Authors: Célestine Vaite
T
he sun is back!
After more than a week of rain, that sun is a relief for mothers all over Tahiti. It means clothes can be washed, leaves raked,
and children sent outside to play while the house is getting cleaned from top to bottom.
Materena is cleaning the house and complaining.
She’s complaining because she’s picking things up off the floor. This is not her favorite part of the cleaning process, but,
since she can’t stand to look at things on the floor, she’s always picking them up.
But mainly she’s complaining because Pito is on the sofa resting his eyes, and just looking at him is irritating her. When
she cleans the house, Materena likes everybody out of the house. Usually, Pito goes outside to practice on his ukulele as
soon as Materena says, “I’m cleaning the house.” But today Pito wants to stay on the sofa and rest his eyes. Materena tries
to pretend that he’s not on the sofa, but she can see him.
“Eh, Pito, you don’t want to go outside?” Materena asks nicely. She doesn’t want Pito to think that she’s trying to boss him
around.
Well, Pito, he just wants to stay right where he is.
Materena picks all the kids’ things up off the floor and complains some more. First there’s Tamatoa’s beat-up robot that Mama
Roti gave him for his tenth birthday, then Leilani’s comb and hair bands, then Moana’s pencil case.
And more things that shouldn’t be scattered all over the living room.
Pito tells Materena that she should throw all the things that are on the floor in the trash, because when things aren’t where
they’re supposed to be, it means nobody wants to keep them. He gets into his stride now: if the house management was up to
him, he says, he would only have five forks, five plates, five glasses, five sets of sheets, five pillowcases, five everything.
“And when my mamie comes to visit, eh? What am I going to give her for a plate? A leaf?” Materena can’t believe that Pito!
“One of the kids would just have to go without a plate and wait for a plate to be available,” says Pito.
Pito continues that he would get the kids to shower with their clothes on, and they’d soon realize they best not muck around
in the dirt if they want to avoid a long, hard scrubbing. He would also get the kids to fold the clothes as soon as they’re
taken from the washing line—that way no ironing would be required. And with the brooming, he would get it done once a day,
not six, seven, times.
“You broom too much.” Pito has said this to Materena many times before.
“I like to broom, and why are you talking about my broom? I never complain to you about my broom.”
In Pito’s opinion, Materena wastes a lot of time with that broom. If Pito were in charge, the whole cleaning would take
the kids
about half an hour, not hours.
“Pito, you just rest your eyes and don’t open your mouth. I never asked you for advice.” Materena is looking under the sofa
for more things to pick up.
“I just want to help you,” Pito says.
Materena tells Pito to get off that sofa if he wants to help her.
“All right. Good night.” Pito means, don’t bother me, I’m not here.
Materena transfers all the things that were on the floor onto the kitchen table. Then, standing at the back door, she calls
out to the kids, playing outside, to come and pick their things up immediately or they will go straight into the trash.
“I’m serious! This is not a joke!”
The kids come running to get their things, making sure to wipe their feet before walking into the house.
“And who owns this?” Materena is holding a dirty sock.
“It’s not mine,” the kids reply together.
“Okay. In the trash. And this?”
The kids look at the empty packet of Chinese lollies and chorus, “It’s not mine.”
“Okay,” Materena says, at least twenty items later, “out, you lot. I’ll call you when you can come back inside the house.”
Pito’s things are still on the table, and Materena knows that he’s thinking,
Pah,
she’s not going to throw out my things, she always picks up after me. Materena puts his thongs and two issues of his Akim
comics into the trash. Later on, she retrieves the thongs. You can’t throw away thongs. Pito needs his thongs. We all need
our thongs. But, the Akim comics… well, they aren’t as important.
Materena is feeling quite happy with herself. She’s never thrown Pito’s things in the trash before, but there’s a beginning
for everything. Not that she’s going to be obsessed with it, like her cousin Rita. Rita, she throws Coco’s things in the trash
every time she’s cross with him.
Materena gets into the brooming. She brooms under the sofa and for one second she’s tempted to hit Pito on the head with the
straw broom. Then he opens his eyes.
