Adventures in Paradise 50

Adventures in Paradise 50

Kia Orana, everyone! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on perspective and how differently each of us might perceive common experiences. To begin, I will assume that if you are reading this blog, you chose not to vote us off your e-mail list. For that we are grateful! So, I would like to return to Aitutaki and share an additional life’s lesson.

As you may recall from last week, Aitutaki is in the process of recovering from Cyclone Pat, which hit the island in February of 2010. Homes, schools and businesses were destroyed and for the past nineteen months the residents of this small island have been going about the task of putting their lives back together. It has been painstaking work, but the light at the end of the tunnel was the fact that they could recover. They had hope for the future.

In yesterday’s edition of the Cook Islands News, I read that drought has hit Aitutaki crops. The article states a fact that our friends there had mentioned to us during our visit. There has been no rain in over two and a half months. My perspective of a lush tropical island is not the reality for these people. This long dry spell is devastating to the root crops that were planted with the vision of exporting to New Zealand in 2012. The money earned from the sale of these crops was going to help rebuild homes and other structures. The article went on to say that while most crops have been seriously affected, some have been completely wiped out. Most growers have already given up hope and have abandoned their fields. The rest will follow suit if the rains don’t come in the next two weeks. Dreams of exportation have been dashed. The growers association believes that this drought has been a bigger disaster to the planters than was the cyclone. Such is the situation in Aitutaki. It is hot and it is dry. The grass is brown and the crops have died. This is the islands perspective.

A tourist arriving for a week or so of relaxation will have had a much different perspective. After his visit, he may speak of a quaint airline landing on a small airfield in view of a beautiful lagoon. He may talk of swaying palms on the motus. He may perceive the island as a lush little paradise. A resort transport with friendly greeters will welcome him with a fragrant ei and he will be whisked away to one of the four secluded resorts that operate on white-sand beaches. He will spend his vacation in luxury with a private beach, use of kayaks, snorkeling gear and naps in a hammock. He will have turn-down service in a private villa and room service if he wishes. In addition to the beach, the property boasts walking paths, waterfalls (man made) infinity pools and drinks to be sipped out of a coconut. There will be gourmet meals and all the serenity one could possibly need. If a massage is needed, the tourist has only to pick up the phone. He might also want to arrange for a lagoon cruise. The cruise staff will pick him up at his door and bypassing most of the cyclone damage, will deliver him down to the beach for boarding the awaiting vaka. There is no need to venture into what is left of the little island town as even gift shops are prevalent on site. It is heaven and it is perfection. The outside world of the locals does not exist.

One night while we were on the island, we were concerned that our new friends were sharing food with us that they really could not afford. We were aware of the lack of fresh fruit and vegetables and were also concerned that our hosts were spending money they did not have to be hospitable to us. We decided that we had better buy our own dinner and the only option to us was to visit a restaurant at one of the resorts. Having just left very humble surroundings, we were stunned by the opulence that we encountered. We also encountered that evening, many of the locals who were employed by the resort.  We admit to a certain amount of embarrassment in having our new friends see us there and wait on us. For some reason, it had not occurred to us that this might be the case. We had a lovely evening at an ocean-view table. The food was delicious, but for me, the entire evening centered around how perceptions can be so different. I knew that our waitress, who appeared crisply attired, had washed her uniform in a wash tub instead of a machine. I knew that her hair had been shampooed in a very short, very cold shower. I knew that as she left the restaurant that evening, she would be going home to a house with no windows and a “door” consisting of an opening covered by a towel for privacy.  I knew that her family could not even afford  any dessert that was  offered on the menu she presented to the diners. I knew that the world she entered as she arrived for work was one that would not be available to her or her family as guests of the resort.

