Hawaii - James Michener [36]
Teroro, although he had the island to choose from, elected his own wife, Marama, the penetrating clown, and as they lay quietly in the gray-and-silver dawn, with the timeless waves of the lagoon once more established over the night's loud revelry, Teroro confided, "Tamatoa has decided to leave the islands."
"I suspected he had reached some grave decision," Marama said. "He was so eager to laugh."
"What I don't understand is, the High Priest has agreed to let Tupuna join us. And also to let us take Wait-for-the-West-Wind."
Marama explained: "He's wise. He knows that islanders like to avoid direct conflicts that humiliate others. It's good procedure."
Her words were so in conflict with his plans for revenge that he asked, "What about the humiliation we suffered at Havaiki? Would you forget that, too?"
"I would," she said firmly. "When we're safe on some other island we can afford to forget Havaiki."
He started to explain that she would not be going on the voyage, but he could find no words to do so gracefully; in cowardice he fell asleep, but after a while he half-woke and mumbled, "You were very funny tonight, Marama. You were really wonderful."
WHEN THE DECISION to depart from Bora Bora was whispered from one village to the next, the island became a curious place, because no one admitted officially that the king was leaving. The High Priest continued to pay public deference to Tamatoa, and old Tupuna officiated at daily prayers to Oro. Young chiefs who had determined to join the expedition embraced wives who were obviously going to be left behind; but under this surface of indifference, all were preoccupied with one job: loading a canoe for an unknown voyage.
Particular care was given to food supplies. It was relatively easy to prepare food that was going to be consumed on the voyage; it was dried in the sun and compacted into small bundles tied with ti leaves. What required special thought was the selection of roots and saplings for a new land. Experts sought taro roots that would produce the gray-blue tuber which made the best poi, and coconuts that came from the strongest trees, and breadfruit that did not grow too high but which did produce big heads rich in starch and glutinous sap. White-haired Tupuna spent three days selecting chickens that would yield meat and dogs that would bake well, for he constantly reminded his charges that they were heading for land that might be very spare, indeed.
Then came the day when departure could no longer be politely masked, for with a saw made from a large sea shell, Teroro boldly cut eleven feet from each of the canoe's high sterns. "We cannot risk such high adornment on a long trip," he explained.
"Auwe!” cried men and women along the shore. "The great canoe of Bora Bora is being desecrated." Gently Teroro handed down the god-carved sterns, and priests bore them to the temple. The crowd watched while he used dried shark's skin to smooth the ends of the truncated stern, and he kept his back to the watchers as he worked, for he was praying, "Wait-for-the-West-Wind, forgive me for this mutilation," and out of his humiliation at having to cut down his own canoe, an obsessive rage was generated which was to make departure from Bora Bora an event ever to be remembered in the islands.
His rage increased when he left his deformed canoe and went to his own hut, where he threw himself on the floor and hammered the pandanus mats. Marama came to sit with him and assured him: "When we have found a new home we will find big trees and we can make new pillars for our canoe."
"No! They'll remain as they are! A signal of our shame."
"You talk like a boy," the placid-faced woman chided.
"When I was a boy," he corrected, "if anyone insulted me, I beat him on the head. But now I'm a man, and Havaiki insults me without risks."
"Teroro," his wife pleaded. "Look at it sensibly. What has Havaiki really done? They've invented