by Albert Wendt
and into my embrace shifted the whole
weave of her heat and aromatic essences
The magnificent need to hold her
beyond Smellessness into Tagaloa’s eternity
is as real now in my decrepit old age
as it was then in what I came
to call ‘The Night of Betrayal by Family’
We slept and forgot night has an end
until the blinds were ripped down by
her relatives and our nakedness
was exposed to the morning for all to see
‘Beast! Beast!’ her father screamed
(8) Sentence
As they bound her with sinnet I jumped
to her defence but they beat me to
unconsciousness to wake a day later
to Master Manogipesemalie my generous
host tongueclucking Now you’re in for it!
What? I pleaded She’s to be tried for
a heinous sin he said I was nonplussed
so he explained that Manogilaumaile’s family
was defining me a beast and she was
therefore guilty of bestiality
I am Samoan! I am human! I protested
at her trial to the Council’s sniggering
and Manogitupusili ordering Give him
the SQ Tests to see if he is! I tried
desperately but failed every one so
he declared me smellectually a beast
with an SQ no better than a mullet’s
Re-education was the sentence for her
For me the witnessing of her ordeal
and then deportation from their country
(9) Smellwashing
The Supreme Healer of Sins assigned her treatment
to his Senior Olfactorologist Manogi-
lotoalofa Smell-of-Loving-Spirit famous
for his love of children and developing
the science of Smellwashing to save sinners
The Senior Olfactorologist’s home was a lava cave
in the cliffs at Manui’a Point: spacious
well-lit well-ventilated laid with valuable
Tongan mats no signs of threat – in fact
more comfortable than most Olfact homes
Three women his wives I assumed fussed
silently over us when we were introduced
and sat me against the central post while
Manogilaumaile took the opposite post
No sound of the sea penetrated there
Strange also the absence of smell as
we awaited the Olfactorologist after
his wives left us and I suggested
escape to Manogilaumaile but she just
shook her tearful head
She refused to look at me Hands clasped
in her lap shoulders slumped eyes
gazing at the mats she was repentance
and vulnerability – the patient pleading
to be cured of whatever illness diagnosed
by the healer using whatever method he chose:
Like millions our planet over a willing victim
of a system which had determined that
she obey even if it demanded her death
I was too naive then to see that
and too scared to insist on heroic escape
or fight the forces threatening
our love (heroics are for the insanely
brave and the young who don’t yet
know the pain of risk that fails)
The Olfactorologist eased like trusting
scent into the gap between us Greeted
us gently inquired about our health whether
we needed anything Lean lightboned
slowmoving like the matu’u gentlest of seabirds
Nothing to fear he said to her Smellwashing
merely washes out your illness (he’d
never refer to it as ‘sin’) and replaces
it with the scent-truths of our Olfact Way
It’s a purification of nostrils polluted by …
As he explained he seemed a wise grandfather
who’d acquired limitless alofa through
a lifetime of suffering and I tried to wash
out my fear of him but it flowed
and threatened to flood my every vein
Averting his searching eyes Manogilaumaile nodded
and nodded to his persuasive song and
with every nod slipped further away
from me — after all I was only dumb
beast compared to this wisest of Smellocrats
That’s all for today he ended to my surprise
My assistants will feed you then you’re free
to go anywhere tonight Thank you
sir Manogilaumaile said He smiled
at me and emphasised we were free
Let’s go away I begged after he’d left
She cringed away He’ll smell us out! she cried
He’s everywhere don’t you know that?
