Pokara tells me how the first Idol came to be
Worshipped.
WHEN I opened my eyes, the morning parrots were wheeling away in
screaming droves over the slopes. Pokara was already awake and busy
cooking yams for our breakfast on a little fire in the open.
“Good-morning, O mighty Pokara!”
Pokara, who loved to be addressed thus, saluted me in his fascinating
theatrical style.
“Did we travel together under the _moani ali_ (sea) last night, and
watch a beautiful goddess walk the midnight skies with stars shining in
her hair, comrade?” said I, as a bird flew out of the sunrise, pouring
forth passionate melody in its rapture of the awakening day over our
wide bedroom floor and the sculptural beauty of our vast, columned
portico—the mountain gaps high over the forest slopes. For answer Pokara
said:
“You taster nicer this, O Music Man of long fiddle-stick!”
It was good! Pokara was an estimable cook, as well as being a good
companion. I was a connoisseur in the derelict companion line. I had
travelled across the bushlands, isles, and seas with melancholy old men
who mumbled in their beards; jolly old men with big red noses; soppy,
anæmic-faced youths; lean, cynical men; scraggy, long-necked
Don-Quixote-like beings; religious maniacs; atheists with sad eyes;
glorious old liars crammed full of romantic notions; Homeric men who
would have been knighted by kings and loved by princesses in another
age, but alas! hanged in this new age where they slept with one eye ever
open. I had even met derelict white women on my travels—some in rags,
delicate lyrics of sorrow that only God knew the truth about; others,
women who wore virgin moustaches and swore so vilely that the pretty
brown maid from Malaboo hung her modest head as she ran off into the
forest to hide for shame that a woman should swear so! And,
notwithstanding this motley collection who had accompanied me on my
travels, Pokara was no mean second to the best of them!
I recall that we were both tired out when we camped by the sea that day
before travelling on in the cool of evening. For we were within sound of
the native villages and the outskirts of Papeete. Pokara made a hasty
meal of cooked fish from the lagoons. As we sat there, the ocean
resembled some mighty glass mirror, so calm was the evening. But at
times the water bubbled, was slightly fretted into feathery foams, as
though something moved beneath the surface.
“You see that on water out there,” said Pokara, pointing to the
movement.
“Yes, I do,” said I, wondering what on earth Pokara could make out of
such an ordinary movement of the ocean.
“You know, Papalagi, that mighty gods walk ’bout under sea?”
“Well, yes, I’ve heard so,” I said.
Then he continued:
“Big god walk under sea. He got big shoulders, wide as mountains, and in
his large head of wonderful hair he stick white feathers. And, as big
god Atua Mara move along ocean floor, feathers in his hair stick out top
roof of the sea, for he always walk about when _matagi_ (storm) going to
blow.”
Saying this, Pokara became excited, and, true enough, at the spot where
he pointed, the water on the glassy surface trembled, up poked a
feather, as though some mighty god really strode beneath the sea. Pokara
continued:
“Atua Mara is great shark-god now; but he once live on land, like me,
like you. He once sit under trees and sang music to the great god of
Light. He only one on world. No other mans, no womans, he quite ’lone,
all-e-samee, he ’appy god. Sometimes he see other gods in sky when no
clouds hide them. Once when win’ blow, he looker up in sky and saw great
god Papo walking ’cross sky, searching ’mong his bright moons and stars,
for he wanter find gods who had disobey him! Suddenly his angry eyes did
flash out the lightnings; his voice rumbled the great thunders in
mountains, for he did find Taroa, the god of Jealousy, hiding behind
cloud!
“Papo, the Master-of-all-gods, hold ’im tight, and struggle longer time
with Taroa. But all-e-samee it was no good. Papo throw big worlds at
Taroa and lift up ocean in hollow of his hands.
