One Big Damn Puzzler

by John Harding

  Then there was Purnu. Telling the little sorcerer would pay off some of the yams he owed, too. But again he risked upsetting a powerful magician. On the other hand, could he upset Purnu any more than he already had? Well, yes, when Purnu discovered the existence of a girl Lintoa preferred to the besotted Kiroa. Of course, Purnu was going to find that out anyway, but Lintoa telling him himself might seem like flaunting his new love. And it would be doubly annoying to Purnu to discover Lintoa had rejected Kiroa for a girl who was the daughter of his arch-rival (even if, actually, she wasn’t!). Lintoa could feel scales growing on his body at the very thought of what the little man might do. Better not mention it to Purnu.

  Another option was to tell Tigua; that would be the quickest way to broadcast it all over the island. Even people in remote hamlets miles away would know about it in minutes, Tigua was such a blabbermouth. And no blame would attach to Lintoa because Tigua was certain to steal the credit for the discovery and Lintoa’s part in it would disappear as completely as a baby koku-koku into the mouth of a tirobe. But even as he thought this, Lintoa knew he couldn’t do it. Something troubled him about speaking of Perlua to the other she-boy. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the admiration from shining forth from his eyes, the enthusiasm from spilling out over his lips. He didn’t want to think about how Tigua would receive the news. Yes, he would have to know about Perlua sooner or later, but Lintoa knew he couldn’t be the one to tell him.

  Lamua! That was it. It was so obvious, he should have thought of her first. And here a brilliant thought struck him, one that Tigua himself would have been proud of. He didn’t even have to implicate himself by mentioning Pilua to Lamua. Instead he would say it was the pig. He would tell her Managua was keeping the pig at the Captain Cook. It was beautiful! Lamua would go to look for the animal and instead find Pilua. There would be such a commotion about Managua’s first wife and his daughter being alive that Lamua would forget all about the pig and wouldn’t even notice that it wasn’t there. Lintoa wouldn’t get blamed at all. Of course, Lintoa didn’t know that the pig was also at the Captain Cook and that Managua might be almost as upset about him squealing on the pig, so to speak, as on his wife and daughter, but it didn’t matter. He was perfectly right in thinking that the ruckus over Pilua and Perlua would completely eclipse any concern over the pig.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  THERE WAS CONSTERNATION when the small party from the Captain Cook arrived in the village. Managua had attempted to dissuade Lamua from revealing her find to the villagers. He had even offered up the pig as a sacrifice if she would keep quiet, an offer that Lamua, in a rare moment of logic among the hysterical tongue-lashing she was giving him, pointed out wasn’t worth much as he didn’t any longer have the pig. As Managua in turn became furious with her, William felt obliged to step in and point out that even if Lamua kept quiet, he would not be able to but was obliged to report the existence of the woman whom the American soldiers had raped.

  There was nothing for it but to make a general declaration. There was no point in Pilua and Perlua remaining at the Captain Cook.

  A matter of moments after their arrival in the village centre, virtually all the villagers, save for those men and boys who were out fishing, had rushed to look at the two strange women. Initially their interest was attracted by the opportunity to see, for the first time, a white woman’s breasts. Until this moment they had never actually been sure that white women had breasts. They knew Miss Lucy had objects on her chest that were breast-shaped (if a little pointy) but then they knew she wore one of the things that she had given the she-boys and that they had stuffed with rags to look like breasts. There were some who maintained that Miss Lucy was a she-boy herself, and among these some who even maintained that all white women were actually she-boys. So they were agog to see the white breasts.

  The two women stood, William thought, as if for sale at an Ancient Roman slave market as the crowd pressed around them, examining them minutely, especially Perlua, some of the women even venturing to touch her breasts to make sure they were real.

  ‘Get back! Leave they alone!’ shouted Managua, arms flailing at the milling islanders. His expression was one of such fury that the crowd retreated and waited to see what was going to happen next. Purnu pushed his way through the throng and marched boldly up to his arch-rival.

