"If I had any kava I'd offer it."
Faturaki waived away the comment before asking, "Tell me Howaru, do you feel changed in ten years here by yourself?”
“Yes, I truly do.” Howaru said, “I don’t know if I can ever retain mana the way ariki do, to be able to wield it for purposes of magic but it no longer concerns me. I am a warrior and I’ll die as that rank. There is no shame in it. A farmer, a weaver, a spearfisher, a tohunga, a chief. They all serve the same purpose, of keeping the tribe alive.”
“Very good. I used to say something similar in formal welcome speeches and would add ‘Falahine down at the sea wall sucking cock,’ which would get the old women cackling.”
What about sleep? Were you able to dream again? I remember before you left you hadn’t been sleeping, you were dangerous. Not only to yourself but to others.”
Howaru thought a moment, was I ever dangerous, he was sick for a time and part of that sickness was a thirst for the puga, the brew which could help one see mana flow in others. Violence had accompanied this thirst as well and he nodded, “yes. When I got here, for a few years my spirit settled upon me again. Do you think I became violent because I wasn’t sleeping?”
Faturaki didn’t answer him. Instead he got up, stretched, and then sat back down in a new place. Carefully, he folded his legs in the manner of a chief but took much longer to do so, moaning at some hidden pain along the way. "When you think of the last time you held your weapon Totokona, what do you feel?"
Howaru hesitated now, recalling the last time he wielded his precious clubaxe, before he threw it into the ocean, and the last time he was drunk. He could see the child's head laying in the grass, but there was no detail in it. The rest was missing from his memory like a starless patch of the night sky.
"I feel nothing."
"I see."
“Is that a good thing if I don't remember my past, or feel it?”
“To forget and move on. Maybe. For you, more so. I'm so old I remember very little anymore. Wives and children, enemies and allies, all fade to insignificance as the body begins to spoil. And yes, even the feelings. What I would give to feel my cock get hard again. You could cut it off wrap it in taro leaves, cook it in the oven, and serve it back to me and I’d still feel nothing. But you're too young to worry about that meaning. You should still have your feelings Howaru, because they make you human. You can still have a life. The gods are still watching. We have not displeased them all yet. You especially.” Faturaki flicked a piece of stray kindling with his spear at Howaru who plucked it out of the air before it could strike his face. “Your body and mind are sharp.”
“I have some skills left father.”
"Aye. And they will be needed and tested in the days to come. You have been asked for by the tribe of Matavai, by the chief himself.”
Howaru nodded, and wanted to hear out the chiefs request but his desire to talk about his own problems overtook and instead said, “I have been having many dreams in the last few years."
“Dreams. Yes?"
“About,” he hesitated and looked around before lowering his voice, “it's a cloud that descends from above, black and suffocating. Stinking of death."
"Go on. Do you know the origin of the cloud yet?"
"Yes. I think so.”
But before he could continue a warm and rich scent filled his nostrils. He sniffed at the air. It was the scent of cooking flesh, and not fish! The smell of the the pig cooking in the oven had carried his way. His mouth began to water. “The smell is too much!”
By now he was delirious with hunger and Faturaki urged him to eat the dry fish while the pig finished cooking. Howaru waved away the offer, “the fish would only take up space best left for meat. Let’s carry on talking. What is it Matavai need?”
Faturaki sighed, then he called out to the girl Sinakoa to fetch his spear from where he’d left it leaning on the side of the hut. When it was in his hand he used it to trace out a map in the sand as he continued speaking. “Matavai has one of the largest rohe on Kafiki. You know this. It starts at the base of the volcano with borders running south and east to the coast swallowing up the lands which used to be those of the first tribesmen.”
Faturaki scratched out the shape of the volcano and then dragged the end of the spear below it forming a river. “The Matavai river runs through their main village and along the ranges they call Mahana after that old snake god of theirs. It goes all the way to the base of Takali Foto. I forget where it branches out but somewhere near the borders of the southern rohe there is a sacred waterfall called Ulu Waimate. The people avoid it as taniwha have been seen drinking there. Five days ago the chief’s son Teā was abducted. The tribe suspect he was stolen by a menace afflicting the rohe for some time. About as many years as you have been gone. They call him Baby Eater because he only captures children. A few of the slave children escaped and made their way back to the villages. Only a couple of women have ever seen this menace in the flesh.”
Howaru frowned. “What does it look like? Sounds like the work of an animal or a creature.”
“Sit here boy.” Faturaki indicated to the remaining space on his mat.
