Luana and the temples of the Golden Lizard......

On one of my earlier trip to Tahiti, I was asked by my friend Martin to help out with a "learning" situation, and as such, learned some things myself. Martin was a young British fellow working at my friends hotel---as, basically, the hotel screw-up. He really did not have any hotel training but did have some general knowledge of mechanical things and, in a land where 2 or 3 other languages were spoken, he had one thing really going for him---he spoke "The Queen's" English. THAT put him in a position to work with the Tahitian employees on those assorted mechanical repairs AND act as a teacher and translator at the same time. Like many a British subject, he had learned French in school. That meant that he could speak with the Tahitian workers (also having learned French in school as the primary language---"French" Polynesia being what it was, a French "Protectorate") AND relay information to the owners concerning all things falling apart at the hotel. This did happen. The humidity and heat of the tropics wears out all forms of engines faster, simply, than you want it to. Lawnmowers, clothes washers, generators, out-board motors---everything! And though Martin, as mentioned, had "some" mechanical capabilities, he was in no way a "mechanic." Hence---the "hotel screw-up" part of all of this. Though he could repair, with the advise and help of the Tahitian workers, different engines and motors, they DID seem to break again and again faster AFTER he had laid his hands on them. Anyway, I had met him and become friends because of my being one of the few "popoa" (white men) at the hotel who was NOT pissed off at him most of the time. It was Martin that asked if I could help him out with a situation at home. He was married to a lovely half Hawaiian/half Tahitian girl named Luana. Luana and I had talked and joked when she came to the hotel to deliver lunch to Martin or bring their little girl Gwendolyne to the hotel pool to play. Luana spoke very good English (with that lilting French accent that is so endearing) and could even understand a joke or two. This, I found to be a key ingredient of making conversation in ANY foreign language. All of the "what about this" and "what about that" and greetings and whatever are standard tourist language understanding. But try a little "word play" or teasing or joking---and they look at you with that blank "huh?" look. Knowing I was paying for my room at the hotel at that time, (though at a discounted "friends of the family" rate) Martin asked if I would be willing to stay at his little bungalow in Pao Pao (a little village in Cook's Bay---one of two bay that make up the islands unique letter "E" shape)and help Luana with HER language capabilities, keep her company and help watch Gwendolyne. Luana was a swimmer. LOVED to swim for long lengths of time in the lagoon, but could not do this with little 3 year old Gwendolyne needing to be watched. Also, Martin felt it would help Luana and future employment possibilities for her if she spoke English WITHOUT his distinct Cockney accent. (this was actually a good idea. There were times when I could not understand what he was saying!!) All he could offer was a mat on the floor but we would share meals and I could shower and have a home base. Of course, I agreed. Luana was shy, as Tahitian women can be, but not afraid---simply shy-----and in a very sweet, interested but hesitant kind of way. She was in top shape and I was informed that she had been a competitive swimmer---hence the desire to continue. Gwendolyne was a real treat. Very funny and playful. All she needed were some shells or crabs to chase on the beach while Mom went swimming, and she was thrilled. She took it upon herself to find me endless bits of ocean treasure and bring them to me to inspect. The "house" in Pao Pao was a---unique?---experience. It was basically a cinderblock rectangle with a woven pandanus/thatch roof. One bedroom with a front "family" room (where I slept) and a small kitchen space at one end of that main room. A bathroom and shower and a small side room for Gwendolyne, and that was it. Gas stove and no refrigerator. All food was kept in a wooden, screened, cabinet on the wall. I learned the "Island" way of getting food for each day. A fresh baguette of bread, vegetables from the "chinoise" (as all grocery stores were called, mainly because of their owners-- "The Chinese."), fresh fruit gathered and fish caught or traded for. In those days (1978?) there was no electricity---except from a community (or family compound) generator. These were huge, noisy, smelly things that were usually run for only a few hours in the evening---maybe 5 to 7pm. After that, it was storm lanterns (known as "muri tupapao"---"ghost lights"----lit and burned all night to keep the evil spirits away. This was serious stuff!!) or candles. Also, this little "Fare" or house was back in the jungle of Cook's Bay a bit. Which meant limited breeze----AND plenty of tropical insects. I slept on a mat on the floor and a few times felt something run along my arm or leg. One time, I felt a "scitter" up my arm and reaching for my flashlight, shown it at a baseball sized cane spider just out of my reach---looking at me like "What??" I also had an 8" long centipede run across my leg one night---which had me jumping straight up in the air from a lying position. He slithered into the cluster of my t-shirt---which I wadded up and threw outside and noted to myself to check in the morning to see if he had taken up permanent residence. Island life. The benefits were a roof over my head when it rained. And it DID rain! Tropical pour downs of amazing strength. I also had a place to sit and read and I spent my time talking to Luana---about everything. I had endless questions about island life and she wanted to know about America and music. I would play her songs on my guitar and, looking up, find her sitting there in the lantern light with her eyes closed rocking back and forth. She also loved to have me comb her long black hair. To ALL Polynesian