DANCES/Gaugau

"DANCES WITH FIRE"

Chapter 2

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In the prolog and first chapter you saw Tavita dancing in front of this falls. He built a large pool, at the bottom, and tourist come to see it and dive from the upper level, where you see the children playing.  My Penny learned to do the same during her stay with us.

This picture is also from the special publication of 

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC

"ISLES OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC"

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Some of the passengers had taken taxis, others walked, but most of the thirty five were crowded onto the bus, while their luggage overflowed the roof.  Tavita, however, held tightly to his small parcels as the driver jerked the vehicle into gear and roared off down the road.  Black diesel smoke billowed from the exhaust and snaked up through the gaping floorboards.

What the hell is this?  Tavita tried to escape the black fog.  Is this what I've come back to?  Is this the best they can do?  A smoke belching bus that creeps along so slowly that I could walk faster.

The others didn't seem to mind as they carried on conversations and some even fell asleep, their mouths hung open as their heads bounced up and down on the seat backs.

"How can they do that?" he wondered out loud.  He could carry on a self conversation, with no one the wiser, while the engine bellowed laboriously pushing the vehicle around curves that hugged the beach.  "Okay Tavita, you're home.  Now what?"

After a few miles, even he began to relax as he marveled while one village after another seemed to string endlessly along the beach.  Open thatched fales (houses,) perfectly manicured yards and boundless arrays of multicolored flowers greeted every turn of the bus. 

"I had almost forgotten how beautiful this place is," he shifted from side to side..

Palm trees bowed toward the beach.  Breadfruit hung in abundance, for the taking, while kapok fluff escaped a few  pods and drifted lazily across the road.

"Yes, Tavita, you're home, and you're going to make the most of it, just like Dr. Link said you should."

He looked around nervously.  The thought of Dr. Link also made him think of Shirley.

"Dear Shirley.  Sweet, crazy, beautiful Shirley," he mumbled.  "Love you sweetheart, I hope you're all right.  Sorry that I had to leave you, but I had no choice."

The bus screeched to a halt, interrupting his thoughts and waking the sleepers.  An old sow, teats swaying, followed by ten or twelve squealing piglets strolled across the road, without a care in the world.

The procession passed and the driver ground the gears and jolted the bus forward again.  Tavita craned his neck to see if Apia was in sight yet.  The further they went, the more excited he became.  Apia, the only city in all of Samoa.  Apia.  As a boy, it had been the most exciting place in the world.  The picture show was there.  Ice cream was there.  The Marines were there.  The Marines and Hank, his good friend, Hank.

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"Hey kid," Tavita remembered Apia park had been turned into a bivouac for a battalion of Marines, stationed on Upolu.  He went most every day with fruits from his own plantation to sell to the soldiers.  One day an overbearing corporal had yelled at him.  "Hey kid!"

Tavita had finished selling his produce and was just hanging around the area, enjoying the excitement of the  place.  The men, in their uniforms, their guns, their cigarettes, and their funny talk.

"Hey kid, didn't you hear me?  Get over here."  The corporal ordered.

After looking around to see who the man meant, Tavita realized that it must be him.

"I?" he  pointed to himself.

"Yes, you, stupid." 

Tavita trotted over, not understanding that he had been insulted.

"Here, take this dollar bill and go get me an ice cream cone at Aggie's."  The corporal made hand signals.  "Bring it back with the change.  You understand?"

Tavita nodded, as he understood a few words, especially ice cream and Aggie's.  He took the money and hurried away.

Aggie's was a hotel/hamburger joint/home away from home, for many of the young men, who were stationed in Samoa.  Some, the first time in their lives to be away from family and home.

Out of breath, Tavita ordered the cone, paid, received the change, and turned for the half mile run back to the park.  The tropic sun blazed.  The confection began to melt, Tavita licked, but he couldn't lick fast enough and soon, all that was left was just the cone and cream.

"That's okay," he thought.  "I still have money, I'll get another and run faster this time."

He tried several times, but the faster he ran the faster the ice cream melted.  At last he was out of money and had no ice cream except what was all over his lavalava (sarong.)  Defeated, ashamed, and afraid, he went back to the camp.

"You little bastard!"  the corporal bellowed.  "You stole my money and ate the ice cream!"

"Leai (no)," Tavita didn't understand everything, but he knew enough to know that he was in bad trouble.

"Yeah!  You probably gave ice cream to all your fuckin' little buddies!"  He grabbed his rifle and pointed it at Tavita's trembling little body.

"Hold it right there, you son of a bitch!"  The shout came from a big Marine Sergeant who grabbed the corporal's arm.

It was Hank .

"You harm one hair on that boy's head and you'll answer to me!"

