One Big Damn Puzzler [antikvár]

ONETHE DAY THE PLANE BROUGHT THE WHITE MAN WAS AN IMPORTANT one for Managua. He was, as usual, occupied by his translation of Hamlet into language the rest of the tribe would understand, and he could have done without the interruption because this was the day he had set aside to work on the famous soliloquy. As the only islander who could even read, let alone write, Managua felt the burden of his culture upon his shoulders the way he imagined an old turtle bore the weight of its carapace upon its back: it was certainly a secure home, a comfort and a blessing, but at times Hke this, when he had a tricky scene to write, it was plenty damn heavy too.Although he later swore about the coming of the white man and the disruption to his work that the resultant excitement caused - not to mention the anxiety to him personally if truth be told, long before the whirring of the plane's three propellers stirred the torpid island air, his task was already suffering insufferable disturbances from his wife Lamua who once again had gotten herself into one big sweat about the pig.Is be or is be not, is be one big damn puzzler he had written. He read it over again, allowdng his Hps to move so he could get the feel of how the words would sound, although he dared not permit even a whisper to escape him. The way Lamua was bustHng about the hut, moving this and that (as though she might find the pig here! as if you could conceal even a bantam pig in this single, sparsely fiirnished room!), any sound from him would be jumped upon Hke a snake by koku-koku and taken as an invitation to conversation.