Howard obeyed the command and moved closer.
“He’s like you, a man,” Faturaki continued, “but larger than anyone on the island, even you.”
“That will be something new to witness then.”
Faturaki hesitated, becoming watchful of the crew now standing around while the food cooked, talking and joking. He indicated over to them and said, “the two sons of the chief are half brothers to the boy Teā. They are here to remind you of your last act of violence and demand utu. They mean not to exchange anything with Feke to use you for the task of killing Baby Eater.”
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A grip was placed upon his wrist as Faturaki leaned in, “by agreeing to find Teā and by coming back with us to kill this menace - to quiet the voices of so many wailing mothers and fathers and ease the suffering of their lands Matavai - they will forget your past too. Do you understand?”
Howaru looked his father in the eyes and nodded. “I understand.”
“Good, good. Now, let us eat.”
When the stars of _____, _______, and _______ were visible among embers rising into the night sky from a tired fire it was time to feast. Torches were lit and speared into the ground before the pig was carefully placed in the middle of the mat. Piled on plates of banana leaf was more of Howaru’s preserved fish, steamed in the umu. Fresh raw fish and octopus caught that morning by Galiaga and soaked in coconut the coconut milk were wrapped in leaf parcels and distributed around the mat. Other provisions from the waka had been laid out as well including taro and banana. Finally, gourds of kava, kept hidden from Howaru until now, were presented to him as gifts.
More prayers of thanks and songs of remembrance to the gods were made before Howaru was able to eat. It was then he noticed the eyes. He’d forgotten about the eyes. Faturaki to his immediate left, nodded to him before offering a shoulder, which he accepted. Sinakoa, to his immediate right and close enough for her knee to press his, poured kava without averting her gaze. The flavour of the umu had seeped into each bite while the richness of the fat stained his fingers. Once he had cleaned the bone Howaru moved onto the raw fish. Tufukia elbowed his brother Tu’unaga and both stopped eating to watch Howaru. It was always too many eyes upon me, he decided. Even in the most formal ceremonies where ultimate respect was to be paid, there was always someone willing to break formalities to eyeball him. Most eyes were the admiring kind while others were hostile, often rimmed with jealousy.
By the time the Marama the moon goddess was at her highest position in the night sky Howaru was last to finish, sifting through bones, chewing off any remaining meat and fat. Even at the end of the feast the others waited in silence for him, forever entertained by the dullest of his actions. His isolation, a ten year thirst for human contact, was quenched by awe disguised in fellowship. Howaru concentrated on the meal keeping his eyes low contemplating his next plate.
“Have you had enough boy?” Faturaki called out, while sitting cross-legged around the fire with the others.
“I should be. Just need to make sure nothing goes to waste.”
“Good, you need your strength back as soon as possible but here, come sit, and take a rest for a moment.”
Galiaga sat cross-legged and began a proper kava ceremony. He poured the kava into a single tortoiseshell bowl, to the brim, before handing to his left. They sang the drinking song where you made hand slaps before draining your bowl, and each time a new gesture was added. Galiaga refilled, and it was the next person's turn plus a new movement. Dirt coloured intoxicant dripped down Howaru's thick beard as he laughed into the skies after losing several rounds on purpose, just so he could drink more. He wiped it away, becoming impatient with the ceremony already. "Father, let the boys do the ceremony but go get a gourd for me. I can't wait this long for a drink." He demanded more than asked, half-drunk already, and Faturaki shook his head in disappointment, before getting up to look for more kava.
While Faturaki was gone Galiaga relieved himself of his duties as Kava pourer and invited Howaru to join him for a piss in the bush. Howaru pointed towards the beach and said, “Let’s piss over there bro.”
“It is good to see you alive,” Galiaga spoke first while they pissed into the waves. “I almost didn’t recognise you in your state. You look bad bro. Your flesh has thinned out.” His friend drew a circle in the air around his face. “But your face worse. What happened to your nose?”
“I was,” Howaru hesitated, not wanting his friend to learn about a losing fight, “I was wave catching and Takaroa tricked me. I smashed into coral. And you? Tell me about Kafiki and what I missed?”
“You missed a lot. Three wars. Ahukai is now the most powerful tribe and I married one of theirs, as a second. I have four more children and both families live in Akumai rohe.
“You live beside Takali Foto?”
“I am chief of a small village in the foothills.”
“You have done well Galiaga. So how has the chief of an Akumai tribe been allowed to join this waka to find me?”
