Victor Segalen
A LAPSE OF MEMORY
Extracts
The man with the new words blinked at the crowd and began to address the people of Atahuru shore:
"God so loved man that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life."
That is what they heard. Or rather thought that they heard: for the stranger, who was attempting to speak in Tahitian for the first time, was quavering like a frightened girl. With eyes dim and lowered, with stumbling lips and lifeless arms, he shifted his gaze repeatedly between the assembled crowd, his four companions, and the two women with withered skin who accompanied them everywhere. He hesitated, searched for words, mumbled confused sounds. All the same, the crowd listened curiously. This unimpressive speaker announced something no previous chanter had ever told: that a god, father of another god, had taken pity on living beings, and had given up his own son to save them! That this son, nailed on a tree at the top of a mountain, died, abandoned by his own. That since then, all his followers -- however depraved and contemptible -- are assured, if they trust in him, of joining him in a divinely joyous dwelling comparable to the finest chiefly fare. The name of this new atua, the foreigner gave as "Iesu-Kerito".
People were about to start protesting when the speaker, now talking more easily, asserted vehemently that all those living in the lands of Tahiti, Moorea and Raiatea were, from birth, just as much children of this Iesu as the Piritane, and that if they, the newcomers ventured into these countries so far away from their own land, it was to teach to all mankind the love of the benevolent atua and the way to this everlasting life.
At this point, people scrutinised the orator. This story was becoming truly unexpected and curious, much more so than the many songs of the pale-skinned sailors with their lively way of speaking and their amazing stories. Was it possible that the gods in the outer heavens were concerned for the Maori people? The atua on the clouds of their own islands never gave a care to the people who live beyond the waters! As for this "everlasting life", it was known on the faith of the traditional sayings, that Te Fatu the master denied that to every one, in spite of Hina's entreaties:
"Be good and kind", murmured the gentle moon goddess...
"I will be good and kind", the All-Powerful had conceded. Nevertheless men die, as do four-footed beasts, and birds, and all things other than the gaze of Hina herself. And as for the spirits, let those of the Arioi, the chiefs and warriors all depart to whirl around in the cloudy spaces in Rohatu the Land of Delights. What should the fate of any others matter to the gods of all the heavens? No doubt the naive stranger was unaware of all this to make such daring promises.
Although the story seemed quite incredible, people were still intrigued by it. A murmur of interest was heard. The god had saved men... What! Were men in danger?
. . .
The strangers then proceeded to place pieces of thin wood on supports and covered them with light mats. They then prepared the ritual: the meal of the gods perhaps. Haamanihi immediately stood up quick and angry in spite of his swollen legs. He sprang amongst the spectators, yelling out abuse and pointing at the girls. He chased them off like hens, further and further away. Many lingered and he flew into a rage at them.
Note's pale eyes widened and he asked the reason for the sudden wrath. Why send away the women? It was the turn of the high-priest to be astonished: "Is it possible that worthy men, chiefs, particularly men who talk to gods, should allow a woman, an impure, profane being, to come and sully a feast with her obscene presence? You move them off your ship when they dance on the day of your Lord and you would allow..."
"Your women and daughters", answered Note, "are children of Kerito, like yourselves. They, like you, will be allowed in a few moons to share the ritual." Haamanihi, stupefied, let the women come back.
"But where are your offerings, then?" He kept on looking at the preparations for the feast. He knew the strangers' customs of raising food above the ground and eating it afterwards in tiny pieces. Yet these supports and these pieces of wood, that Note called a "table for the food", were so far bare of any food, or almost. This would really upset the hungry of Atahuru, whose raffish crowds were always on the lookout for solemn feasts, and kept an eye on the end of the sacrifice to fight over the remains, which they appraised in advance. Taking into account the large boats and the powerful weapons of their followers, the new gods seemed figures of no small importance. So the feast offered in their name by these followers should be substantial.
"Here is the prepared meal", said Note. Haamanihi saw nothing but badly roasted uru fruit and a red drink rather like the ava Piritane for its intoxicating qualities, held in transparent vases that he knew were fragile. He looked in commiseration at the meagre offerings. "Is that all there is for the meal of the god?" The crowd shuffled and sneered. A growl of disappointed murmurs was heard. Such poverty or tightfistedness was unbelievable! Haamanihi again offered to make good this penury which he felt severely compromised the prestige of the strangers. Note became annoyed.