He’s taking you away from me I said
but she refused to budge from his home
Late that night we crept into each other’s
arms and in the Olfact Way lovesmelled
strength into our hearts and promised
the Olfactorologist wouldn’t succeed in
erasing our lovesmell bonds
For a week he just talked to her —
a song which relaxed and won her trust
I too slipped into trusting him (I now
know that’s what prisoners do — they want
to trust their interrogators)
And because I was smellectually limited
I didn’t discern the subtle aromas
they were daily veining our prison cave with
while the wily Olfactorologist crooned aromas
that were altering my beloved’s smellsense
At night in embrace we persuaded ourselves
the Olfactorologist’s work was for our good
And it wasn’t until she withdrew into
inexplicable laughter and brightly burning
eyes she confessed the air was sweetly drugged
Next morning I confronted him with that
but he dismissed it by asking her if
anything was wrong The air is beautiful
give me more of it she murmured in
her euphoric high and craving
He instructed her to dance and as
she floated around the floor she obeyed
the dance steps he asked of her
She danced and danced to his song
until exhausted she collapsed and slept
Go away! she pushed at me when later
I woke her so I watched over her till
the Olfactorologist’s morning return and when
I tried choking admission of drugs out of
him his three amazons bound me to my post
My friend I’m going to explain smellwashing
to you — who knows your tiny smell-
intelligence may retain some of it that
may benefit your people on your
return to them he said gently
I’ve taken her into another smellreality
and while she’s there I’m going to wash
her clean of her present scent essences —
her identity — and replace it with another
that’ll disgust her with you and your bestiality
He wanted me to observe his every move so
he told his assistants to bandage my nose
with crushed leaves (a drug?) that
on my inhaling fired my brain/eyes
to avid observation of his mastery
Into the centre of my head the pungency plunged
and cut out all sense of guilt fear
shame and I enjoyed watching myself
watching the skilled spectacle of Manogi-
laumaile being transformed into conforming citizen
&nb
sp; I can hear his teaching voice even now
every deadly nuance of it and action of
his assistants that flowed from it: First
lie her on her back and into her being
pour all the good scents of her childhood
As she swallowed the fragrances she chortled
with joy as if being reborn stretching out
in limb in confidence in discovering her
true level of SQ and smellsense before
the bitter odours of adulthood hemmed her in
At his instructions she acted out various
smell stages of her growing up from infant
to nine to twelve to being whipped by
her mother into loud bawling protests
(I marvelled at his cool wizardry)
Then as reassuring as the To’elau’s breath
he asked her to dive into the first amniotic
sea and the cell in the egg that was the spark
of all her essences before being/smellthought
and awareness: I held my breath as she plunged
While in that dive he placed his mouth over
her nose and blew his breath essences
down in pursuit of her into her genesis
Suddenly she was waves of trembling
and whimpers as he hunted her
Don’t be afraid he whispered into
her depths Her choked cry was that
of a fish hooked and wrenched up to
drown in air’s clarity Once that was all
then her body now without identity relaxed
into sleep which lasted days/nights of
his assistants feeding her his prescription
of aromas for a new personality
With each scent and mixture he said
go new memories/associations of a genesis
in the womb a birth childhood and
her story up to her waking soon to a person
free of sin our society will welcome and love
Fascinated I too watched and awaited
her rebirth eagerly
Inadvertently I must’ve fallen asleep and
in my sleep they undrugged my nostrils
untied me from the post and I woke
again to fear and concern for her
but there was no one in the room
Manogilaumaile! I called repeatedly
as I searched the cave’s circling walls
I wheeled She was sitting in the centre
her back turned and I rushed over
and from behind wrapped her in my arms
Her nails were shell knives that ripped
into my face chest and arms when
she swivelled round and cried Rape! Rape!
And her knee crushed upwards into my
balls and the pain blew the light out of my skull
The Olfactorologist must’ve used a drug to
fish me out of the dark and for a long while
I didn’t recognise the Council applauding
around me like celebrating birds or
why Manogilaumaile wore a laurel of laumaile leaves
(10) Saved
Our daughter’s been saved from sin! Manogi-
tupusili proclaimed to all She’s a new
person we can all love I crawled to
her feet and gazed up into her eyes that said
Who’re you? Why did you attack me beast?
