The Scapegoat of the Seas

STORY

The scapegoat of the sea

The Scapegoat of the Seas

        The line – up of students along the coconut – fringed beach that day resembled a flag –waving one that usually welcome the president or higher party officials, but it was different. Some would think they were waiting the docking of important ship, but they were not. What the grim – faced boys and girls with tears – stained faces were awaiting was neither President not ship, but a body.  The body of their fellow – student. It would be washed ashore…… according to what the high – priestess of the sea – god had told them.

This was the climax to a sad and woeful story that has not failed to evoke tears from many a listener. It all began three days earlier, on a Tuesday when some of the boys had rushed from the beach with the startling news that one of their fellow – student had dived into the sea and had been carried away by a strong wave. He had not reappeared up once, with upheld hands, sunk again and had not reappeared. They had dived after him several times but had found no trace of him. They had then called for the help of some fishermen mending their net nearby; but dived had produced no better results.

A search party was soon organized, composed for the school’s most versatile divers. They dived deep, they swam far and wide but none of them could see anything of the boy, angel of the school, darling of his mother. Professional divers were sent for, but their search proved futile as all attempts. With advert of darkness, the search was stopped and they went back to the compound with hopes that at least his body would be washed ashore the next morning.

The search was resuming with the rising of the sun. The sea was swarming with divers, young and old. A whole day search produced no fruit. It was at the end of the day that hope began to diminish. However, experienced old men began to discern more than the surface implications in the affair. They felt that unless something was done, and quickly, the body of the young man would be lost, and before long, either eaten up by sharks, or ‘spoilt’ beyond recognition.

The only thing to do under the circumstances was to consult the local oracle. Accordingly, a delegation to this end was sent to the oracle. The stammering, ecstatic fetish – priestess had this to say: “These young men have abominated me. They have failed to keep off me on the days devoted to me. The body of the young man is imprisoned. It is intact and would be delivered by one o’clock tomorrow, if only the following items are provided to appease me: a goat, two bottles of schnapps and seven eggs……..”

Needless to say, these items were quickly provided and the whole school settled down in eager anticipation of the arrival of the tragic being that had so recently been part and parcel of it.

Meanwhile, his mother, his sole guardian, was informed of the incident. He was her only child by an earlier marriage. Having live with a second husband for ten years without any more issue, she had given up hope and concentrated her attention on her only son. His father had married another woman, had had more children, and cared little about him and his mother. She had struggled, and seen him through elementary school; and now secondary school. He being in his fourth year, it seemed that his mother’s hopes were going  to materialized after all. Even if she stood to gain nothing at the end, she could not be called childless and there was assurance of decent burial at least. The indulgence and lavish treatment that are characteristic of such conditions were bestowed on him. These were clearly translated in the fashionable shirts and costly shoes that he wore. Left to himself, he was the handsome young man that could be clearly marked out in a crowd. Good society had given him gentlemanly attributes that matched well with his physical qualities…..

      So far this day his mother arrived, scarcely able to support herself and having wept until her voice was almost inaudible. She also settled down for tragic expectation.

     

  The coastal people, though used to such sea – tragedies were too shocked to pass it off as one of those things that usually happened. Whatever opinion they had, they kept mute, and invariably also, settled down in anxiety for the next day. A steady breeze fanned the jostling grim – faced and sobbing crowd which grew thicker and thicker as noon approached. At the school, classes were stopped at twelve o’clock to enable everyone to go the beach. Lively discussion was in the air. Some had come to see the fulfillment of miracle. Others were there from genuine pity. Some had come to see the bereaved mother.

      

   Tension grew with the approach of one o’clock. The horizon was clear and steady glance gave me a thin black line that divided blue sky from the vast expanse of the ocean. Meanwhile the discussion continued from all over the vast crowd.

    

    “Yes” said a fisherman, “you won’t look twice at these youngsters when they come to the beach, especially when they take the girls under those groves. Long ago when I was a child my father told me it was a taboo to such things on the beach. But it seems these young people have broken such taboos. They have angered the sea – god and you see what has happened?”

    He was hitting the mark; it was true. No one with scruples would like to look twice at the students on Saturdays when they crowded the beach in their numbers. Worse, they cared little about the days set aside as sacred for the sea. To the sea and the fishermen, Tuesday was sacred; to these students it was like any ordinary day. Unwittingly, they had angered the sea - god beyond all measure and he had come to strike a blow from which they would hardly recover. The unfortunate boy was the scapegoat.

    

         Suddenly a piercing yell rose above all other from the direction of some attentive fishermen watch – outs. A black object could be spotted on the far horizon. A sudden hush fell could be made out on the apparently clear horizon. The black object loomed larger and larger as it neared the shore.

     

    All at once the air quivered with war – songs, accompanied by a steady heat of the drums. The abrafos had arrived. The drums rent the air with intoxicating rhythm. One could match one’s heart - beat with it. It was the very heart – beat on the vast crowd.

     

  Meanwhile the black object was almost on the shore. From about fifty yards, you could see it clearly, still clad in swim pant floating alongside the wave as it headed towards the shore.

    

    Just five minutes after the stipulated one o’clock, the body of the poor boy rolled gently ashore; intact and undamaged. The cries rose to a frenzy. Women wailed, some wept, and others fainted. The menacing abrofos drove the curious crowd away. Then began the cleansing rites that would prepare the boy for the burial………

     

  Many people had started moving away. What they had seen out enough for one day. Soon the roofs of the old town rose out of their surroundings and met their view. It was a return to reality. A grim reminder of the fact that they had left the poor boy alone behind – as if it was a purge of ‘the bad’ from the society of the good.

            It was getting near two o’clock and the heat of the sun was nearing it height. Already, shirts were being thrown open. In the distance the drums continued to beat.

FRANK MENSAH