Theo's Odyssey by Catherine Clement

Author:Catherine Clement [Elément, Eatherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-61145-597-7
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2011-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

In the harbor, huge blue sailing ships nudged their graceful prows against the wharves. Since the early days of boats, it was here that their cargoes of aromatic precious woods had been unloaded.

“It’s an interesting story,” Mr. Sudharto explained. “Here, the first invaders came from Vietnam and China, blown by the monsoon winds to the island of Java. All of them brought their religion — Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. Later on, they discovered that clove trees grew in the Molucca Islands.”

“You know about cloves?” Aunt Martha asked Theo. “We put them in stews and with cooked apples.”

“Mom sticks them into oranges,” said Theo. “When they’re dry, they have a gorgeous smell.”

Cloves were spices, flavors and scents of life. In the Middle Ages, when they were very highly prized in the West, these precious cargoes sailed from the Moluccas to Java, from Java to India, and from India to Venice, by way of long caravans strung across the sands of Arabia. But in the fifteenth century the Venetian Republic gained a stranglehold on the clove trade, thanks to the strength of its links with trade routes dominated by Muslim maritime powers, some of them now settled in the islands of Indonesia. To break this intolerable monopoly, destroy the wealth of Venice, and bypass the Muslim sphere of influence, a century later the Portuguese conquerors took a different course, sailing southward around Africa and the Cape of Good Hope, then eastward into the Pacific. They brought Christianity to Indonesia, and cloves, nutmeg, and mace to Europe. Because the paths of the monsoon winds crossed over the island of Borneo and immobilized their ships for a whole season, all these visitors had plenty of time to preach the virtues of their gods, and that is why so many religions converged and survived among these scattered islands.

“I can smell cloves, I think,” said Theo, breathing deeply.

“Unless it’s tar,” Aunt Martha answered. “I doubt if they’re still warring over the spice trade nowadays.”

“Tar or cloves, I’m starving,” Theo decreed. “Where can we eat?”

“It’s all taken care of, young man,” said Mr. Sudharto. “I’m honored to invite you to my house.”

They set off through the narrow lanes again. The air was full of enticing smells that made Theo’s mouth water: steamed ravioli, clear soups with chopped lemon balm floating around, shiny little fried cakes, and everything smelled and looked delicious. Theo was feeling more and more ravenously hungry when all at once Mr. Sudharto turned the corner of a street and stopped in front of a high wall with a tiny door set into it. Inside the door they faced a second, smaller wall that had to be passed in a zigzag, a few paces one way, a few more in the other.

“Please excuse this little detour,” Mr. Sudharto apologized. “It prevents evil spirits coming in, because they only move in straight lines. This is my humble home.”

Humble, compared with palaces of jade and walls of gold. They emerged into a square courtyard with three buildings laid out around it.

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