by Mudrooroo
‘We stopped in the very centre of the village, a circle surrounded by the huts. Jackamara disappeared. We were alone; but from the dwellings came snores to indicate that indeed there were inhabitants. I wouldn’t have put it past Lataoga to have arranged all this for my benefit. In the middle of the circle stood a larger hut and that was where we were going.
‘ “Our meeting house, school and church,” he curtly informed me. “Here we decide everything by consensus. We Neo-Polynesians have always practised basic democracy. I trust that you shall report this to your government. We are neither socialists nor communists. Come inside and sit, we have things to discuss.”
‘I sat down with this democratic leader who quickly filled me in on how things were run on the island and then what he wanted from Australia. He wanted the Australian Government’s help in pressuring Britain to see that free and fair elections were held before they withdrew. His villagers had been instructed in the democracy of the ballot box and shortly cadres would travel throughout the islands to spread knowledge of the process. “Even now,” he stated, “the first are ready to go. Wherever they go, they shall set up freedom villages for the islanders, just like this one and teach a return to the old tradition of group decision. The old Neo-Polynesian way of doing things is our way, our contribution to the democratic process, and it is but a short step upwards to form a national government based on the same principles.”
‘I nodded in the appropriate places. In asking for Australia’s help, he had not mentioned what payment would be forthcoming. He must know that there is a price to be paid for everything; but it was not my function, as yet, to tell him what Australia might demand for its services, and by Australia, I meant myself, for I could see myself as the island expert supervising the elections.
‘He continued his monologue into the night and I agreed with all that he said, having learnt that this was the best way of handling politicians. Agree and agree and when they stop for breath, put the boot in, though not this time. I couldn’t help sneering also at his concept of group decision making. I well knew how groups could be manipulated to come to the right decision. Let each have a say, let them argue over and over about trivialities and points of order and at the end of the session when everyone was exhausted get them to agree without demur. A simple enough manipulation, and doubtless Lataoga knew it. When independence came he would be on top, placed there by all in a group decision. Well, that was only politics, and I believed in giving a bloke a fair go, especially when it would benefit me and allow me to get my own back on Carla. Now all that I had to do was write up my report, get to Fiji, send it to Australia and then get myself properly accredited to this island group. Lataoga was my ticket to the future. My mission had been accomplished and with it my rehabilitation, though I couldn’t help wondering what Jackamara was doing on the island, and when he would leave. Suddenly, my ebullient mood collapsed. How could I betray Carla who was the best, most beautiful and richest woman I had ever met? I wanted to share in her riches and power. Now Lataoga had given me a weapon to use in my campaign to gain her. Now I could play both sides against the middle and hope that I could gain her in the division of spoils.
‘I promised to get all the details to Australia and after promising to arrange further meetings with him through Adaboaga, I left him and his model village of democracy to trek back to the mansion. I had plenty to think about during that moonlit scramble. I needed full accreditation to make my presence felt on the island. This should come now that I had established enduring contacts with both parties in the independence stakes, and what was more, was in the position to influence the race. Ah, the future was juicy with contracts and deals for me to arrange. If I played it straight down the middle and kept my cool, little could go wrong; but, but, I had to keep my emotions under control. I had to, or else I still might come a cropper. I had let Lataoga know that I was an intimate of the Prime Minister and often dined with the Chairman of the Australian Aid Development Commission. I had all but promised him a grant-in-aid. This meant profits all around and to me if handled rightly. I had hinted at this and noticed the gleam in his eye. Lataoga and I could do business.
‘Ah, when I remember that hike back to the mansion and recall all that went through my head, I feel the power cursing through my veins. I held this group of islands in the palm of my hand and all that I had to do was close my fist to crush them into a nation of my own devising. I was flying high.’
SESSION TWELVE
‘The mansion was as silent as a tomb as I pushed open the side door. I stopped and listened. Not a sound. I latched the door and crept up the stairs to my room. In the dawn’s early light I undressed. I indeed did feel like a spy glowing in the knowledge of mission accomplished. Indeed, as I lay there with the sun rising above the horizon, I did feel like the accredited representative to this emerging nation. I dozed off in the official guesthouse.