Next morning they set me adrift beyond
their reef (My journey home is a tale
for another day) As I promised I’ll end
my Olfact story with the Final Test that
graduated their apprentices into navigators/fishermen
(11) Final Test
Full moon night the Masters summoned us
to their fale and in the dancing firelight
smellprayed to their atua Then they divided apprentices
into pairs of complimentary flaws and strengths
leaving Manogipesemalie the 41st with a special Test
Out of the rafters they took large baskets
and after assigning each pair their Test
showed them items they had to bring back
For instance Pair One had to find Aotearoa
to the south and fetch the feathers
of the flightless kiwi bird and ten karakia
Pair Two had to navigate the perils of
the Black Archipelagoes to the north
and from Malaita bring prowheads of war canoes
and the incantations that protected them
Another pair had to bring from Hawaii
a stone altar and the rituals of sacrifice
that altar deserved From Rapanui
the shape of the Moai and its long inward
gaze which outlives their atua
And further east still from the southern
land of the Sun atua the skills of counting
and building pyramids to launch death
From the islands of the Yellow Men the magic
of unpoisoning the balloonfish and the smell
of frozen water that fell whitely from
grey skies without sun And so on
until only the 41st was left
Of her they demanded the most difficult
task to discover the continent suspected
to the northwest but as yet not even smelled
by the Masters in their many quests: She
wasn’t to return until she’d found it
and recorded its scentmap for future voyaging
(She didn’t question her suicidal Test)
And all must return with total smell-
inventories of their assigned lands
Don’t forget ours is an empire of
fragrances and scents the Masters exalted them
Each new scent extends our knowledge of reality
All Olfact gathered by the sea to launch
their children on their dangerous quest
There was weeping and prayers and pleas
to their atua to bring them home safely
Manogisili promised them immortality
Masters Tautai Manogisa and Lolototai blessed
them last and withdrew In their eyes
I saw the glitter of tears? regret? loss?
How long will they take? I asked
For most a lifetime whispered Lolototai
I was deported four years later and
none had returned Today I still see
them on their frail crafts piercing the horizon’s
muscled dark and tracing ropes of scent
across the mysterious stretches of Moana Sa
questing for meaning to the Final Test
a few will survive and return to ancient
Masters who’ll feed rapaciously on
the fragrances of their heroic deeds to
gather new strength to live on smell on be
You think my tale too tall? Vela challenged us
Really neat Sina praised Mele’s glazed eyes spoke
of wondrous belief in her adopted grandfather
(He’d exiled Michael to bed saying he was too young
for adult Olfactor romances)
And you? he demanded of me
Neat really neat I enthused
Believe It or Not! he echoed his guru Jack Palance
Soon after his tale of Olfact Vela insisted
I too turn my travels into verse
He was an exacting listener
I had to compose orally to his satisfaction
and my family’s amusement because whenever I faltered
he banished me to the study until I had it perfect
‘Nightflight’ is my first adventure he applauded
My kids judged it boring but he conned them
into accepting it as ‘Your Dad’s Songs of Deng
Tsiaopeng’s Bourgeois Revolution’
16
Nightflight
(1) QF9
3
Nightflight QF93 No escape
from the tunnel locked into
night’s gravity that stretches
on and on
This poem is
in my hand that records
as I walk this page
Nightflight
from Guangzhou where they boast
they can cook and eat any-
thing with four legs
except a table
I’m fastened
to my seat among 300 others
awaiting the prescribed hours
to end like a sentence
Nightflight Tonight’s movie
is Blacklight about love that is
young in China and worthy
of the proletariat
I pay it little attention
My hand is
the pen The pen is
my hand and the footsteps
of it on the page
Nightflight
Blacklight Sydney ninelong
hours ahead I’m suspended
between past and future tenses
contemplating neither
Suspended between
the Circle the Square
and the Nine that binds all
in the Temple of Heaven
(2) Mao’s Calligraphy
Nightflight Blacklight I’ve left
the Emperors behind in
their luscious tombs under hills
of cypress
and tourists
They’ll wake
to the Open Door as Mao strides
out of his mausoleum
to scrawl protests against the present
on the walls of Tian’anmen Square
where everyday in all seasons
millions shuffle past his crystal coffin
shuffle without pausing shuffle