During that evening, I thought a lot about all the other people who have waited on me during the years. I never gave one moment’s concern to where they lived or in what conditions. These people simply existed in my mind for as long as they were serving me. We learned on our cruise last year, that the liner staff; those who waited tables and serviced our rooms, would go six or seven months without seeing their families. They slept below us in cramped rooms with no windows. We learned that they worked very long hours and that their pay was sent home to support their loved ones. They were on the same ship as we were, but their perspectives concerning the cruise were much different than ours. So, at that one dinner on a very small island last week, I learned another valuable life’s lesson. I need to appreciate that my limited perspective does not tell the whole story. This is an opportunity to imagine life from someone else’s viewpoint. It is an opportunity to grow.

The second Sunday in October marks the annual national prayer service. There will be singing and prayers for the safety of the Cook Islands. People from all over the islands will converge in the national auditorium to pray for safety and God’s protection for the next six months. October 1 marks the beginning of yet another cyclone season, and we are all praying that our fifteen little islands in the middle of the South Pacific will be spared. I will be saying extra prayers for my new friends in Aitutaki.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. From my perspective, we are blessed to have you all in our lives. We now have less than six months left here and we are facing the reality of leaving the new friends that we have made. My perspective at the beginning of our time here was one where I thought that I would be very excited to leave when the time came. Oh, how perspectives shift. How can we leave here? But then, how can we not want to come home?

Love, Ward and Susan                   Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in the Cooks

Our photos this week offer two perspectives of Aitutaki. One is the locals point of view, while the other is the island viewed through the eyes of a tourist. Hopefully, it will leave you with food for thought. Ka Kite

Local: This is an inland unpaved road.

Tourist: A relaxing hammock.

Local: One of many homes still waiting to be repaired.

Tourist:  A day cruise on the lagoon. This comes with lunch, snorkeling and entertainment.

Local: Another home waiting to be repaired. The owner, who is a fisherman was also hoping to use his boat again someday.

Tourist: Private bungalos on a white sand beach. This beach is raked everyday by the locals.

Local: The airport is not the focus here, it is the grass. This is what you have when there has been no rain for over two months.

Tourist: Pristine and private beaches.

Local: This is the missionary flat where we stayed. The branch president cleaned it and arranged the flowers. There were flowers in every room, including the bathroom. This was the thoughtful lunch he provided for us as well. What a welcome! 

Tourist: Diners can enjoy a delicious gourmet meal on a private motu.

Adventures in Paradise 49

Adventures in Paradise 49

Kia Orana, everyone! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts comparing “Survivor” the reality TV series to being a survivor in reality. Last week, we were voted off our island. To be honest, this “voting off” came as a suggestion from our mission president that we visit Aitutaki.  We had been told that we should not leave the Cooks without experiencing the beauty of this spectacular atoll, so we jumped at the chance to see it for ourselves. I was also curious to visit after learning that “Survivor, Cook Islands” had been filmed on one of Aitutaki’s small islets or motu.

One morning in February 2010, a cyclone struck while the people of Aitutaki slept. In the dark and for the next six hours, frightened villagers prayed to survive as the winds destroyed homes and crops. Tin roofs were torn off and sent flying through the night sky. Windows were broken, sending glass shards through homes where people were seeking shelter. The sound was deafening and those six hours seemed like an eternity. In the morning, the scene was one of almost total devastation. Luckily, on an island of one thousand people, no one was killed, but one hundred and sixty four homes had been at least partially destroyed, leaving three-fourths of the islanders homeless. This was reality.

Across the lagoon a few months later, a film crew arrived to film episodes of the “Survivor” series.  Contestants arrived anxious to begin a few weeks of deprivation, challenges and games of strategy. They were hoping to form secret alliances and out maneuver the other players. Some were going to be filmed behaving badly and most would be voted off their little island before the final episode. In the end, someone was going to win an obscene amount of money and become famous for fifteen minutes. This was reality TV.

Having spent a few days with people who are trying to return to normal lives, I was struck by the juxtaposition of these two realities. The truth as I see it is that there is not much real about reality TV. That film crew would have had a much better reality show had they simply filmed the survival efforts of one thousand ordinary Aitutakians working together to regain what once was. Recovery is the reality for these people. It is not a game and there is no grand prize awaiting one lucky player.

