on a banana boat.