‘At breakfast, though I had had only a few hours of sleep, I was wide awake and could hardly keep the smirk off my face. Even Carla and Brooke’s obvious intimacy and Miss Tamada’s look of repletion did not spoil my mood. Indeed, I said to the Japanese woman, “You look like the fox which has got the chicken.” To which she replied: “And you look like the man who followed the will-o’-the-wisp to an old broken skull.”
‘I smiled at her attempt at levity and devoted my attention to my plate heaped with bacon and eggs. I had at last got on top of them all and soon Carla would be coming to me. I knew it, and as for the Japanese woman and her damned corporation, well, rich pickings there, for sure.
‘I felt so high and mighty with my victory that I was unprepared for any fall. Alas, I should have known that in this world, things do not work out so quickly or so well. I should have remained on guard; I should have made allowances for Carla’s perverse sense of timing. You know those mixed breeds. Sorry, I’m not trying to offend you; but, well, put it down to the white blood in her. What, you see this as racism, directed against whom, I might ask, sir? It is I who should be offended, not you, for I was the victim of a devilish plot. A plot worthy of the talents of Fu Manchu. What, you have read the books and find them offensive? Well, so be it. Let me go on with my narrative. It is almost finished and I, I am growing tired of it. It is not a pretty story ...
‘Alas, I should have known that a clever and experienced woman such as Carla would counterattack. Carla and her Japanese companion had worked on my mind, manipulated and learned its methods of operation. They knew the alleys and roads. I was an open city to them, whereas, whereas, they were strange territory to me. I was only a businessman from the Gold Coast; I was a failed electoral candidate; now I am a civil servant. I am staid, unlike those who control our destinies. What, you want me to go on? I am, I am, though it will not be to add to the reputation or glory of that Dr Watson Holmes Jackamara.
‘During breakfast, Carla launched her counterattack. “A contract is a contract and any breach shall be severely punished,” she said incomprehensibly.
‘ “Any laxity on our parts might prove disadvantageous, if not disastrous,” Brookes added, backing her up.
‘ “Knowledge is power, and not to know everything is to know nothing,” she stated.
‘ “We have to show him, them, that our eyes and ears are everywhere,” Brookes replied.
‘ “And that we are in business and that we mean business,” Carla added, her pointed, pink tongue darting out to lick her luscious bottom lip.
‘Miss Tamada couldn’t help but put in her two cents’ worth: “And what are ethics when our continued connection is at risk?”
‘She wrinkled her nose at me, smiled at Carla, then at Brookes. I cursed under my breath, and knew that any deals I made with this woman would be hard and as tough as B.H.P. steel.
‘Carla touched Miss Tamada’s hand and let her fingers linger there as she smiled at me, then began to explain in the way she knew infuriated me. “You see, sweetness,” she began, using the affectations of her female trade, “one of my uncles, b
y the way we are a prolific family as you may have found out by now, was one of the first anthropologists to engage himself in field work using strictly scientific methods based on linguistics, the theories of Saussure to be specific. Naturally, he did not wish to study some foreign people, but turned his attention on our very own islanders. His elaborate study, The Metonymy of Punishment Among Five Neo-Polynesian Communities, is considered a classic in its field. Unfortunately, the original volumes are hard to find, even in university libraries. I dismiss the single condensed volume as beneath contempt, and if you really wish to understand his work you must find and read the ten-volume original edition which is arranged according to the metonyms employed and constructed from the punishments meted out. Well, seeing that we are so fortunate in having this entry into the minds of the islanders, we have devised a penal code according to their psychology decoded from their Neo-Polynesian traditions and customs.” She stopped and smiled at me as she said this. I became uneasy. Lataoga had competition in the Neo-Polynesian stakes. She continued: “Needless to say they see incarceration as the most barbaric of all punishments and what we may term torture as the most appropriate way of dealing with those who transgress their laws. We accept custom and tradition in this matter and you will not find one prison on our islands. We are, after all, very traditional people ... And perhaps, you may be wondering why I bring up this subject now, and at the breakfast table. Today, you are fortunate in being able to witness the punishment of a criminal. Adaboaga has been found guilty of offences which in Australia would be labelled treason. He was brought before a council of islanders and the charges were found to be proved. Naturally, we believe in the democratic process, though the processes of administration and the judiciary are not separate ...”