In two hours, the cleaning of the whole house is finished, and Materena is satisfied. She calls out to the kids that they
can come inside the house now if they want to. They come because they’re hungry, and they make a mess in the kitchen.
It is night when Pito asks Materena if she saw his Akim comics—the latest two issues.
Materena turns her back to Pito. “Have you looked on top of the fridge?”
“I never leave my Akim on top of the fridge.”
Pito goes and checks anyway, then comes back. His Akim comics—the last issues—aren’t on top of the fridge.
“And under the sofa, you looked?” Materena is pretending to look for something in the pantry.
He goes and checks under the sofa.
“Under the bed, maybe? In the toilet? Behind the TV?” says Materena.
Pito looks annoyed. “The kids must have taken them,” he says.
“Eh, don’t accuse the kids, accuse your memory.”
Pito scratches his head, he tries to remember the last time he was with Akim, but the past is a blur. “Are you sure you didn’t
see my Akim when you cleaned the house?”
Materena, her back turned to Pito still, insists that she’s sure, she’s 100 percent sure. If she had seen Akim, she would
have put him in the cardboard box in the bedroom like she always does.
“Just open your eyes and you’re going to find your Akim,” she says.
“It’s bizarre you don’t know where Akim is. Usually you know where everything is.”
“Eh, my friend—don’t always rely on me. I’m not perfect,” Materena says, smiling.
“A wife, she’s supposed to know where all her husband’s things are!” Pito is so cranky he can’t find his Akim.
Materena turns around and faces Pito. “What are you going on about? You’re not my husband. I don’t see a wedding band on my
finger.”
Pito stomps out of the kitchen.
P
erfect day for sunbaking.” Rita unfolds the mat and lays it on the grass. “Especially after all that rain.”
Materena agrees that it is a perfect day for sunbaking. She makes herself comfortable on the mat with her pillows.
Rita is now busy spreading cooking oil mixed with soy sauce on her arms and legs.
“Lily gave me this tip,” she explains to Materena. “It’s supposed to make you go brown quicker.”
“Cousin, you’re already brown.” Materena doesn’t manage to sound too interested.
Rita is finished with the spreading. She lies next to Materena and immediately digs into the bowl of chips and avocado dip
she’s brought.
After several chips, Rita asks Materena if she is going to dig into the chips. She sure doesn’t want to eat all those chips
by herself. Materena informs Rita that she doesn’t feel like eating chips.
“Well, how about the salted mangoes?” Rita asks. “Are you going to have some?”
“
Non,
it’s okay.”
Materena turns her head to Rita and attempts to smile. She’s been acting very cheerful to Rita since Rita arrived, but Materena
doesn’t want to pretend that she’s in a happy mood anymore.
Materena is feeling quite miserable.
She can’t smile.
She’s feeling so depressed. She’d like to tell Rita about her depression, she’d like to tell Rita about Pito’s drunken marriage
proposal, but Rita will be bored. Who wants to hear that Materena foolishly took Pito seriously and got carried away gathering
quotes for the wedding cake, the music, and the drive to the church and around Papeete? It is not a long story—it is a very
long story. A saga. Some pains are best suffered alone.
And, plus, Pito doesn’t love Materena.
Yesterday afternoon Materena went through the family albums, and in all the family photos (well, not all of them, but most
of them), Pito looks distant, bored, or annoyed. He looks like he doesn’t want to be there, he doesn’t want to have a woman
and children, a family. But when he’s with Ati, Pito is flashing a big smile. He’s also smiling when he’s had a few drinks,
but Materena doesn’t care about those photos, because when you drink, everything is happy.
Materena had a few drinks last night and listened to her new love-song tape. She went to bed feeling a bit happy, but when
she woke up this morning, she felt depressed.
Leilani asked before going to school, “Mamie, are you all right?”
And Materena said, “Ah, girl, don’t be concerned. It’s only women’s stuff.”
Materena’s lips quiver. Rita looks at Materena properly. “There’s something wrong.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Do I look like someone who doesn’t want to worry about you?” Rita asks.
“You’re going to laugh at me.”
