Humans, even those with intense amounts of magic within them, can be surprisingly selfish. Take Maameli Dhaitha, for instance. This fairy has enough magic inside her to sire seven children and mask the location of her home so that no one ever finds it. Her children, for their magic were divided sevenfold between them, were not strong or smart, but she loved them anyway, and I respected that.
I often sit on my roost in the fork in the middle of the nikagas (which I split myself with my mighty beak so as to make the perfect vantage point to observe all the ongoings on my Island) and watch them forage for food in the trees. They were not very bright, but even they could see the breadfruit tree laden with the delicious fat fruit.
As the Guardian Spirit of my Island, I thought I should help them out by beating my wings ever so slightly so that some of the fruit fell from the tree onto their path. I watched, with my keen eye, as they each picked up breadfruit and took it to their magical mother, who immediately went to work cooking Bambukeyo Hithi. I could smell the aroma of the spices and fish mixing with the meaty fruit, enough to wet even my appetite.
It was the same for the mother, for with constant furtive glances towards where her children had disappeared for school, Maameli Dhaitha ‘tasted’ the hithi until there wasn’t a single drop left. I was disappointed, for I knew the children would go hungry, and so did she, but she could not control her gluttonous appetite.
I wasn’t even surprised when she outright lied to her confused children by claiming she had to throw the food away because I, the Maagola Maadhooni, protector of my island, took a shit in her spices.
Humans, they can be so petty. Had I taken a shit in her spices, it would have created an even better dish infused with my magic, but of course none of the children knew that. They were angry and wanted revenge, demanding their mother make them weapons so they may slay me. Laughable as it was, I watched her comply, running with her lie and crafting bows and arrows for her poor children as they went to sleep on empty, grumbling stomachs.
She obviously needed to be taught a lesson, but I am a compassionate guardian. I waited patiently for the children to stumble through the magical residents of the island, failing at every task on their way; they were not strong enough to bend the coconut trees to drink the water from the young coconuts; they were not robust enough to lift the well to drink the water deep inside; they were not powerful enough to throw the toshali into the air; they were certainly not magical enough to reanimate the bones of the fish they fed on.
When they finally found me and took aim, not one of the arrows they loosed even came close to hitting me on my perch. I contemplated my options and it appeared to me that it was not the fault of these unfortunate children that their mother is a glutton and a liar. So I swallowed them whole, making sure they were safe inside the magical void of my stomach and ate fruits so the starving children may finally feed.
As I said, I am a compassionate guardian, but I am not foolish. I knew that Maameli Dhaitha still had magic inside her, despite her inability to control her urges. I watched her cry, non-stop, until it was only her last tear that was left. She put this tear on a taro leaf and watched it quiver until finally, it opened and inside was a baby boy, imbued with all the magic left inside of her. He was a strong boy, and I watched him nurse from her and then eat all the food in the house, growing at an alarming rate, Maameli Dhaitha’s greatest magic: her tear drop. I could see he was a wonderful boy, but still, when he questioned whether he had siblings, the magical woman did not own up to her mistakes, instead telling him that ‘the wicked bird, Maagola Maaduni, ate them’.
What really is a guardian to do, when the people they are guarding turn out to be such liars. But yet I kept quiet, for I knew this magical boy would soon come to find me and try to slay me. I watched as Maameli Dhaitha crafted a bow and seven arrows for her new child, but she had no more magic inside her so the weapons were certainly not enough to take me down.
Come morning, I watched quietly as Maameli Dhaitha’s tear drop made his way to me. He passed all the tests, for he was brimming with magic; he was strong enough to bend the coconut trees to drink the water from the young coconuts; he was robust enough to lift the well to drink the water deep inside; he was powerful enough to throw the toshali into the air; he was certainly magical enough to reanimate the bones of the fish he fed on.
As he approached my perch and took aim, I briefly pondered on telling him the truth about what happened, but I am a compassionate guardian and no child deserves to hear these things about his mother. So instead, I let him attack me with his feeble weapons and pretended to fall dead from my perch as his arrows lodged into my magical feathers, not even piercing my skin.
The magical boy took one of my wings in his hands and dragged me home happily, where his mother took a knife and cut open my vast belly to find her seven children gleefully playing inside with the fruit I had swallowed to feed them.
I lay on her front yard, hearing the children playing merrily inside the bath. I knew that in a moment, Maameli Dhaitha’s tear drop would dissolve into the water, and as he did, I mended my broken stomach and took flight to find a new roost for myself, for the children and their mother must never know I survived.
As I looked for a new nikagas to split in half and make my perch, I wondered if Maameli Dhaitha had learned anything. It seemed unlikely, but that was to be expected for humans are foolish and erratic and it was my job to protect them.
Really, it was all in a day’s work for me, Maagalimatte Bondo Dheeni, the Guardian of my Island.
all Illustrations by @mas.mirus
An author based in the Maldives