Page 164 - Dark Matter Women Witnessing

and agree with the men in everything. And they were often afraid. There was always

some backstabbing intrigue going on in their big houses.

Fisherfolk had simpler lives. We retained the kind of humanity that fancy people forgot

when they got lost in all that power and silk — the kind that comes from nature.

But that's how it was then. Nowadays, everything's different. Everything hangs by a

thread. And we're the ones getting lost.

Sumiko's mother and grandmother taught her to dive as her great-great-grandmother

dived: naked except for a bandanna with protective symbols, a loincloth and mulberry

rope around her waist. The rope tied her to a boat, netted float, or floating barrel,

depending on her prey. It secured her nomi to her back: the wooden spatula she used

to wrestle snails from rocks. She carried a net bag with a pointedly wide mesh — wide

enough to give awabi every chance to tumble to freedom.

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Sumiko's grandmother resisted the diving mask. It would make them see too well, she

said, they'd discover and kill too many hidden snails. It magnified everything — made

her fearful of kidnapping babies. All the ama said:

10.6 centimeters. A smidgen smaller — use a ruler — and you have to release them.

Find somewhere dark and narrow with kelp nearby. Give awabi babies every chance.