Another Throw of The Dice

by Mary Clare Morganti

  Slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the blackness like an image from a photographic plate. twinkling dust emerged and above the silence of sleeping nature, Min imagined she could hear a sussuration of planetary communication. The secretive mystery overwhelmed her and she wanted to cry out from existential loneliness. Finally the moment passed and she felt a sudden fatigue. Sleep without dreams was what she needed.

  Chapter 9

  Polly woke early from a very sound sleep. The cooler nights made sleep easier and the days more full of energy. It was Friday, and while Jim had to work as usual, she decided to take the day off because most of the staff in her office were going to be away on family business. The acknowledgement that family life and work life were of equal importance in the overall scheme was strangely refreshing, except when it impinged on personal plans. But it worked both ways.

  An early bike ride to the ocean beach was far enough to give her a change of scene. She was feeling the lure of the primeval and solitude, neither of which she knew at first hand. Occasionally she wished she could share these opportunities with her twin sister as the only other person who might have the same response to them. It was the first time their paths had diverged and their environment been radically altered, so she was only speculating.

  There was no other being on the beach as Polly scrambled over the roadside rocks to the sand. She found a patch of shade under some straggly trees and lay down on her spare lava lava to listen to the savage surf. It was stirring to hear the continuous thrashing of the ocean unhindered by the defensive reef. Here there was no danger from falling fruit because the coconut palms were noticeably absent. Her time in the archive office had made her aware of fatalities from falling coconuts comparable on a per capita basis with road accidents in industrialised countries. She had told Jim of this discovery but he had scoffed.

  With the breeze blowing in her thick salt-laden hair, she felt exquisitely well. She sat up and began to hum, “Blow the wind southerly, southerly”, in a low register. The waves were a percussive accompaniment and she hugged her knees and swayed as she sang. With no one around, she increased the volume and then laughed wildly and luxuriously.

  Although this part of the island was considered unsafe for swimming because of the ferocity of the waves, Polly was in a bravura mood and wanted to pit her body against the surge which had been generated far out in the vast ocean. Her earliest memories were of surf and people confronting its power with pleasure, so why not here - and now?

  She stood up and stretched her arms and did a little run on the spot. Then she strode out into the water and plunged into a wave as it rolled in to die on the sand.

  She laughed maniacally as she rose to the challenge of each wave coming fast on the heels of the last, as if confronting a lover. Jim did not share this form of adventure so she let her mind conjure up another wild soul mate whose playful robustness exercised her whole body. Unexpectedly, a huge roller loomed, out of scale with the rest, and her triumphs were interrupted by a sudden need to fight her way to the surface. The churning water tossed her ruthlessly like prey and her eyes could see nothing but glazed bubbles as she moved her limbs haphazardly. Just as she was losing strength and clarity, she was dumped on to the sand and sucked back a few metres by the receding monster which left her to fill her lungs, disordered by the feeling of panic. With her eyes closed she felt a kind of gratitude to the monster as if a warning had been given.

  When her breathing had slowed she opened her eyes and she saw a large pair of brown feet planted beside her water-logged body. She heard a gentle voice, but with insufficient strength to follow its direction upwards, she began to sob convulsively. A man crouched down so that she was able to strain her neck and see his face but she couldn’t speak. Her feelings of joy had turned so swiftly to fear that she could hardly think.

  ‘This beach is dangerous. Nobody swim here.’

  Still she lay wordless and inert and after a while the man spoke again. He told her that his village was nearby and he could take her there to rest. Finally she found the words to say that she’d be OK and could cycle home, once her energy returned. The young man sat down on the sand with his legs crossed and asked her where she lived. Her vague answer didn’t satisfy him so she reluctantly told him more exactly, to which he replied calmly that she lived quite near his brother.

  This information was inconsequential to her. She was feeling vulnerable for having been found like flotsam on the beach. The young man showed no sign of moving on even though Polly was clearly uncommunicative. They remained like this for some minutes until she began to feel drowsy. She knew she must stay awake so she dragged herself into a sitting position and for the first time, looked at her dogged companion. He asked her her name.

  ‘Polly,’ she mumbled. ‘What’s yours?’

  ‘Jupeli. What is your home country?’

  ‘America.’

  ‘You are lucky. Everybody want to go there because everybody have a big car in America.’

  She didn’t have the energy to enter into a debate about consumerism but simply said,

  ‘This is a beautiful country.’

  There was another long silence and no sign of Jupeli moving until Polly made an effort to get on to her feet. Then he stood up and repeated his offer of recovery in the village where, he said there was food to make her strong again. Polly thanked him courteously and while she wrung some of the water out of her hair, she said she was ready to bike back into town and would like to shout him a drink when and if he came to town. They clambered over the rocks to where she had left her bicycle and she wrapped her dry lava lava around her. She told him where she worked and shook his hand before she gave her pedal a push and rode off.

