The Day the Ocean Spoke

Tadeo hopped from side to side, his trainers scuffing against the warm asphalt. Beads of
sweat were beginning to accumulate on his forehead but he ignored them: this was important.
He held his hands towards the scorching sun and waited for Fabia to make her move. With
lightning speed, she swung her leg back and kicked the sun-bleached ball as Tadeo dived onto
the rough ground.

“Gooooooooallllll!” shouted Fabia, throwing her arms

up in front of an imaginary audience. “Hawaii’s
greatest footballer does it again!” Tadeo stayed on
the ground; a scowl was etched on his face. Fabia
rolled her eyes as he reeled off his usual list of
excuses. She extended an arm and pulled him to
his feet. “Nothing’s ever your fault is it, Tad?” she
teased.

Tadeo gave Fabia a weak smile – he wasn’t quite ready

to relinquish his dignity and admit that someone a year
younger was already better at football than he was. “I’ve got to get ready for tonight,” shouted
Fabia as she gathered her possessions from across the pitch. “Will Tutu be joining us?”

“I doubt it,” mumbled Tadeo, wishing that people would stop asking. His grandfather had
once been the life and soul of any island gathering but all of that had changed a few months
ago. Tutu had sold his home by the beach and they had moved inland. Since then, he had
refused to leave unless it was for something essential. Māmā had told Tadeo that this was just
Tutu growing old but he disagreed. People don’t just suddenly change; something must have
happened.

“A hui hou aku,” smiled Fabia as the two children parted company. Tadeo began to make his
way up the steep hill towards Tutu’s house. When he arrived, the windows were closed as usual.
Bracing himself for the wall of muggy, stale air, he walked through the front door. No matter
how many times Tadeo or Māmā begged, windows were forbidden to be opened: according to
Tutu, they let in too much of ‘the noise’.

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 The Day the Ocean Spoke
Later that night, Tadeo met Fabia and her family on the beach. “No Tutu today?” asked Fabia’s
māmā kindly. Tadeo muttered something about Tutu not feeling very well – choosing to omit
details of the argument that he had just left after suggesting that going down to the beach
might be good for Tutu’s health.

“C’mon,” said Fabia. “Hahn caught some ono this morning and one’s sure to be ready by now.”
They made their way down to the grill and sure enough, the smell of fish was wafting towards
their nostrils. The two grabbed a napkin and Hahn passed them each a piece of grilled ono
folded in a slice of bread. While they ate their food in silence, Tadeo tuned into a conversation
between the adults around the fire.

“Do you remember what the beach used to be like?”

“It would stretch on for miles without a

piece of plastic in sight.”

“Those were the good old days.”

“I know. Today, you’re more likely to

see a spoon or a tangle of rope on
the beach than you are a honu.”

“Even if you do see a honu, they’ve

often got something tangled around
their shell.”

Tadeo rolled his eyes. He must have heard

this conversation a million times before. It always began with reminisces of the ‘good old
days’ and quickly transformed into complaints about the plastic that washed up on the shores.
Everyone knew about Kamilo beach and most people had been part of at least one clean-up
attempt somewhere on the island. The problem was that it just kept coming back.

It wasn’t Hawaii’s rubbish either – it was dragged through currents from across the world and
then washed up on the shore in a continuous, never-ending cycle. Tadeo had made posters at
school which encouraged people to pick up their rubbish but nothing ever changed. In the end,
he had decided that this was just the world evolving. Hundreds of years ago, there weren’t any
roads or cars on the island and now there were so many that traffic jams were commonplace.
Maybe plastic beaches were just the new roads? Besides, you could find some pretty exciting
treasure if you searched for long enough. Tadeo smiled as he recalled the tyres that he and
Fabia had collected and turned into a fort last summer.

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 The Day the Ocean Spoke
After spending the rest of the evening kicking a ball around with Fabia, Tadeo returned home.
When he walked into the stifling front room, Tutu was waiting.

“Did you hear it?” he said, turning to face Tadeo. The lamplight hit his face and illuminated
his features. There were deep lines etched into his once smiling face and there was a shadow
of something that Tadeo couldn’t quite understand.

“Hear what?”

“The ocean.”

Tadeo scrunched up his face. “Of course I heard the ocean – I was at the beach!”

“Then what did it say?” said Tutu. He caught Tadeo’s gaze and held on tightly.

“I… well… nothing!” spluttered Tadeo. This was getting ridiculous. Tutu just sank back to his
chair – the disappointment clearly lingering on his face.

“Then you weren’t listening,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

That was it. The conversation was over. Tadeo felt sick; he had failed a test that he didn’t know
was coming and he still didn’t know why.

Tadeo looked at the digital clock on his bedside table. It was just past midnight. He couldn’t
sleep. Tutu had been like this for months but this was the first time that Tadeo felt as though
he were failing him. What did he mean? At last, he made up his mind. Quietly climbing out of
bed, he pulled on a jumper and a pair of sandals. The night air was warm and still as he made
his way down to the beach.

At first, all he could hear was the sound of the waves gently lapping at the shore. Then, it
happened. It was as if something clicked in Tadeo’s mind. Suddenly, his head was filled with
voices. He jumped up and shone his torch around but the beach was deserted. Heart pounding,
Tadeo stood still again and tuned into the noise. It was like a thousand voices all chanting to
the same pulse. Each voice was different. Some were whispering, others were shouting; some
were soft, others were raspy and they were all saying the same thing.

“Help me.”

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 The Day the Ocean Spoke

Then, it clicked. This was ‘the noise’. This was the reason that Tutu couldn’t bear to be near the
sea. The ocean was calling for help. The sadness and desperation in the voices was too much to
bear. With tears streaming down his face and his hands over his ears, he ran back home and
found Tutu waiting for him.

“You heard it,” he whispered, embracing Tadeo.

“We have to help,” Tadeo sobbed.

Tutu lowered his head. “When I heard it, I was too old and too scared to act but you can make
a difference.”

“How?” sobbed Tadeo. “I’m just one person.”

“What if everyone thinks that they are too small to make a difference?” answered Tutu. “Will
anything ever change?”

Tadeo thought about this for a moment and remembered the conversation about the ‘good old
days’. Maybe it didn’t need to be like this: maybe plastic beaches weren’t part of the island’s
future. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the tears from his face and vowed to answer the ocean’s
call.

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