‘I tried to evade her voice as I felt my mood turning sour. Jackamara had been discovered, had been discovered, discovered, discovered; it echoed in my mind. I pulled myself together and forced myself to listen.
‘ “It is needless to add that my learned uncle wrote and delivered before the Royal Society a paper entitled, ‘The Function and Metaphor of the Governing Council in NeoPolynesian Society’, in which he proves that all government is subject to metaphor and contains within the council a hierarchical system based on the pronouns of the NeoPolynesian language. He also saw that the council was an ideal governing instrument if one could exclude certain individuals desirous of manipulating members of the council desirous of being manipulated. He put down this attitude, or stress, as being due to the system of pronouns which necessitated an actor and an acted upon, an agent and a reagent, or indeed an agent and an anti-agent. But I suppose you know all about this?”
‘The manager of the plantation could not hide his grin, nor could Miss Tamada. I glanced from him to Carla, to the Japanese woman and couldn’t meet their eyes. I felt that I was guilty of the most flagrant, most flagrant—most, what? I wasn’t guilty of anything at all. I was merely serving the interests of my country; and what is more as an accepted guest, I had every right to meet people. Then what had I to do with this Adaboaga/Jackamara and his crimes? He had entered the islands a spy, and, and well, he was to be punished according to their laws and as Adaboaga, not as Jackamara. His cover had not been broken. I decided to feign disinterest in the whole proceedings. I attempted a smile as I replied: “That’s very interesting, but obtuse, Carla, though there does seem to be a grain of sense somewhere in it. I have been a member of a number of committees and can vouch for the way crass manipulation occurs. Why, I remember one Royal Commission in which the frames of reference ...”
‘ “Yes, yes darling, but another time,” Carla broke into what would have been a long narrative to get them away from the subject and Adaboaga. “Now,” she went on, “there is the sentence to be carried out. This is another aspect of our culture which should interest you. The aggrieved party must carry out the sentence and as we all are the aggrieved party in this case, we shall be the ones to do it. Things are being readied and soon you’ll have the opportunity to watch, though as a foreigner you cannot play the executioner; but you’ll enjoy the execution, won’t you, sweetness?”
‘Suddenly, I felt myself returning to that paralytic state I had experienced at the time of my poisoning. My body lost all sensation; but my consciousness remained clear. I could neither agree nor disagree. My field of vision held only Carla. Her green eyes glittered ice into my soul. The slivers burnt there coldly. I gave a shiver as the state of paralysis left. White-faced, I gulped in air as I felt my chest move. I grabbed my cup of coffee and drank it down. They got up and meekly I followed them into a large barn standing a short distance from the mansion.
‘The barn was empty; but a sturdy pole, planted into the ground, stood near the far wall. There were four iron stakes embedded in the concrete floor. Only the blunt ends through which holes were pierced were above the concrete. I thought they were used for securing unruly animals and such things. I wasn’t really interested in them; but my consciousness had remained clear and took in every detail. Then my detachment received a shock as Elias led his manacled partner in. Today there was no booming laughter. His huge body seemed weak and powerless. I tried to make contact with Jackamara, but he refused to look at any of us as he submitted entirely to the ritual.