“Taroa fight all-e-time like brave chief. Then he fall dead, and was so
big that one of his dark feet did stretch right ’cross skies! Still, god
Papo throw worlds and oceans at his dead body, and the waters of oceans,
and the worlds that the victorious god still threw, rolled down the
flanks of the dead god, and down the skies like big rains. So did worlds
fall, and isles come on the seas, and waters of the seas grow bigger and
bigger.”
After this digression into the wonders of shadowland, and the reason
that so many isles were scattered across the seas, and the wherefore of
the ocean’s deepness, the old Tahitian continued:
“Atua Mara see great fight ’tween gods, and laugh much, for he like see
god Papo win battles.
“One day, as Atua Mara sit under breadfruit trees eating sweet potatoes,
taro, and more nicer things, he feel lonely. He no one speak to. No man,
no _wahinee_ (woman), no children cry or laugh. So he look at sky, and
call out to Papo, the Master-of-all-gods, and say: ‘I, Atua Mara, am
lonely. Me want ’nother to sit with me on this world for all the
thousands of moons that I sit in nice sunlight.’
“The Master-of-all-gods hear Atua Mara’s call, and look out of sky with
angry eye, and say: ‘O Atua Mara, you got all world for yourself, big
forest trees, oceans that sing you when win’s blow, yet you want more?’
“Atua Mara look up in sky to where voice came from, and answered:
“‘Yes, trees sing to mees, but their songs, like mees, sound lonely.’
“‘Very well,’ answered god Papo, ‘as you not pleased with my gifts, I
show Atua Mara how to get someone who will sing you all time!’
“Saying this, he told Atua Mara what to do.
“That same night Atua Mara go creep into forest and pull off nice
scarlet flower from flamboyant tree. Then, doing what great god Papo
tell him, he cut his side with sharp shell, and take out little bone
from his body, and wrap the flamboyant flower round it. Then he go down
shore to get lump of soft red clay. This he shape slowly with his
fingers. At last the lump of clay did begin look like what Atua Mara’s
heart desired and what he dreamed about before he found out that he felt
lonely.”
Saying this, Pokara looked up at me and said:
“You must know, Papalagi, that when he was finish and all nicer done and
smooth” (here Pokara pointed to his own frame and ran one finger down
his thighs), and, continuing, said in a hushed voice, “Atua Mara had
made the clay figure of the first womans!”
“Well, now!” said I; and Pokara, observing my interest, breathed deeply
and stroked his chin, then proceeded in this wise:
“When Atua Mara had placed the little bone, which he had carefully wrap
up in the flower, in the side of the clay figure, he did take the clay
womans and stand it on its feet ’gainst a straight coco-palm stem. Doing
this, he very careful that clay figure’s face was turned towards big
waters of the west, where sun say good-bye to mountain-tops, before it
go down through door of shadowland. That day, next day, and after days,
Atua Mara did come and kneel before the clay womans which he had make.
He look upon it and dance softly with joy when he notice that, each time
he come, the light of each sunset had shone plopberly (properly) on clay
figure. The clay get softer, and, where he had make small holes beneath
clay womans’ brow, the eyelids did begin to sprout dark lashes. As hair
grew and grew, falling down figure’s shoulders, he so pleased that he
run ’bout forest calling out praise to Master-of-all-gods. One day he
come at sunset and touch the clay figure. His work did look so nicer
that he touch it with his lips, and, Masser, it was quite warm! The lips
had turned like to red coral and were curved like the leaf of the palm.
He notice that the figure’s clay bosom was smooth, and when he did touch
it, it heaved soft, like the moving of deep, still water when stars are
imaged. Once more he placed his lips to the figure’s mouth. Ah, Masser,
that was the first kiss god-mans ever gave unto womans. It was then Atua
Mara gaze deeply at the clay figure’s face and kiss where he had made
holes, which had swollen and turned into soft eyelids. He kiss again and
yet again, and the eyelids quivered, and, lo, burst softly apart till
they caught and mirrored the light of the setting sun. So pleased was
Atua Mara, that he lift his hands to sky and no speak—for the eyes
commenced to move! It was then that the clay limbs trembled, the mouth
open and speak, saying: ‘Oh, Atua Mara, who am I, here in the kind
sunlight?’