At one o’clock in the morning in February, 2010 residents were awakened by the ominous sounds of heavy winds and crashing trees. In the dark they could hear banging, clanking and the unmistakable shatter of breaking glass. Most were unaware as they went to bed, of the approaching cyclone and now were caught unprepared. In the blackness, parents were calling for their children all the while listening to the frightening signs that indicated that their homes were being blown apart. The storm stayed centered on the island for six hours and as daylight arrived and the winds abated, the villagers were stunned by the sight that greeted them. The world as they knew it had been destroyed. The business of surviving and accessing damage had begun. Their survivor challenge was to simply make it through that first day, then on to the next. No immunity was awarded.

These people who had little to begin with had lost everything. There was going to be an ongoing concern about finding enough food for everyone and water. There would be no bathing and clean clothes were out of the question. No one gave a thought to what they were wearing and the idea of fashioning chic “island tatters” for the benefit of cameras would have been laughable to them. It is no game when you have no home and you are cut off from the outside world. There is no director yelling “Cut”, because your suffering did not seem real enough for the audience. You are not going to get off the island and rescue is going to take some time.

Eventually, the Red Cross arrived. The LDS church came to the rescue as well. Many other organizations  and churches helped and are still helping with the recovery. Tents were allotted to each family and water tanks donated. Residents were taught as part of a permanent recovery ,to build stronger homes out of cinder block. They learned to reinforce the corners of each home for protection against future storms. For the most part, these block homes are very modest in size, being not much larger that an average living room in America. There was help in clearing fields for replanting and food supplies were flown in. Children were immunized in an effort to stave off disease. There were no alliances formed to outwit someone else, everyone worked together for their common interest. People were grateful to be alive and offered prayers of thanksgiving.

It has been almost two years since that day in February. In reality TV, the series finally ends and the contestants return home to boast of their exploits. On Aitutaki, they are still facing challenges. Although much has been accomplished, there is so much left to do. The cleanup continues and now the new reality is that cyclone season 2012 begins next month. The abandoned tin from many roofs is still lying on the ground. If caught in the wind, that sharp tin could be a deadly missive as it flies through the air. Some families are still living in tents, which will afford them no protection and some of the water tanks have yet to be installed. Many of the new homes do not have windows or doors. It is a daunting task for our new friends to recover completely.

One would think that behaving badly would be acceptable given the circumstances. But most villagers are taking this in stride like they have other challenges. They are laughing and making jokes and enjoying each other’s company. They are helping each other and sharing. We had the opportunity of eating Sunday dinner with these loving people who all brought what they had for others to enjoy. As we were being introduced to each person, and each family, we met a older gentleman who had been put out of his home. Our hostess thought nothing of having him move in with her family, no questions asked and no thought of payback. It is the island way after all.

So, if you would really like to see what kind of a survivor you are, might I suggest spending a few weeks, walking in the sandals of the people of Aitutaki. Come to the island and learn real life survivor skills. Bring your own camera so that you can document your experience. You won’t have to worry about auditioning for the show as all islanders are automatic participants. On TV, the sound of a conch shell calls everyone to a meeting. In reality, the conch sounds now instead of a school bell. It calls the children to begin the day and in from recess. It was lovely to hear that soothing sound during our stay.  The people here have also kept their senses of humor as evidenced by the boarding call we heard at the small airport as we were leaving.

“ Get on the plane or it will leave without you!”

So, we got on the plane and are now back home. We are still happy and trying to work hard. We appreciate the lessons we have learned about survival and the reality of going the distance. We have been taught the value of staying positive and being grateful for what we have. As a disclaimer, I would like to state that I actually have never watched “Survivor”, so I am simply speaking from what others have shared with me. So, with that admission, please don’t vote me off your e-mail list!

