The Kwinkan

by Mudrooroo

  ‘I did not share in her laughter. “Go right ahead, don’t mind me,” I muttered grumpily. “I’ll have another drink, then find something to do. Mind if I have a look outside? I haven’t been on a plantation for some time. That was when I was investing in macadamias in northern New South Wales. I would like to see the set-up here and who knows what opportunities I might find,” I hinted—a good way of doing business when you supposedly weren’t doing business.

  ‘ “Yes, yes, occupy yourself as best you can, my sweet. It’ll be only for a little while; but I must warn you that Maynard is landscaping a garden about the mansion and you won’t see any of our cash crops. The workers’ quarters are a kilometre away. Not because we don’t want them near; but because we are anxious to preserve the pretty little Neo-Polynesian village in which they live.”

  ‘The girl returned with another jug of the iced punch and I quickly poured myself a drink. The others decided to have another too, and this left me time for another one, then two. I was fair staggering when at last Maynard pushed me through a side door and pointed down a garden path. I lurched, recovered my balance, then staggered off determined to act out my role as an Australian agent. Maybe I could find out something and revenge myself on all of them.

  ‘The Neo-Polynesian village was as much a joke, or as sad as, any Aboriginal settlement. I suppose that it had been Carla’s idea of a joke. Certainly there were thatched huts, but these were dilapidated and clustered about a tin shed. I looked for the chapel and then for the mission bungalow, but these did not exist. I felt flushed and hot as I staggered into the shed, blinked in the sudden gloom, then lurched as a voice said: “Elias Faitoaga.” A brown oversized bloke stuck out his hand, crushed my fingers, and while I was attempting to straighten them, called to his mate, Adaboaga, who was bent over a lathe, or some such machinery which you find in machine shops.

  ‘Adaboaga switched off the machine and came erect. I saw a familiar black face. He winked at me, then put a finger to his lips. I was dumbfounded. My mouth gaped like a fish; the euphoric state induced by the rum punch vanished, for I recognised that face. I was in the presence of Detective Inspector Watson Holmes Jackamara!

  ‘Ah, now I have your attention. You thought that I was waffling on, but I was leading up to this. There he was in the, in the camp of the enemy and perfectly at home in it. Here I was, there I was a guest with the ruling family of the island and an agent of the Australian Government and I had at last met my contact. “So, you’re really an Aussie,” he said with a grin of complicity. He crossed his arms across his naked chest. “He may well be,” his mate, Elias, said with a smile, setting his back against a workbench and eyeing me. “We heard that you were on our island, but never thought we might contact you.”

  ‘ “Yes,” agreed Adaboaga, Detective Inspector Watson Holmes Jackamara in disguise. “We don’t get that many free visitors on our islands. We used to get contract gangs from Kiwiland, but not anymore. Now it’s those little yellow fellows they call Koreans. Not a word of English amongst them. They jabber on and on in their lingo and we can’t catch a word. Just visiting the place, are you?”

  ‘Elias threw back his huge head and gave a huge laugh. Jackamara warned me to be silent. He seemed privy to my mission; but then if he was, why had Jackamara warned me not to reveal his true identity? I was on the horns of a dilemma. I prided myself on being a good judge of men and decided to reveal my mission; but first, I decided on a test. I switched to the subject of their coming independence.

  ‘ “Yeah,” Elias boomed, “we get our independence. But what then?” he spluttered. “Can we stand up to those who think they are above us? They have always been there and it is even written down as hard fact in our scriptures. Scripture does not lie. It is something we must endure, my Aussie friend.”

  ‘I shrugged at such rubbish from a giant of a man who should have been ready to seize his freedom in both great hands and give it a vigorous shake. Jackamara gave me a wink again, then snapped: “We have to stand up to those white men and afakasi. Stand up and tell them that these islands are ours. When the day of freedom dawns, it shall be we who will be forming our own government.”

  ‘Elias boomed with delight at such radical talk. “You listen to that radio of yours too much, boy. All them words suck up your brains. You can’t read a single word of scripture, yet you think that you know all there is to know. What do you think, eh, you going to be president, or something like that when you can’t read a single word?”

  ‘His laughter sounded like thunder shaking the roof: “And you think this Aussie will help you? He is a guest of them that control our lives. There is a rumour that he is a government man come to see us get our independence; but is he when he eats and lives with them? Well, ask his help, boy. Go to it, take him up to the top of the ridge, let him meet Lataoga, the one who declares that he is the leader of all the people on these islands. Yes, take him to that one. Let him see for himself. They, these are all the same. Let them fight and battle one another until that great day comes, as foretold in the scriptures, when He shall come to rid us of all enslavement.”

  ‘ “It is my intention to take him,” declared Jackamara. He winked at me and I nodded. “See, he agrees to come and judge for himself. Our future lies with Lataoga who wishes to talk for all of us, not just a single clan. Times are changing, our islands are changing, and we must change with them. I need no book to see, to feel these changes; but if I must learn to read, I shall, but it will not be to read that book you make so much of.” He scowled at Elias who boomed at him his great laugh which suddenly set Jackamara to laughing also.