“It was then, Masser, when first woman spoke, that the win’s sang a
long-away-off song in the breadfruits of the sacred groves; the shadows
did fall over the mountains, the stars turn pale in the lagoons; and
before the moon crept back into the halls of Poluti, at dawn, it look
back across mountains with big red face; then, with hand over its eyes
for shame, crept back home through the big door to tell the
Master-of-all-gods what had happened in the great world outside.”
On saying this, the Tahitian gazed seriously up into my face and said:
“Ah, Masser, you must know that Atua Mara had knelt before his figure of
clay and worshipped it! Next night the great God-of-the-skies did look
out from behind cloud and say aloud, ‘Atua Mara, where art thous?’ The
god’s voice did echo and rumble across the mountains of this world, and
then did fade into big silence. Then the voice did come again with
greater anger, and Atua Mara see big figure move ’bout on misty
moonlight of all the sky as someone tramp ’bout shadowland.
“‘Atua Mara, where art thous?’ came again like big echo. It was then
that Atua Mara, who was half-mortal, crept out of the thicket of bamboos
where he had hid at the first sound of the angry voice of the sky. He
much ’fraid, for he know well what he done! His head did hang down with
much shame, like unto great chief when he lose big battle. He answer
great god like unto this: ‘I am here; what you wanter? Me do nothings, O
great God-of-the-sky!’
“Then the great god Papo did answer, ‘I give you all you wanter; you did
ask for nice songs and one mans to speak to, and now you have gone and
make figure different to my wishes, and worshipped it instead of worship
me! For this great sin, O Atua Mara, I banish you from happiness of
sunlight! You shall move ’bout under great ocean for ever, and your face
be like unto the big face of the grey shark.’
“At hearing what the god did say, poor Atua Mara creep back ashamed into
forest to see womans he had made. As he did creep out of thicket of
bamboos, the womans did much shriek, for Atua Mara’s face was like unto
the cruel face of a shark. But, because Atua Mara had made the womans
himself and had kissed her as the God-of-the-sky not wish, she was kind
and tender; and, though Atua Mara look much ugly with ’im face like
shark, she sorry and love ’im still. So they had many children. Then one
stormy night, when gods were angry, Atua Mara die like all men must die.
When he was dead, his spirit did rush out of his body and run down into
the sea so that he could roam the ocean. And so did he become the
shark-god.”
Saying this, Pokara looked at me and said:
“And so, Papalagi, that is why some childrens of the isles to the
north-west have the cruelty of the shark in their hearts, for they are
the descendants of the clay-womans that Atua Mara made. And Atua Mara is
now one great jealous god. He ever walk ’bout bottom of seas trying to
catch girls and mans so that he can take them to his cave and make them,
like him, unhappy.”[3]
Footnote 3:
Some authorities seem to give different versions of the South Sea
creation legends. One legend says: The islands were originally a large
shark. Another, that the god Atua Mara had temples wherein the priests
made sacrifices to his honour; but, being dissatisfied with so much
worship, he pulled the temples down, threw them all into the sea, and
with the rubbish that they made turned them all into islands. Yet
another legend: The great god Taroa was the first god of the skies: he
laboured so much over creation that the sweat falling from his body
made all the deep seas.
As Pokara finished his story the shadows deepened over the mountains. We
heard the voices of the natives who were fishing in the bay at the foot
of the mountains. Then we scattered the red ashes of our camp-fire, for
we still had a mile to journey ere we entered Papeete. And as we walked
away from that spot we looked back over our shoulders, and I distinctly
observed the feathers of the shark-god’s hair poking out of the ocean’s
glassy expanse. Pokara sighed; and as the first stars crept out of the
deep velvet skies we faded away along the shore track, on the last mile
of our troubadouring pilgrimage.
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