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]

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.