women, HAIR is their power---a sign of beauty and femininity. Luana had long jet black, thick hair, down to her waist. She would come out of the lagoon after swimming with this long curtain of hair flowing out behind her. At night, after Gwendolyne was asleep and, on those ,nights when Martin worked late, she would shower and then come out wrapped in a pareo and sit with her back to me on a chair, and have me comb her hair dry. About half way dry, I would put some coconut oil on my hands and run them through---then comb that slowly down to the ends. She would talk dreamily to me---about her ancestors---and the island spirits----and the marae (or temples) up in the valley, that her Grandfather tended. In the lantern light, with her talking softer and softer---in her slight French accent---and after a while, with her eyes closed----it was magical. It struck me one night that it could have been any time, any century. Most Tahitians did not go by calender or watch. Back then, they got up with the sunrise, ate when they were hungry, got home before dark and slept when they had eaten and the electricity was no longer available. I was lost in time. I could have been one of the infamous crew of the Bounty----mesmerized and beguiled by these women so different and free from what they, as Europeans of that time, were used to. She would finally stop---we would sit there in silence--and she would say, "maururu, Toma, nana" (thank you, good night) and shuffle off to bed while I sat there in the most wonderful glow. After a week or two of staying there and talking with Luana and helping out, I stepped outside one day and there was a dark brown, tall wirey looking Tahitian man with a straw hat on his head. Luana said, "Toma---this is my grandfather. He wonders if you will help him with the temples today? He is the caretaker and I told him you were true." I told her I would be glad to--and off he started walking---heading straight into the jungle thicket behind the houses there. I didn't realize that it was an immediate thing, so quickly put on my running shoes and grabbed my small backpack and ran after him. He didn't say much but smiled at me and pointed out a few fruit trees and showed me where we took a trail to the left or right and made sure I saw the very slight path he was following. We hiked up through the jungle for quite some time, and coming around a large (what looked like) banyan tree, there stood a large raised "marae." These are raised platforms of rounded lava rocks. Usually 4 or 5 rows of these "cannonball" looking stones were stacked perfectly ----sometimes with a raised slight "wall." Stepping through the open entry space onto the raised "bed" of the platform, introduced you to a long open air "hall" or ceremonial stone field. There were long "plynth" type flat stones set end down into the "floor" in different areas in what appeared to be "sitting" arrangements--all facing the front of the platform. There, at the front, was a long table like large stone---usually placed on top of end braces or sometimes on a further raised stack of stones. This was, quite obviously, an altar. Though there were no walls or roof, it was easily imagined that bamboo poles could be stuck down into the rocks and walls erected and a roof placed over that. BUT--the overall effect of the existing marae was of just what it had been---and open air temple. This first one he showed me was huge. I would guess 60ft by 100ft. There was a much smaller one off to the side a short way in the jungle that was much smaller---20 by 30. I had seen these before. In fact, there was one near the road leading up to the lookout between the two bays there on Moorea ---"Belvedere"-----with a magnificent view--but THAT marae was very much cleaned and prepped for the tourists to see with marked paths,etc. It looked very generic. But these Luana's Grandfather was showing me were far more impressive and, for lack of a better word, powerful. You could feel it. And these were not just "meeting" or gathering places---this was heavy stuff. Private ritual "marae." One had a petroglyph barely visible on the back of one of the stones--- a large "Mo'o" lizard. It was then that I remembered something Luana had mentioned in one of our talks----the island of Moorea----was, the island of the "mo'o" (gecko) "rea" (yellow/golden light) Quite literally------the Island of the Golden Lizard..... We cleaned weeds and vines from around the tables and tablets. Brushed off leaves and I helped clean off some large fallen tree limbs. He had gathered some coconuts along the way and a mango or two. He peeled the husk off of the green coconuts and cracked the shells perfectly in two on the rocks. We poured some of the coconut water on the 4 corners of the temples. Arranged a small packet of fruit wrapped in leaves gathered from the nearby trees and placed this in a small flat slot under the altar top in the back and we made our way back down to Pao Pao. I helped him a few times more---and then was told that I should walk with him on the full moon night up to the big temple. With, at first, a flashlight, and then a torch that he pulled from behind a tree half way up, we made our way up to the top. When we got there, he stumped out the torch and motioned for me to sit with our backs against one of the sitting stone plynths. We did this--and waited. It was then that I realized that we were facing Mouaputa---"Shark's Tooth Mountain"---- which has a saddle shaped top from that angle and is known for it's unique feature---there is a natural tunnel or hole through the top, just below the summit. I sat there and watched the full moon come climbing up behind the mountain and realized why we were there on that night at that time------the moon shown through the hole on it's climb up and then become "cradled" in the saddle at the peak! The moonlight beamed down directly on this one temple and where we were sitting...... We sat and waited for the moon to rise above the top of the peak and light our way back.....and then, without a word, he led me back to Pao Pao. I was no longer a "tourist."