Coconut Wireless

by Nicola Baird

  Thinking back on those days Anna can't work out how the MP knew Stella was going to play so successfully into his plans to ruin her. She understands why Stella came to her for help - modesty aside, she is after all well-known as a healer and has helped more babies into this world than she's seen motor cars, and she's certainly seen enough of those! It's true that the town has ears, and big men spies, but all the same that coincidence - the MP's phone call and then minutes later the arrival of that poor woman really spooked her. It’s as if he has custom magic too. But there was no time to guess all this when Stella appeared at the house.

  "Stella, why don't you go to the hospital for help, use the white man's medicine? That's strong. That's the right thing to do."

  Stella gasps out an answer in between a fresh burst of pain: "I'm frightened of what he may do. It's his hospital."

  "Who do you mean?" falteringly questions Anna. She knows the answer too well.

  "That evil man who gave me this child inside of me. Please Anna help me, I feel so weak. This isn't like it was when I had Ellen."

  "It's going to be all right, daughter, don't worry about anything. Your job is to have this child - but it's going to be hard, very hard. I think that the only way to combat this big man's devil power is to go high up into the bush and to appeal to the good spirits there. It will be a difficult journey but it is your only hope."

  Stella nods weakly, in agreement. The pain is becoming so bad she would even agree to cut off her ear if someone told her that would make it stop. Anna moves fast, collecting a small fibre-plaited basket and putting into it a Bible and a box of matches. Then collecting her bush knife, a filled plastic bottle of water, a towel and a folded up pandanus mat, she takes Stella's arm and tells her they must go now. Before leaving the house she writes a note, in her very childish hand, for Lovelyn. "Iu go seleva on tap long bus kwiktaem, kolsap Gole Rij." (Come to the place in the forest, by Gold Ridge, as soon as you can - and on your own). If everything goes to plan, Lovelyn will join up with her around dusk.

  The walk up to the secret cave, a spot where Anna has defied convention to set up a small shrine to one very special ancestor, is tough. The route is steep, mostly in full glare of the hot sun. The two women walk, arms linked, but in silence. Anna spends the time recalling her ancestor, the Malaita woman they called a witch and who was put to death by her husband's tribe up on this lonely spot. No one has written down her story, but Anna heard it piecemeal from her grandparents, who were the great-grandchildren of that misunderstood woman. She'd done nothing wrong, as far as Anna could see, simply been able to predict love matches, work out who was the father of the mystery children and to help women having difficult deliveries. In essence she was the original traditional birth attendant so beloved of the new breed of development professionals.

  True, the woman (whose name is lost - for two generations it was taboo to speak it, even think her name, and now it's gone forever) also had strange visions, said she knew of a super power, even bigger than the ancestral spirits, who was a loving, mother figure. If she'd been born into a different century this no-name woman might have become the first Pacific Islander saint - with her sightings of what could have been the Virgin Mary - making the cave an international shrine for Catholic pilgrims. Instead she was viewed with tolerance (a silly child, she knows nothing), then suspicion (she's the flying witch, it's her, it's her, it must have been her who drowned the party of warriors returning from that head hunting raid) and finally hacked into pieces by her kin (that'll sort her, now don't mention her again or you'll meet the same end).

  Ever since Anna first heard this terrible tale, she felt a strong bond with the sad lady of visions and knew she wanted to find the exact place where it all happened. It took her a long time to find: in the end she had to pay dollars and two strings of tafulae (shell money) to persuade an old man of Galacana (not so old that he wasn't able to also bargain for payment in kind) to show her the way. Even so he gave up, as guide that is, before they reached the cave, saying it was forbidden to go closer. But she'd just laughed in his face (my that was so long ago, over 50 years!) and had left him standing behind his invisible fence whilst she searched for this sacred site. And what a beautiful place it is: a haunting mix of sadness and tranquillity - just up and away from the river, that has recently been spoilt by gold-crazy squatters pouring mercury into the rushing waters, there is a small waterfall and behind that a smooth-floored cave. For decades now it's been home for thousands of flying foxes, who rest upside down, their strong feet gripping to the wonderful roof of strangely gnarled stalactites, excitedly chatting to each other in high-pitched squeaky voices. And it's so well hidden that even the Japanese and the noisy Yanks didn't find the place during their own murderous battles about right, wrong and possession.