  ‘It was then that I realised that there was a method in their quarrelling, that it was a device by Jackamara to pass on information to me and also not to get me to commit myself to one side or the other as yet. Also and slyly, almost as if the other had suggested it, he had arranged for me to meet the leader of the independence movement, Lataoga.

  ‘Suddenly I found myself sharing in their laughter. This was my chance to bypass Carla and her family and align myself with what appeared to be a viable Opposition. At last my mission was under way. Good, I could use another one of those rum punches.’

  SESSION ELEVEN

  ‘After the trip and the events of the day I found it easy to make excuses to go to my room early. The others weren’t too chirpy either and they were going to make it an early night. I set my wristwatch alarm for 9.30 pm so that I could have a couple of hours of sleep, for I knew that my night would be a long one. On hearing the alarm I got up, had a shower, pulled on my now dry things and trying not to make any noise eased into the corridor. A night lamp dully gleamed and helped me along. I reached Carla’s room and hesitated as I heard voices, a male and two females. I slipped past, down the staircase and to the side door I had used that afternoon. I unbolted it and went through. With luck, I would be back before daybreak and no one would be the wiser. Outside, the moon was almost full and the stars were blazing. The grounds were illuminated by an intense silvery light which I had not seen before, not even in Queensland, the state with the mostest. I walked to the workshop where Jackamara had promised to wait for me.

  ‘Jackamara the Aborigine, and possibly the ASIO agent as well, was in his primitive element. I tried to find the Queensland policeman in the black man and couldn’t. I tried to question him, but he put his finger to his lips and glided away. Perforce I was obliged to follow. We hurried through the straight rows of the plantation and away from the mansion and into the rainforest. He took me along a winding jungle track leading up and up. We were going towards the central mountain of the island. Now we were halfway up and near the edge of a deep gorge. Before going on Jackamara squatted to catch his breath beside a lump of earth the size of a small house. I looked back the way we had come. Under the intense moon and starlight, every object stood out as distinct as on a cloudy day, though the shadows were abrupt and intangible, distortions from the norm.

  ‘The mansion was a dark bulk in which a f
ew orange lights glowed. I thought of Maynard and Carla together and glowed with jealousy. Around that centre of jealousy, lesser straightedged shapes were sheds. I saw gleams of red which I took to be the dying embers of cooking fires. Beyond the mansion, the dark of the earth was replaced by the twinkling silver sea. I could not make out the cliff edge from where I was, but the ocean waters moved under my eyes like some, some mottled serpent restlessly itching with unknown desires.

  ‘Jackamara suddenly snorted, got up and went to the path where it descended at right angles into the gorge. He pulled out a torch and flashed it down three times. An answering light winked up. We began moving along the track. I skinned my ankle as I stepped on a patch of solid earth which was not there. The moonlight was deceptive. I hurried after him and tapped him on the shoulder. I asked him to slow down, then questioned if such melodramatics were necessary and whether there wasn’t a shorter and easier route to where we were bound. He snorted at me and said, if you could believe it, that he had heard over The Voice of America that vigilance was the eternal price of freedom. I almost snarled at this. This man after all was an Australian and I suppose some of our leaders, or thinkers, had said much the same thing, but better. I lurched again and had to watch my feet. We were at the bottom of the gorge where the moon and stars did not penetrate.

  ‘ “Can’t you slow down a bit?” I gasped to my guide; but in reply he quickened his pace. I hobbled after him enduring the painful throbbing of my ankle. “Not used to mountain climbing, got no head for heights, or bottoms,” I muttered, trying a touch of humour. In answer, Jackamara slowed, then suddenly shot out a hand. I stopped and shuddered. The darkness at the bottom of the gorge had effectively camouflaged a narrow crevasse into which, but for his restraining hand, I would have tumbled. I leapt back from the crumbling edge and cursed myself for allowing myself to be inveigled into making such a trip. I should have stayed in the mansion, for after my sleep, I could have made a night of it, that is if any of the others were willing to. There was that little servant girl, and I sighed.

  ‘ “Soon be there,” my guide said as he led me to one side where a log balanced across the crevasse. I ran over it. If I was going to fall, I was going to fall. He watched, I could feel his eyes, then turned away with a grunt. The gorge petered out, and I took a glance at the luminescent face of my watch. We had been going for three hours. It was just after one, and I hoped that we wouldn’t spend much time at the camp, or whatever was our destination, for I really wanted to be home and housed before daybreak. I may have wanted to be one up on Carla, that infernal Japanese woman, and that pretty bloke, but I did not want to burn my boats to do this.

  ‘The track now wormed its way through thick rainforest. Tall trees shut out much of the light and the way was treacherous. So much so that Jackamara had to hack away with a machete in places. This made me think that this was not the main track to where we were going and that I was being deliberately taken to the objective by a roundabout route. I couldn’t understand the need for this-for there was only one mountain on the island and with a pair of good binoculars, the gorge most likely would be visible from the mansion, or even Carla’s bungalow. Still, they must have a reason and who was I to question their reasons. I let it go at that, too occupied with pushing my way through the dense foliage. “How much further?” I grunted.

  ‘ “Not far, almost there.”

