Same Same! Came Came!

It was an abnormally warm winter morning yesterday and a breeze was cooling the classroom through the screen-less open window. I was preparing a Christmas craft for the energetic kindergarten class I was scheduled to teach in a few minutes. Christmas music was playing through the speakers, as is the norm for me while I try to get into the spirit of the season in a place that affords a dearth of sensations I have grown to be accustomed to during the holidays at this time of year. My good friend and colleague, Nigo-sensei, hurriedly bustles through the door with some news. Some local fishermen have just caught some sharks, or same (in which the 'e' is pronounced), as they are called in Japanese, and have brought them out onto the dock in the harbour! Now I have heard that there were sharks in the waters surrounding the island but never in all my snorkeling and spearfishing expeditions had I seen any sign of the creatures. It hasn’t been for inattentiveness. Because I have grown fond of spearfishing and had wondered about potential shark-related hazards I have kept my senses keen for any sign of attack. There seem to be many spearfishing enthusiasts here, especially foreigners, and I have made it a point to steer conversations towards their experiences with sharks. We are, after all, dragging our bleeding catch along behind us in mesh bags as we seek more prey. I heard somewhere that the barely detectable percentage of blood excreted in human urine is enough to pique the acute shark senses for such stimuli and I have thus vigorously fought many a losing battle against my bladder while in the sea. One fellow Canadian reminded me of such hazards after having a few successful catches during my short stay on Tonaki, which increased my level of fear just beyond that of adventurous excitement.
I informed Nigo-sensei of the class I was to teach and he seemed to indicate that it wouldn’t be a problem as he breezed out the door to the room across the hall where he informed the kindergarten students who chorused in cheers at the news. As I followed my friend down the hall, youngsters ran by as fast as their little legs would carry them yelling at decibels I previously thought impossible for humans of any size.
Upon reaching the part of the hallway where the ceiling opened to reveal the second story arcade, their shouting was returned by other primary school students who had abruptly rushed out of their classrooms and had begun to stream in a steady, chaotic flow into the hallway and down the stairs. Indoor slippers were flung off in a hurry to don outdoor shoes and the pattering of little feet were barely audible as excited yelling carried through the doors leading outside. My excitement, I must admit, was augmented by the environment of enthusiasm as I fumbled with my shoes in an effort to get out the door and to the port before a crowd would inhibit my view of the catch.
By the time I reached the port, a genki bunch mostly consisting of half the Tonaki student body had assembled. I did my best to bow to the elderly men watching in amusement from a distance as I made my way towards the port in a manner I’m sure would make many a professional speed-walker jealous (bowing is quite awkward at such speeds as you might know if you were ever motivated to reach such a pace and given occasion to bow). At the end of the dock, about four or five men were busily gutting a couple of the ten or eleven masses strewn about the deck with their machetes while a crowd of students, teachers, and villagers looked on. Some students were prodding, patting, and poking the least alive of the once vicious creatures. I immediately made my way towards the larger of the sharks. It had yet to be scathed more than to have the end of its tale hacked off. It looked lifeless enough so I curiously began to poke at and feel the rough, scale-less carcass. I made my way towards the head and took a couple of pictures, getting closer with each click of the shutter. Its mouth was half open and subtly serrated, razor sharp ebony was glaring in the sunlight. I wanted to test just how sharp those bad boys were when one of the weather worn fishermen adamantly began yelling something in my direction what I took to be admonishment and reproach. Before I could vocalize my question, one of the teachers who had seen the commotion told me in English what the fisherman was likely shouting to me in his Okinawan dialect. Apparently the shark had still enough life in it to clamp his jaws shut on my hand and I had better temper my curious impulses. Though disappointed, there was still much more to sate my interest.
By now it seemed like the whole school had assembled in what seemed like an impromptu and unruly field trip. One group of grade five students had scavenged a heart and were taking turns holding it up by the aorta in a Braveheartesque conquering manner. In another part of the dock, a group of grade three and four students were examining an unfortunate sea turtle, about fifty centimeters in length, that, had been emancipated from one of the stomachs.
After gutting the same, the fishermen would hack off cross-sections of about 30-50 centimeters and filet them into steaks. Obasans in cotton sunhats tied under the chin were walking down the gangplanks with wheelbarrows and filling them with three or four large cross-sections.
Apparently, anyone who wished could come to the dock and hack themselves off a piece of shark to take home the freeze. I mused at the appropriateness of the Japanese term, “came-came” (the Japanese would spell it with a 'k,' but I prefer the resemblance to the English word shown...oh yea, and the 'e' is pronounced) which, is used to implore polite guests to eat more. I only wished I 'came' with a machete (I trust the hilarity of the pun overshadows poor grammar in this case).
I later learned that more boats were scheduled to arrive loaded with another ten or more sharks. I hope I have time to 'come' back to the dock before there’s nothing left.