  She passed through the same villages and stopped from time to time to greet the women and children to show her appreciation for her transit through their property. They responded with big smiles and the children added the inevitable ‘Bye Bye’. She had recovered from her unceremonious treatment by the surf, but she was not sure whether she would tell anybody because she felt slightly ashamed of what might be seen as foolhardiness. She was feeling tired when she rounded the last corner where the road turned away from the beach, and she was surprised to see Min with her now familiar flax kit outside the popular hotel where tourists went to dip their toes into the local culture.

  ‘Hi. Where’re you going?’

  ‘Home. But you might be wondering what I’m doing outside the depot of winning smiles and pyrotechnics.’

  ‘Well - yes.’

  ‘How long have you got?’

  ‘Hey - Why don’t you come to our place and we’ll have something to eat and catch up. I’ll take your kit to lighten your load.’ She swung the kit on to her wide handle bars.

  As Polly rode off, she was sure that she would tell all to Min. It was so difficult to keep things to yourself when the effects were still very much on your mind.

  Chapter 10

  By the time Min had arrived at Polly and Jim’s place, Polly had prepared a fresh fruit salad of pineapple and papaya to cool them down.

  ‘Now what were you doing among the rich and famous?’

  ‘I’d just had lunch with my brother-in-law who is here for a conference on the future of Pacific culture. I had a letter last week announcing his visit - or should I call it, a visitation?’

  ‘Did he want to pick your brains?’

  Min expostulated. ‘God, no! He’s not the consulting type. But I had a nice meal for a change. Instead of wanting input from me, he wanted to lecture me on cultural imperialism. Did you know, Polly-Wolly-Doodle, that language is the most powerful cultural artifact and to impose a foreign language on people is the ultimate oppression?...

  ‘Yeah? P’raps he’s got a point?’

  ‘- and here I am purveying it like any old misguided missionary bent on bringing enlightenment in the form of the English language to the benighted.’ Min dug her wrists into her temples and wailed.

  ‘Tak
e it easy,’ Polly said with her spoon in the air. ‘It’s one person’s take on things. Other people might say that the more languages you know the better.’

  ‘Yes, but English is the lingo of the conqueror, didn’t you know?’ Min said sarcastically.

  ‘Spanish was the language of the conqueror in South America,’ Polly nodded with finality.

  ‘He would say he rests his case.’

  Min went on to explain that her brother-in-law was Maori and his sentiments were shared by some other Maori in New Zealand who had been punished for using their own language in school earlier in the century.

  ‘But things are different here where there is no threat to the indigenous language and English, being the lingua franca of most of the Pacific, is a form of empowerment.’

  There was a sound outside of a bicycle being parked and a moment later, Jim walked in.

  ‘Good afternoon ladies. This is a nice surprise for a skyver.’

  Polly told him to help himself to the salad and she told him what they had been talking about. Jim looked at Min in surprise.

  ‘A bit rough when you’re grappling with a radical change in your environment.’

  ‘Yes - but zealots rarely think about such trifles,’ Min said bitterly.

  Jim took the bit between his teeth and while eating the salad with gusto, he plunged into an analysis of motives in general.

  ‘We might think we’re doing something for some highfalutin motive but things we humans do are not usually that simple. Perhaps we are prompted by a modern version of “noblesse oblige” when the more privileged help the less, but that’s a bit far-fetched I spose? - this salad is great Poll.’ Jim took another helping.

  ‘I think we should make an effort to learn the local language while we’re here,’ said Polly.

  ‘Maybe - but I’d be interested in what the students think of my motives. Probably they don’t give them a passing thought anyway.’

  ‘They might think you’re looking for a nice hunk of manhood,’ Jim grinned mischievously.

  Min put her hand over her eyes.

  Polly said ‘Jim!’ reprovingly, with a half glare.

  ‘Sorry - that’s not what I think - you must know that, but I bet there are people who put that sort of a spin on things when they see a woman on her own.’

  Min looked bleak and said ‘Oh God! I need a drink!’ First Eturasi and now, Matt - any more of this and she would be going home.

  ‘James - fetch the bourbon.’ Polly turned to Min and told her they had a bottle for extra special occasions and this was one.

  Min took the glass held out to her with a look of relief and after they had drunk a toast to all do-gooders, she expressed her thanks for such good friends. Polly said there would be difficult times ahead and she’d like to think that they would be there for one another.

  ‘So what did you do today, Poll?’

  ‘Biked to the surf beach and communed with nature as I intended,’ Polly looked at Min to see her reaction which was instant.

  ‘You didn’t go into the surf surely?’

  Polly blushed and her freckles stood out. Her resolve was weakening but the bourbon gave her a burst of courage. She admitted that she had taken to the waves and she lightly described the strength of the current which had thrown her on to the sand. Jim asked her if she had got a fright and she said it had not been the exhilarating sensation she was used to in the surf at home.

  ‘Don’t you ever go to that beach alone Polly - it’s notorious and the locals never go there - even I know that and I’m the original landlubber.’

  ‘Are you a strong swimmer?’ asked Min.

