Mana

by John A. Broussard

  The home, itself, was typical of many of those built on the high slopes of Hualalai, at least those not part of the many subdivisions which were springing up on the abandoned coffee-growing land. With its steep metal roof, leveling off to a much shallower pitch at the eaves and spreading out several feet beyond the walls on all sides to provide additional shade from the tropical sun, the house gave an impression of no-nonsense solidity. Trees laden with papayas, avocados and bananas surrounded it. A massive breadfruit tree with football size fruit weighing down its branches hung over one corner of the house. At another corner, an even larger mango tree was pink and rusty red with blossoms and new leaves, promising a crop that would fill the Kaholakula’s jars and those of neighbors up and down the road with pickles, chutney and jam.

  Inside, the house had the clean but cluttered appearance which always reminded Lehua of the homes of her own Hawaiian relatives. Mattresses, rolled up and tucked away in corners, were mute evidence the Kaholakula children, long married and in homes of their own, could return at any time unannounced. Even with grandchildren in tow, there was always food for everyone and a place to bunk down.

  * * *

  Obviously, Chuck had been warned. A born hugger, ordinarily he would have given Lehua one of his best. This evening, he confined himself to a warm smile in her direction and a hearty handshake for Bill. Chuck was a surprising contrast to his wife. Darker than her, and much slighter in build, there was no question about the strength in his arms and shoulders, both of which seemed out of place on his otherwise slender frame. Lehua had overheard him once telling an acquaintance how twenty years of carrying trash cans head high accounted for his upper torso. He had also remarked upon how lucky his current employees were to be able to use the plastic bags and hydraulic lifts of modern technology to avoid that back-breaking work.

  Chuck and Bill each had a Koholau. Lehua, protesting a beer would cloud the clear head she needed, settled for a cup of coffee. The inevitable pupus came out of the kitchen—Korean-style chicken wings, raw vegetables, chips and dips.

  “Where’d you get the bump, Bill,” Chuck asked when they had settled down with their drinks.

  Bill gingerly rubbed his hand across the bruise now looking considerably worse than it felt. “I tangled with Lehua’s genie,” he answered.

  Lehua gave a fuller explanation. “I made the mistake of telling him about the test we did with the pen in your office, Tessa. So, in spite of my warning that we’re dealing with a force that is getting increasingly short tempered, he crumpled up a wad of paper and threw it at me. He was lucky he didn’t get squashed.”

  Describing the incident, Bill said, “I didn’t just get hit with the paper. Whatever this thing is, it slammed it back into my face as though it were trying to drive it right on through. I’ve seen pictures of straws of grass driven into tree trunks by tornadoes. Now I know how those trees must have felt.”

  As though by mutual consent, the conversation veered away from the reason for their visit. Chuck, skepticism plain on his face, did most of the veering, asking Bill about his African trip. The trip and its results became the center of their attention for a full fifteen minutes.

  That was when it struck Lehua she had been so enmeshed in her own problems she had never even thought to ask Bill about how he had fared. Now, the Bill she was so often amused at, the one completely engrossed in his own particular area of interest—the living earth—burst forth.

  “We were able to give the villagers at least some assurances,” he said. “The carbon dioxide build-up is slow, and we have several native technicians on the site now who know how to monitor CO2 levels in the water. Unless something really strange happens, there isn’t much danger of another disaster for at least a generation. Maybe more. The main thing is we know what we’re doing, and we can get the people out of there in time if there’s a serious buildup of gases.”

  “I wish we knew what we were doing about my problem,” Lehua said, finally broaching the subject they’d been avoiding. “Any good news, Tessa? Or any news at all?”

  “A little. I had a transcript made of the tape, and I’ve gone over both of those legends a dozen times. The number three shows up in the first legend and even more so in the second one, both as a number, and as repetitions of actions. That, and that earlier fragment we heard about, may fit in with your view that the third speaking of that formula is what transferred the mana from wherever to you, Lehua.”