He wrenched the gun from the soldier.  "Now YOU!  You walk in front while Tavita and I ride, in the jeep.  We'll go get YOUR ICE CREAM CONE!  If you make it back here without it being melted, then I'll give you FIVE dollars, but if you don't------- then you'll give him five dollars.  Do YOU understand?"

The corporal glared at Hank, but nodded.

"Now MARCH!"

"Get in here kid," Hank motioned Tavita to get in the jeep, with him.

They all returned to Aggie's.  The marine bought the cone.  He took a lick and started to walk and continued to lap at the melting cream.

"No!  You bastard, you're going to carry the whole thing back to camp in this boiling sun, just as you expected this kid to do.  Understand?"  He pushed the rifle into the soldier's back.

In only a few steps the ice cream had melted all over the corporal's fatigues.

"Okay, okay, Sarge, you win."  He turned toward the jeep for them to stop.  "Here kid, here's your five spot."

"Fa'afetai (thank you,)" tavita put the bill on top of his head in a show of appreciation as a huge smile lit his face.  "Fa'afetai, Haank!"  His favorite Marine's name came out a little Samoanized.

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Tavita looked again and realized that they were finally reaching the outskirts of Apia.  "Hank, what ever happened to you?" he wondered out loud.  "Someday I'd like to thank you properly."

Most everyone else had gone to sleep now, even though it was broad daylight, but excitement tingled through him as he anticipated seeing his family soon.  He also noticed that every time he looked forward, the driver seemed to be studying him through the rear view mirror.  What did he see?  What did he know?  Do I know him, Tavita wondered?

Just then they rounded a bend, crossed a bridge and THERE IT WAS!  Apia!  Just as he remembered it.  How could a place change so little in such a long time?

"But this is Samoa," he reminded himself.  "Things happen and change in their own time, no one or thing hurries for anyone or anything.  Can I fit in?  Can I slow down to this way of life?

The city was alive!  Changes may come slowly, that didn't mean that there wasn't plenty going on.  They passed the open market, where farmers had everything from fruits and vegetables, to fine mats and brooms, to fish, poultry , and freshly butchered beef.  Buyers milled through the aisles, pricing and selecting.  Pedestrians stepped in front of the bus with their new purchased items, unaware and uncaring that they had stopped traffic.

The driver blasted the horn, only to be rewarded with a scowl and an angry shake of the fist.  Finally they forged ahead and rounded the town watchee (the clocktower).  Brakes squealed and the bus jerked to a stop, right in the middle of the street.

"Tavita!" the driver called!  "You are Tavita Vaoifi, aren't you?"  He turned and looked directly at Tavita

"Yes," he was amazed and stunned as he looked around to see if anyone else answered.

Horns blew, drivers swore, and onlookers craned to see what had just happened.

"There's your dad!" he pointed across the crowd, ignoring the horn blasts and shouts.

Tavita turned to where he pointed and sure enough there stood Vaoifi.  He looked just the same, a few more lines on his ageless handsome face, lots more gray hair, but still noble, a true Samoan Chief.

Tavita bounded from the bus, not even bothering to find out how the driver knew him.  He raced toward Vaoifi.  Heedlessly he brushed people aside as he tried desperately to reach Vaoifi in one stride.  Tears streamed from his eyes and blinded him to everyone else but Vaoifi.

Stunned, Vaoifi stepped aside from this strange young man who hurled himself across the street toward him.  But in the next second he recognized his long lost son, his first born, his Tavita!

"My son!" Vaoifi now returned the embrace that Tavita had locked him into.  "My son, you're home!  Thanks be to God!"

At last the blaring horns broke through their reunion and Tavita realized that the bus still blocked the road.  He ran and retrieved his belongings.

"How did you know who I was?" he asked the driver.

"Hey everyone knows Vaoifi's son," he waved at the horn blowers.  "You're the first Samoan to make a hit.  The first Samoan to run with the "big wheels.  Hey man, you're a celebrity.  We've seen magazines with your pictures.  We've heard stories about you and your WOMEN!  I knew it had to be you, no other Samoan could come back lookin' like that," he pointed to Tavita's clothes.

Tavita reached into his pocket, took out a twenty dollar bill, shook hands, with the driver and pressed the bill into his hand.  "Thanks friend.  Thanks for seeing my dad and waiting through all this.  I'll see you later."

He stepped from the bus and waved, as it moved slowly away while horns and curses followed after it.  Then he returned to where his dad patiently waited.

"That's my son, Tavita."  Vaoifi told everyone within hearing distance.  "That's my boy, home from America."

"Let's go dad," he took Vaoifi's arm.  "Let's go HOME!"

