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Authors: Célestine Vaite
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on your tongue and you want to eat more even if you’re full.
But when she finally got to the Fijian market after the three near-miss accidents (because, so Tapeta explains, they drive
on the wrong side in Australia), Rose was very disappointed to see a yellow squashy thing that didn’t look like a breadfruit
at all. In her experience as a Tahitian, breadfruit is green and firm, and it’s round like a little soccer ball or a big mango.
It’s not yellow, and it doesn’t have a bizarre shape.
She asked the shopkeeper, “Are you sure this is a breadfruit? It’s such a bizarre shape.” Next thing, the little Fijian man
was yelling at Rose, “Of course this is a breadfruit! Do you think I don’t know what a breadfruit looks like?” In the end,
Rose bought the yellow squashy thing, baked it, ate it, and spat it out. She’s not sure if the weird taste had something to
do with cooking the breadfruit in an electric oven instead of gas, or if that breadfruit was just plain rotten. “What do you
think, Cousin?” Tapeta asks.
“I’m sure that breadfruit was fine, but it wasn’t to Rose’s taste because it wasn’t the same breadfruit she’s eaten all her
life.”
Tapeta nods knowingly. “Our breadfruit is special, eh?”
“
Ah oui,
I think so.”
“You know I’m saving for my daughter and granddaughter’s fares,” Tapeta continues. “Every payday I hide a few coins in a sock
and I hide that sock in a paper bag and then I hide that paper bag in —” Tapeta stops. “This is a secret, okay, Cousin?”
“Of course!”
“I hide that paper bag under the mattress because if my good-for-nothing husband sees the money, it’s for sure he’s going
to drink it.”
“Why don’t you just put the money in a bank account?” Materena seriously suggests.
Tapeta admits that so far she has saved only about two thousand francs and it isn’t much, considering that the plane ticket
costs about three hundred thousand francs. However, it’s a start. “I don’t want my daughter and my granddaughter to be stuck
in Australia because of a money problem,” she says. “If Rose wants to come home, she can. The money is my problem. Rose says
to me, ‘Mamie, I love my husband.’ But Cousin,” Tapeta says, looking very concerned, “love doesn’t last.”
“Hum.”
“Love for a man, I mean,” Tapeta explains.
“I understood you.”
“I call to my daughter every day, and every night.” In her head, Tapeta asserts, not on the telephone. In her head and in
her heart.
“Maybe it’s best you stop calling, Cousin.” This is Materena’s piece of advice for the day. “Her life is in Australia now.
Give Rose the chance to adapt.”
Tapeta sighs, meaning,
Oui,
I know. “But I’m so worried, Cousin. My girl is all on her own there. She has no job, no money, she has nobody to help her
with the baby, nobody to defend her. She’s at her husband’s mercy. He can do whatever he wants to her and she can’t say nothing.”
“Cousin,” Materena says, putting a reassuring hand on Tapeta’s shoulder. “You know your Rose. She’s not the kind to let people
walk all over her. When she doesn’t agree, she opens her mouth.”
“
Eh hia tamari’i
. . .” Tapeta forces laughter. “And how is our Leilani in France?” It is Tapeta’s turn to show some interest.
“
Aue,
same, Cousin. She feels lonely.”
“She doesn’t have any friends?”
“
Oui,
she has, but what she really wants is family.” Materena continues about Leilani growing up complaining that she had too many
aunties, too many spies, too many ears, too many questions, but now Leilani wishes she had a few relatives living around the
corner. Oh, Leilani wouldn’t appreciate them visiting every day, but it would be comforting knowing she had some cousins or
aunties not too far away. She’d like to see Tamatoa more often too, but he’s very busy with his military commitments. Materena
won’t say a
But when she finally got to the Fijian market after the three near-miss accidents (because, so Tapeta explains, they drive
on the wrong side in Australia), Rose was very disappointed to see a yellow squashy thing that didn’t look like a breadfruit
at all. In her experience as a Tahitian, breadfruit is green and firm, and it’s round like a little soccer ball or a big mango.
It’s not yellow, and it doesn’t have a bizarre shape.
She asked the shopkeeper, “Are you sure this is a breadfruit? It’s such a bizarre shape.” Next thing, the little Fijian man
was yelling at Rose, “Of course this is a breadfruit! Do you think I don’t know what a breadfruit looks like?” In the end,
Rose bought the yellow squashy thing, baked it, ate it, and spat it out. She’s not sure if the weird taste had something to
do with cooking the breadfruit in an electric oven instead of gas, or if that breadfruit was just plain rotten. “What do you
think, Cousin?” Tapeta asks.
“I’m sure that breadfruit was fine, but it wasn’t to Rose’s taste because it wasn’t the same breadfruit she’s eaten all her
life.”
Tapeta nods knowingly. “Our breadfruit is special, eh?”
“
Ah oui,
I think so.”
“You know I’m saving for my daughter and granddaughter’s fares,” Tapeta continues. “Every payday I hide a few coins in a sock
and I hide that sock in a paper bag and then I hide that paper bag in —” Tapeta stops. “This is a secret, okay, Cousin?”
“Of course!”
“I hide that paper bag under the mattress because if my good-for-nothing husband sees the money, it’s for sure he’s going
to drink it.”
“Why don’t you just put the money in a bank account?” Materena seriously suggests.
Tapeta admits that so far she has saved only about two thousand francs and it isn’t much, considering that the plane ticket
costs about three hundred thousand francs. However, it’s a start. “I don’t want my daughter and my granddaughter to be stuck
in Australia because of a money problem,” she says. “If Rose wants to come home, she can. The money is my problem. Rose says
to me, ‘Mamie, I love my husband.’ But Cousin,” Tapeta says, looking very concerned, “love doesn’t last.”
“Hum.”
“Love for a man, I mean,” Tapeta explains.
“I understood you.”
“I call to my daughter every day, and every night.” In her head, Tapeta asserts, not on the telephone. In her head and in
her heart.
“Maybe it’s best you stop calling, Cousin.” This is Materena’s piece of advice for the day. “Her life is in Australia now.
Give Rose the chance to adapt.”
Tapeta sighs, meaning,
Oui,
I know. “But I’m so worried, Cousin. My girl is all on her own there. She has no job, no money, she has nobody to help her
with the baby, nobody to defend her. She’s at her husband’s mercy. He can do whatever he wants to her and she can’t say nothing.”
“Cousin,” Materena says, putting a reassuring hand on Tapeta’s shoulder. “You know your Rose. She’s not the kind to let people
walk all over her. When she doesn’t agree, she opens her mouth.”
“
Eh hia tamari’i
. . .” Tapeta forces laughter. “And how is our Leilani in France?” It is Tapeta’s turn to show some interest.
“
Aue,
same, Cousin. She feels lonely.”
“She doesn’t have any friends?”
“
Oui,
she has, but what she really wants is family.” Materena continues about Leilani growing up complaining that she had too many
aunties, too many spies, too many ears, too many questions, but now Leilani wishes she had a few relatives living around the
corner. Oh, Leilani wouldn’t appreciate them visiting every day, but it would be comforting knowing she had some cousins or
aunties not too far away. She’d like to see Tamatoa more often too, but he’s very busy with his military commitments. Materena
won’t say a
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