44. Common cause

Iliva’s return, for which I received a lot more credit than I deserved, was a complete sensation over the next few weeks. Her reunion with her children was not without its difficulties as they had grown used to the idea of her absence. If the truth be told, they had built up such a high opinion of her in their minds that the arrival of any real person would have been a disappointment.

In the end, though, ordinary life began to resume. Bahla, another person who had missed Iliva more than he had been prepared to admit, helped her to prepare an application to the Gardeners’ Courts to have her sentence annulled on the basis of Manla Kulu’s abuse and cruelty.

Jim, having overcome his reluctance to part with the best cook in the world, was determined to show his generosity. He arranged a very flexible termination of her work at his house that allowed her to make a gradual return home, at a pace that suited her. She continued to manage his kitchen and housekeeping while delegating the more onerous and time-consuming tasks to other members of his staff. Jim also volunteered to use his influence to facilitate the granting of her pardon by the courts.

I was occupied in preparing for my interview with Netto, the Gardener and, about ten days later, I found myself in his office at the back of the courthouse. Netto was a tall, dark man with short hair and a neatly trimmed moustache, wearing a dark maroon sarong. Despite being a Gardener, he remained slim, which must have required substantial self control. At the level of the Maroon Sarong, Gardeners were expected to spend a good deal of time socialising at formal feasts, so that they almost invariably gained weight.

I knew Netto vaguely and he rose to greet me as I entered.

“Ah, Tommu,” his voice was slightly high pitched and he spoke very precisely, “how do you do? I gather that you have resolved one of our more perplexing mysteries by returning the gracious Iliva to her family.”

“My role in that is vastly exaggerated, I think. There’s no doubt that sooner or later she would have heard about her husband’s death and I don’t think that even Manaku Jim could have kept her there against her will.”

“Don’t make the mistake of underestimating Manaku’s capabilities. Remember that he had hidden her there for nearly fifteen years without a word getting out. And that was in the face of one of the most determined man hunts in the history of the island. I can’t think of anywhere else that could have happened.

But we digress. You say that you want to speak to me about this book that you are writing. How do you think that I can help you?”

I briefly described my objectives in trying to record the events on the island and explained that Bahla and I had thought that, of the Gardeners, he might be the most approachable.

“Bahla! Yes, I think I remember him. I met him on the Trading Expedition and then later, I think, he helped Iliva at her trial.”

“I didn’t know that you were at the trial.” I answered.

“Not in the court room. But she raised some interesting points of law, so I was on the committee that delivered the verdict. I hoped at the time that Manla Kulu would listen and understand but, as things went on from bad to worse, it’s clear that he didn’t.”

“So you helped Lomu behind the scenes?”

“Yes. We had to find the appropriate interpretation of Our Granny’s will that would not undermine the whole structure of the island. At the same time, we couldn’t afford to turn the Gardener’s courts into a laughing stock by blindly supporting something as silly as Manla Kulu’s position. We needed a delicate balance.”

“Couldn’t you just go and ask Our Granny what she thought?”

“Come on, Tommu, don’t be naïve. We have dozens, scores of cases every week. We can’t rely on a specific answer from Our Granny for every one of them. That would be absurd.”

“You did say, though, that it raised some interesting points of law?”

“And indeed it did. But you must realise that we can’t refer back to her every time something gets complicated. Our Granny has withdrawn from among us and, while it isn’t impossible that she would give us a specific sign, we can’t rely on one appearing each time, to order.”

“Then how can you know what she wants?” I asked, perplexed.

“The answer is that we have to align ourselves with her Will. A person who studies her Will over the years, who dedicates himself to understanding the signs she has given us and who is a part of the body of Gardeners, can speak for her. That is what our lives should be, to be at one with the Will of Our Granny.”

“But how can you be sure that you aren’t making a mistake? And what would happen if there were a disagreement?”

“That is determined by the way in which the Gardeners are appointed. You see, Our granny, herself, selected the first Head Gardener, and each time the post has changed hands, it has been by direct succession. The sacred symbols of office, the soil from which the garden grows, the keys to the gates of her Garden, are passed down to the next occupant of the post.

