The Birthmark (4 page)

Anbwido District
12 September 1942

Tepu had only enough time to snatch a cooking pot and a knife before the marines entered his home. He fled into the forest behind his younger brother, Tarema, who was pulling their mother along behind him. She objected to leaving the house and wailed in fear. Tepu caught up with them and tried to silence her.

‘They'll hear you and know exactly where we are,' he hissed. But the marines had given up the chase. Their shouts and laughter rang through the forest and it made Tepu seethe.

‘We'll make for Yamek,' he said, knowing that some families had fled to the weather coast of the island already. It was an inhospitable place to the northeast of Tevua where the wind howled, the soil was poor and the water brackish, but its rocky outcrops and pinnacles offered some protection from the invaders. Also it was still within an hour's walk of Baringa Bay and the leper camp, and Tepu didn't want to be separated from Edouwe and her grandparents.

Once they reached Yamek they set up camp amongst the coral pinnacles, using them as corner posts for their new home: a crude lean-to. Over the next few days Tepu used his knife to cut coconut leaves for a makeshift roof. Tarema searched the forest's edge for firewood, and their mother gathered what seedpods and crabs she could find from the mangroves that grew in the salty ponds. Their nights were spent in quiet conversation, each of them consumed by fear and uncertainty.

‘We'll go back and get some of our things, Mother,' Tepu said. It upset him to see her so withdrawn and dejected.

‘You must be careful. They will eat you up if they catch you. They'll eat the whole island soon enough and dance on our withered souls.'

Tepu reassured her and he and Tarema set out the next morning at dawn. Once on the outskirts of Anbwido they crept back to the house. Tepu was shocked by what he saw—half the building was missing, the timber had been stripped away and only a small section of the frame remained. The roof had sagged to the ground. All their possessions were gone: no mats, no clothes, no kitchenware. Everything taken.

Tarema shook in an effort to suppress his tears, but Tepu stood tall and proud and would not cry even though the injustice made his throat prickle. He walked to the corner where his belongings had been. Only the smooth black stone lay in the sand, overlooked by the marines. Tepu knelt to pick it up and turned it over in his hands. He felt a surge of warmth, as if the stone had come alive all of a sudden.

He remembered the night his grandfather had given him the stone. The old man smelled strongly of coconut oil and sweat. His silver hair contrasted sharply against the red-brown skin of his face. ‘This is the black stone of our ancestors, the black terns of the sea,' he said. ‘A shaman has the stone to make himself strong and to use the ancestors' magic.'

Tepu was awestruck at the thought. He knew shamans were powerful and spoke to the spirit world. Each knew the laws and myths of their islands and the power of the gods.

‘To be a shaman, when you reach manhood you must pass tests of strength and endurance,' he said. ‘I am too old to come with you and guide you, Tepu. Keep this stone safe. It shall be a channel for my knowledge.'

But for many years the stone had lain neglected by Tepu in favour of fishing and exploring. Right now, however, amidst this devastation, its hidden magic called to him. If only he knew how to harness the power of his ancestors. I will discover it, he vowed to himself. I will learn this stone's magic and wield it against our enemies.

Deboa Hotel Casino
Anbwido
Friday 25 June 2004

Lorelei Fasitisat in the gaming room of the casino, her eyes reflecting the coloured lights of the screen in front of her. She chose her cards, a pair of kings, and pressed ‘DEAL'. The digital cards flashed before her. No luck. The kings blinked back at her and she pressed ‘DEAL' again.

‘You winning anything yet?'

She didn't look up from the screen. She knew it was Daphne. ‘No, nothing, bad luck day.'

‘I got 200 dollars on this machine last week. Got a royal flush.'

Lorelei turned to look at her. Daphne was the child of a mixed marriage and Lorelei envied her almond eyes, as well as her ability to make light of everything. She'd always been like that, even when they were friends at school. Those easy days had gone, but their friendship had remained steady. ‘Only 200? You should have bet more money.'

‘I know, I'm gutless,' Daphne said, laughing.

‘Finished all your money?' Lorelei asked her friend.

‘Yeah, I've had enough. Besides, Olaf will kill me if I stay here all day. We're going out tonight.'

Lorelei smirked. Lucky bitch, she thought. Daphne's marriage still had some energy to it. She couldn't remember the last time she and Amos went out together peacefully. They couldn't play that game anymore. The sharp remarks they threw at one another had severed any affection they once had. The faithful husband—whatever happened to that concept? Daphne must have noticed the wistful look on Lorelei's face.

‘You ought to check out if there's anyone in the bar,' Daphne said, lighting a cigarette. ‘Never know, might find yourself a good one.'

‘
Suh!
' she scoffed, eyeing Daphne with a straight face. Her upper lip curled. ‘I'm not that kind of girl.'

Daphne slapped her on the back and the two of them burst into a fit of laughter.

‘Eh, don't look now, girl. Here comes a good one. I've always liked a man in uniform, myself.'

Lorelei turned to follow Daphne's glance. Two police officers were approaching. Lorelei recognised them at once. The shorter man was her husband's old friend, Martin; his taller partner was the island's champion dart thrower.

‘How's the winnings, Lorelei? Have you won enough to buy us a drink?' Martin joked. The two of them sat alongside her. Lorelei and Daphne exchanged bemused glances.

‘I'll get some drinks,' Daphne said, and she waddled off to the bar.

‘Cola, please, we're on duty!'

Lorelei continued with her game, trying her best to appear sober. Her eyesight swam a little each time the cards flashed on the screen. Pissed already and it was only early afternoon. God, what am I doing, she thought, just topping up after last night's binge? And what do these guys want, embarrassing me by sitting here?

‘Saw your girl Lily today,' Martin said quietly.

