Breadfruit (29 page)

But could it be that Leilani… ?

Materena has always hoped that her daughter would become a writer, since she is so good at writing stories, but above all
Materena’s main concern is for Leilani to be happy. To have a nice husband who loves her very much, a husband who says nice
things to her. Well, he doesn’t have to be a husband, as long as he’s a good person and he makes Leilani happy. But if Leilani
wants to be a nun . . .

Materena doesn’t mind it one bit. There are many happy nuns.

And now Materena and Leilani are alone in the bathroom. Leilani is brushing her teeth and Materena is pretending to look for
something in the cupboard under the sink.

“Ah, Leilani, my girl,” Materena says. “Have you thought about what you’d like to do when you grow up?”

But before Leilani has a chance to answer, Materena, her head still in the cupboard under the sink, adds, “It’s just that
I heard on the radio that it’s good for the parents to know what their children want to do. Because maybe the parents can
help.”

Materena stands up and mother and daughter look at each other in the mirror.

“So? Any idea?” Materena is asking lightly so that Leilani won’t think that this is an interrogation.

“I’m not quite sure, Mamie.” Leilani still has toothpaste in her mouth.

“Okay then,” says Materena. Then, in a very serious tone, “But always remember that whatever you want to be is fine with me.”

Leilani nods and smiles.

I
t’s been a while since Materena took the kids to visit their grandmother Mama Roti. She was so busy with the wedding and everything—and
what a waste of time that was! Anyway, today seemed like a good day to visit. Materena didn’t particularly want to, but it’s
one of those things. It’s for the children.

Right now Mama Roti is resting on the
peue
mat outside, complaining about her back to Materena. And all the while Materena is thinking about her escape. Materena has
been at Mama Roti’s house for fifteen minutes and she wants to go home, but Mama Roti has so much complaining to do. She needs
ears.

“
Aue,
my back, eh. I’m not as young as I used to be. My back is going, everything is going,
aue
… Eh, one of you kids! Bring Mama Roti a piece of bread and a banana.” She hurries to add, “A ripe banana, not a green
banana!”

Less than a minute later, Moana brings his grandmother a piece of bread.

“And where’s the banana for Mama Roti?” Mama Roti asks.

The banana for Mama Roti is in the bread.

Mama Roti looks inside the bread and rolls her eyes. “Eh, I asked for a squashed banana inside my piece of bread?”

Moana looks at his feet and shakes his head.

“What did I ask for?”

“A piece of bread and a banana?”

“You coconut head,
va.
” Mama Roti impatiently waves Moana away. Then she throws the piece of bread with the squashed banana to the chickens and
the dog. Materena gives Moana a little caress, and to Mama Roti she gives a cold, angry look. But Mama Roti’s head is already
turned the other way.

Materena is cranky. She gets up. She’s going home.

“You’re leaving already, girl?” Mama Roti asks.

“I just remembered I’ve got a chicken in the oven.”

“Ah, okay, girl.”

Materena kisses Mama Roti very lightly (usually there’s a hug). She calls out to Tamatoa and Leilani that it is time to go
home, and they come rushing, glad to go home. Tamatoa and Leilani don’t really like to be at Mama Roti’s house. There are
too many things they’re not allowed to do.

They’re not allowed to be in the house when Mama Roti is not in the house, because she thinks they’re going to break something
behind her back. Also, Mama Roti prefers the kids to play outside because, in her opinion, kids shouldn’t be in the house
when the sun is shining. She never used to let her kids hang around inside the house when the sun was shining, which is probably
why Pito can spend a whole day on the sofa now when the sun is shining. And the kids are not allowed to run around in the
garden, because Mama Roti thinks they’re going to stomp on her plants. They’re not allowed to play with the ball, because
the ball is bound to break Mama Roti’s louvers.

They’re home now and Materena is still cranky at Mama Roti. Moana is only eight years old, and you don’t talk to your grandson
that way. Still, Materena is trying to excuse Mama Roti. Perhaps her back was hurting, for real. And she’s a bit old.

“Eh, but you don’t call my kids ‘coconut head,’” Materena mutters.