  Jim chipped in. ‘It doesn’t matter how strong a swimmer you are the surf is a hell of a lot stronger and if there’s a rip, you’re history.’ He was clearly cross and shocked at the same time and Polly felt guilty for what she had done. She wouldn’t tell them just how scared she had been and she decided not to mention Jupeli or it might make things worse. Quite why, she didn’t know.

  ‘You and I’ve had a big day,’ said Min as she put her empty glass down.

  ‘I’d better trundle off to plan what I’m doing tomorrow for my long- suffering clients. I won’t be able to ignore what you said Jim, but being forewarned is to be forearmed I s’pose.’

  Jim grunted something and Polly gave Min a hug. After she had gone, they sat down to talk about the courage some people showed in being alone in an environment very different from what they were used to and Jim said that he regretted his frankness because perhaps Min was too fragile to laugh it off.

  ‘I wonder if she’s had a relationship. I wouldn’t ask her of course because she seems reticent in that department.’

  ‘I prefer it if people don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves anyway. Remember that woman on the plane who told us her life story and nearly made you scream? I’m off to take a shower and get out of these salty clothes.’

  ‘Let’s go down to the metropolis and sample the cuisine chez YumYum at the Tin Pot café.’

  ‘It’s your shout,’ called Polly before she turned on the shower.

  Chapter 11

  Min slept dreamlessly after the session at Jim and Polly’s and woke only in time to gather up her lesson notes and walk to the college for her first class. Preparations were in train for a teaching round in the local schools and the students were in a heightened state of expectation of what was ahead. Some however would be returning to their own villages so the chance for them to avoid the daily long bus journey was welcome. Min was hoping she would not be sent to an outlying village because at this point she was not ready for total immersion in village life. Beyond the town confines would feel like double jeopardy, she confided to herself but she said nothing to anybody else. The Principal was a woman of bicultural experience and Min trusted her to recognise intuitively which teachers would cope away from “home”.

  During a free period Min had a chance to chat to her and she couldn’t help relaying her conversation with her brother-in-law.

  ‘So behold, - ‘tis a neo-colonialist you see before you.’ Min tried to sum up the message and the Principal laughed heartily showing her perfect molars. She said she had been thinking she must have a debriefing session for new staff to see how they were managing.

  ‘But this analysis is too deep for a simple woman who is always trying to attract staff and keep them long enough for a meaningful programme to work.’

  Min admitted that it might be presumptuous to impose a foreign language on the young students but it enabled them to become bilingual after all.

  ‘I thought I was starting to adjust until this unexpected exegesis was offered to me and it has thrown me off balance I must say. Self-doubt is my second name,’ she said, trying to make light of her reaction.

  The Principal looked very serious and spoke almost sternly.

  ‘Remember that we are not submerged in anyone else’s culture. Our culture is strong and our language is not threatened. I for one, feel fortunate to be bilingual and you are part of an ongoing process for us. English is an essential tool for our educators and we are really pleased that you and others are willing to come and share your knowledge. So no more of this neo-colonialist stuff please and I hope you enjoy your time here.’

  This impassioned declaration expressed some inchoate ideas which Min hadn’t formulated and she thanked the Principal warmly who then added,

  ‘By the way, I’ve arranged for you to do the teaching practice in the school nearest your house. I’ll look forward to hearing all about it and please remember what I said - Malo lava.

  She was called to the telephone in her office and Min sat thinking about the difference between the islands of the Pacific and the colonised area of Australia and New Zealand. The missionaries had spread the Word most effectively throughout Polynesia and Melanesia but they had not been followed up by settlers with secular ambitions from the old world. While the missionaries in many cases learned the local language for proselytising purpo
ses and to translate the Bible, the colonisers were differently motivated. So she understood where her brother-in-law was coming from but thought that this had not been the time and place to preach his particular gospel.

  With her confidence boosted temporarily Min decided to go to the post office and find out what, if any, progress had been made in connecting her telephone. As she walked to the beachfront she told herself to hold on to the positive effect of the Principal’s words because any hint of a victim mentality would undermine her chances. It had been her experience before now to detect a subtle dominance by some characters when they sensed timidity and uncertainty in someone they were dealing with. She often struggled with negative expectations and had made up her mind to try and break the habit.

  She called into the library to ask Dinah if she had heard any more from Lucky about the get away plans and was told that he was coming to her place this particular evening to put her in the picture.

  ‘Are you still keen - you look a bit under the weather.’

  ‘Yes I am. I think the break is just what I need.’

  ‘We’ve decided to take our van to the ferry terminal so we’ll pick you and Lucky up.’

  ‘I’m off to the post office to see about the phone connection so wish me luck.’ Min hitched up her kit and went off in a show of confidence. As she waited to cross the road a busload of youngsters passed her and there was a noisy display of recognition so she waved back cheerily. She had noticed how raucous they could be in groups while they were quietly respectful in a one on one situation. One student had asked her in a moment of curiosity how she could walk along the street on her own and not feel sad.

  ‘Why should I feel sad?’

  ‘Because you can’t laugh and joke on your own and have fun.’