‘Yeah, so what?'

‘She's been hanging round Government Settlement— in with bad company.'

Lorelei narrowed her eyes but continued to look at the screen. ‘Who?'

‘Hector Anisi.'

‘That skinny kid with the busted face?'

Martin laughed. ‘Yeah, that's him. They didn't pay for their meal at Lotus Restaurant either.'

‘So what? Heaps of people rip off the Chinese if they can.'

Martin looked apologetic. He was not keen on enforcing the law. ‘Well, I think she needs a warning.'

‘OK. What about Hector?'

‘We'll catch him one day,' Martin said with forced assurance.

Lorelei knew what that meant. They'd never bother to catch him, nor tell his family to issue a warning. Still it was understandable. There was only the grandfather with him: a strange old man who seldom spoke to anyone and spent days at a time wandering through the forest mumbling and shouting. No wonder the child was a delinquent. No one to keep him under control.

Daphne returned with the drinks and the conversation reverted to trivial things. After ten minutes of jokes and chatting, the policemen excused themselves.

‘What was that all about?' Daphne said.

‘Lil,' Lorelei sighed and turned to her friend. ‘Give me a cigarette.'

‘Sure, is she OK?'

Lorelei nodded, took a cigarette and leant towards the flame Daphne offered. She pulled on the cigarette heavily until it lit, then turned her attention back to the gaming machine. ‘She's becoming a
trut
lately,' Lorelei mumbled.

‘What's she done?'

Lorelei repeated Martin's story.

Daphne shook her head. ‘That Hector kid is bad news; so is the grandfather, Riki. I heard he didn't even talk to his wife when she was alive. Crazy old bastard. But he can talk though. He'll tell you to bugger off if you get in his way.'

‘The stupid
trut
, why doesn't she stay at home?' Lorelei spat. She stared blankly at her friend, but her breath came in small snorts of anger.

‘What are you going to do? You look like you're going to kill her,' Daphne said.

‘I'm just worried about her, that's all. She's getting so rebellious. She's been skipping school a lot too. Now it's the holidays, I can't keep her at home. I thought maybe she'd be easier to deal with than her brothers.'

‘Well she
is
sixteen, isn't she?'

‘Nearly.'

‘I thought she hung around with your niece, Decima.' ‘She normally does, but now Eide's diabetes is so bad, Decima's spending a lot of time nursing her. They're at the hospital a lot.'

‘It's no good your sister's so sick,' Daphne mumbled. ‘What's the latest news?'

‘They've sent her home again, but she goes back for dialysis every few days. I cook some meals for the kids, but the older ones can take care of themselves. We're doing what we can,' Lorelei said, trying to hide her concern.

‘I suppose Lily feels left out,' Daphne said.

‘No, it started before Eide's sickness got worse.'

‘Don't worry. All teenagers are crazy. Just look at my kids.'

Lorelei smirked. Daphne's kids didn't seem bad. In fact they were just the opposite. She hardly ever saw Daphne's five kids roaming the streets at night. But then they lived at Praru, over the other side of the island. And their Samoan grandmother probably kept them at home with the threat of a big stick.

Still, she reasoned, what she saw in Anbwido every night was true of most of the island: groups of teenagers and kids as young as eight, gathered outside Chinese restaurants, nightclubs and the pool halls—little gangs with foul mouths, riding on bicycles, searching for mischief and something to steal.

She sucked hard on her cigarette and the curtain of smoke stung her eyes. ‘I don't know, Daph, it's just that lately…I can't seem to connect with her. She won't do anything I tell her anymore. It shits me so much.'

Daphne raised her eyebrows in agreement.

Lorelei thought back to her youth, when she was too frightened to step out of line for fear of a beating. Something had been lost. The kids weren't scared anymore, not the way she'd once been.

Her friend laughed. ‘I know, my girls are the same. All you can do is lock them up and keep watching them, otherwise they'll be pregnant before you know it.'

‘She's been so good at home for so long. Now though, she seems to want to run off all the time. I do everything I can to look after her, you know…'

‘Well they're like that, aren't they?'

‘She's got a room of her own and we've always been there for her and the boys, you know, a happy family.' Lorelei stopped suddenly, realising the lie she'd just uttered. ‘If you could call it that,' she added in a whisper. Who was she fooling? She was telling Daphne all this just to make herself look better in Daphne's eyes. She hadn't really been there for the family the last few years. She'd spent too much time at bingo or the casino, too much time so pissed she could hardly stand up. She knew it but she couldn't say it, not to her friends and not even to herself. It was a failing that she kept denying. She hated herself for feeling so weak.

Lorelei truly loved her kids, all three of them: Rongo, Lily and Cyrus. Even though Lil had been the toughest one of all to love. She had tried her best to accept Lily, and most of the time she could ignore the bad memories. When she remembered the good times with her daughter she smiled to herself.

Lil had been an inquisitive little girl sitting on her lap, with huge brown eyes in a round face. So much had changed in just ten years.

‘Why do they hate us so much, Daph, after all we do for them?'

Daphne stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I don't know, I just don't,' she sighed and looked at her friend. ‘But you can't hate them.'

Lorelei's top lip curled into a sneer. ‘I'll have to go and teach her a lesson.'

four

Mawendo District
20 October 1942

By noon the Japanese had rounded up all able-bodied men and youths and told them, at gunpoint, that they had to work. An officer stood before them, sweating in his trim buttoned coat and gleaming black boots. He smiled with poorly disguised contempt at the assembled group of men. Through the aid of an interpreter who used halting broken English, he reassured them that in return for their labour they would be given weekly food rations. They would work for the glory of the Emperor, for Japan's victory in the Pacific. Tepu knew then that the Japanese were planning to stay on Tevua for a long time.