Why, the NMI has always been here, sir!

Curious of our proven traditional system of navigation, Sir Jeffrey Farrow wanted to replace our ways with “his ways” in sailing the treacherous seas of American Democracy.

Convinced that he is God’s gift to these isles, he allegedly started an agenda to supplant our “arcane” navigational system with all the latest gadgets in navigation.

He ordered his Pinto head Allen Stayman to take the lead. Sir Stayman, agreeably, took the role smiling ear to ear. They headed to New York Harbor to join us on the long and treacherous journey home.

Before we set sail, we saw Sir Farrow giving his lackey boy (turned navigator) last minute instructions before they boarded our canoe. Sir Stayman wanted to challenge our traditional navigation system. And so he ordered that we donate our canoe to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. We did. He gave instructions that we board his ultra-modern sail boat saying: “This is our transportation on the return journey to the islands.”

Sir Captain Stayman: “Boys, we will sail between here to the turn at the tip of South America, then head up to the Aleutian Islands near Alaska to take advantage of the prevailing wind headed into the NMI”. He was impressive and sounded like he knows sailing too. Sir Farrow was sipping beer on the side of the boat as though troubled by the prospects of being lost at sea in a storm. He shook it off and consulted with Sir Stayman.

Traditional navigator: “Sir Captain Stayman, does this mean that you’d be incharge of our trip as the chief captain of our long journey?” Sir Captain Stayman: “That’s right ma` boy. And to make this return trip a test of your traditional navigational method, I’m going to turn off the engine and all navigational equipment. You’d have to use your traditional method beginning this afternoon. I want to find out how accurate the use of stars, birds and swells in reaching our destination.”

Traditional navigator: “Sir, we will abide by your instructions if only to demonstrate our sense of humility to our benefactors.” He took a survey of ocean swells, birds and the position of the sun and moon. He instructed Sir Stayman to stay the course until further notice, including the use of the rear end of the sail boat as benjo. It took about a week before we made the corner at the tip of South America at dusk. The traditional navigator took a reading of the stars in the skies and gave his final instructions for the night to Sir Stayman.

The trip up north into the Aleutian Islands was long, rough and hard. At night, it was cold and we could feel the merciless draft piercing our skin. Sir Farrow had to answer nature’s urgent call. So he went to the rear of the boat, his behind protruding like a newly attached gadget in traditional sailing. A huge surf pounded him, slamming his diluted excrement all over his back and feet. Miffed and puking, he protested, “Allen, need we resort to primitive sailing?”

As dusk descended from the heavens above, the traditional navigator issued some biscuits and raw fish to everyone. Sirs Stayman and Farrow dreaded having to eat raw fish with the head stick intact. Remarked the sophisticated Sir Farrow: “You guys eat this yukky food?” The island sailors smiled and thinking quietly, quizzing:
“Eh, da bugga he must come from da kine for da rich and famous”.

One fine morning at the first crack of dawn, we slowly inched our way into the narrow channel at Sugar Dock in Susupe. The morning bells at the Cathedral was ringing as the faithfuls headed to church. Like wasted tired horses, Sir Stayman and Sir Farrow were fast asleep. The traditional navigator woke them up.

“Where are we, boys?” quizzed the dazed lord of weeds Farrow.

“We’re in the NMI, sir”, answered the traditional navigator.

“How did you find these isles?” asked Sir Farrow and Sir Stayman.

“Why, sir, the NMI has always been here!” remarked the traditional navigator.