Love, Ward and Susan                    Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in the Cooks

Beautiful Aitutaki. The lighter blue water is the lagoon.

The main road passes right through a huge banyon tree.

This is a ferry to transport visitors from one side of an inlet  to the other.

One of the locals.

The young people are taking sailing lessons in their individual little boats.

This is "Survivor Island". In the foreground is our large canoe.

Ward exploring the island

My resident suvivor. Go Utes!

One of many destroyed homes.

It is truly amazing what wind can do. The family's possessions are still visible inside.

This is what remains of one of the schools . It sits on the highest point of the island where there was

 little protection from the winds. 

This is one of the many open-air churches now holding services. If you look carefully, you may be able to see the pulpit just left of the middle post.

This shows one of the new cinderblock homes. Notice the reinforced corners of the house with the white tent partially visible behind it. 

We found the islanders to be very creative with color.

One happy survivor

 

Adventures in Paradise 48

Adventures in Paradise 48

Kia Orana, everyone!  Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on H.G. Wells, his time machine, and the places we call home. I have always been fascinated with the idea of time travel. In truth, taking a sneak peak at the future has not held much interest for me, as my curiosity lies more in the area of visiting the past. In his novel, “The Time Machine”, H.G. Wells tells the story of an English scientist who is also enamored with the idea of time and its different dimensions. This scientist designs and constructs a machine capable of transporting a human being from one era to another. I loved that book and recall once holding three cousins captive, oh I mean spellbound, while I related the entire novel to them!

The time machine that I boarded last week was much like the one I had read about in the novel. It had a vast display of instruments and gauges. There were dials to be twisted and knobs to be turned. There were fluctuating needles and rows of numbers on the panel. Unlike the machine in the story however, my time machine could carry fourteen passengers at one time. Our destination was slated to be Mangaia, a land that time forgot. Actually, Mangaia is an island in the Cook Island chain. It is a forty minute flight from Raro, but it is a world that no longer exists for most of us. When people told me that life was slower there and about fifty years behind Rarotonga, I thought that I knew what to

expect but I was wrong. So began one of the most life-altering experiences of my existence.

I watched with rapt attention as items  were being loaded onto our small plane. Thirteen Mangaians were going home and they were bringing with them supplies for sustaining life on their island. I noticed box after box of noodles similar to our Top Ramen. There were blankets, new flip flops, lettuce, crackers, frozen chicken and canned corned beef. I noticed baby diapers, fishing poles and Styrofoam coolers. Most of my fellow time-travelers did not have suitcases, rather they had packed large woven bags or simply had belongings tied up in large plastic shopping bags. There was no security check, so I knew that I could bring bottled water with me. Ward had gone on the day before and via cell phone had warned me about what would be missing when I arrived. He informed me that bottled water was not available there. I also brought homemade chicken sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (thanks to our last visitors who brought peanut butter), New Zealand grown apples and yogurt.

Our time machine landed on a dirt “runway”. Instead of runway lights, this narrow, unpaved and rocky landing strip was lined on both sides with tires painted a fluorescent orange. Needless to say, there are no night flights. To be honest, I have never felt quite so unsettled as I did in the moment that I set foot on that island. Knowing that there would not be another plane for three days, and no other means of leaving, I felt isolated.  Later, borrowing an old car, Ward drove me around the island. There is not one  paved road in existence there and we did not see another vehicle  on our entire fifteen mile round trip.  In fact in many places, it looked like a scene out of “Jurassic Park”. I kept thinking that a T-Rex would come lumbering out of the jungle any minute! We did have to stop for a goat traffic jam, but that was all. Even with Ward’s company, I was beginning to feel uncomfortably alone.

