Ocean Blight
In the future, deep-sea mining is banned completely. To remember the history of the deep seabed, one community gathers for an annual festival commemorating the end of the era of exploitation. Even though they now exist in a post-mining society, this future was hard-won. In this story, we follow Nour and Esra as they try to deal with their joint history in their own ways while navigating the final hours of the festivities.
-Did you hear about the troubles? Esra said, having just caught up with Nour who was walking through the open field towards the stage where the evening’s performances would soon begin.
-What troubles? Nour turned towards her slightly, but kept walking.
-The troubles with the seaweeds. Apparently, the new guy harvested the wrong variety and the cooks had to improvise for the feast.
Night was falling. The sun had just set, and the sky had turned a darker blue. There was just a sliver of orange left at the horizon. It was a clear but mild evening, a pleasant one, and the air smelled like salt.
-I’m impressed; the food was great. Nour’s head was not really there. Day one of the commemorating festival always weighed heavy on her.
-That’s only because Nasim was in an inspired mood. “Esra, we have to see this as an OPPORTUNITY! We haven’t harvested this kelp variety while it’s still young before, this is the PERFECT time to see how it cooks!” Esra was moving her hands, mimicking Nasim’s expressive nature.
-I see his point; I would’ve guessed it was one of the more dainty species rather than some kind of kelp. She thought back to the last time she visited the large aquaculture in the seascape: intricate seaweed forests consisting of different species that looked suspiciously alike swaying in the water; no wonder the new guy got the harvest a bit wrong.
-Food WAS great, wasn’t it? I told him he should upload the recipe to the PresNet…They walked in silence for a bit.
-How are you doing? Esra asked Nour.
-I don’t know why, but I’ve always found these festivities a bit anxiety-inducing. Isn’t it strange to have a big event to commemorate seabed exploitation? Out of all the beautiful things in life, why are we choosing to build a festival around a piece of our history that we would rather have not had been in the first place?
-Because it’s still part of it. Esra shrugged lightly. And because it’s a reason as good as any to take three days to enjoy time together!
They had reached the stage where the performances would take place. It was the same setup every year; the mayor gave a speech, the shantymen sang their songs, someone lectured about the proper history of it all, and lastly some theater groups performed sketches. The speech, the songs and the lecture were roughly the same every year, but there were usually some newly written sketches performed at the end of the night. Last year, Esra and her group of divers wrote and performed a slow-burn love story between an AUV and the hydrothermal vent it was surveying in preparation for exploitation. She said it was an allegory for how the wonders of the deep enchants anyone who’s willing to be enchanted.
-Thank you for joining this evening, and thank you, all, for making this festival happen! Without your relentless commitment, organizational skills and incredible creativity in cooking seaweeds, the Mayor chuckled at his own joke, nothing here tonight would be possible.
-How come you’re not doing a sketch this year? Nour asked Esra.
-I wanted to be on the feast-squad, and the schedules weren’t really aligning; rehearsals and cooking-time overlapped, and we still have some cleanup left for after the performances which I don’t think I would’ve been up for if I had just gotten off stage.
-I’ll join in and help with the cleaning afterwards. Nour didn’t mind doing some dishes, so she thought she might as well help out if Esra needed an extra pair of hands.
Esra glanced at Nour and smiled a small smile. The crowd was still growing larger, gathering around them. The mayor was talking on stage. He was wearing what had become traditional attire for the festival; a loose suit decorated with an intricate pattern of embroidery, roundish shapes created from seaweed-based threads with a metallic sheen to them. You could not really see it now, but when you dance in the moonlight with it on, the movements of the fabric around your body create an illusion of freely flowing reflecting light, and when many people dance together the effect is like radiance coming through ocean waves.
-...and with those words, I leave the stage for Yahya and his shantymen. The stage is yours! The mayor extended his arm to a small group of people led by a long-haired man standing just off the stage.
-You’d think this wouldn’t be necessary after… How many years now?
-Tradition is tradition. Esra said, positive as always, joining in on the applause that followed the mayor’s hand-over.
-Thank you, for trusting us with the songs this year, the long-haired man, who must have been Yahya, said, although it was somewhat unclear if he was addressing the mayor or the crowd. He continued.
-As you all know, seabed mining is a thing of the past. But the road there was not an easy one; our ancestors, other peoples and the global community as a whole all had to sweat to make a mining-free future, our present, a reality. For this, we thank them. And tonight, we sing their song. This is “Ocean Blight”.
The chorus stood still as the stagelights were dimmed. According to tradition, the shantyman started the singing alone, and was followed by the chorus only in, well, the choruses. Apparently, it was conceived of during the anti-exploitation movement, and had started as a sort of song-to-action. Back then, the chorus had been sung by all those demonstrating against seabed mining, and as the movement grew and local clusters formed, different fractions started adding their own verses. This was why it varied between communities; everyone had their own set of disparate verses that they had decided to merge together to a fully-fledged song. But the chorus was always the same, and so was usually the first verse. And Yahya started:
Farewell and adieu, to you exploitation
Farewell and adieu, to you ocean blight
For we gave out orders, to leave be the deep sea
And we hope that with time, life will flourish again
So we will resist, all mining endeavors
Resist and persist, throughout these vast seas
Until we’ve put an end to this mineral madness
From seamounts to smokers, let our oceans breathe
At first there were whispers and long suppressed warnings
Then everything leaked, all harms were laid bare
The pressure was rising on seabed exploiters
They gave in, involved us, democracy reigned
We will resist, all mining endeavors
Resist and persist, throughout these vast seas
Until we’ve put an end to this mineral madness
From seamounts to smokers, let our oceans breathe
They came to our waters and sought for a profit
We chained ourselves up, resisted the tide
They beat us, they fought us, suppressed our uprising
We cried and we mourned and we did not give in
We will resist, all mining endeavors
Resist and persist, throughout these vast seas
Until we’ve put an end to this mineral madness
From seamounts to smokers, let our oceans breathe
A seat at the table; a voice was long called for
But maybe just maybe, it was not enough?
Cause what is a voice worth if the killing continues?
And that’s how it all stopped in our common seas
We will resist, all mining endeavors
Resist and persist, throughout these vast seas
Until we’ve put an end to this mineral madness
From seamounts to smokers, let our oceans breathe
But here in this place, the threat was still looming
Our struggle got weaker, our prospects were poor
And then we joined forces with other defenders
We triumphed, the foe fell, and peace reigned at last
We will resist, all mining endeavors
Resist and persist, throughout these vast seas
Until we’ve put an end to this mineral madness
From seamounts to smokers, let our oceans breathe.
Darkness had fully fallen over the festival area by now. The stage was still only dimly lit up by a warm light radiating from below the performers. Around them, the big plain and the endless ocean in front of it was mainly illuminated by the slowly rising moon and the many stars sprinkling the sky. The vastness of it all could have overwhelmed Nour but surprisingly did not; instead, she felt a calmness settling in her body. This was the reason for the festival, she thought. Despite the history being sad, and at times even horrifying, it is worth commemorating. Local and global events are intertwined with each other as well as with the present reality. Still, the tragedy of history does not take away from the beauty of their present, nor vice versa. They all needed to be reminded of this simple fact sometimes. Nour glanced at Esra again, looked back to the stage, moved a bit closer and squeezed her hand tenderly. Then, she closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air.
Credits:
The text of this story is the copyright of Tilde Krusberg. This image is the copyright of Tilde Krusberg. Musical Interpretation is the copyright of Patrik Bergström.