"What need do we have of coarse food to fill our entrails as you call them, we for whom the food of the spirit is provided!" Then standing in the midst of the others, he took in his hands the uru fruit, changed his expression, raised his eyelids and looked at the roof of the fare. Was this the custom of the visionaries in his country? Eventually he declared:
"Iesu took bread and blessed it, and he broke it and gave it to the disciples and said: Take, eat, this is my body. And he took the cup and gave thanks, and he gave it to them saying: Drink ye all of it, for this is my blood, of the new testament, which is shed..."
"E aha ra!" interrupted the high priest quivering with longing. So that was the ritual! Here, then, was the thing to say to calm the expectation of the crowd. These scanty offerings were not at all the god's meal, but the very semblance of this god, and perhaps the atua himself offered to man to confer divine energy on him! Old Teae had turned into a tree long ago, to calm the hunger in the island. The Piritane god turned into fruit and into a red drink to aid his followers. How sublime! Haamanihi turned his admiring face to the impatient crowd, and pointed to the pale-skinned men. "They are going to eat their god." He immediately demanded his share of the feast.
Everyone wanted to take part in it. Runaways convicted of sacrilege, haere-po guilty of negligence and forgetfulness; those from evil shores, and all the wandering rabble left on Tahiti by unwelcome canoes, all broke the ropes, rushed forward in the middle of the slaves, idol-bearers, messengers and fishermen and surrounded the Piritane. Some of them hoped to gain in wiliness, strength and luck from the ritual, others to cure abominable ills. Women who wished to become barren also approached, as no one chased them away any more. A sham visionary from the land Hitia was even more eager than the others. His triumphant rivals received the breaths of intangible gods into their stomachs. How much more powerful again he himself would become if he fed on this visible food of the god? The voices clamoured, "Eat the god! eat the god!" The posts of the house cracked under the surging mass of people.
And now the usually generous Piritane roughly refused everyone. He tried to make himself heard above the clamour. The atua was not eaten! No! No! He yelled these words violently, shaking his head. The fruit was shared, "in the memory of the Lord..." Later, when they knew, they too would all come and join in communion... But after that, no matter what he said, the disappointed crowd no longer felt any admiration for his words.
Meanwhile, amongst the cries that had hardly yet died away, the strangers chewed together on their scanty food. They then raised the bowls of reddish liquid to their lips. Maybe a miracle would happen; but all remained calm. Moreover, they took their food without any eagerness, without expressing their stomachs' satisfaction nor even the contentment of their meagre appetites. This was greeted with scorn: those thin, unpleasant chants, tight, dark clothing, the unclean presence of the women; all for this pitiful feast? No! The god had not descended! The god could not come down at the call of such miserable devotees and he was no doubt becoming annoyed in his heaven...
Her companions were waiting for her with satisfied expressions in the middle of Tipaerui water, their bodies already refreshed and eager for the evening bathe. Erena herself shivered with pleasure at the sight of the cold river, and she hastily untied the tapa knotted under her neck. In the same way she also took off a second and then a third plainer and thicker garment of a sort that the Missionaries say it is seemly to wear, so that the outline of the stomach and the movement of the legs may not be observed. A big red and white pareu tied over her breasts covered her entirely. She made sure it was secure, shook her hair and plunged in.
She savoured to the full the water's caress. The others had paused in their games, and were standing up, wet to their hips, laughing and chatting. They were talking about the ship which had come in that morning. It was a Farani* boat, as could be seen from the white streamers hanging from the third mast. The Farani are merrier than any other sort of sailor and although the Missionaries and the chiefs distrust them, they behave like joyful fetii.
In order to see the boat better, the girls dressed again and walked towards the sea, until they reached the coral. The evening was falling. Lights flashed from the black hull, others shone on the bridge. A sound of gaiety and laughter reached out to the shore like a call.
Erena felt how much people were enjoying themselves out there. Of course she wouldn't go to the ship. Aute would weep again and would be so annoyed! He wouldn't beat her, unfortunately, but he would moan for three days and nights in a row. And it is really tiresome to console a weeping tane when one is feeling gay oneself. No, she wouldn't go to the ship; she would row around it slowly to listen to the himene, see the dancing and the rest. She ran to her canoe, pulled it out on the water, feeling inside to take hold of the paddle. A little rain fallen in the bottom wet her fingers, but there was no paddle. Aue! wicked Aute had no doubt hidden it to prevent the forbidden outing!
