Whatshot
Whale Song
Whale Song
Date: 2023-08-02
Itis late July. Early morning loadshedding. The sun is just beginning to blushthe sky and I sit on the balcony, watching, waiting. It's my annual pull to theocean, seeking their breath, the almighty thwack of fin, the beauty. It iswhale season in Durban, one of my favourite times of year. I think of VirginiaWoolf who in The Waves, compares the sea to 'a girl couched on her green-seamattress . . . with water-globed jewels that sent lances of opal-tinted lightfalling and flashing in the uncertain air like the flanks of a dolphin leaping,or the flash of a falling blade.'
Ihave learnt through the years to scan the ocean, especially the part where theBluff sneaks around the harbour. For some reason, it is here that the whalesseem to put on a show as they leap into the air and then with ballerina gracedisappear underwater. Then, just as I have given up, there she goes again,dancing into the air. It is as if they are mocking the Whaling Station thatonce stood on the Bluff. We are still here they seem to say, but you are in thedustbin of history.
Wheredo they come from, where are they going? A stupid question I realise. 'Theancient Greeks' you see 'believed that ocean is where the earth ended andheaven began and the whales knew that too.'
Thewhale's most famous appearance in literature is Melville's Moby Dick. Writtenin the nineteenth century, it has lost none of its power. In my bookshop,someone invariably comes in and wants a copy. When I enquire why, there arevaried responses. Students of literature want to dissect Melville's use ofmetaphor. Careerists are interested in Ahab's maniacal pursuit of the whale.Some simply want to enjoy the power of the writing. 'A gentle joyousness-amighty mildness of repose in swiftness, invested the gliding whale. Not thewhite bull Jupiter swimming away with ravished Europa clinging to his gracefulhorns; his lovely, leering eyes sideways intent upon the maid; with smoothbewitching fleetness, rippling straight for the nuptial bower in Crete; notJove, not that great majesty Supreme! did surpass the glorified White Whale ashe so divinely swam.'
HowI long to dive deep and listen to the whale song, that Jay Griffiths tells us'can be funny, quick as a joke, followed by the low, full strings of a cello,long notes of infinite sadness, searching, longing and then a sound like theplucked strings of a double bass...a foghorn, a sweet whistlesong and asatisfied snore.'
Thelight is falling over the Indian Ocean quicker than the rand. The moon willsnake across the water and light up the balcony. I reach for my Clippers Snore& Peace tea. Like Ahab, I must be up early to wait again. Melville wasright; it is an obsession, so divine, swimming in the ocean of heaven.
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