  ‘Then I had the feeling that I was being watched, that eyes were following my every step. This feeling strengthened as the trees began to thin and the moonlight to streak in. I glimpsed a narrow, rushing stream which made a moaning sound, and it made me think of that female spirit, or thing, or rock, which lived in that pool and which travelled from pool to spring. For all I knew, this stream eventually fell into that pool. For all I knew, the bungalow was not that far away. I found myself wondering about the sadness, the impetus that drove that woman spirit. Trapped, travelling eternally from pool to spring, from spring to pool and back and forth again and again. I looked up in the sky and back the way we had come. There was a will-o’-the-wisp following along behind. I thought of Miss Tamada’s foxfire, and then of the Gyinggi woman and her connection with such lights. I stared back and it came charging in towards me. I felt my hair crackle and my skin burn. I thought of that Kwinkan and the flesh melting from his bones. I felt the sweat dripping from my body, dripping as if my flesh was dripping away. I shuddered and rushed to put myself between Jackamara and the light. I tripped and fell. He helped me up and I mentioned the light. He smiled and said that they were often seen on the mountain and seemed undisturbed. I pulled myself together and then thought of Carla and Brookes together. I hated them, I hated them. I was out here to get revenge. I stared down the track wildly. No light, just shadows, and then one of those shadows moved. I recoiled and meant to run; but Jackamara had one strong hand on my arm. He turned and stopped. I had to stop with him. I had to wait, and for what? Carla, that spirit woman, that Gyinggi woman. I thought I glimpsed a fox slinking across a patch of moonlight. I had been followed. They were on to me; out to get me. I wouldn’t survive. I had been set up; but no, no, I knew Jackamara was here beside me, an agent of the Australian Government. I pushed superstitious forebodings aside and concentrated desperately on mine, on our mission. I was not alone and I had the strong arm of the Queensland law alongside me.

  ‘ “And who is that with you?” a voice suddenly asked Jackamara. I leapt a metre into the air and landed ready to dash away; but the voice was male. I relaxed as much as I could.

  ‘ “An Australian, a government man who might help our, your cause.”

  ‘ “Is he, and can he?” the voice insinuated.

  ‘I waited, contact had been, had been established. A coarse laugh came from the shadows and the voice directed itself at me: “And what is your name, Mr Australian?”

  ‘I gave it. My confidence returned with a rush. The man spoke perfect English. Jackamara whispered that it was Lataoga and that he belonged to the ruling family. Well, I thought, it seemed that just about everyone, except us, did. The man stepped out of the shadows and I gave a start. He was naked except for a short piece of cloth about his loins. His hair was matted and worked up into an exaggerated coiffure so that it looked like his head was twice the size of that of a normal man.

  ‘I wondered why this man would play the savage. He was a class above the inhabitants of Brooke’s so-called authentic native village and I was sure that if he condescended to play a part in the new nation, tourists would just love to photograph the genuine article. My view was strengthened when we walked into a clearing filled with stilted, thatched huts with nary a sheet of tin on them. This, I knew, was the authentic NeoPolynesian village just waiting for exploitation. “Come,” the ersatz savage ordered. We went to a group of huts which were arranged in a circular traditional pattern.

  ‘Lataoga informed me that he was the founder of this village of, what he termed, “free islanders”. He stated: “Because I am family, they decided that I should become a minister of religion and thus be able to manipulate the island church. It is our, their way. They have to have a finger in everything. Even then I was clever, cunning, if you prefer. I agreed to go to a school in New Zealand. There, I learnt everything I could, not what they expected and more than they bargained for. There were many young people from the islands of the Pacific. Young men and women who were concerned about their traditions and customs being corroded away. I learnt much from them. We on these islands are virtual slaves. We work and get little in return. I came back from, from that period of exile an activist determined that my people should achieve a true independence which means freedom from exploitation and control over our own islands and lives. We want to establish a true Neo-Polynesian nation strong in custom and tradition.”

  ‘ “Very commendable,” I agreed dryly in the same stilted English he affected. I took advantage of a patch of shadow to give a quick smile. Politicians began this way, naive in the belief that they could change, or keep things as
they were. Why, hadn’t I almost become one myself? Hadn’t I too the gift of the gab and the ability to waffle on with the best of them?

  ‘ “When independence arrives, I shall see that it is a real independence,” he shouted out in controlled anger, hoping to make an impression on me. He flung a stick, which he had been holding, at a tree before resuming in an even, controlled voice. “This village,” he explained, “is a return to NeoPolynesian self-management and self-sufficiency. Our gardens are flourishing and we have a surplus which we trade in the town for what we cannot produce. We are setting up an alternative economy and a model administration which will eventually stretch throughout the islands. In many ways our so-called rulers are careless and we are able to bribe the captain of the schooner to take us to and from Fiji as crewmen. Sometimes though, we have difficulty in landing, for Fiji has what they call immigration control and they at times police it strictly.”

  ‘I nodded again, enjoying his role playing. I liked the bit about “what they call immigration control” as if he didn’t know what it meant. He after all was an educated person and had been in New Zealand. He knew, he must know, all the ins and outs of a functioning modern country. In fact, he was closer to me than to his fellow islanders.