We were asked to come to the island to teach and although that was our purpose, we still had to go about the business of settling in. We are used to seeing the ocean from our home, but one cannot see the ocean from most places on Magnaia. We felt closed in. There is no beach, only steep rocky paths leading down to the water. The homes are more humble that I can express and there are just two gas pumps; one on each side of the island. There are two small grocery stores with very limited choice and availability. We bought a can of corned beef (10.00) a container of juice, a loaf of bread (that mildewed before we could eat it) some powdered milk and powdered Milo. The bill was a staggering 54.00! I would like to mention here, the generosity of the islanders who shared all they had with us. Each evening, children would deliver a dinner to us consisting of taro, kumura (sweet potatoes) and bananas. One evening “dessert” was a beautiful home-grown tomato.

These people have so little, but are so generous. They love their island and are eager to show it off. They have a simple dignity about them and there is  no class distinction. No one is homeless and no one starves. They are experts at sharing.We knew that we were having the same meal that they were having They grow as much as they possibly can on their own land.  Purchased food is expensive as it all has to be shipped by boat. The boat arrives every two months or so and if the island runs out of something, people simply wait for the next boat. There are no complaints. It seems strange that an island should have to ration water, but they do, so the water is turned on at 5:00 pm for two or three hours. There is no hot water and the water must be boiled to be safe to drink. If you would like a warm bath, you boil water, then add it to cold water. Pour the water sparingly from the bucket for a sponge bath. Electricity is expensive as well, so when it’s dark, people just go to bed. There is no fast food or take out,  let alone a restaurant. There is little variety in what they eat, but they enjoy each meal in the company of friends and family. Sunday afternoon, we stopped by to visit the young woman who had been baptized that morning and realized that in order to escape the heat, her parents having laid a mat under a low-hanging branch were sleeping in the yard. There are no best-dressed lists. People don their best attire for church as a show of respect. I noticed several men arrive without shoes, and one woman was wearing the same pair of mismatched flip-flops that she had worn the day before. It was all she had. This truly is their Sunday best. There is no make-up available, so women are lovely without it. I noticed a whole row of children staring at me during church and one ten-year old girl finally asked me what was that stuff on my face? And I thought that I was going for the natural look!

Our friend, who works for the tiny, very primitive hospital drives around the island each Thursday looking for white flags. A white flag in a person’s yard indicates that the doctor is needed. So, the doctor makes a house call. We, who are so used to the “insta-care” style of medical help, may find this to be a very primitive form of medicine. But the doctor does know them all personally. There is no movie theater, or gathering spot other than an overgrown soccer field. There is no tv. There is no library, and the school for the islands two hundred and fifty students is held in one building. Did I mention that the total population of the island is only five hundred people? They all know each other and like it that way. Parents and grandparents wish the best for their children, but prefer to keep them on the island, rather than have them influenced by worldly pursuits.

On a humorous note, the total tourism budget for last year was 89.00. The goal of the minister of tourism was to increase the total number of visitors coming to the island. Last year, the island averaged two tourists per month. This year, things are improving with an average of two visitors per week! We were happy to help the island meet their quota for the month. But with no tourist accommodations and certainly no rental cars, it can be a daunting task for a stranger to keep himself situated.

As I thought about the isolated lives that our new friends lead, I had a little epiphany concerning my own life. I have always been proud of the fact that I could say that I have never been lonely. I mistakenly believed that I could live an isolated life and be content. What I now realize is that I have always had the opportunity to choose when to be alone, while all the while knowing that I could simply walk out my door or pick up my phone. Never in my life have I experienced the isolation from all things that I know as I did this last week. Even our cell phone ran out of minutes! I have discovered that I am not as adaptable to the “simple life” as I thought. The past, or a more simple way of life does not sound as romantic to me as it once did. I would not willingly choose this life for myself. But our new friends have done just that. Most have been off the island at one time or another. Often, they have lived in places like Rarotonga or even New Zealand and have chosen to come home. They do not wish for more than they already have. They have seen the future and have chosen another way.