  Stella is exhausted by the journey. Meekly she follows Anna into the dark cave. It's dry inside and Anna gestures for her to lie down on the custom mat, laboriously carried for just this purpose. She goes outside, and Stella briefly falls asleep, her head dizzy but the rhythmic roar of water and the squeak of bats lulling her into a brief peaceful rest. She is woken by Anna.

  "You must eat this," Anna passes over a banana leaf of a strange concoction of what seems to be chiefly water cress, doubtless picked from the bed growing in the other river which claims its last burst of independence by falling as a curtain of water across the cave's entrance before joining forces with its polluted big brother of a river. Stella tries to turn away but the old woman's hand on her arm, and the gentle whisper, "for your baby's sake," persuades her to do as she's told. The water cress mixture tastes bitter so Stella is grateful for the drink immediately passed to her by Anna to help wash it down. "It's sour, I don't like it," protests Stella - but Anna's stern look persuades her to finish every morsel. Henderson promised her that Anna would help.

  "Now, rest again, your work will start soon enough, but now I need to do some things," and Anna reaches to Stella's eyelids and gently pulls them shut, as if Stella was some kind of corpse. But it's true, Stella has reached a point of exhaustion that means she really could have fallen asleep with open eyes.

  Anna sets to collecting fallen sticks. She makes a small fire at the back of the cave, lights it with the, now rather damp, matches and through the smoke - her arms raised and her legs immodestly apart, a kind of star shape, she calls for help from her ancestor.

  Even if Stella had been fully alert she'd never have heard what Anna is saying, it's in a low whisper and seems to be in a different language - a language of sorrow. "They misunderstood you. And yet you helped all women in distress, and you laughed with joy when you saw their small babes born. Please help me now to help this sad one and to block the devil magic that is working against her. Help her live and help me to do the right thing: cruel as it is."

  On and on the chant runs, on and on until the spasms that are shaking her body break her waters. Maybe it's the dark of the cave, lit only by the firelight, but Anna sees these are green instead of clear. It's obvious the baby is in distress. After that the contractions deepen and lengthen and become so painfully intense that Stella can think of nothing but how she is going to survive this ordeal by labour. During one of these Anna is distracted from her administrations by a flicker of light. It's Lovelyn, very out of breath from the climb up the hill, and still in her school uniform. "I knew you were here, from the sound she's making - I could just hear it over the waterfall, lucky really as I might not have found this place in the dark if she'd been asleep." Lovelyn's face is suddenly tense with concern, "Matron she is going to be all right isn't she?"

  "I think so," says Anna very cautiously, "suppose she's lucky."

  "And the baby?"

  "I really don't know."

  It is the first time in the history of this mother and daughter bond that the parent really cannot give a firm answer to a question. And it is that honesty that changes their relationship - from now on they are equal partners, Lovelyn learning from her mother, but the mothe
r relying on her daughter's own judgement too. At 15 she's close up an adult. But her first task in the club, helping Stella through the agony of childbirth, is not without it's own pain. In the end Lovelyn wonders why women let themselves be put through this ripping torment, why they let some strange parasite consume their body - squeeze the lungs and the heart and the kidneys and the bladder and the intestines into a tiny space not suited for a person's organs. She's heard that women forget the agony when their bundle of miracle baby is plopped, still attached by the umbilical cord to a placenta, that bloody bag locked yet inside the body. But she finds it hard to believe. And then with Stella's legs apart, as she squats over the mat and as Lovelyn sterilises the bushknife by burning the blade in the fire, there is the first glimpse of the baby's head. Then a battle for Stella to edge it out through her pelvis. Then it's out! Rapidly followed by the shoulders, the body, the feet, and so much blood. Anna scoops up the infant, gestures for the bushknife from Lovelyn, who is now busy tying bush rope tightly on either side of the place where Anna will cut through the umbilical cord to stop the child from bleeding to death. Not that it's needed on this baby, he (it's a boy!) is strangely silent, Anna holds him close to her own heart, and then walks out of the cave.

