A SHORT DISTANCE IN A LONG TIME

There were millions of us, but only a few hundred have survived to tell the story. "Are we lucky to be alive, or are we unlucky, because we have to stay behind, grieving the loss of our friends?"

         Our mothers laid millions of eggs only a few feet away from the ocean, in various locations all over the world. They hoped that we would be able to travel that short distance to reach our destination; but, those few feet took us an eternity to conquer. We were back to our roots, back to the carefully chosen places our mothers had selected for concealing the eggs from human, animal, or bird's threatening view. Only a handful of us have survived to be able to return to the point of inception where the story begins and the cycle starts all over again. We consider ourselves fortunate to be able to reminisce about the past and to have a hopeful expectation for our future.

         Our mothers laboured painstakingly in an attempt to protect us. They dug holes in the sand so they could lay their eggs, hoping these eggs would be well hidden from our human neighbours; but they came to the beaches in search of us just the same. Relentlessly the men and women hunted, ravaging the sand until they discovered some of us. They filled their bags and their satchels, and took the eggs away, content that they had pursued and then captured. If they had taken the time to look back, they would have seen the tears in our mothers' eyes for they knew that some of us would be sold in the market, others would be given to children for the vitamin and protein value, and some would be eaten by men who hoped that it would enhance their sexual prowess; we were unsure whether this was a myth or a reality.

         Alongside the human hands there were the birds that employed their sharp pointed beaks to discover us and then break our fragile outer coverings so they could drink our contents before we were even born. We were nothing more than appetizers to them.

         Those of us who did hatch had but one goal in mind. We sought refuge in the water; all we had to do was to journey those few feet. But those few feet were laden with hurdles, and they seemed too many to overcome. We had no idea which of us would make it and which would fall prey to circumstance.

         We were so different from one another and yet collectively, we were members of the same group. Our sizes differed, our forms differed, dependent upon the part of the world in which we were conceived. Some of us were as tiny as a silver coin while others were as big as the wheel of a bicycle. Most of us had a helmet for protection; others did not. Under that hardened facade we were soft and tender, a vulnerability we chose not to disclose. When we awoke, and started to crawl towards the water we were an army of great magnitude, at least in number.

         The first enemy that we encountered were the predatory birds. They were circling the area, or sitting on rocks, waiting for us to emerge. When we started to move they screamed in excitement and swooped down to attack us. We were rendered helpless because our size was too diminutive and we lacked strength in our youth.

         The second of our foes were the lizards. They appeared out of nowhere and lapped at us with their voracious tongues. They were enormous in contrast to us, and we were unable to defend ourselves. In one big swoop, they ate us alive.

         If we were fortuitous enough to survive the first two enemies we were attacked by the third - the crabs. As fierce and dangerous as they appeared, we still fought back hoping that this time we had a chance because, at least, they were equal to us in size. They pulled us farther away from the ocean while we pushed back, hoping to get closer to the water. This dance of death would often go on for hours. Neither of us would give up. For a few minutes one side would succeed and then exhaustion took over and the other side would regain its strength. It would have been easier to succumb yet we were known for our stamina:  the folk tale of the tortoise and the hare boasts of our endurance; we are marathon runners, slow but consistent. And so our battle with the crabs went on.

         Some of our battles we won, while others we lost. Our only strength was in the size of our army; we were so many in number that a handful of birds, reptiles, or human beings could only kill so many of us.

         Finally a few of us were able to come close enough to the water that we could feel and smell the tide; then a predator would attack with its claw. All there was left to do was to hope that our guardian angel would be watching over for us. We did the best we could, but still we could not embrace the ocean. Those of us who were blessed with good luck were dropped from the mouths of the predators which placed us a few inches closer to the water's edge.

         The most unfortunate of the deaths occurred when accidentally some of us were trampled under the heavy bodies of our mothers who sought refuge in the water as well.

         Once we had reached the water we felt reasonably safe until a few of us were grasped by the mouths of fish; it was then that we realized that we weren't even safe in the ocean, the one abode that we so desperately tried to reach. Those of us who grew and became strong enough to face our enemies and the harsh environment, knew that we had to repeat the tradition. We had to follow in the footsteps of our ancestors and go back to the shore to dig our holes and lay our eggs. We had to repeat that comic yet tragic drama, generation after generation. We had to lay at least one hundred eggs for one egg to survive and reach adulthood; the few meagre feet reappeared hauntingly in our minds.