"Are you coming to the pahi Farani? Are you coming?" cried her three friends. Erena let them see she was upset.
"Eha!" laughed the others, "Your darling Aute is very cunning and very demanding. But, since that boat brought you back Rebeka's old tane... the old tane who is now your father... come on then!"
Erena puckered her mouth sadly, ashamed in front of her friends.
"We don't have canoes, we are going to swim... Are you coming?"
They dived in. Their shoulders slipped together through the calm darkness and their hair made a rippling furrow on the still surface of the water.
"I will not climb up into the boat." Erena repeated to herself. "I will just watch." It was child's play to swim out to the reef without stopping, and the pahi was at anchor only halfway out. With a few strokes, she joined the others and they all went off quickly towards the dazzling ship, with no worry about losing their breath, for the sea supports one better than fresh water. Slender blue and yellow fish with delicate tasting flesh also swim swiftly towards big bamboo fires, until the moment when the man with the harpoon leaning over the front of his canoe, spears them with a blow that punctures and kills them. The girls take the lure and are caught like the curious fish -- this perhaps was what the Farani were thinking, lying in wait in their black rigging.
One of them had noticed the four swimmers, and called out to them in his comic language. Erena let herself be outdistanced. The other three sprang on board dripping wet; the tapa clung to their breasts and knees. There was a burst of joyful noise; everyone made a great fuss of them. But they pulled the water-soaked cloth off their skin in decent manner and arranged the folds very properly. Erena grabbed hold of the ladder to catch her breath and shook herself. The sailors called out for her as well, for in spite of her hair over her eyes and mouth they could make out a pretty girl who wanted to join her friends, but was fearful or not so bold. An agile man came right down to the water beside her and took her hand. She arched over the first step, in order to rearrange her tapa which exposed her shoulder. And as the sailor put his arm around her waist, urging her to climb up and leaned right out towards the water to let her past, she said, quite properly: "No! No! you go first." For it is not good to climb up ahead of a strange man whose gaze slides the length of one's legs. When the sailor was up on deck, she loosened her wet garments as her friends had done, hesitated a little, then sprang onto the deck, holding the folds closed with her legs.
They took her along with them. How full of fun these Farani sailors were! The many women dressed in their festive best, were already laughing without a care, and were beginning to move around the boat. All the games banished from the island took refuge there, freer and more noble than ever. New dances were invented, marked with spontaneous steps and gestures and some were labelled with mocking names. There was the ori-for-dancing "You are ill because you drink ava", and the pehe-for-singing "You are ill because you worked on the day of the Lord." The leader of the group, feigning seriousness, called out these amusing words and they leapt about. This was really not the sort of thing to be said in the Missionaries' hearing. Foreigners, especially priests, do not like listening to mockery. But on board the welcoming ship, the Piritane did not count. The girls, reassured, danced even more, and after each step, invented an even funnier one. They had noticed the Farani men's habit of repeating the word "Oui-oui" all the time, to show their agreement instead of simply raising their brows as people in Tahiti do, which is clearer and not nearly so ridiculous. So as to poke fun at this habit of their hosts, the girls began the "Ori of the oui-oui". The foreigners did not understand it at all.
Although not quite brave enough to ask for it, the women eagerly accepted the drink which elates. It was harsh and burning and the taste was horrid. With eyes wide open and lips pursed together they swallowed with hiccups and coughing and a shudder in their throats. Immediately, happy fumes wafted around in their heads; their gaze wavered in a mist of sparkling lights, twisting masts and rigging. Even the deck of the boat rippled like the swell although the water was peaceful... And it was great fun.
Erena drank hastily. Her lover was a long way off, a very long way off in truth. Was there still a tane for her? A tane Farani or of her own colour? Every one that her legs had enlaced since she was a little, skinny girl, mingled in one image alone, imagined just at the moment of love, and this gave her delicious shivers all over her skin. The face was of no interest to her.
Suddenly she caught sight of her new father and ran over to him, a little fearful. But Terii had already been celebrating with his travelling friends in the hollow of the boat. He did not seem at all annoyed to see her. He even said to Erena, showing her both a passing sailor and an empty bowl: "Ask for some ava Farani for me... they won't give me any more!"