  He looked at Pilua and smiled. ‘Pilua, I is remember you. You is can remember me?’

  Pilua looked at Managua for guidance. ‘She is not remember you,’ he said. Pilua lowered her eyes.

  ‘You is hide this woman in Captain Cook for all these years? I is not can believe this.’ Purnu whistled and shook his head, evidently amazed. Behind him William heard Tigua whisper, ‘Is not be so hard for believe as that he is hide pig for three moons. Is be plenty damn hard for keep pig shut up, they is be too good for escape.’

  ‘But what for, Managua, what for you is do this?’

  Managua drew himself up. A sigh escaped him. He gazed over Purnu’s head into the distance as though there were something interesting happening at the edge of the jungle. He made no reply.

  ‘And this, this is be Pilua’s daughter?’

  This time Managua nodded. Perlua looked at him anxiously and he shot her a comforting smile.

  Purnu examined the girl, walking around her, staring intently. Suddenly his gaze swung back to Managua, quick as a green shoestring striking, those who had witnessed such a thing – although not, of course, striking at them or they wouldn’t be here to tell the tale – later said. ‘She is be you daughter then?’

  Again Managua nodded.

  Purnu took another turn or two around Perlua. ‘So what for she is not look like you? She is not look anything like you.’

  This started a buzz of conversation among the crowd. People were shocked. It was an outrageous thing to say to a father about his child, but on the other hand, they muttered, it was undeniably true.

  Managua shrugged. ‘I is not live with she. I is not be around enough for mould she.’

  The hubbub started up again, people nodded wisely. It was obvious, after all. You couldn’t expect children to grow up to resemble you if you weren’t around to shape them. Someone said that mebbe that was why she was white, that mebbe that was what happened to children who had no father to mould them, they didn’t get any colour. But then other people chipped in citing cases where fathers had died and their mothers had not found a new husband and the children were still brown like everyone else and then someone else said what about Gawaloa, her children had never had a father, for who would want to marry her? yet none of her children was white.

  Purnu raised a hand to silence the crowd. ‘You is tell everyone they is be kill by bomb, same bomb as is take away you leg. This is be lie. What for you is make this lie?’

  Managua took a deep breath, as though drawing himself up for a big speech. His face looked troubled as he struggled for words. But none came. He released his breath without uttering anything and there was a collective, disappointed sigh as the crowd did the same.

  ‘I is tell you what for!’ The voice came from the back of the crowd and everyone turned. There was a disturbance as someone pushed his way through from the back. Lintoa emerged from the mob, shoving people out of his way, his lipstick and long hair, his tight pink dress and pointed breasts at odds with the masculine determination with which he thrust his way to the front. Once there, he put his arm around Perlua, but as a boy would his girlfriend, not like girl to girl. A gasp went up from the assembly. There were angry shouts. It was a shocking thing to see, one girl fondling another.

  Perlua’s expression was pure fear as she looked at the lipsticked face of the creature holding her. She knew nothing of the existence of she-boys. She had never seen Lintoa like this. She didn’t recognize him.

  He smiled at her. ‘Is be OK, is be me, Lintoa, you is soon see,’ he said. Fear was replaced by confusion on her face.

  Lintoa held up a hand to quell the hostile crowd. ‘Listen!’ The noi
se was too great for him to be heard. Everyone was talking and arguing. A couple of sticks flew out of the mob and narrowly missed the boy in the pink dress.

  ‘Listen!’ bellowed Lintoa, so loudly that everyone heard and stopped talking. ‘You is let me bend you ears. I is come for tell you what you is want for know! I is tell you what for Managua is do this thing.’

  There was a hush now. Some people continued to shout sporadic abuse at Lintoa but others told them to be quiet and let the girl talk. What harm could it do?