  Receiving no response from her audience, Tessa continued, “I know that isn’t much. Three is something of a favorite number in folk tales, but it’s the only one mentioned here. Three may be an important number to remember in getting rid of mana as well as in acquiring it.”

  Bill looked even more dubious than Lehua. “We’re not even sure three is the number that worked in this case. Maybe the second time is what did it.”

  Tessa turned to Lehua. “What do you think? Did you feel any different after the second time?”

  “No, but I didn’t after the third time, either.”

  Chuck cleared his throat, and the others turned to him. “I’m not sure it’s going to help you any, but Ma used to tell us kids if the menehunes bothered us at night to just say the Lord’s prayer three times and they’d go way.”

  The others broke into smiles. “Did it work, Chuck?” Bill asked.

  Chuck grinned in return. “I don’t know. I never had any trouble sleeping, even when I was a kid, and I never ran into any menehunes to try it out on.”

  “One thing I might do,” Tessa said, “is to look up some related myths. Archaeological and serological evidence indicates a Far Eastern origin for Polynesians, and the legends point in the same direction. We also know the Malaysian language is closely related, so there might be something in the legends of the East Indies that would help. Maybe there’ll be something more there about Tamohana.”

  Bill was the one who picked up on the idea. “That disappearing mountain sounds much more like something could have happened in the East Indies rather than in the South Pacific. Even in historic times, whole islands have gone under in that area, though none have ever disappeared as gradually as the one in that myth did. The ones we have a record of have gone under in one big explosion. Or chunks can suddenly subside and be overwhelmed by the ocean, like in the Puna quake of ‘75.’ But, other than in Hawai’i, there’s been nothing like that in the Pacific for millions of years.”

  “Maybe there’s a common thread running through all magic,” Lehua said, thoughtfully, when Bill paused.

  “That’s a point,” Tessa said. “Let me check my library, and I’ll see what I have that might be helpful.”

  As Tessa went off into her study, Chuck said, “Every time we go anywhere on the Mainland, Tessa hits the secondhand book stores first. She’s liable to have just about anything in that collection of hers.”

  By the time Tessa returned with an armful of volumes, Bill had become increasingly dubious of finding a solution in general folklore, while Lehua was admitting she was grasping at straws.

  “This one looks like it might have something worthwhile,” Tessa said, holding up a dusty and dog-eared volume. “It was written back in the twenties by a Swiss professor name of Shulman Meister.” She held the book up so the others could see the cover. “It’s called Cross-Cultural Elements of Magic. Seems to me there just has to be something here that’s relevant.”

  While Tessa read through the chapter headings, Bill and Lehua worked their way through some of the other books. Chuck went off to the kitchen to find replenishment for their drinks.

  “This might be something,” Tessa said, opening the book to its text, and pressing down on the pages to hold them open. “He’s got a chapter in here called ‘Doings and Undoings.’

  “Read the undoing part,” Bill said. “We already know about the doing.”

  “Let’s see. There are a lot of subheadings. ‘Removing curses.’ ‘Banishing Satan back to Hell.’ ‘Reversing a love potion.’”

 
“Just about any of those will do,” Lehua commented wryly. “In fact, maybe I could use all of them.”

  “Reversing a love potion?” Bill asked her, raising his eyebrows.

  “Maybe that most of all. Like love, mana seems to be a good thing at first, but it’s something that can be overdone.”

  Tessa began to read, “‘A common element of all abjuration is to be found in the reversal of formulae. Whatever the original method of achieving a thaumaturgic end, the actions used to achieve that end must be repeated in exact detail but in the opposite direction. Where circumnabulation is an essential part of the conjuration ritual, and this usually occurs in a clockwise direction, widdershins forces the entity back to its source.’”

  Chuck, who had just settled down with his second beer, said, “I hope you folks understand all that.”

  Tessa scanned ahead then looked up from her book and answered. “The essence of any successful formula is its repetition, according to this author. Sounds like your grandmother was onto something, Chuck.” Going back to the book, Tessa read, “‘Similarly, any abjuration must involve exactly the same number of repetitions in order to achieve successful retraction of the original spell. In addition, exact reversal must be scrupulously followed.’”

