my parents

You, the choice of my parents

By Konai Helu Thaman

You come clad in your fine mats and tapa cloths Your brown skin bursting with fresh perfumed oil And your eyes shining like stars in a clear night.

You, the choice of my parents; You will bring them wealth and fame With your Western-type education And second-hand car.

You do not know me, my prince Save that 1 am first-born and know no other man; I fit your plans and schemes for the future.

You cannot see the real me My face is masked with pretence and obedience And my smiles tell you that 1 care; I have no other choice.

The priest has left the altar The dancing has begun; I see myself dying, slowly To family and traditions; Stripped of its will and carefree spirit, Naked on the cold and lonely waters Of a strange family shoreline Alienated from belonging truly.

I love as a mere act of duty My soul is far away Clinging to that familiar ironwood tree That heralds strangers To the land of my ancestors.

I will bear you a child To prolong your family tree And fill the gaps in your genealogy.

And when my duties are fulfilled, My spirit will return to the land of my birth Where you will find me no more Except for the weeping willows along the shore.

A Tongan weaving pattern.