[SO - Nyka] a Sailor's Plight for Me: Day 8

[Jabari Dreamchaser]

- 8th of Summer, 513 AV -

Swab, swab, swab. The task of cleaning the upper decks of "Kalani" had become so monotonous that physical actions began to take over mental thoughts. He didn't complain though, not once. Not the first night, when they took one of the few gold mizas Jabari had to his name, nor the day after when his starting set of labors were explained. The captain of the trade vessel wasn't unkind, but a deal was a deal. Every man aboard his ship would pay their way, in coin or perspiration. Sometimes, for those like the adopted son of The White Isle, they paid in both. And so he swabbed.

Sweat dripped from countless pores while burning arm muscles complained of extended use. For the most part, Jabari found it useful to alternate between his left and right hands to scrub. But when he happened upon particularly grimy portions of the platform, all the meager muscles of his body were needed to cleanse the area.

For the past few chimes, a particularly stubborn stain was taking up all the strength the boy could muster. Lower back and legs eventually joined in the protest of today's grunt work as a light breeze began to blow across damp skin. Under the scorching sun, it was a small reprieve that met with a large amount of appreciation. Thank you.

"Oi! Sealegs!"

It was a nickname easily given to the Vantha. No less than five times his first day aboard Kalani had the youth tripped and fallen, having to bite his tongue after the last tumble to keep from crying in front of the crew. They weren't cruel to him, but every newcomer was subject to some amount of hazing. Jabari just wasn't used to being made fun of, least of all by strangers.

Eventually though, the sailors began to take notice of just how hard Jabari worked and just how little he complained. One by one, hazer turned to tutor, as a shouted suggestion here or a whispered tip there helped the youth gain his bearings.

Look at the horizon. That will help you stabilize.

Bend at your knees and flex your legs. A good center of gravity is important.

The teenager reflected on the memories his moniker brought forth with mixed emotions, as dark brown eyes found the man who called out. "Chef needs you in the mess hall!"

Mod Note: :

1gm removed from ledger for the monetary portion of Jabari's fare aboard "Kalani."

[Jabari Dreamchaser]

"You needed me Chef?" Glad to be away from the humdrum of today's chores, Jabari wasted little time in traveling to the kitchens aboard Kalani. Moving about with a bit more wisdom and a lot more caution than his first few days aboard the vessel, stumbling wasn't as common an occurrence.

"Oh Jabari, good. Up for helping me prepare tonight's meal?" The mixed blood cook always called the teenager by name, and Jabari loved him for it. At least 60 years old, "Chef" still had twice the smarts of most sailors aboard the ship, and that was saying something. Moving to stand next to the man and look over the ongoing preparations, Jabari nodded with a smile. "Anything to give these arms a break."

"Heh, well I can't guarantee that my young friend. But peeling potatoes shouldn't be as taxing on your muscles as swabbing the decks. There is a pile right over there you can get started on."

Moving towards and examining the area Chef indicated, Jabari located the few dozen spuds easily enough, the peeling knife atop the cutting board next to them ready for use. Not exactly sure what he was doing, Jabari went about peeling the first potato. Perhaps peeling wasn't the right word. Torture? Yes, the vegetable must have had information that the Chaser of Dreams needed desperately to have put it through the trauma he did. Tiny nicks covered the captive before the larger gashes began.

"Good Laviku, what did that poor potato ever do to you?" Chef went over to Jabari and took what was left of the tuber, which was quite little, and made to take the knife away as well. "Observe Jabari. There are just a few key points to remember and then you should be all set." Reaching for another potato with one hand, and holding the knife in the other, he began to demonstrate a proper skinning technique.

"You'll want to hold the potato away from you and slant the knife downward." Jabari watched as the man made the task seem much simpler. He noticed the way Chef held vegetable and blade, and the way he rotated the spud throughout the process. "Just keep turning the potato. That should save you some time. Takes a bit of practice but you'll get it soon enough." Handing things back over to the teenager, and giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, Chef returned to his own work.

The lesson helped. By his fourth attempt, Jabari had developed a decent rhythm with his newfound responsibility. It wasn't exactly hard on his muscles, but after all the time his arms had been used today, they still ached from the exertion. Jabari worked through the discomfort though, preferring potato peeling to swabbing the decks.