So, as always, we are happy and trying to work hard. Our Mangaian friends sent us back to the future with a bag of home-grown tomatoes, beautiful eis, and their love. We left them with our apples, our love and respect and all the dollar store reading glasses that I happened to have with me. I wish now, that I had thought to bring something to share with the children.  I am learning. We are coming back to a future that includes friends and family and for that we are grateful. We will never see the world in quite the same way again. I view abundance much differently now. I must say that I appreciate being able to choose, but I have learned that I don’t need as much of anything as I though I did. I expect that we will be far more grateful for the lives that we have been given all the while knowing that our new friends are just as grateful for what they have.

To quote Uber-Morlock (from “The Time Machine”)

“We all have our time machines, don’t we? Those that take us back are memories and those that carry us forward are dreams.”

Love, Ward and Susan                    Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in the Cooks

Mangaia international airport

The time machine has arrived!

Baggage claim

The time travelers

Leaving the airport. Where is the freeway? 

The goat traffic jam on the main road

A scene from "Jurassic Park". This is the main road around the island. 

A state of the art petrol station and convenience store

Moonrise

The oldest church on the island. Cook Islands Christian Church or CICC 

Decending to the ocean for the baptism

A sweet moment on Sunday morning

Tiata was baptized on her birthday

President Tuaninigi sending us back to the future

Adventures in Paradise 47

Adventures in Paradise 47

Kia Orana, everyone! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on whales and those things not seen. It is whale season here on our island. Each year, from July through October, the whales leave their summer feeding waters in the Antarctic for the warmer waters of the South Pacific. The area around the Cook Islands becomes a breeding ground for these amazing creatures.  The waters off Rarotonga become a “whale nursery”, where mothers nurture and educate their calves in the ways of the world. Each year the whales also sing. Although the singing continues from year to year, it is never the same. Each year, a new song is created. It is original and will not be duplicated. During any one migratory season, there could be fifty to one hundred and fifty whales populating our waters. Or so they say……………….

Promptly, on July 1^st, I walked excitedly down to our beach.  “They” had said that Blackrock was one of the best places from which to view the migration. What luck! We live at Blackrock! I suppose in my inexperience, I expected more than was possible, but I really did assume that there would be whales and that I would be able to see them easily. So, I stood on the beach for a few minutes, scanning the horizon. Eventually, having seen nothing, I returned to the house and reported to Ward that there were no whales. My reality at that moment was if I can’t see the whales, they do not exist.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I began to learn of signs that indicated the return of the whales. “They” said that whales like to rid themselves of their barnacles by scraping along the reef, so we started to look where we could be closest to the reef. We learned that if there were two or more boats in the water near the same spot, there could be a whale in the area. We began to pay attention if several people were gathered in a certain area and they were looking towards the ocean. This could be evidence of a sighting. We learned that it was much easier to spot a large dark object in the water if the seas were calm. We learned that whales often stay in one place for hours or even days at a time and that they will stay under the surface for prolonged periods if the food in plentiful. We also discovered that we needed to be actively seeking the whales, rather then passively assuming that they would simply appear. We have learned to scan the ocean surface for water spouts. We have learned to be patient and to believe. We have learned  to have faith that we will eventually see.

 One
day we heard about “The Whale Lady”.  Nan Hauser has devoted her life to the study of whales. She is an expert on the habits and migration patterns of these animals. Nan is the “They” that people here keep quoting. She has also created the Whale Centre which is an educational experience for those seeking to know more. Nan is always exuberant and positive and we have learned to appreciate her for the expert that she is. Nan promised us that all we had to do was call and she would tell us where to look for the whales. So having learned that there is someone far more knowledgeable, we have sought Nan out to show us the way. We make a simple request and we are given direction. We can leave a phone message and she returns it. She is never too busy to give us an answer. It doesn’t always come when we expect, but it does come. She helped us to recognize the signs and she directed us to the whales. We had faith that she will show us the way. And now, we see the whales! They are beautiful and awe-inspiring.  We have seen them breeching, and  we have seen them slapping the water with their tails.  This slapping is actually quite noisy, so when we hear that sound, we now know to turn towards it .We have seen mothers showing off their calves.  We have also now learned that just because we can’t see them on any particular day, it does not mean that they don’t exist. They are in fact, almost omnipresent. They are all around us. They are here whether we choose to seek them out or not. It is the same. They are here.

