Was It True?

By Una Sit Aba

IT was on a Wednesday. How well I remember that day. I was in form five then, and I was nearly 17.

Our class was right in the middle of an English lesson, our first for the day, when the school clerk came into our room. The teacher stopped. We all waited.

After a while, our teacher called out, “T. Talolo, Miss Marke wants to see you in her office”. All the eyes turned to me. Slowly I got up and walked out.

It was a warm morning, and I was thankful for that, for I was trembling with fear. The clerk turned to go.

I ran up to her and asked, “What does she want me for?”

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“But I've already paid my school fees,” I repeated. She didn’t reply but walked on.

When I was near the office, I saw a taxi. My father’s older brother and two of my cousins were there talking to Miss Marke. She turned to me and said, “Run to the dormitory and get some clothes. You’re going home for a few days”. 1 looked at my uncle. He wasn’t looking at me, but I saw that he was tired and frowning. I quickly looked away. 1 ran to our dormitory, grabbed some clothes, stuffed them into my school bag, and ran down to the waiting cab. I got in it. We left for Suva.

I questioned by cousins. They began to cry so I shut up and looked away, wondering. My uncle was sitting with the driver, but I daren’t ask him. As we neared the bus station, 1 heard my uncle asking the driver to stop there for a while.

Both he and the driver got out and went towards the market. 1 questioned my cousins again, so one of them said, “Draiba”.

“Why do you come to get me?”

“Tata Inoke wants you to come.”

“I don’t want to go.” They didn’t reply but looked away. They sat like that until the other two returned. 1 sat quietly till we got to Draiba.

SUDDENLY I heard women crying.

A lot of women were cooking, outside, and men were making a lovo. Others were drinking yaqona.

Tata Inoke came and said, “Go inside to your mother”.

“What for?” I asked suddenly.

He didn’t reply, but turned and walked away, puzzled. I saw that everyone outside was looking at me.

I was still in my green school uniform and a black pullover.

So I stayed there. I didn’t want to go into a house full of wailing women. Tata Volau, my father’s younger brother, came, held me and said, “Lewa, your father . . . ,” he started and stopped, looked at me, then walked away, rubbing his eyes.

“What’s wrong with TVz?” I called after him.

Suddenly, I saw everything. It wasn’t possible. Ta had been in hospital for a week. So what? People stay longer than that and still come out well. How long I stood there I couldn’t recall, then I heard my mother’s voice calling me from inside.

I walked in. She fainted when she first saw me. I gave her some water.

I came and sat beside her. She was all in black. How I hated that colour.

I looked around the room. I recog nised most of my aunties sitting around on mats and kumi. My mother told me that Ta had died with my name on his lips. I looked at her, but not seeing her, only the face of Ta, the last time I visited him in

hospital.

I thought, “These people must be mad. Ta is not dead. Why cry? He is still in hospital waiting for me to come and visit him. I won’t and don’t want to believe otherwise. Unless I see him, I won’t believe what you say about him. Na must be mad to have believed them so easily”.

I sat there, staring at and cursing those crazy women. I felt hot so I went outside. What was I expecting?

I didn’t know. I just waited.

At two o’clock he arrived. Some of my male cousins brought him in.

They wanted to see him for the last time, so the coffin was opened.

It was my turn to go and kiss him good-bye. He was dressed in his best Sunday suit. A little smile parted his lips. Na fainted repeatedly. She tried to wake him up, calling his name.

I bent down to kiss him. The coldness shot through me, and I felt sick, weak all over. I wasn’t the courageous girl anymore. I hugged Na, and for the first time that day, cried bitterly.

Ta was buried at three o’clock.

Ta—father. Tata —uncle. Na—mother.

Lewa—pet name for girls. Lovo —earth oven. Yaqona—kava. Kumi —tapa.