approached the altar and abased himself before it. He ought to make a fire and burn some of the areca nuts, so that the scented smoke would attract the spirits, but he did not have time. Reaching up, he scattered the yellow husks of the nuts on top of the flintstone. The shell of a ripe areca nut was so hard as to be almost impenetrable, reflecting the inviolate manner of their faith and the supremacy of the gods. As he did so, he chanted the names of the first
aofias
of Lau: Maruka, Vuvura, Fili’ei, Solubosi and Lauvanua.
‘He is eating the ghost,’ murmured Zoloveke to the others, proud of his knowledge of ancestor worship. ‘The
aofia
is sacrificing to the spirits on our behalf. He is putting himself at risk for us.’
Sweat started pouring down Kella’s face from the mental and physical exertion of his incantations. The kwisi bird had warned the Malaitans not to go into the deep bush. That meant that the war gods who protected these Lau people farfrom home were angry and must be appeased by the wholehearted intervention of a high priest.
‘
Ma ni kobu’ana hato
,’ he cried, begging the gods to accept the areca nuts.
He depicted himself as being unworthy to enter the temple despite his high standing on earth:
‘Toto taa’I nau.
’ He praised the war gods:
‘Ramo oliolita.
’ He thanked them for guarding the Malaitans on the island by sending the kwisi bird to warn the working party that morning:
‘Ramo vei ngwane na.
’ He begged them to send a sign that it was now safe for the labourers to resume work:
‘File bare ngwane I Afeafea.
’ Finally he prayed for the future of the temple, that it might stand as a monument to the war spirits for many years:
‘Agalo I mae.
’
When he had finished, Kella stood up. Briefly he clutched at a tree for support, and then, when the dizziness had worn off, he walked back to the waiting Malaitans.
‘What happens now?’ asked one of the younger ones.
‘We wait for a sign,’ said Zoloveke curtly. ‘Don’t you know anything?’
The small group stood in the silent, gloomy clearing for a quarter of an hour. Kella was aware of the suspicious glances being directed at him by the labourers.
‘We should walk back to the beach,’ he said finally. ‘This may not be the appointed place.’
Dubiously the men struggled in single file back through the trees. Kella wondered if something would happen. The spirits had never denied him before, but this might be his time to be rejected cruelly and shown that he was always in the hands of the higher powers.
They had been walking for about five minutes when the bird appeared. It swooped through the trees in silence, grey and plump, its wings flapping joyfully. Not until it was only a few yards in front of them did it utter a sound. Then, soaring just over their heads, it started chattering vigorously in an ecstaticconcatenation of sound. It held its unwavering, fearless course until it had passed every man in the line, and then veered abruptly to one side and was lost to view among the trees.
Zoloveke turned to face the other labourers, his face lit up. ‘The war gods are happy again!’ he declared loudly. He signalled to two of the younger Malaitans. ‘Run back to the camp,’ he said. ‘Tell everyone that the
aofia
’s prayers have pleased the spirits. They can enter the bush without fear again.’ He turned to Kella. ‘It is true what they say,’ he said. ‘You are the only Lau man carrying the secrets of the spirits who has come out into the real world.’
The young men sprinted away, carrying their news. With a fresh respect in his attitude, Zoloveke gestured to Kella to come to the head of the line and lead the party back in triumph to the beach.
By the time they reached the shore, the camp had already sprung back to life. Labourers were hurrying up the track through the mangroves carrying cross-cut saws on their shoulders through the initial swamp forest and then on to the higher land where the trees more
aofias
of Lau: Maruka, Vuvura, Fili’ei, Solubosi and Lauvanua.
‘He is eating the ghost,’ murmured Zoloveke to the others, proud of his knowledge of ancestor worship. ‘The
aofia
is sacrificing to the spirits on our behalf. He is putting himself at risk for us.’
Sweat started pouring down Kella’s face from the mental and physical exertion of his incantations. The kwisi bird had warned the Malaitans not to go into the deep bush. That meant that the war gods who protected these Lau people farfrom home were angry and must be appeased by the wholehearted intervention of a high priest.
‘
Ma ni kobu’ana hato
,’ he cried, begging the gods to accept the areca nuts.
He depicted himself as being unworthy to enter the temple despite his high standing on earth:
‘Toto taa’I nau.
’ He praised the war gods:
‘Ramo oliolita.
’ He thanked them for guarding the Malaitans on the island by sending the kwisi bird to warn the working party that morning:
‘Ramo vei ngwane na.
’ He begged them to send a sign that it was now safe for the labourers to resume work:
‘File bare ngwane I Afeafea.
’ Finally he prayed for the future of the temple, that it might stand as a monument to the war spirits for many years:
‘Agalo I mae.
’
When he had finished, Kella stood up. Briefly he clutched at a tree for support, and then, when the dizziness had worn off, he walked back to the waiting Malaitans.
‘What happens now?’ asked one of the younger ones.
‘We wait for a sign,’ said Zoloveke curtly. ‘Don’t you know anything?’
The small group stood in the silent, gloomy clearing for a quarter of an hour. Kella was aware of the suspicious glances being directed at him by the labourers.
‘We should walk back to the beach,’ he said finally. ‘This may not be the appointed place.’
Dubiously the men struggled in single file back through the trees. Kella wondered if something would happen. The spirits had never denied him before, but this might be his time to be rejected cruelly and shown that he was always in the hands of the higher powers.
They had been walking for about five minutes when the bird appeared. It swooped through the trees in silence, grey and plump, its wings flapping joyfully. Not until it was only a few yards in front of them did it utter a sound. Then, soaring just over their heads, it started chattering vigorously in an ecstaticconcatenation of sound. It held its unwavering, fearless course until it had passed every man in the line, and then veered abruptly to one side and was lost to view among the trees.
Zoloveke turned to face the other labourers, his face lit up. ‘The war gods are happy again!’ he declared loudly. He signalled to two of the younger Malaitans. ‘Run back to the camp,’ he said. ‘Tell everyone that the
aofia
’s prayers have pleased the spirits. They can enter the bush without fear again.’ He turned to Kella. ‘It is true what they say,’ he said. ‘You are the only Lau man carrying the secrets of the spirits who has come out into the real world.’
The young men sprinted away, carrying their news. With a fresh respect in his attitude, Zoloveke gestured to Kella to come to the head of the line and lead the party back in triumph to the beach.
By the time they reached the shore, the camp had already sprung back to life. Labourers were hurrying up the track through the mangroves carrying cross-cut saws on their shoulders through the initial swamp forest and then on to the higher land where the trees more
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