 

 

DANCES WITH FIRE

"DANCES WITH FIRE"

A'E TAVITA VAOIFI TAUIAUTUSA LAUOFO LAUFALEALO GAUGAU

THE MAN WHO REDISCOVERED, PERFECTED, AND BROUGHT THE

 "SAMOAN FIRE KNIFE DANCE"

 BACK TO HIS PEOPLE!

Through this blog I am hoping to share some of the adventures and misadventures of this charismatic man who, as a boy of fourteen, won a scholarship from the Morman Church to attend school in, the far off mystic land of, America.

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"DANCES WITH FIRE"

PROLOG

Tavita guided the catamaran back into the slip, but before he was able to cut the engine, he heard, "Where the hell have you been?"  Shirley screamed at him across the waves, "I've been here every day, and all anybody would tell me was that you had taken the "cat" out on your own!"

"Ssh, I've been on a job, I'll tell you all about it later.  Let me get this thing docked and then we'll make up for all of those lost days."

As usual, she couldn't stay mad at him and as soon as he stepped onto the dock, she was in his arms. 

Mr. Balino was out of town again, and it hadn't been long after he left that Tavita and Shirley spent most of his free hours at her house.  The servants and even Shirley's two daughters came to know and accept Tavita as part of the household.  The help had seen their mistress bring others in before and knew that Tavita would probably not be the last.  They even liked him and swore each other to secrecy, not to tell the boss.  But their silence didn't keep Al from finding out.  After all Al Balino just happened to be the Mafia "don" for the entire Miami area.

One day after the charters were finished, Tavita went directly to Shirley.  She had their rendezvous arranged in the garage of the palatial estate.  Much more than a simple car enclosure, there was a huge game room, luxurious couches atop plush carpet outside the area where Shirley's little sports car was parked.  Pink champagne and marijuana mixed with intoxicating music as their lovemaking had been more than heated on this sultry night.  Their naked bodies still glistened with musky sweat as they lay wrapped in each other's arms.  Suddenly the soft candle glow was ripped apart by sharp car headlights.  More bright high beams were seen aimed at the front door from a second car.

"That's Al!" Shirley screamed and scrambled to her feet.  "You've got to get out of here!"

Sobered immediately, Tavita grabbed his trousers and shirt, in one hand, socks and shoes in the other and bolted out the back door!

"STOP!  STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!  DON'T MOVE!"  The words came from the direction of  a light shined right into Tavita's face.  Even with the blinding light he could feel as well as see a forty five caliber aimed at the same place.

The bright glare played up and down from head to toe over Tavita's naked body.  His hands, holding clothes and shoes were raised above his head.

"Go ahead, damn it, just shoot me!"   

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CHAPTER ONE

Tavita, skinny, naked, and only five years old, ran happily along the beach.  Every few feet he stopped, picked up a fish and dropped it into his palm leaf basket.

Mele will be very happy with today's catch, the thought.

Mele was his mom, but little Samoan boys most often used names, not endearments.  The fish had washed in on the high tide and they flapped about, stranded, on the beach before he scooped them into his basket.

Paradise!  No clothes, food for the taking, and life to be lived as you pleased.

"Will it be the same?"  Twenty six year old Tavita spoke aloud.  The spell was broken, he wasn't that little naked boy, on the beach, whose only mission was to please his mom.  He was grown, married, and the father of two sons.

He stared out the window of the TEAL seaplane as it lifted off the Fiji runway on the final leg of his return home.   Twelve years had passed since he had gone to Pago Pago, the first step on his journey to America.  Twelve years, changing from a native island boy into a worldly, sophisticated, cynical, entertainer on the run from too many women, too much booze, and the Mafia.

That little boy that he remembered, running along the sand, had been happy, carefree, and self assured.  He had wanted to return the "cup" to the ice cream man after his first ice cream cone.  He had paid for his circumcision, at the age of eight, when all young Samoan boys arranged for their own passage into "manhood," with the only chicken he could catch, one that died a few days after the "surgery."  Tavita chuckled, to himself, as he remembered those carefree days and thought, if Simi is still alive, I'll pay him well, this time.  After all, he did a great job.

Tavita looked around, at the other passengers, about thirty five , counting himself.  Some Samoans but no one that he knew or remembered.  Of course he was so changed after all those years that no one should recognize him.  The beard, dark glasses, and the latest in American clothes didn't allow much of a chance that recognition was possible.  But that was the way he needed and wanted it.

There was nothing to see out over the ocean and no one that he wanted to talk to so he leaned back and reminisced.   

"Tavita!"  Mele's voice and Samoan words drifted across the years.  "You go town with me tomorrow.  We sell fruits, vegetables, then go to picture show."

Experiencing Apia, the only city in all of Western Samoa, had only been available to him once or twice in his entire six years.  Excited over this big event Tavita ran to spread the news, with all of his friends, that he would go into town, with Mele, sell their fruits and vegetables, then go to the picture show, what ever that was.