So, perhaps being able to see what we are seeking depends on where and how we are looking.  It may also depend on listening to the direction of those far more experienced that we. It should also require faith on our parts that the whales do exist whether we can see them or not, don’t you think? We have not yet heard a whale sing, but now having developed faith in the testimony of others, we know that they do sing and we can only hope that we will have a chance to hear their song as well.

As usual, we are happy and trying to work hard. It has been a fascinating last few weeks here, as we have learned so much from those around us. We have also had a surprise today! There are three people on Mangaia, who would like to speak with us. They want us help them know where to look.  Mangaia is another island in the Cook chain. We could not get two seats on the same flight, so Ward is flying out tomorrow and I will follow him on Saturday. Since we will be there until Wednesday, I am certain that we will have continuing adventures to report in our next blog. We are told that we will most likely be able to spot whales from the air! We are excited and have faith that this will happen. Ka kite!

Love, Ward and Susan                     Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in the Cooks

This is Nan Hauser, the "Whale Lady". She is shown with the local fisherman who called her the day he first spotted the whale in the next photo.

This whale was named Snow White due to the unusual white markings on it's body. Nan took this photo on July 30. The dark mass you see on the left just above water level is Blackrock. We are showing Nan's photo because it is much better than our own. We do have some movies that we can share upon our return.

Adventures in Paradise 46

Adventures in Paradise 46

Kia Orana, everyone! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on tradition and what it means to our Cook Island friends. Yesterday we were observers of a very ancient ceremony known here as an investiture. As mentioned in previous blogs, land cannot be bought and sold; it can only be passed on and divided among descendents of the original land holders. Hundreds of years ago, the island was sectioned off in slices that run from the sea to the mountains and each section has a Mataiapo, who is in essence chief. Each chief is responsible for maintaining peace among family and dispersing land to family members when they wish to build a home. This is a daunting responsibility, which on many occasions, involves detective work to ascertain who is family and who is not. Land court dockets are always overloaded  due to claims made by various people who challenge someone else’s right to a portion of the family estate.

Yesterday a new chief was invested on a sacred marae situated on family land. A marae is a ceremonial sacred spot where strict observance of tradition is conducted. A marae is constructed so as to reflect the genealogical roots of the Mataipo. There are rock formations on the marae, each representing one of the children of the original chief.  It was a special day for Mama Ngametua Enuake Kaota. She was to become chief over all family interests and it was her seventy-sixth birthday as well. Much like British royalty, this title is a birthright passed from oldest child of a former chief down through the family. As one chief passes, the next sibling in line is invested. It is a lifetime responsibility. Mama Kaota at seventy-six, is the youngest and only surviving child of the former chief. This chief had twelve children! Upon the passing of her older brother, the title and its responsibilities  have fallen on her shoulders.

Producing our invitation at the entrance, we were greeted warmly, kissed on the right cheek and presented with a tea leaf ei. This ei denoted that we were honored guests and as such were seated in a place of honor right behind the prime minister! We might mention, here, that although we did know others in attendance, we had only met Mama Kaota twice. Because of their respect for our status as missionaries, we were given special seating preference. This show of respect always surprises us just a little and we are always touched to be treated in such a manner.