“Did Faturaki tell you about Baby Eater yet?”
“Ai. He did.”
“Did he describe him to you.”
“Only to mention he wasn’t a monster.”
“He’s wrong. He’s a monster. People say he’s eaten over a hundred children.”
Howaru began walking back towards his shelter. He could see further along the beach the outline of Faturaki as he made his way to the waka and another supply of Kava.
Galiaga walked beside him in his familiar bounce, each step more of a leap. “He’s you,” he began, “at least that’s what the slaves in Matavai think.”
Howaru looked down at his friend and asked, “why would they think this creature is me?”
“Because of that crazy healer Selai. She believes you stole her son. That’s why the Chief of Matavai sent two of his own household here. To bare witness in case the island was empty. To confirm her story.”
“She thinks I’m-” The surge of vomit was so sudden it burst from his mouth when he spoke.
“Ah bro! What a waste of good food.” Galiaga cackled into the clear night sky. “And when I heard what was happening I was first to volunteer to come find you. I knew there was no way my bro is the baby eater.”
Howaru finished spewing, resting on his knee. Galiaga slapped his back, laughed again, and said, “have a wash and come back up to the shelter. Faturaki will explain the rest.” Then his friend walked away leaving a trail of footsteps in the wet sand.
When Howaru arrived back to the fire circle the giant turtle shell had been refilled, the two Chief sons Tufukia and Tu’unaga rinsed the kava. Sinakoa, Faturaki, and Galiaga sat talking in low voices but became silent after he found an empty place on the mat. His mouth and tongue were numb from the kava but all Howaru wanted to do now was lay down and sleep.
As if sensing his weariness his father spoke before the kava was served. “Galiaga told you something just now which has upset you? Look at me.”
Howaru held Faturaki’s stare. Ancient eyes you couldn’t tell were looking at or through you. “No. It was the meat. My stomach has gone too long without it.”
“Do you need to rest?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. Let me continue.”
“Selai had her boy Teā soon after you left. Matavai believe the god Watea of the Cosmos seeded her. Some of the gossip says you are the father and by way of the boy, proof you are indeed a demigod.”
He felt sick again, swallowing bile before croaking, “father to the boy?”
Faturaki waved away his question, “you should know they believe this boy is special. His skin is as white as a robin. He stands out among the Matavai children. Equally revered and despised. The boy was worshipped as a baby in his home village. Word quickly spread across the island that a new demigod had finally been created. Soon Selai was the focus as much as the boy.” Faturaki coughed before continuing, “the abandoned wife of Howaru.”
Howaru dropped his gaze to the ground and said nothing.
“Chief Kuanua eventually visited the area, interested in the boy, and then Selai herself. A few summers ago she became his third wife.”
His father’s words struck him harder than Arahuta’s fists. Harder than a fish to the face by Tawhiri. She is married. The only one worth going back for. Protocol, a reputation as the rock of Kafiki, kept him seated. I am a great champion and warrior and immovable, he told himself, I am the rock of Kafiki, he repeated the thought again and again. In his heart all he wanted was to get up and run into the sea to cry where only his god Tokoroa could witness his despair. Instead, he heard himself say to his father, “go on, I am listening.”
“Selai has done much damage to your reputation since you were gone. Perhaps rightly so. But she has placed more effort putting out speeches related to you fathering the boy. Teā has become very important to the chiefs household. You see, the people believe he is the son of their god Watea, and so Kuanua’s influence over his rohe increases with his presence in the Hapu, whether or not he is the boy’s father. For you should know now that while Akumai tribe may have the most warriors it is Matavai with the most slaves, and who hold any real power.”
Faturaki indicated to someone out of Howaru’s view. His eyes remained fixed on the matting underneath, a few summers ago she became his wife,. He noticed the mistakes and imperfections in its making, in his creation. A coconut shell was placed in front of him, filled with water.
Faturaki instructed. “Drink son.”
Howaru welcomed the water and emptied the cup and looked up at his father again. “Am I the boy’s father?”
Faturaki shook his head and said nothing. Howaru sighed, his belief in the old man, the most powerful, most revered Tohunga on Kafiki, probably across all islands, was complete.
“And Selai thinks I am this monster? This Baby Eater?”
Faturaki nodded. “Ai.”
“She doesn’t want me back then?”
“She wants her son back, that is all. By any means necessary. Matavai want you to kill the Baby Eater and rescue the child Teā and there will be nothing exchanged to your tribe Feke for it. Will you do this work Howaru?