  “So reversal is the secret.” Bill posed the half question.

  Tessa nodded. “Exact reversal! He gives example after example of doing things backwards, and of saying things backwards.”

  “Then all we have to do is to run Annie’s tape backwards three times,” Lehua said, looking up from the book she was skimming through.

  “Uh-uh,” Bill said. “If there’s anything to this incantation business, it isn’t as simple as that. The old magicians didn’t have tapes they could run backwards.”

  “Right,” Tessa said. “The formula has to be repeated word for word in reverse order.”

  Lehua looked puzzled. “How can we do that?”

  “Annie’s the answer,” Bill said, before Tessa could reply.

  Lehua decided he was displaying the enthusiasm of the scientist, as he immediately began making plans to go back the following morning to Miloli’i armed with the tape recorder. She only hoped his enthusiasm wasn’t misplaced.

  * * *

  Annie’s tall niece answered the door of the old transplanted coffee shack which sat just behind the coconut palms lining the beach. Though she couldn’t speak, it was clear enough the kahuna’s guardian was reluctant to let them in. The reason became evident when they finally were allowed to see Annie. The old woman, sitting in the rattan chair by the window, had visibly aged since their last visit. Where before she had seemed thin, now she looked positively fragile. Her grey hair now had a lifeless quality, and the cataracts that had fogged her eyes had turned into a white shroud.

  “We’ve come to ask you another favor, Auntie Annie,” Lehua said, after she was certain Annie recognized her visitors.

  The response was an almost imperceptible shrug of the thin shoulders.

  Reaching into her shoulder bag for the rubbing and the tape recorder, Lehua asked, “Could I get you to read this one more time?”

  A look of apprehension crossed the lined face. “No can.”

  “No, Auntie Annie. Not like last time. I’d like to have you read it from back to front this time.”

  Annie’s reaction was both mysterious and surprising. She shrank back from Lehua, who was handing her the sheet of paper, but at the same time she broke into a short, low laugh. Then she nodded her head and waved the paper away. Sensing what she was about to do, Lehua switched on the recorder. The now familiar sounds of the unfamiliar language filled the room as Annie, in a strong voice belying her emaciated form, gave a two-minute recital.

  Afterwards, Annie sat back in her chair. Her niece intervened. Bill, especially, was reluctant to leave, but after hasty ‘thank yous’ and ‘good-byes,’ the two visitors retreated triumphantly to Bill’s car.

  On their way back to town, Bill’s enthusiasm was unflagging. Lehua wished she could share in it.

  Chapter 14

  It was getting dark by the time they pulled up in front of Lehua’s apartment. Bill was impatient to try the experiment. Lehua tried to analyze her feelings and her own reluctance to go ahead with their plans. It must be I’m just afraid it won’t work, she decided. Then I won’t know what to do next.

  She sat on the front room couch and placed the recorder on the coffee table in front of her while Bill sat opposite. Rewinding the tape, she took a deep breath and depressed the play button. Annie’s disembodied voice filled the room with sound. Following the first play, the machine automatically reacted to the blank tape, stopped, rewound, and turned itself off. Lehua reached over and again depressed the play button.

  Neither of them said anything at first, when the third run had come to an end. Finally, Bill asked, “Feel any different?”

  “No, except maybe more depressed. What can we do, Bill? Even if it worked, how can we find out whether or not it did? And don’t try any more of those paper tricks, either. Last time, you got off easy.”

  Bill grinned, got up and beckoned her to come along with him. “I’ve got a much better way of finding out, and no one will get hurt, either. At least no human beings.” He then preceded the puzzled Lehua to the back of the apartment and out the rear door. The small porch outside the kitchen always became a mosquito haven after even the briefest of rains. Today, a swarm of buzzing insects hovered outside in anticipation, as Bill opened the screen door for the no longer puzzled Lehua.