As far as Materena is concerned, she is the only person who can call her kids “coconut head.” That Mama Roti, Materena thinks
as she gets into peeling potatoes, she’s got no manners at all. Right this moment, Materena is glad that her last name isn’t
the same as Mama Roti’s. She’s certain that people who know Roti Tehana think that she’s a rude woman, and Materena certainly
doesn’t want to be associated with her.

The following day, Mama Roti arrives unexpectedly (as she always does) with a banana cake.

“Hello, girl!” she says to Materena. She’s all bubbly.

Materena’s
hello
is bubbly too, but only just. Mama Roti goes on about how all the bananas in the bunch turned ripe on her overnight, so she
decided to bake a banana cake.

“Ah.” Materena doesn’t sound too interested in Mama Roti’s banana cake. She keeps on sweeping the kitchen.

“Will I cut you a slice?” asks Mama Roti.

“Not right now, Mama Roti. A bit later on.”

Materena can’t eat Mama Roti’s banana cake right now. She’s still angry with Mama Roti. When Materena saw her, the words
coconut head
rang in her ears. And Materena doesn’t think that she’s overreacting. Her cousin Giselle, for instance, when Ramona’s
maman
said to her, “What a ridiculous name that name Isidore Louis junior is. It’s so ridiculous it makes me want to laugh,” well,
Giselle threw an ashtray at her.

All Materena is doing to Mama Roti is refusing a slice of her banana cake because she’s angry and because she’s never thrilled
to eat Mama Roti’s cakes. Mama Roti puts too much sugar in her cakes.

Mama Roti sits down and babbles on about the heat, the mosquitoes last night, and the ripe bananas.

“It’s bizarre, eh?” she says. “All my bananas turning ripe during the night?”

“It’s bizarre,” Materena says.

“And where’s the kids?” Mama Roti asks.

“In their bedrooms, I think.”

“With that sun!”

Materena sighs between her teeth.

And Mama Roti calls out, “Eh, you lot, come quick, your Mama Roti baked you a banana cake and the bananas are from the bunch
of Mama Roti!”

But only Moana calls out, “I’m coming!” Usually Materena would be rushing into their bedrooms to order the kids to hurry up
and come eat the cake Mama Roti baked for them. The order would have been discreet, of course, as it’s best that Mama Roti
doesn’t know that her grandkids have to be forced to eat her cakes.

But today Materena is just going to keep on sweeping.

Mama Roti cuts a slice of her banana cake and Moana eats the whole slice.

“Your banana cake, it’s very good, Mama Roti,” he says.

Mama Roti cackles and throws her arms around Moana. She holds him tight and sighs. “Ah, you know how to make your old grandmother
happy, eh.” She kisses Moana’s forehead. “My little duckling, my little chicken, my little treasure.”

Materena goes to Tamatoa’s bedroom. He’s reading an Akim comic in bed. She orders him to go and eat the banana cake his grandmother
baked.

“I don’t like Mama Roti’s cakes.” Tamatoa flicks a page.

Materena clips his ear and mutters, “Get off that bed now and go and eat Mama Roti’s cake, and if you tell her that her cake
isn’t good, you’re going to have to deal with me later on.”

Then Materena goes to Leilani’s bedroom. Leilani is cutting pictures out of the newspaper.

“Girl,” Materena says quietly, “Mama Roti baked you lot a banana cake. Go and eat it.”

“Otherwise?” Leilani looks at her mother.

Materena shows her the palm of her hand, and Leilani puts her scissors away and gets up.

“And don’t tell Mama Roti that her cake isn’t good,” Materena says.

“Okay. I’ll tell Mama Roti that her cake is superb.” Leilani smiles at her mother. The last time Materena ate Mama Roti’s
cake, which was a butter cake, she had to rush to the bathroom and spit the piece of cake out.

Materena cackles, and smiles back at Leilani. “You don’t have to say to Mama Roti that her cake is superb. Just say it’s good.”

T
here’s a school excursion to the
marae
and Tamatoa asks his mother to sign the school note and to give him the money.

“You’re sure you want to go to the
marae?
” Materena isn’t even looking at the school note.

Ah yes, he wants to go, the whole class is going and the teacher said everybody should go, because
marae
are part of our history.

Materena asks for a pen and Tamatoa goes off to find one.