“Me!” Rita exclaims. “Me! Laugh at you! I laugh at you when you’re silly, but I don’t laugh at you when you’re not in a happy
mood!”
Then, squinting, Rita adds, “Has it got to do with Pito?”
Materena remains silent.
“It is him, isn’t it?” Rita asks. “What did he do? Did he look at another woman?”
“Cousin, it’s not this.”
“Well, what did he do?”
Materena sighs. “It’s more like what he didn’t do. It’s more like what he’s never done.”
“Okay, Materena.” Rita pushes the bowl of chips out of her way. “I’m not moving off this mat until you tell me the story.
I’m serious. If I have to stay on this mat for days, I will.”
“He’s never said ‘I love you’ to me,” Materena says.
Rita’s eyes widen with stupefaction. “Never? Not even once, not even when you two started to go out together? When men say
all sorts of nice words to get into a woman’s pants?”
“Never.” Materena remembers that it wasn’t really Pito who wanted to get into her pants. It was more she who wanted to get
into Pito’s pants.
“Why are you feeling sad about this today? And not last month? Last year?” asks Rita.
Materena tells Rita the story.
Two nights ago, she was cleaning the oven and listening to the radio, and the love-songs dedication program came on. She always
listens to the love-songs dedication program, as she likes to listen to love songs and she’s never felt sad. But two nights
ago, just listening to all those people, all those men professing their love for their woman on the radio for the whole island
to know about… well, Materena felt sad.
“You must know,” Rita says, “not all those love-song dedications are genuine. Some men call the radio to profess their love
for their woman only because the woman is standing right next to the telephone making sure that he does. In fact, I know a
woman, she dials the number of the radio herself to make sure her man isn’t talking to the person who tells the time and pretending
that he’s talking to the person from the love-songs dedication program… And Giselle does this too.”
Materena already knows that their cousin Giselle does this. Giselle also chooses the love song she wants her boyfriend to
dedicate to her.
“How come you felt sad when you listened to the love-songs dedication program two nights ago?” asks Rita.
Materena tells Rita that it might have something to do with that song she heard in the truck on her way home from work. It
was such a beautiful song. As a matter of fact, all the women in the truck started to cry, and one woman was about eighty
years old.
“What was the song?” Rita seems interested, although she doesn’t really like love songs.
“‘La vie en rose,’” says Materena.
Rita doesn’t know that song and she would like Materena to sing it for her. But Materena can do better than that.
She bought the tape yesterday. She went to the music shop and just said to the salesperson, “I want to buy that song, ‘La
vie en rose.’” And the salesperson immediately knew which song Materena was talking about.
So Materena runs to the kitchen to get her radio. The “La vie en rose” tape is already in the radio. Materena listened to
that song about twenty times last night. And it drove Pito crazy. He said, “I’m beginning to be
fiu
of listening to that woman’s croaky voice.”
Materena gets the batteries from her bedroom and puts them in the radio. She rewinds the tape yet again—“La vie en rose” is
the first song.
“Here’s the song, Rita.” Materena presses the play button and closes her eyes. And Edith Piaf begins to sing about how when
her lover takes her in his arms and speaks to her softly, she sees
la vie en rose.
There’s a big lump in Materena’s throat as Edith sings like a woman in love, a woman loved; sings with love and passion about
her man—her man, who tells her words of love, everyday words. And it’s he for her and she for him . . .
And this for life! Tears come pouring out of Materena’s eyes.
“Well, okay, that’s enough now.” Rita presses the stop button.
“Didn’t you like that song?” asks Materena incredulously, wiping her eyes.
Rita grimaces. “You know me. I prefer songs that make me want to dance. That song, it’s making me want to sleep.”
Rita has long since left and everyone’s home now. Materena decides to climb for a breadfruit. Pito is outside practicing on
his ukulele, and just the sound of it irritates Materena. She wants to tell Pito that he will never be able to play the ukulele
right because he hasn’t got a musical ear and you must have a musical ear to play music, like her cousin Mori has.
But Materena is not going to say anything. She’s just going to climb up the tree higher and higher.