Erena quickly obtained a bowlful and brought it back proudly; in this way she could get into the good graces of her mother's tane. He drank rapidly making a lot of faces. He breathed out, "I am pleased", and held out the bowl a second time. But Erena had disappeared, carried off by the generous sailor.
"Excellent Farani! Excellent fetii!" Terii now proclaimed, and his gratitude overflowed in abundant words. Under the power of the precious drink, words came to him from all the languages heard throughout his adventures. He gave thanks first in Paniola* and in Piritane. There was a lot of laughter. Then he had the idea of relating to the good Farani how strange his arrival had been, the stupid rituals, the sadness and boredom. He pretended to gaze at the little leaves with the speaking-signs in the palm of his hand. He raised his arm like the speaker that morning. The sailors around him shook their bellies with laughter. Excited by their good humour, he sang some himene with a quavery throat, interspersed with insults and mocking remarks. Then he stopped, suddenly worried. For a voice full of anguish, quite close by, was calling from one group to another: "Erena, Erena..."
He saw young Aute, red-eyed in the light and he in turn caught sight of Terii: "Where is Erena?" Naturally, Terii did not point to the hollow of the boat. Without answering and as though urged on by the laughing men, he began to dance again, this time making fun of the bobbing walk of the foreign women and their feeble gestures. Amused cries flew around and mingled with the joy which sounded everywhere: feet thudded on the deck; the masts trembled and the whole ship shuddered, shaken as by laughter. But in the midst of the noise and the boisterous crowd, the young foreigner was still calling for his sweetheart.
She suddenly appeared alone in front of him. A shaft of light fell on the little bare shoulder. Aute stammered quickly: she was there! In spite of him, in spite of her promise. Oh, how unhappy he was! Erena, half-smiling, put her arms around the young man who had somehow arrived and she patiently submitted to the long reproaches that foreigners make. He stepped back. She hoped he would hit her... No. He looked at her seriously, making more useless and tiresome remarks. "You promised me not to come, darling little Erena... Why have you come... How did you come... You are wet... How bad you are... What did you do here? You didn't dance in front of the sailors? These Farani are bad for young girls... Oh! You are soaked!" He clasped her gently seeing her trembling slightly. Through their clothes, made transparent on their skin by the water, they felt their two bodies close together. Erena arched her body to fit his with such suppleness that the cold damp contact of his beloved made him shiver. With his eyes fixed on her, he silently twisted the beautiful damp hair that the sea had filled with sticky spangles.
The girl stayed silent, only slightly reassured. What had her lover guessed? Possibly nothing at all, so why run the risk of telling him... And it was already so distant, glimpsed in such scattered confusion; the bathing, the songs, the sailors, what they wanted, and her father, who was so funny and her tapa in disarray! Above all she was trying to keep her eyelids open as they were so incredibly heavy that night. That was the hardest of all. The boat suddenly seemed to turn upside down. She held tight onto her lover who returned the embrace. Sailors were running around them and the one who, in return for a bowl of drink, had caressed her to his heart's desire, said in passing: "Well, you're a good girl. Will you come back tomorrow?"
Aute started, and wanted to run away and take her with him. But her little face fell forward and her whole body began to waver. As their two mouths touched he smelled the troubled breath; he saw her lips tremble and her pretty black eyes -- which he so tenderly called "lights in the darkness" -- roll up showing the whites. Brutally, he lifted her up, holding her like a corpse. She clung onto the ladder. He pulled her away roughly and laid her in the bottom of the canoe.
Half sitting up, she leaned with her chest on Aute's knee and said in a strangled voice: "My dear darling little tane..." Her breasts heaved and her whole body was shaken with little sobs.
*
The good Farani kept up their great merriment. Terii continued to raise laughs, the women to dance, the couples to embrace. The chants and cries which are food for rejoicing men did not weaken. Suddenly the traveller thought: What had he imagined throughout this day of return? Lost joy? The island changed? Blinking, he gazed long at the festive ship, filled with pleasure. He saw the bay dotted with torches, and all around him women with their clothes thrown off offering themselves, whilst great quantities of food to eat were heaped up on the deck. He murmured: "Was I dreaming? The land of Tahiti has not changed, not changed at all!"
With a sigh of relief, he began to drink, dance and savour the joy of unrestrained pleasure.