Mama Kaota arrived, fully covered in large tea leaves. This we learned referenced  respect for the land and all growing things. Her entrance was followed by a leaf-covered pallet carried by six warriors. This pallet held a large roasted pit. Eventually, Mama was divested of all of her tea leaves, revealing that she was wearing a beautiful traditional Mumu. This Mumu spoke to those gathered of how one adapts to modern times and traditions. Finally, during the final course of the ceremony, Mama was dressed in clothing made of traditional tapa cloth. This was to show reverence and respect for ancient tradition. Finally, the new chief was given a headdress of feathers (referencing heaven) adorned with mother-of-pearl. Mama’s first official act as the new Mataiapo was to bite into a pig’s ear when the pigs head was presented to her on a palm leaf platter. This is the traditional Maori way of “sealing the deal”.

Throughout the investiture, constant references were made to the Creator and prayers of thanks were offered in Maori. Warriors stood at the entrance to the marae and no one was allowed entrance without express permission. As a sign of respect, anyone entering must be barefoot. For an hour we listened, transfixed ,to chants, drumming and beautiful songs sung in Maori. This was such a special occasion that all school children from the village schools were invited to be present. We considered ourselves very fortunate to have been invited as well.

Knowing that there would be a feast, I asked if I could bring something to contribute. I was thanked politely, but told that only traditional food would be served. I should mention that there were about three hundred in attendance. This is not a small catering job for anyone! As we were leaving the ceremony, each person was presented with a hand-woven palm leaf plate. It contained all the usual traditional foods, such as chicken, pork, taro and arrowroot. We were told that twenty-eight pigs had been slaughtered and roasted in preparation for the feast. Each plate was covered in large leaves and we were told to take our “plates” home and enjoy them with our own family. Ward’s son and daughter-in-law attended as well, so we really did enjoy a family dinner. Might I just say that each of our plates contained enough food to feed an entire family? Four of these platters meant we would have a lot of leftovers! As a side note, I will mention that I took all of the extra chicken and made a pasta salad that fed us all for two days! Such is the generosity of these people. When you factor in the time preparing the food as well as the time it took to weave over three hundred plates, one can begin to appreciate how much Rarotongans value tradition and how hard they work to preserve it. We consider ourselves very fortunate to have been able to share this experience with our new friends. We are all richer for the experience.

So, as usual, we are happy and trying to work hard. We are learning so much about what makes our friends here, the people that they are. They have a reverence and respect for the land and for their ancestors. They have learned to keep the connectors between yesterday and today strong and viable. Their children are learning that it is important to respect their elders, the land, the island traditions and each other. Like them, we value our loved ones who have laid the groundwork for the lives that we enjoy. We may not have a chief or a marae, but we have family folklore, crumpled old photos and family journals that we cherish. We cannot bear to throw away old letters or grandma’s wedding dress. It is the way we are made and it’s wonderful to have a legacy. Hopefully, we will leave a legacy as well with those who love us. We appreciate the parts you have played in our personal histories and can’t wait to see you all again so that we can add new chapters.

Love, Ward and Susan                 Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in the Cooks

The welcome chant to open the ceremony

These warriors are guarding the sacred marae. Notice the large stone seat in the background to the right. This is where the newly invensted mataiapo will be seated.

Another warrior. He is wearing ceremonial clothing made entirely from tea leaves.

Honored guests, having been invited onto the marae, have paid their respect to the new Mataiapo, whom you can see seated in the background.

Some of the invited guests who are waiting for the ceremony to begin. Notice that some of them are wearing tea leaf eis. These eis set them apart as special, guests of honor.We were seated four or five rows ahead of them.

Ward holding his "take-out" lunch.

My palm leaf plate is still covered. As I disclaimer: Ward had already opened his dinner and started to eat before I could put down a tablecloth. I am so ashamed!

The darkest meat is pork. You can also see chicken in the upper left hand part of the plate. The grey in the middle is taro and the yellow is arrowroot, or tapioca. This is a serving for one: could it be one person, one family or food for one week? Please also appreciate that each plate was hand-woven by ladies of the village.

This photo appeared on the front page of the  local newspaper. It shows Mama Kaota, as the new Mataiapo and our friend Raumea Tangianau Tuaputa acting in the role of "Speaker of the House".