She thinks about the excursion, she’s uneasy. Tamatoa likes to fool around too much. At Mass, he’s always coming up with some
plan to disturb his brother and sister, and everyone sitting nearby—instead of sleeping quietly, like Leilani and Moana do.
He pinches, he kicks, he whispers jokes, he makes fun of the priest. Sometimes he’s so bad Materena ends up sending him outside.
Most of the time, though, she just whacks him on the head or flicks his ears or threatens to make him sit next to her auntie
Celia if he doesn’t behave.

How is Tamatoa going to act at the
marae?

Tamatoa comes back with the pen, but Materena isn’t ready to sign the note yet.

“You know the
marae
is a sacred place?” she asks.

Ah yes, of course he knows. They studied
marae
in class and there’s a whole page about
marae
in his schoolbook—he’s going to read it tonight. Materena asks to see that page. Tamatoa drags himself to his schoolbag and
drags himself back to the kitchen with the book. Materena commands Tamatoa to read her the page, and he falls on the chair
beside her and sighs.

“‘
Marae
are sacred sites, and there are six types of
marae,
’” he begins.

Then Tamatoa looks at his mother.

“Don’t look at me,” Materena says, “look at your schoolbook.”

“‘The first type is the
marae
built in Opoa and dedicated to the god of war,’” Tamatoa continues. “‘It is an international
marae,
as chiefs from many archipelagoes were linked to that
marae.
The second type is the national
marae,
with a high priest associated with a prince—human sacrifices could be done on a national
marae.
Then there are the local
marae,
for villages run by a chief with a high priest. No human sacrifices could be done on that kind of
marae.
Then we have the ancestral
marae,
built on the land of each family; the social
marae,
dedicated to the gods of great importance; and, finally, the
marae
dedicated to specialists such as doctors, canoe builders, and fishermen.’”

There’s more to read, but first Tamatoa wants to make sure that his mother wants to hear more about
marae.

Materena gives Tamatoa her most serious look. “Of course I want to hear more. But first I want to know, what kind of
marae
is the
marae
Arahurahu?”

“What’s the
marae
Arahurahu?” Tamatoa shrugs like he couldn’t care less what kind of
marae
the
marae
Arahurahu is.

“It’s the
marae
you’re going to visit!”

“Ah.”

Well, Tamatoa doesn’t know what kind it is—it could be a local
marae.

He continues his monotonous reading. “‘Here follows a list of ceremonies that would take place on the
marae:
The beginning and the end of a war. The king’s recognition of the power of the gods. The maturation of the year. The reparation
of the sins committed by the priests—such as violating their sainthood by doing domestic work, making mistakes during rituals,
demonstrating gluttony as they ate the head of a turtle. These offenses committed by the priests could bring bad luck on the
priest himself, the population, and the island. Therefore the guilty had to recognize his fault and be punished by being reduced
to common social status. There was a ceremony at the
marae
for every single important event linked to the royal family: birth, illness, and death.’”

Tamatoa snaps his schoolbook shut. “That’s it,” he says.

Materena decides to add a bit of information.

“Open your ears.” Again, she gives Tamatoa her most serious look. “Even if the
marae
isn’t used nowadays, the spirits who guard the
marae,
they’re still in action. They circle the
marae
and make sure all the people that visit the
marae
show respect. The spirits’ eyes are wide open and their ears too are wide open. Beware of upsetting these spirits, because
there’s always payment.”

Materena tells Tamatoa about a man who pissed on the
marae.
Two weeks later he died in agony, his penis swollen with pus. (Her cousin Mori told her this story.)

Tamatoa widens his eyes.

Materena tells him about the kid who spat on a
marae.
Barely two minutes after the spitting, the kid suffered a convulsion, with white foam and spit dribbling out of his mouth.
He died on arrival at the hospital, suffocated by his tongue. (Her cousin Mori also told her this story.)

Tamatoa widens his eyes even bigger.

Materena tells him that under no circumstances should he take anything from the
marae.

She tells him there was this tourist, and he took a stone from a
marae.
He wanted to show it off to his family back in his country. That night, he was woken up by a horrible nightmare in which
he saw himself plunge to his death from a cliff. A voice commanded the tourist to take the stone where it belonged.
Take the stone back where it belongs, take the stone back where it belongs,
it said. The tourist ran all the way to the
marae
that same night, and the following day he caught the plane back to his country. (This story is common knowledge.)