Uluagali'i

By Tili Peseta

THE policeman walked into his house, took off his helmet and passed a weary hand across his brow.

He placed the helmet carefully on top of the food safe. Like the uniform he wore, he was proud of the helmet: a policeman was respect able, the uniform told the world that he was educated, a man knowledge able about the ways of the papalagi.

He was going to sit down on the mats when he remembered that he had to be careful and not crease the uniform as he needed to wear it again the next day. He looked around for a lavalava to change into. He went to the square wooden box which served as a holdall for his clothes, and the house-linen. With one hand he rummaged through to find a lavalava.

“Where on earth has this lavalava got to. Why do I never seem to find anything that I want.” He put both hands in the box and started digging out the clothes from the bottom of the box.

“Curse this woman! Why is she never around when I need her.” The

policeman spied a piece of flowery

material among the jumbled clothes and with one pull the clothes above it tumbled onto the floor.

“Can’t this woman ever keep any thing in the house where I can find it.” He picked up the fallen clothes and crammed them back into the box.

Then he slammed down the lid. It caught the top of his little finger and he swore. He gingerly sucked the little finger while changing into his lavalava. Then taking off his shirt, he flung both to land on a long piece of sinnet strung out across the span of two fale posts. He had forgotten to be mindful of creasing his uniform.

“Blast that woman. She is never here when I come home.” He sat down reaching out for the All which was under the foodsafe, laid down on his side and went to sleep.

AT the beach, about 500 yards from the shore, a dark object floated and bobbed up at intervals.

It moved slowly towards the beach.

Gradually the object could be dis tinguished as that of the head of a person. The head lifted from the water. The eyes behind the fishing goggles were a blur, the face burnt a coconut brown. The swimmer hit

shallow water and started to wade ashore.

Slowly a figure of a woman emerged. She wore a tattered shirt opened half-way down her chest and notched around her bulging middle.

This bulge was accentuated by a strmg Of fish tied around her stomach. The woman lifted something she was trailing in the water and slung it over her shoulder. It was a thick metal spear about three feet long and at one end, a purplish octopus hung with its tentacles drooping. The spear was pushed through the head of the octopus. With the goggles pushed up on her forehead, shanghai in one hand, and the other balancing the spear on her shoulder,

the woman made her way towards the beach. A dirty brown lavalava reached half-way down her shins, As the woman sauntered along the path towards her house, a hunchedback old woman greeted her.

“Malo, Maaloa, L see that you had favourable fishing. Your man will be

happy tonight.’

' Thank you, Tina. Here are some fish to roast on the charcoal for your meal tonight.” This was said while the woman untied the string and wrenched three fair-sized fishes free of the string.

“Bless you! May you always have good fishing.” The woman retied the string of fish around her stomach and continued up the path.

At the house, she untied the fish

and left them on a large flat stone which formed part of the paepae of the fale. Then she walked to the cooking house at the back, picked up the axe, and started chopping firewood.

The sound of the falling axe splintered the sleeping man’s dreams and woke him up. He rubbed his eyes, and sat up in time to see her carrying the firewood to the fireplace.

The man got up and went to the cooking house. His wife turned around.

“Good sleeping, my husband. Now fill the big pot with some water, and cook the fish for our evening meal.

I’m going to the pool to bathe.”

The man squatted to light the fire.