Jabari Dreamchaser. Slayer of spuds across the Sebakem.

[Jabari Dreamchaser]

"That's the last of them Chef." Wiping an arm across his forehead to clear the beads of sweat that formed there, Jabari examined his work. It wasn't difficult to tell which potatoes were part of his early efforts and which were the last victims. Even so, the youth was pleased with the outcome.

Without bothering to look, the cook spoke. "Good good, perfect timing Jabari. Come over here and keep stirring this for me." The Vantha did as asked and moved over to the culinarian's position, accepting the ladle that he was offered. While he started to stir the concoction in front of him, Jabari snuck a peak at it's contents. A dark and inviting substance swirled beneath, smelling of fish and something else Jabari's undeveloped sense of scent couldn't quite place.

"Soup tonight?" It felt like an obvious observation that didn't need an answer once the words left his lips. The lack of a reply from the kitchen's other occupant confirmed the question's rhetorical status. Arriving at Jabari's side with the spuds from earlier, Chef reached for a cutting board and knife of his own, going about the process of chopping. It was impressive to watch the man work, knife moving with both speed and accuracy as each potato went from crudely peeled vegetable to chopped culinary art.

"Don't stir too fast Jabari. It's not a race. And alternate the rotation every now and then." Quick to adjust, the teenager slowed the pace of his movements and began to maneuver the ladle in the opposite direction as advised. The cook nodded an approval, before scooping up a handful of the chopped potatoes and adding them to the mix. Jabari smiled and switched arms, as muscles began to steadily flare. Legs, not wanting to be left out of the complaining, began to ache and Jabari took turns shaking the soreness out of each limb while stirring. He imagined he looked quite silly, balancing awkwardly on each foot while trying to remain focused on the task at hand.

"You know cooking is a lot like life." Either oblivious to the discomfort the adopted son of The White Isle was experiencing, or choosing to not pay it any attention, the Chef brought the final batch of chopped potatoes and added it to the broth. Jabari didn't doubt the analogy but had to admit he was intrigued, and decided to encouraged an elaboration. "Do tell Chef. How exactly is cooking a lot like life?"

This should be good.

[Jabari Dreamchaser]

"When it comes to cuisine, you have a choice. You can sit back and let someone else feed you, in which case there is never any way to accurately anticipate what you'll be putting into your stomach. Here, I'll finish that. You can start setting the table."

The mentor motioned to a stack of plates while taking the ladle from Jabari. "Or you can take matters into your own hands, quite literally as you've learned. Sure if someone else prepares a meal for you, it might be appetizing. But if you want any say in how food taste, then you're going to have to take some part in it's preparation."

Jabari continued to listen while moving towards the dishes. When he grabbed the first pile, it occurred to the Vantha that 'set the table' was actually another way of saying 'go move all those heavy things around.' With a grunt, the teenager managed to transport the clay eating receptacles to their destination a few yards away, though still in earshot of the ongoing lecture.

"Life is like that also. If you plan to dine at the table of Mizahar and simply hope that the gods above provide you with a pleasant meal, you can't really complain when it's not to your liking. On the other hand, you could toss on an apron, grab a knife and some spices, and help cook something great. At least then you'll know what's going into your cuisine; at least then you will have tried to make something enjoyable."

The adopted son of The White Isle's attention was torn between philosophy and deductive reasoning. Part of him paid careful attention to the wisdom offered by the orator, but another part wondered why these plates had to be so hard to carry. Grabbing the next weighty group, Jabari almost tripped when the boat began to rock. It was a common occurrence on the ocean. Discovery set in, and the youth understood that the dishes had to be heavy in order to keep from sliding all over the place on a constantly moving vessel.

As if he had been waiting until he had Jabari's full attention, Chef brought his speech to an end. "And just as you will undoubtedly make mistakes as a novice cook, meals turning out a bit too spicy or much too bland before you get the hang of things... so too will blunders in living become lessons on creating a pleasing existence."

Taking a moment to turn and face the man, Jabari found himself playfully wondering. "Are you sure you're just a Chef?" With laughter in his eyes, the elder of the two replied.

"Well, as far as you know, that is all I am."