Sammy and the Fish
By Sherry Nakanishi 　

The Japan sea coast is dotted with many old fishing villages. On the beaches, large and small, lie time-worn boats. Some rest in weathered boat houses with planks held together by rusty nails. The salt of the sea erodes the heavy wood causing the houses to break and fall in to the sands. Thus the boat houses have a ghostly look about them, as though always old, always in decay. Other boats, houseless, lie overturned on the beach like small beached whales resting on their sides. The boats are precious to the villages, as they carry the men to the sea and back again and earn the livelihood for the people.

One day Sammy too wanted to go fishing. Sammy was nine years old and was always told by the elders he would have to wait until he was bigger to go to the sea but today he would go. Alone.

He found a small wooden row boat no longer used by the fishermen. He looked further and came across two wooden oars for rowing. He borrowed a fishing rod and a wooden bucket from inside a boat house and headed for the sea, towing the little boat behind him.

Out of all the beaches facing the Japan Sea, perhaps none is more beautiful than the village of Ori. Ori was just one small street in front of the sea filled with old, sea-worn homes. The once golden tone of the wood changed to the bleached bone colour characteristic of all fishing buildings, from the salt and the winds. The street had only one small shop amongst the homes, which carried sundries. It was run by an old grandma whose body was so bent with age she could only talk to your feet.

Ori was beautiful because it was natural. There were no cement blocks in the sea to act as wave breakers or erosion guards. No cement paving the way to the sea to launch the boats on. No cement at all could be seen in Ori. Ori was only sand, sea, and sky.
Yet the waves were large and always white tipped. In the summer, the sunshine speckled on the sea and in winter, the snow blew in great gusts, and snowflakes as large as cherry blossoms danced on the waves, forming one giant moving mass of white.

Such strong, majestic nature was still untamed in Ori. And because the village people loved their village like their Mother, they took care of it. There were no discarded nets, no bottles to be found on Ori's beach. Only seaweed and shells lived there. No campsites and manicured palm trees, just sand and more sand. Small crabs could be seen and heard as they walked along. It was how beaches used to look before 'development' came and beauty-parloured nature into something grotesque, cold and cement.

And how silent Ori was. No loudspeakers or giant clocks striking the hours, only the wind talking with the clouds.

Sammy had lived in the village of Ori since the time he was born and loved the sea, sand, boats and the store grandma as though they were his own.

Soon Sammy had his small boat upon the waves. The skies overhead were clear, the sound of the sea lapping against the sides of the wooden boat was soothing to Sammy's ears and he felt happy.

In the midst of quietude, suddenly Sammy's fishing rod began to rock to and fro, as though something unseen were pulling it.

“Oh, I've caught a fish!” Sammy exclaimed aloud while reeling it in.

He carefully took the hook from the fish's mouth and placed the quivering fish in the bucket with a big scoopful of saltwater. Seeing the fish swim merrily, joy spread across Sammy's face. And again the rod moved.

“What! Another one?” thought Sammy.

Yes. A big fish with gleaming silver scales shimmered in the sunlight as it leapt about when Sammy lifted it from the sea.

Again he placed the fish into the bucket and added another scoopful of water. He watched for a moment as the two fish swam around in the bucket, chasing each other's tail.

The day was coming to a close; the sun began to make its slow descent back into the sea: colours red, blue, pink and orange becoming one and the sun changed from gold into a crimson ball of fire.

Sammy loved the sun and grew lost in thought as this magical time unfolded. Even though Sammy watched the sun set everyday, he never grew tired of it. He was enchanted by Nature and its sense of wonder.

The cooling air stirred him.

“Oh, just one more fish and I'll go into shore”, Sammy mused.

And in time, the one more fish was caught, pulled in, and added to the bucket. The wooden bucket filled with three fish seemed overflowing, the fish sending splashes over the brim with their fins and tails, but now Sammy felt a strange urge of greed. Now no longer pleased with three, he wanted a fourth.

“Oh just one more and then I'll go home.” Sammy couldn't stop.

The full moon had climbed high into the sky, casting light onto Sammy's boat. As the fourth fish was added to the bucket, water ran over the sides of the bucket and encircled Sammy's bare feet. Sammy shivered. The sea was dark and the waves grew large, bouncing the little boat atop of them, but Sammy's small body was strong, and he rowed with all his might toward the dim lights on the shore.

At last, Sammy pulled the boat up onto the wet sand. He thought of how proud he would feel showing his catch to his mother. He lifted the bucket and peered inside--- the fish were gone! As the sea water reached the top of the bucket, the fish had only to swim to the surface and jump over its rim back to the sea.
Sammy looked again, but the bucket was as empty as when he set out.

Sammy sat down and cried over the loss of his precious fish but then suddenly he knelt on the sand, lowered his head and brought his two palms together, clapping loudly twice. He prayed to the God of the Sea, thanking him for teaching him this important lesson from Nature, of not to be greedy and taking more than you need. And to be thankful for safely returning to the shore.

And once again Sammy felt happy-the simple joy of life itself filled his young body and heart.