Ghalia Paddles Through the Mangroves With Aunt Muna

The water was as smooth as glass when Ghalia and Aunt Muna carried the little orange kayak down to the shore. The morning sun was still low, and the air was warm and salty. Along the edge of the water grew a forest of mangrove trees, green and thick, with tangled roots that reached down into the sea like long brown fingers.

"Are we really going in there?" asked Ghalia, pointing at the narrow green channels between the trees.

"We really are," said Aunt Muna. She tightened the straps of Ghalia's bright yellow life jacket and checked that it fit snugly. "The mangroves are full of secret paths. And full of animals, too, if we are clever."

Ghalia was six, and she had never been in a kayak before. She climbed into the front seat. Aunt Muna climbed into the back. The kayak wobbled, then settled. Aunt Muna handed Ghalia a small paddle with a blade at each end.

"Here is how it works," said Aunt Muna. "Dip on the left side. Then dip on the right side. Left, right, left, right. Nice and slow."

"Easy!" said Ghalia.

She dipped the paddle into the water. Splash! She dipped the other side. Splash! She paddled as hard and as fast as she could. Splash, splash, splash, splash!

Water sprayed everywhere. It splashed Ghalia's face. It splashed Aunt Muna's hat. The kayak spun around in a slow circle, until they were facing the beach again.

"Oh," said Ghalia. "We are going the wrong way."

Aunt Muna laughed and wiped her face. "That is because we are both paddling, but not together," she said. "My paddle goes one way and yours goes another. The kayak does not know which way to go."

"So what do we do?" asked Ghalia.

"We listen to each other," said Aunt Muna. "You are in the front, so you will be the leader. Say 'left' when you dip on the left, and 'right' when you dip on the right. I will watch you and paddle at the same time."

Ghalia liked being the leader. She sat up very straight.

"Left," she said, and dipped her paddle.

"Left," said Aunt Muna behind her.

"Right," said Ghalia.

"Right," said Aunt Muna.

"Left. Right. Left. Right."

Slowly, the kayak turned. It pointed toward the mangroves. And then it began to glide. It slid across the water, smooth and straight, like a duck on a pond.

"We are doing it!" said Ghalia.

"Shh," said Aunt Muna gently. "Not too loud. Let us see who lives here."

They paddled into a narrow channel. On both sides, the mangrove trees rose up green and leafy. Their roots made arches over the water, and the shade was cool and dappled. Little silver fish flashed beneath the kayak.

"Left," whispered Ghalia. "Right."

The water was so clear that she could see the sandy bottom. Something was moving down there. A crab! It was small and greenish, with one claw much bigger than the other. It scuttled sideways and hid under a root.

"Look," breathed Ghalia.

"A fiddler crab," whispered Aunt Muna. "He waves that big claw to say hello."

They glided on. Left, right, left, right. The paddles dipped softly now, hardly making a sound. Ghalia noticed that when they paddled together, the kayak was quiet. When they splashed, the animals hid. When they moved gently, the animals came out.

On a high branch, a grey heron stood on its long legs, watching the water. It had a sharp yellow beak and a feathery crest on its head. It stood so still that it looked like a statue.

Ghalia stopped paddling, and Aunt Muna stopped too. The kayak drifted silently. The heron looked down at them, blinked, and then went back to watching for fish.

"He is not scared of us," whispered Ghalia.

"Because we are calm," whispered Aunt Muna.

Further along, the channel opened into a small round pool, ringed with mangrove trees. The sunlight came down in golden beams. And there, in the middle of the pool, something round and dark poked up out of the water.

It was a head. A small, round head with gentle eyes.

"A turtle," whispered Ghalia, her heart thumping with joy.

The green sea turtle floated near the surface, nibbling at some seagrass. Its shell was patterned like a puzzle, brown and gold and green. It lifted its head, took a slow breath of air, and looked at the kayak.

Ghalia did not move. She did not splash. She hardly breathed. She just watched, her hands resting on her paddle.

The turtle paddled closer with its big flippers. It swam right beside the kayak, so close that Ghalia could see the tiny barnacles on its shell. Then it dipped its head and glided down, down, into the deeper water, and was gone.

Ghalia turned around in her seat. Her eyes were shining.

"Aunt Muna," she whispered. "That was the best thing I have ever seen."

Aunt Muna smiled. "If we had been splashing, it would have swum away before we even saw it."

"Because we paddled together," said Ghalia. "And quietly."

"Exactly," said Aunt Muna.

They sat for a while in the round pool, listening. A little bird chirped in the leaves. A fish jumped, plip, and left rings on the water. The roots of the mangroves made soft clicking sounds as tiny crabs moved among them.

Then it was time to go back.

"Ready, leader?" asked Aunt Muna.

Ghalia lifted her paddle. "Left," she said.

"Left," said Aunt Muna.

"Right."

"Right."

Together they turned the kayak around and glided back through the green channel. They passed the fiddler crab waving his big claw. They passed the grey heron, still standing on his branch. Left, right, left, right, smooth and quiet, all the way back to the sunny shore.

When they pulled the kayak up onto the sand, Ghalia's arms felt tired but happy.

"Can we come again next week?" she asked.

"Of course," said Aunt Muna. "And next time, you can teach your cousin how to paddle."

Ghalia grinned. "First," she said, "I will teach him to listen."