  Holding a bare arm up in front of her, she saw first one, then at least a half-dozen more, mosquitoes land on her skin and begin to probe for an appropriate spot. Her eyes opened wide in pleased surprise. “It worked!” she shouted.

  Bill reached out for her and hugged her close. Mosquitoes buzzed around their heads as they kissed. Breaking to take a breath, Bill whispered, “Let’s go inside. If we don’t, those mosquitoes will drain you dry.”

  “Who cares! Let them!!”

  “I don’t want to share you with them. Let’s go inside.”

  Lehua pulled his head down and kissed him again. “Somehow, I think you have something else in mind—and so do I. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  They were relaxing in bed after making love, when Lehua said with a laugh, “Now that that’s taken care of, do you think we could get something to eat?”

  Bill reached over and hugged her. “Sure could, but no refrigerator raiding for us. Let’s celebrate and go to Lafitte’s.”

  “Wow. That is a celebration. We haven’t been there since the first night we went out together.”

  “That’s because you’d never let me spend that much money for a meal again. But tonight calls for something special.”

  Lehua sat up on the edge of the bed, saying, “First I’ve got a couple of people to get in touch with—Tessa and Millie—to let them know the good news.”

  “OK,” Bill said, sliding over to her side of the bed and kissing her, “but even before that I’m going to call in reservations. I’d hate to show up there and be disappointed.”

  * * *

  Tessa and Millie shared in Lehua’s relief at the successful outcome of the experiment. That was just part of what Lehua was to remember as being a wonderful evening.

  The trip in Bill’s convertible to Kona’s southern outskirts where the Restaurant Lafitte was located, had been under a cloudless sky with the Milky Way as bright as Lehua could ever remember seeing it. The food was incredibly good, and the waiter had selected a wine which was superb. The only blotch on the evening came on the way home.

  Despite the relaxing effects of the wine, Lehua felt uneasy. Turning in the driver’s seat, she peered out the rear window. “What’s up?” Bill asked.

  “I’m almost sure someone’s following us. It’s a van, and I could have sworn I saw it pull away from the curb behind us after we left the restaurant parking lot.”

  “It’s easy to check,” Bill said, making
an abrupt turn to the left toward Keauhou. “Is it still behind us?”

  “The light changed just as you turned.”

  “Well, keep an eye open. That’s a short light. If he wants to follow us, he’ll be along in a minute.”

  “Here it comes.”

  “Still not proof. I’ll turn on Alii, then swing off on a side road.”

  “It’s still behind us.”

  “OK. I’ll slow down. Maybe we can get a look at whoever it is.”

  “It’s falling back.”

  “If he’s going to play games, I’ll speed up and turn up Royal Poinciana.”

  “It’s way back now.”

  Bill came to the turn, swung into the side road, pulled into the driveway of the first house and switched off his lights. A neighbor’s dog barked an angry greeting. Within moments, a maroon van cruised by. Bill and Lehua looked at each other.

  Bill shrugged. “That’s still not proof, but I have to admit it looks pretty suspicious. Whoever was driving could have gotten here a hell of a lot easier than by making all those turns we made.” Backing the car out onto the road, he added, “But there’s really no way of telling one way or the other.”

  Lehua said nothing.

  * * *

  In spite of another round of lovemaking, neither of them felt like sleeping. Resting in each other’s arms, they kept coming back to the extraordinary events of the day.

  “What puzzles me most,” Bill said, “is what happened to it.”

  “What happened to what?”

  “To the mana, or whatever it is. It couldn’t just disappear. It must be someplace.”

  “Why does it have to be someplace?”

  “That’s a fundamental law of physics. It’s called conservation of energy.”

  Scientific terminology invariably made Lehua sleepy. This time was no exception. Vaguely hearing the lecture on the laws of thermodynamics, she slipped into a dreamless sleep. The next thing she knew she was awake and reaching out for Bill. His side of the bed was empty. On discovering his absence, she sat up abruptly. The luminous numbers on the digital clock said 12:30. Through the open door of the bedroom, she could see the light was on in the front room. Slipping quickly out of bed, she walked softly down the hall toward it.