(the diary of the famous spanish soldier sebastian legua del rey, the founder of the island tacodo, southwest of hawaii, close to palau; his diary is famous around the world because it was written on banana leaves found stacked in rolls inside tubes of bamboos; the dried leaves were miraculously preserved and when spread under the sun, revealed writings by this solitary soldier banished by the Spanish Empire  from the Islas de Filipinas in 1764. He was banished after he developed a relationship with an indio malkan, also known as el pintado.  sebastian's writings were simple words, traced by a sharp stick across banana leaves, mostly  incomplete sentences, i am editing and expanding them to make them readable. - alex maskara, the pacific storyteller)

my name is sebastian legua del rey, from  town carmen in mexico, i came to las islas filipinas to serve under the royal king of spain. i am banished from filipinas to an island in  the middle of pacific ocean, left to die... i don't know anymore the time and date i am writing this because there is nothing to remind me, except, if my recollection serves me right, i was banished nine months ago...

i pass my time roaming around the island and counting the moonlit nights; right now,  i've mastered the sound of the tropical wind - i've built myself a hut made of coconut leaves, i've been eating mostly coconut meat, sometimes i fish, this island has the best fish, sometimes i catch wild boars and wild birds. i've  also discovered the taste of rootcrops, sweet roots grow here. i've been eating lots of pineapples too.

i had to learn the art of creating fire by rubbing sticks together to cook and keep myself warm at nights. the island has dry and moist areas, it's jungle is full of dried friewood and coconuts left to grow or die on the soil, their husks, when dried up, can be very good to fire meat.

at first i thought i won't make it alone here in this unknown island. i was dropped here blindfolded by the mariners; i was in chains...

my tormentor who thinks i should have enough sense to die would probably be surprised to know i'm still alive.

you may ask why i was banished, that i will tell as i go on writing, i am writing this because i need to release my emotions, living in this island alone is enough to make me crazy.  i tried writing on the white sand of this island, but sooner have i finished when the wind and the waves erased everything i wrote. i now understand why the tropics cannot keep records of history - it's a climate of renewal, what one builds can easily be erased by nature. what's good about that is forgetfulness, without records of history, no one would remember pain. but my pain is something i wish not be forgotten, because i know one day, the senselessness of my banishment would give lessons to future tormentors of the likes of me.

my only sin is i fell in love. i remember malkan...

my beloved el pintado.

as i sit on the shore of this island and stare at the vast expanse of the ocean, i wonder as to where his direction might be pointing to. i sometimes venture into the waters and stand motionless, watching and feeling dolphins  glide past my body and legs, hoping i would receive a message from him through them. he once told me that nature  speaks and if i'd just listen very carefully, i would hear the trees and birds and fish speak. i have been listening intently for months now...but i'm not that quick to fathom things like these!

words aren't enough to describe the beauty surrounding me. when the morning rises, I feel the cool breeze wiping my face, the water here can be very warm, i'm always in the water, fishing and diving deeper and deeper each passing day, hoping to find pearls. when the morning breaks into full day, the white sand, as soft as sugar, begins to brighten this wide island, a landscape covered by palms and beautiful flowers, multi-colored tropical flowers rising from the plain to the green mountains. the sky above me is always blue,  and the volcanoes behind me are always orange-bright, especially at nights, the flowing lava serves as my light, like a torch under the moon... the tide under me is always crystal clear, i can see colorful colonies of sea urchins and sea cucumbers, starfishes and gold fishes, aah,  this island is the most spectacular place i'd ever seen. in here, i feel as though i own the world.

all i need is el pintado beside me.

and i remember him now, and miss him so, in his hut covered with mystery, his hut stood on bamboo stilts rising out of the seashore,  i used to raise my lamp over his lying naked body, and touch his gold earings, his gold arm bracelet, his necklace made of shells. his hair is as dark as the deepest blackness of the forests of bali, his skin as brown as the earth-clay of the tropics;  his body is marked by tattoes symbolizing his history. he told me that his tattoes are the writings of his forefathers, and as i slowly traced my finger over them, while he was lying there naked, he told me what those tattoes meant.

he was first tattoed when  he was born - through them,  his parents marked his origins - he was the son of madjapahit and shri-vishayan empires, two ancient malayan empires molded into one civilization. it is a vast empire he said, with temples and kings and celebrations and magic. my hand glided down his body, as i traced the images bared by his skin, he closed his eyes, as if with my gentle and slow touch, he was able to re-live his life and the history of his people. i moved my finger and it touched another tattoe, that of  a lined mountain, similar to the indian temples i saw once in mexico...

"North of this island," el pintado whispered to me, "you'd see the grand terrace to the sky, built by ancient people who believed nature is enough to sustain an eternal life. They built those terraces as stairway to heaven, they knew they could touch God and walk with him in the sky...

"We've heard about those people, some of them too ferocious they hunted the heads of their rivals and yet too loving they built their terraces in couples -man and woman- it is said they cemented their way up on the slopes with the woman pouring water on the clay which the man formed into wall....(to be continued)
 
 
 
 
 
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