  ‘You is all know how Americans is attack Pilua,’ said Lintoa. ‘Everybody is hear this story. Is be one more bad thing Americans is do.’ One or two of the people around William glared at him. ‘You is know they Americans is force Pilua make fug-a-fug. Is force she break taboo against do this with foreigner.

  ‘When she is come home everyone is be plenty sorry, but they is still throw she out of village for break taboo, even though is not be she fault. She is must go live alone.

  ‘Then she is find she is go have baby and Managua here is take pity on she. He is marry she. He is offer for share she lonely life.’

  People nodded. One or two said complimentary things about the old man, but his expression did not change. He simply stared in horror at Lintoa.

  ‘Now what is happen next, you is think? I is tell you, baby is be born and Managua is see baby is be white. Three white Americans is make fug-a-fug with Pilua and she is have baby that is be white. Is you see connection? No? Well, is be obvious for man like Managua, who is can read. He is understand straight away. Is mean one thing. Is be true what British missionaries is say. Is mean is be man who is make babies, not woman. Is be seed man plants in woman that is grow for make baby.’

  There was complete uproar. One or two pieces of fruit came sailing over the crowd and something resembling a tomato struck Lintoa’s cheek. He wiped it away, smiling now.

  ‘Yes, is be true! Is be no other explanation! Is mean everything we is be tell is be wrong. Men is make babies! There is be no floating babies! There is be no return for souls of dead! Is be father who is must care for he children. Is must no longer rely on wife’s brother for yams!’

  The roar of the crowd increased. More fruit was thrown. One or two people were saying, ‘Wait, let she speak!’

  Purnu called, ‘Listen, you fools, this is be just what British and Americans is always tell we! Mebbe they is be right.’

  Lintoa was shouting now. ‘This is what for they is make taboo for not make fug-a-fug with foreigner in first place, for stop white babies or yellow babies is be born. Is be because this is happen some time in past and is make plenty difficult questions. But now we is know what is happen, taboo is can go. And this taboo is can go now as well!’ He grabbed the front of his dress and plunged his hand into his bra pulling out a rag. He wiped away his lipstick. ‘All crazy taboos and laws is can go now!’ His huge hands seized the top of the dress and with one mighty pull he tore it asunder. As the top fell away and the crowd gasped once more at the sight of the bra, he struggled out of that. He pulled again at the dress and tugged it off, and stood proudly smiling at Perlua, clad only in a pubic leaf. ‘You is see, they old taboos and laws is be crazy! You is can see for you selves. I is be boy!’

  The crowd went wild. William was fearful he might be attacked as people were screaming abuse about Americans. More fruit was thrown at Lintoa, including a coconut which fortunately missed. Some elements in the mob surged forward as though wanting to tear him apart, while others fought to restrain them. Still others were cautioning the hecklers to be quiet, saying such things as that the she-boy had a point and that what she was saying made sense. Other people said the she-boy had gone crazy and someone else wondered what damn fool had let a she-boy have kassa?

  ‘STOP!’ The shout was so loud that everyone went silent. It was Managua. He drew himself to his full height, cheeks flushed with anger. ‘This is not be place for such talk! You is not can listen words of one crazy she-boy!’ He stooped and picked up the ruined pink dress, tossing it angrily at Lintoa. ‘Put this on, stupid girl! How you is dare show youself before people like that? Cover you indecency at once!’

  Such was the command in his voice that there was a hubbub of agreement from the mob, who, it had to be said, were all outraged by a she-boy baring her body like this. Lintoa knew not to argue. He caught the dress and, holding it over his loins to preserve his modesty, pushed through the crowd, taking both pats on the back and cuffs around the ear as he went, such was the division of opinion among the tribespeople. As he vanished among the outer ring of huts William saw Tigua trotting after him in his red high heels. But then the little she-boy stopped and stood rock-still, gazing after Lintoa, watching until he was swallowed up by the jungle.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  AS THE CROWD showed no sign of dispersing – and why would they? nothing so exciting had happened since the American bombs started going off – Managua retreated into his hut along with Pilua and Perlua. Tigua took it upon himself to stand guard at the door to keep away the curious and admit entry only to those permitted by Managua. As one might expect of him, Tigua took a delight in this privileged position, telling people, ‘No, you is have no place for come in here, you is keep you big nose outside.’ Really, of course, all he wanted to do was to get a close look at Perlua. What he saw served only to increase his ferocity with gatecrashers. For there was no disputing it. The girl was beautiful. She was as near perfection as it was possible to get. What chance did poor funny little Tigua, with his turned-up nose and shapeless legs, have against her, even leaving aside the important fact that of course the she-boy wasn’t actually a girl?