‘Adaboaga/Jackamara allowed Elias to push his body face down on the floor between the four iron stakes. The manacles were removed and short hand and leg irons were used to fasten him down. It appeared a very professional job, and I shuddered as my mind made this observation, for what had I to do with such things? When did I ever have anything to do with such a thing? Lastly Elias ripped the clothing from him. Now, I thought, was the time to intervene; but I lacked the will to move. I could only stare down at the wretch spread-eagled before me. I managed to glance at Carla. Her eyes had glazed into a dull green, while her fingers curled and uncurled about the butt of a whip which had appeared from nowhere. Suddenly she cracked it. I leapt back.
‘ “Are you ready?” she hissed at me.
‘ “Am I ready?” I stuttered back, stupidly trying to evade the knowledge that she was offering the whip to me; but how could I whip a fellow human being, how could I ... could I? Perhaps by doing so I might save him from being hurt too much; but I couldn’t. I numbly shook my head and received a hysterical laugh and slurred words in return which I failed to decipher. She raised the lash and was beginning to bring it down, when I turned and ran from the barn. I couldn’t stay to watch a fellow Aussie, though a black one, being flogged. Behind me I heard the lash strike. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. “Not so pretty now,” I heard the demented woman shriek out. In my mind I was staring in horror at the red slashes cutting across the taut flesh, cutting into the taut flesh, at the skin finely cut, the bubbles of blood beginning to emerge and the pool of urine forming beneath the body. How I pitied Jackamara. What had he done to deserve such punishment? Sickened, I ran from the sounds. The thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack of the lash striking flesh forced me away to the very cliff edge.
‘Even there I could hear the sounds of punishment and torment. A long screaming wail came from the hapless victim. It was the first of many. Thump, thump, thump, thump on the living vibrant flesh. On the surface of the sea, I pictured Carla’s manic face as she used the long whip expertly, cracking the lash just above poor Jackamara’s back. Each crack severed neatly a sliver of flesh; each crack heralded a scream, until there was nothing but the sound of that lash.
‘I couldn’t take it any longer and vomited into the sea. Then came blessed, blessed silence. I barely was conscious when Carla came and stood next to me. When did I bring myself to glance at her, I shuddered to see her hands and clothing all bloody. There was even blood on her cheeks and a trickle came from the corner of her mouth. I hugged my body to myself and began shuddering. My will had been well and truly broken. I had one wish and one obsession only—to get off the island and far from its savage inhabitants.’
SESSION THIRTEEN
&n
bsp; ‘I’m sorry that I couldn't go on yesterday. Even now, even after years and with my knowledge, I still feel queasy, still feel on the verge of fainting. Yes, even now. It all seemed so real, though I know, I do, I do that it was most unreal, most unreal. But I’ll go on, the worst is over, or is it? I still hear the thwack, thwack, thwack of that whip descending on, on, I never did see who, or what? Should I have done so, then I would have known, known for sure ... Enough, enough, I stand on the cliff beside Carla. The day begins falling into the ocean. I feel disgust at her and her attraction for the grotesque—and the acting out of that grotesquery. She was sick and a throwback to her savage side which I had never thought could happen. How could such things still endure into the twentieth century? How could they exist on this island where Sas Enterprises had such an influence? Sas Enterprises was devoted to all that was beautiful and run by a woman who ventured into the depraved and foul. She had ripped the shroud of innocence from me. I existed in sin and guilt because I had done nothing to rescue Jackamara from their clutches. I had let a colleague be flogged to death. No one could have endured that long and awful punishment without succumbing.
‘Even then, I did nothing. We stood looking at the end of the sun, that woman and I. The sky spurted blood, the blood oozing and dripping from the back of that wretched man. It became streaked with long, purplish bruises of surprising translucence. This was the bewitching hour when flowers assumed a mysterious brilliance, the last gasp of life before being plunged into the grave of the night. All around us flamed the brightness of decay and death. No, no, the brightness of hope and birth, of the new life that Lataoga would bring when he emerged from his jungle fastness. He would heal the sickness and justice would flare up in all its light, and I would help him to bring about the necessary changes. But I didn’t believe it; I never wanted to concern myself with this wretched island. Lataoga was a part of this awful family, of this awful island.