The next morning they rose early, as always, Tavita completed his chores, with anticipation.  He hurriedly picked up the leaves that had falling during the night and any other bits of trash that marred the beauty of their property.

"Fetch lavalava from box," Mele said.  "You not go that way."  She smiled at his little naked body.

Tavita in his bright yardage of material and Mele in her puletasi walked the eight miles into town, each carried baskets of produce.

After all their goods were sold Mele took him to a gigantic building.  The size alone made him uneasy, but when they went inside, it was all dark, except for some polo (ball) like things that hung from the fa'aalo (ceiling,) and they seemed to have "fire" inside them.

"Mele, no like fale (house,) he whispered and clung to her hand.

"Just wait," she whispered, "watch big white ie (sheet.) there will be pictures there."

He did as he was told, but still held onto her hand.  Soon the "balls of fire" went out, and the big building was darker than the inside of the cave where he and his friends played with the Chinese skulls.

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Suddenly turbulence pitched the little Solent flying boat sideways and brought Tavita back from his reverie.

God!  I haven't thought about that place in years, I wonder if they're still there.  He stretched his legs as much as possible in the cramped space.  Again mused about the skulls.  They had been left there from a time when Chinese immigrant workers, brought over by German overseers, in the 1890s, had tried to rebel.  They raced along a river, not realizing that it plunged sixty feet on it's way to the ocean.  Only a few were able to stop as twenty five or more plummeted to their death.  Their only grave, was a cave where Tavita and his friends played and cracked the skulls with sticks.  Did other children play with the skulls, now, he wondered.
Tavita looked out the window again, once more greeted with identical blues, sky and ocean.  Ocean and sky, all the same, as dual propellers droned their monotonous song.
Soon his thoughts were back with his six year old self at the movie house with Mele.  The darkness that worried him was quickly exploded with bright pictures that danced and bounced across the ie.  Frightened and excited at the same time he looked to see if Mele was frightened by this strange happening.
She only nodded toward the screen as the lights, like fire, like stars, like the sun almost, played across her face.  She wasn't afraid.  He looked around at the other people, in the big fale.  No one else seemed to be uneasy, maybe this would be okay.  He watched the pictures but didn't understand what the white people on the ie were saying, but they were on horses and had big pulou (hats) on their heads.  They would jump off the horses and hit on each other and everyone in the house laughed and clapped their hands.  This was fun!  This was better than cracking skulls.  Even better than kissing little girls who chased him into the bush every day.
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The pane dipped slightly, and Tavita laughed to himself.  "I soon knew better than that."
The other passengers had begun to stir.  "We'll be landing soon," his seat mate smiled.  "Is this your home?"
"No! No, I'm just visiting."  Tavita was taken off guard and almost forgot to use his most practiced English, with no trace of a Samoan accent.  "I'm from Hawaii, just visiting friends."
He reached under the seat in front and retrieved his briefcase, hoping to end the conversation.
"Is this your first time here?"  The intruder didn't take the hint.
"No."  Tavita's short response seemed finally, to send the message and the man turned to start a conversation with the passenger across the aisle.
The little plane banked and started a steep decent.  Tavita gripped the armrest so tightly that his knuckles turned white.  His back arched and his jaw tightened as his feet searched frantically for brakes, rudders, anything to give him some control over the tiny aircraft.
Through his fear, he watched the myriad blues of the reef wash over the coral and race onto the waiting powder white beach.
Acres of feathery palms latticed the shore while white faced cattle graced serenely under the boughs.
Splashdown at last!  The pontoons skimmed along the surf as the propellers created a backwash.
Six passengers, at a time, were ferried ashore by an open motor boat.  While everyone pushed and shoved to be taken first, Tavita waited onboard the plane until the last trip.  By the time he came ashore most everyone had dispersed.  He looked around, found that he was alone and quickly knelt and kissed the ground.
Tears fought to escape his burning eyes.  The dark glasses concealed the joy and pain that raged inside for predominance.  JOY at being HOME after all those years.  PAIN for having the loss of the woman he loved.  JOY at the thought of seeing his family soon.  PAIN that he may never see his own children again.

Only a few seconds passed before he regained his composure.  He was back with no one the wiser.  Now he could began his life again.  His "shadow", the federal agent, had simply disappeared while they were in Fiji.  Not a word, not a sign, just gone.  He wasn't a bad sort Tavita thought, looking around to be sure that somehow he wasn't still somewhere nearby, but I'm glad he's gone.
A horn blasted through his thoughts and he looked up to see a Goldstar bus at the end of the road.  The driver waved for him to hurry.  Tavita grabbed his briefcase, small valise and ran.