  ‘You is have nothing better for do than smell other people shit?’ barked Tigua at the next man who stuck his head inside the door. He pulled it out again as if he’d been struck and walked away cursing the she-boy. He didn’t know not to take the insult personally; that his natural curiosity had gotten more than it deserved because he’d happened to intrude upon the she-boy’s rising grief.

  Of the many repercussions of the resurrection of Managua’s first wife and daughter, the most pressing was where everyone was to sleep. The two women could no longer remain at the Captain Cook where they would be at the mercy of the curious. But how could Pilua live with Managua when he had another wife? Although the islanders enjoyed multiple sexual partners when single, there was a strict taboo against adultery after marriage and a second taboo against bigamy to prevent anyone using that as a method of getting around the first.

  Of course it was perfectly easy to divorce someone. You simply said you didn’t want to eat with them any more. You announced you were not married to them any longer and left them. But Managua had not done this. He had never divorced Pilua; instead he had faked her death. There was some debate about whether he could actually ever have been legally married to Lamua, or whether all these years the two had been living in sin. There was no doubt that they had. Everyone in the village had seen them sitting outside their hut openly tucking into the same pot of stew.

  The bigamy issue was solved when Lamua and Purnu burst into the hut. Tigua tried to dissuade Lamua from entering but not very hard. One look at Lamua’s face was enough to tell him that here was a woman you didn’t want to get into an argument with. He’d never have believed Lamua could get herself to look so ugly, but she had; her lovely face was distorted by rage.

  Tigua nevertheless saw it as his duty to try to prevent bloodshed. He would not have wanted even Perlua to be hurt. ‘You is sure you is want for go in there?’ he asked.

  ‘If you is not get out of my way I is kick you out of door,’ Lamua replied, which struck Tigua as pretty unequivocal.

  ‘And if you is not let me pass you is go find youself is be frog,’ said Purnu.

  Although there was nothing for it but to let them in, there was no way Tigua was going to allow them to have the last word as well. ‘You is tell me this first,’ he said to Purnu. ‘Is you go make me be frog before or after she is kick me?
’

  ‘What in name of fug-a-fug is that have for do with anything?’ demanded Purnu. ‘What difference is can make?’

  ‘Is make plenty difference,’ said Tigua. ‘If she is kick me first is go hurt but is not be end of world. If you is make me frog and then she is kick me I is be one plenty dead frog. Is be splat all over place.’

  ‘Get out of way, silly girl!’ snapped Lamua and shoved Tigua aside.

  ‘You is be this close for you is spend rest of you life croak in water hole,’ rasped Purnu, holding up his thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart as he followed Lamua.

  Tigua contented himself with pulling a face after them. For once he could not think of a witty riposte because as his gaze followed their passage, it fell once more upon Perlua, who stood calmly listening to something her father was telling her.

  Lamua interrupted his discourse. ‘You is must excuse me for interrupt,’ she said. ‘Is only be my own house.’

  ‘That is be problem,’ said Managua with an apologetic expression. ‘I is not know what we is can do. Is not right for have two wives under same roof.’

  ‘Is not right for have two wives at all!’ spat Lamua. ‘Is not matter what roofs they is be under!’

  ‘Is be true,’ murmured Pilua. ‘Whole situation is be very wrong.’