  Stella is so exhausted that she slumps back on to the ground - a rock for her pillow. Lovelyn cranes her ears for a baby cry, that cry of life, but hears nothing. She offers her a sip of water, smoothes her forehead with Impulse perfumed scented wrists. Can she hear anything? No, just the rush of water pounding over the cave entrance with hideous force. "Your baby's a boy," says Lovelyn rather desperately. But Stella doesn't seem to hear: she's fallen unconscious, a terrifyingly deep sleep.

  It seems an age before Anna returns to the cave. Her arms are empty and her look distraught. "We must tell her the baby is dead," says Anna, half-crying. "Poor, poor Stella. And her first boy too."

  ***

  SUZY’S DIARY

  I’ve been here close to nine months. It may have dragged at the start but now that it looks like, sod it, sod it, I have to go I realise time just swept by. Ewan’s managed to extend my visa for 10 days, but he can’t change the decision caused by Dean Solomon MP. It’s like trying to turn a tanker around – someone had it in for me, got the right department to issue a cancellation and no one can flip me back on the old course. Or at least no one seems willing. There’s an application for a new bod on the way. I’ve even had to write a handover note. It’s so shaming. I am trying to figure out what to say when people back home ask why I didn’t stick it out.

  Strengths

  Beautiful place - azure lagoons edged by jungled hills that look just how they were meant to in the Big Ecologist in the Sky's greenprint.

  Kids nice, made some lifelong friends. Right now I’m a bit thinner(!) and tanned.

  Weaknesses

  Mozzies. No marina. Beer isn’t cold enough (especially by the absolute best beaches).

  Opportunities

  Depends on who you talk to – all those natural resources can be used in very good or very bad ways. Eco tourism, posh tourism is one idea so long as people keep travelling. Another is just to sell the trees, birds, orchids, fish to the highest bidder.

  If I could stay so much might have happened. (Suzy tactfully neglects to note down the kiss with a beautiful stranger. Falling in love would have been unexpectedly nice.)

  Threats

  Solomon-wise, see opps. And also there are too many under 15s. Shame the churches, especially Catholics, are far too hung up about condoms.

  Personally I’m worried about the recession back home. Loads of people looking for jobs in London right now. I also walk slower, talk about God, shake hands, point with my chin and make an anecdote last a weekend. Not sure how this is going to go down.

  My clothes are in rags (or no longer fit). No money to replace them…

  CHAPTER 20: SOLDIERS’ GRAVEYARD

  HENDERSON HEARS THAT Stella's baby is dead over the radio. He'd stayed up to crew for Fred on the taxi night shift, just for something to keep himself busy. As the death notices, announced by a dramatic roll of hollowed timber drums (one of Radio Happy Isles better attempts at a traditional-modern marriage) start to be played he'd turned the volume up, sure of bad news. And bad news came, along with the death of several fathers, grandfathers, uncles and brothers: tragic lessons in mortality made a little less sad for Solomon Islanders who know that each “late” is just one person, however many honorific family titles their death notice may boast.

  Stella's baby – a son and a brother - was barely alive before he was dead. His legacy to the world is just a mother and a sister mourning.

  "Drive me to the radio station please," demands Henderson, "this may be some terrible joke. Let's just find out who paid for that service message to go on the air."

  The radio station, overshadowed by a vast iron mast of scientific ears - radars and satellite dishes - is set back from main Honiara. It's still night really, the 6am morning news has been read but the compound is quiet and most of the night staff impatiently waiting for the day crew to turn up. Fred sees a wantok sitting in a barred booth doubling as reception and service message deposit. She is listening to the radio on (of course!) and so already knows the news. “Sorry. I heard that the baby who died was from your family.”

  Fred nods his head in agreement: although of course it's not strictly true. Henderson stands in the shadows, muscles alert as if he fears attack.

  "Sori nao," says the receptionist again.

  "I just wanted to find out who brought in that message,” says Fred gesturing to Henderson. “The news came as a bit of a surprise to my friend” he drops his voice low so… “He lives with the mother," before continuing formally, "thank you for your time and help."

  The wantok, an efficient woman who has brought up four children without any support from their various fathers, scents scandal, but sticks to the facts: "It was that a girl student from King George VI who lives up at your house. She came by not long ago.” She doesn’t add that the girl looked as if she’d been up all night, mourning does strange things to people.

