part 1 of 2.

Howdy All,

The first night we arrived in Taiohae with Bill, in our adventure to find lobster, our assumptive minds were led by the notion of finding clearly defined signs. We never found them. Instead, we were lost on a back driveway in the company of a very large dog and a curious family. When we decided to ask for clarification, a local gentleman refused directions and insisted on offering a ride instead. Weeks later, Laurent continued to be one of the first faces we'd see every morning preparing his fishing boat for another day of hard work. He, like many of those gathered at the wharf in the morning, set a comfortable pace to our days. I had come to realize that though the tents on the wharf have color, it's the characters below them that give those colors their vibrancy.

Kimi is one such person. The exuberant energy of a three year boy brought about our meeting one morning when I paddled to shore. Through a beeming, though shy, smile, the child said hello and asked me if he might be able to stand on the board I brought in. In exchange for teaching him to paddle board, he offered his laughter. Then he commenced to show me the skills of playfully shooting one another with our hands. Kimi, caring for this child, was naturally apprehensive and set to asking a hundred and one questions about who I was and what I was doing there. Of course, it took all but five minutes for him to feel comfortable enough to make fun of me, and I of him. Trying to be serious, it was his truth to be all smiles and sillyness. It set in later when, after raking the beach with him in preparation for a local fundraiser, I asked what the event was for and found it was so he and his friends could travel to Hawaii together for their sixtieth birthdays. He was generous with his time, anxious to share the pride of his family, and enthusiastic of my learning the Marquesan way. He openly shared folklore and history, food and friends and always made me feel like part of his family. French, he said, I could learn anywhere from anyone. Marquesan, on the other hand, I needed to learn right then and there. But the value wasn't really in learning its words, it was understanding that as a language, it's meant to be sung. I never truly succeeded, try as he might, but he certainly made it impossible to forget.

Another of these characters I knew very little but witnessed her quiet energy often. It was always reassuring to find Rose sitting beneath the Tiare (Gardenia) and Ko'ute (Hibiscus) trees, inviting children around her glowing presence like a lighthouse. Rose and I had met in weeks past whilst walking back to the wharf from the other end of town. Though I was enjoying my early morning stroll feeding the local dogs pastry (bad, I know), she insisted on giving me a ride. The way she smiled and sang hello, I thought it disrespectful to have refused. In the seven or so minutes it took to cruise the waterfront, Rose asked for my permission to pray over us -- which she did in repetition until I set foot outside the door. Say what you will of small gestures, Catholicism and the rest, but beyond the value and judgements we place on these things, Rose was brave enough to share her compassion limitlessly and unyeildingly with an absolute stranger. When our paths converged in the morning, even when she sat alone, coffee cup in hand, whatever it was resonating within her I could never doubt.

And those are only two of so very many.

And so, our days were never complete without a visit to Henry's place sucking down pompelmous juice and chatting it up with whomever was around. It was only befitting that Leslie and Zak's introduction to the island took place beneath its shade. We'd just spent the last two days cleaning up our incessant (?) mess
-- stains and scraps from time immemorial. A gift from our friend Alec, a huge chunk of freshly caught tuna, was awaiting them on ice. But with the decks swabbed and window's gleaming, L'Obby was in presentable shape. And so was the town! After three days of festival, Nuku Hiva's dance group saved the best for last and offered a local performance -- just in time for their arrival. It felt better knowing they could witness at least part of why we'd chosen to stick around.

Though the real fun came Christmas eve. Spending the day about town, we learned that Henry's was hosting a holiday party once everyone finished attending Mass. Inspired to take part in the grandness of Marquesan culture, I walked that eve in the direction of echoing hymnals and flower trees adorned with Christmas lights. By the way cars were aligned along the waterside, it appeared the entire town to be inside. When I arrived at the door, service had already begun. Expecting (and hoping!) to enter discreetly in my foreignness, I was instead ushered beyond the entire congregation to the very first pew, smothered in the curious glances of the children I sat amongst. I was told to expect a lot of color inside, though with the exception of floral garlands, everyone was in white -- an even greater surprise. It gave plenty of space for my face, now embarrassingly red, to stand out amongst the rest. Once I got over myself, the remainder of Mass was tremendous -- the beauty of verse sung far into the night. Several soft guitars and a drum helped to serenade the lilting melodic voices of the congregation. Birds flew freely amidst finely carved rafters and open walls, the breeze carried in alongside them.

Although I couldn't inspire the family to go, once I returned home I found out why; they were all on deck sipping celebratory rum with Phil! After hearing of my seat, it was confirmed they'd made the right decision. Heading to shore, several tents covered a dozen tables. A small tree had been placed in the center, tinsel wrapped around the canopy, a buffet of fresh fish, salads, and rice spread down its center. On either end, two opposing musical interests delighted the crowd. On one end, a Russian cruiser, lone with his voice and guitar, and on the other, three young men with ukeleles and the voice of one of their mothers. Eventually, the energy of the ukelele jam inspired all to dance and won over the crowd. Until two in the morning, we celebrated alongside new friends and old, sharing plans with those of the sailing community that were in attendance. A fleet of boats were heading out the next morning and reconvening on another island. For those that stayed, we left saying goodbye under the same awning that brought us together, hoping one day that our paths might cross amidst the great blue again.

TO BE CONTINUED...