Where there is dissension, we sometimes need to wait, but, in the end, we see who becomes the Head Gardener and then we know what to do.”

“But Manaku Jim implied that some of the decisions taken, particularly in relation to waging war, did not seem consistent with his memories of Our Granny. If she is not consulted directly each time, then that is surely a possibility.”

“I think,” Netto smiled, “that you will find that Jim would be speaking unofficially there. Officially, Jim would have to support the orthodox view. Jim’s lifestyle and his living are both dependant on the Gardeners’ ability to keep order and control in the Village. Sometimes he may find there are things that annoy him and speak out, but he understands and, in the end, when it counts, he lines up.”

“So you’re saying that Jim’s memories of Our Granny are wrong?”

“Not necessarily. Jim’s memories are probably of Our Granny as she was a long time ago. She was dealing with Jim, himself, and she probably liked him so that he saw that side of her. We have to take the longer view and also, to apply her Will to new circumstances. As Gardeners, we have to find, within her Will, adaptations to things that, at the time, had not occurred.

A lot of our interpretations are metaphorical. For example, Our Granny was in her house when a plague of flies occurred. She called Piero, the Head Gardener and she said to him,

‘We have to kill these flies and we have to stop them from breeding.’

Now, the Shadows emerge. What are they but flies? They come from the outside and they buzz in the Village and create annoyance for everyone. Our Granny has told us clearly what to do with flies. We have to kill them and to stop them from breeding. The story was obscure until the Shadows came along, but once we see them for what they are, then the meaning becomes clear.”

I looked at Netto, his eyes glinted and I wondered whether I dared ask the question I had in mind.

“I have a question.” I said cautiously. “But I’m not sure if it would be proper to ask it.”

“That depends,” Netto responded, “on the purpose of the question. If you seek understanding, then no question is forbidden. If you use a question as a way of criticising Our Granny, then no question is permitted.”

“In that case,” I said, “I will ask it. I have heard people say that there is another way to deal with the Shadows. They say that attacking them is like trying to blow out a fire. It simply spreads the flames and makes it stronger. Some people say that the Shadows are like a fire and that it would be better, quietly to pour on sand and smother them.

For something as important as that, could I not go and ask Our Granny a direct question?”

“A good thought, Tommu,” Netto rubbed the side of his head, “A very good question. And one with a very simple answer.

Our Granny’s wisdom is not the same as the Books with which you, as a Reader, are familiar. It does not come as a prescription saying ‘plant palm trees in a grid on nineteen foot centres.’ Her answers come from a different dimension; you could almost say that her answers come from the ancient wisdom of the island, from before the Americans. They are not easy to understand.

And even when they appear to be simple, often a second interpretation is possible. The story I just told you about the flies requires interpretation. So does any answer. Our Granny did not say how the flies were to be killed. Nothing in the story precludes (to conflate our two examples) killing the flies by smothering them in sand.

In the end, it is the collective wisdom of the college of Gardeners, students of Our Granny’s Will that maintains the consistency necessary for survival. If anyone can simply go and ask Our Granny privately for an opinion they will soon diverge on what she has said. That way lies schism and division.

The most important thing is that Our Granny’s people act together. Even if they occasionally do something that is less than optimal, if they take a wrong turning once in a while, they remain together and survive. Then sooner or later they return to the right path and they move on.

If everyone is free to speak to Our Granny and to make his own mind up as to what she means, what is important, we end up separate. Instead of a single group working together, we have hundreds of individuals wandering alone in the forest and alone they, are devoured by the Shai Hathan.

In a way, that is the direction in which we were moving before the Great Fire. Life was comfortable. People felt that they had the luxury of choice. They could do what suited them best. They could do what made their lives easiest.

I think of our friend Manla Kulu and his wife. He wanted her to be available to serve only him. She wanted to indulge her passion for knowledge. Each in his – or her – own way was using Our Granny’s Will as an argument for their own self indulgence instead of listening to the wisdom of the collective, of the College of Gardeners. Both of them suffered the consequences of trying to bend the rules.

The Great Fire demonstrated the need for a common cause. We lost friends and family. We lost property of great value. In exchange, we rediscovered our purpose.”