  Fred shakes hands goodbye with his wantok and then hustles Henderson back into the taxi, slamming doors simultaneously. The Sunny Datsun groans in distress but through a vicious shift of the gear stick Fred cajoles the car into action and the pair drive up to Mbokonavera.

  When they arrive the household is just waking up, confused: “No. Matron, Stella and Lovelyn did not spend the night there. No. No one has seen anything of them. No. They don't know where she went - yesterday there was a note for Lovelyn but she burnt it in the kitchen fire. Has the baby been born? Is the baby dead? Really, dead?”

  Fred's wife, Sarah, sits down on one of the uncomfortable sitting room chairs and starts to cry – as a mother she shares Stella’s upsetting loss. Her distress is quickly picked up by a very sleepy-eyed Junior toddling out of the bedroom. "Who now die?" he asks in a matter-of-fact way.

  "Your baby cousin, Stella's baby," says Sarah and Junior nods wisely. He'd guessed it might be. "Come, Junior, you swim (wash) now and then we'll all stay quietly at the house today. But you will have to be very good to show respect to Uncle Henderson and the grief he is feeling."

  On a normal mourning wantoks and friends from all round Honiara would turn up at the dead person's house, and stay there with the body until the funeral. But for a little child, and one whose family ties with Anna and Adam are so tentative people stay away. A mutter travels round Honiara, the lowest possible mutter which suggests this was all for the best anyway.

  Later, when the afternoon heat sets in and humidity makes people sweat even when they sit as still as statues, Matron comes down the bush road holding the hand of Stella. At least it must be Stella, despite just giving birth she’s now as thin as a Lake Te'Nggano reed; her face drawn and her skin unnaturally pale, eyeballs slightly yellow. Henderson rushes to ease the final stage of Stella's journey home, carries her up the steps and into one of the rooms. S
he lies where she's been placed, where Junior normally sleeps, on a palm-woven mat, impassive, face hollow from grief - and sickness, barely able to speak.

  "I was so worried about you," says Henderson, "I know what's happened and I'm sorry, poor little boy. But we'll have another baby together soon, when you're strong," so taken is he by this idea that Henderson misses Stella tense up - clearly his method of consolation is anathema to her. Sarah walks into the room and shoos Henderson out. She knows Stella needs peace, not big-shot commiseration from what might so easily have been a jealous stepfather: you just never can tell with these Solo men, thinks his elder sister to herself, but more often than not it's the meek ones who turn into tyrants. Though personally she doubts if Henderson would have done, he's good enough with Ellen after all - but maybe two stepchildren is two too many. Anyway it's stupid to think that way, the baby has gone.

  Matron sits down for a little, refreshing her body with water and attempting to recover her breath. She's an old lady and stumbling over the mountain through bush and staying awake all night is no good for her at all. But today the lies she is being forced to tell give her an inner strength. "Here Sarah," she says, taking some pods collected in the bush out of her skirt's pockets. "Pound these, then add some water and give that to Stella when she wakes up again. She needs to stay here until she’s fit again. Tell her she doesn’t need to go back to the Labour Line."

  Matron calls Fred over. "Drive me, and Henderson too if he wants, and we'll bring the coffin back to the house. The baby was born dead, so I asked Lovelyn to take the body down to the brothers at Gold Ridge, but first let me drink Milo I feel a little stronger."

  Even restless Henderson notes that it doesn't take much of the hot malty drink to make Matron to feel a little stronger.

  It's a dusty, tiring drive in the taxi to the brothers’ mission station (if anything can be said for bush roads it is that they are at least direct short cuts) so by the time the three arrive it's approaching dusk. The little coffin, less than a metre long has been put in the chapel. Matron, an unbeliever, or so Fred had always thought, crosses herself as she walks into the cool house of God and then genuflects, a small courtesy in the direction of the alter performed whilst keeping her eyes modestly lowered. One of the Catholic brothers, wearing a grey-coloured Fijian sula and leather sandals, approaches the group. He shakes hands with them all, makes a similar sign of the cross in the air in front of his chest and then leads them to the coffin.