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It is a place where the tall ficus trees whisper in a light wind on a clear day, where the yellow bamboo and bougainvillea have stood sentry for two hundred years, where the windswept upper plateau bears witness to the monsoon winds that whip across the headland, where the rugged coast and jagged rocky outcrops protect the legendary past of Pointe Jomchang, and where the heartbeat of the universe is marked by the rhythmic pounding of the surf. It is a place where spirit houses appear without signature and no footprints are seen leading away. It is a mythical home on the windswept coast, where the sunset has no equal anywhere on the globe. It is a place where heaven touched the earth. The last teller of the story of Pointe Jomchang was the village elder of Nakalay, the neighboring land that surrounds Pointe Jomchang. He is a man of small physical stature, his slight body taught with leathery skin from endless days at sea, but with a character as vibrant as the first rays of sunlight that burst over the hills of Nakalay. The lines on his face are deep, exaggerated by his wide toothless grin. Until now, he was the only man who knew the story of Pointe Jomchang. It was handed down to him by the village elder when he himself was a young man, and before that handed down again and again in the same fashion for hundreds of years. The story began, hundreds of years ago, with a young man named Yomding, and two village elders, Toh She and Toh Ya, the first two elders of Nakalay. Toh She and Toh Ya were men of equal wisdom and strength, and both elephant herders whom kept the village’s herd between Nakalay and what is now Patong Beach. Yomding was a young man of great strength, and a man the rest of the villagers liked and respected. He was also the bravest of all the young men in the village. After watching Yomding grow from a boy to a young man, and seeing how quick he was to learn and teach others, Toh She and Toh Ya were convinced Yomding was destined to be the next leader of their small band of people and, as the legend tells, a young man they believed had special powers. In the year 1765, a thundering roar came over the mountains of Phuket that changed the coastal landscape forever. At first, the villagers didn’t know what the enormous rumble was and wondered if some earth shaking cataclysmic event was about to unfold. But as the thunder grew to a deafening roar and a giant cloud of dust rose into the sky, they realized what it was, a herd of wild, dangerous, marauding elephants. And they instinctively knew nothing would be left in their destructive path. Unless driven off, the wild elephants would destroy every living plant, animal and human in their way. The destruction of their village was imminent unless the band of rogues could be stopped. The marauders, led by a dirt black giant killer with shoulders two men high and tusks two men long, were a terror to behold. Toh She and Toh Ya tried to stop the invaders with fallen timber, then with an avalanche of giant boulders and then with fire. Nothing moved them from their march on Patong. As the blazing sun set on the aftermath of the day’s battle, Toh She and Toh Ya made a hasty retreat back to the village as their own elephants were mercilessly driven into the sea. That night, as they stumbled into the village and nearly collapsed in the arms of others, they retold the story of the day’s battle. As they told their story, and as the rumble in the ground drew ever closer, a deepening fear overtook the villagers, all except Yomding. Noticing he was the only one who stood during the story and the only one without fear in his eyes, Toh She and Toh Ya fell silent and looked at Yomding. As they did, the distant thunder of one hundred elephants again rolled over the mountains and shook the land, causing some in the crowd to shriek. “Why are you not afraid?” asked Toh Ya. “The elephants are rogues, killers. We haven’t a chance. They are led by a black giant behemoth with shoulders two men tall and tusks two men long. We tried to block them with timber, giant rocks and fire. Our elephants have been driven into the bay.” He looked at the only elephant remaining in the village, the oldest one they had, too old to work and only good to carry the weight of a single man. Toh She waved his arms across the crowd. “I’m afraid we must give up. We must leave immediately,” he said, his voice quivering. But no one moved. They all looked at Yomding, who stood tall and silent, his attention fixed firmly on the distant thunder and the sounds of the blaring trunks of the marauders. “This is our home,” he said, as the light from the fire created a soft glow over his body. “I will fight to the death before I could give it up.” Toh She and Toh Ya looked at each other. Toh Ya got up and left. He returned moments later, a sword in a sheath in one hand, the tether to the old elephant in the other. “Perhaps your time has come. Yomding, you are the strongest, the bravest and the smartest of our village. Our last elephant can carry you.” He looked around. The look in the eyes of the others confirmed his words. “We have always thought you have special powers,” said Toh She. “We must see, and you must see. The sword in my hand has never been drawn from it’s sheath. The words on the sheath mean, ‘The sword of the chosen One.’” Take it and go. You lead us, and we will go with you.” Yomding looked at the villagers. A sense of history gripped him. He took the sword, and in a single motion Yomding leapt to the shoulders of the elephant. “I will go alone.” Without a word, Yomding pulled the sword from its sheath. As he pulled it out, the light from the village fire danced across its meter long golden blade. He looked at those below him and raised his hand high. “When you hear the thunder fading into Phang Nga I will return. But go now and hide. Go to the end of the headland. Before the sun comes up, the land will shake, and the thunder will pierce your ears. Go now.” He looked at Toh She and Toh Ya. “I must go alone.” He turned and left as the distant echo of the thundering marauders suddenly seemed to bear down on the village. Toh She and Toh Ya motioned for everyone to move to Nakalay, to the end of the headland, to the rocks down by the sea. There they took shelter, built a fire and huddled in between the large rocks. For six hours, they waited as the pitch of battle raged through the land, sweeping in from the mountains, through Patong, across to Nakalay and echoing across the bay. For six hours they were terrified the rogue elephants would crush their village, kill their elephants and kill Yomding. Every so often, by the light of the full moon above them, they saw a flash of golden light reflect on the water. After six hours, in one final crescendo, as the thunder of elephants hooves rapidly approached and shook the headland as it had never been shaken before, as the roar of fleeing elephants nearly deafened them, they sensed the battle was over. As the elephant’s thunder peaked and faded, the villagers scrambled up the steep hillside and stood in awe of what they beheld. As the first rays of light came over the mountains, a battered, bruised and bleeding Yomding approached the end of the headland, now scarred with deep cuts from the sword. The villagers greeted Yomding as their hero. “The sword saved my life,” said Yomding. “ He pulled the sword from its sheath. He looked at the words on the sheath, ‘The Sword of the Chosen One.’ Suddenly, with one last tremor, the ground shook and gave way behind them. A small piece of land was breaking away and formed a small island. “Look,” exclaimed the children. “It looks like an elephant’s head dipping in the water.” Everyone turned and looked at the small island and then at Yomding. Yomding held up his arms and gestured to the land around them. “I name this land Pointe Jomchang, for its beauty, it’s strength and its magical power. From this day forward, it will always be a special place and a special home.” The End |