‘You couldn’t?’
Milne shook his head. ‘No. No one wants to do it. I certainly don’t. Would you like to be up there all night playing music and putting up with idiots wanting stupid fuckin requests, while everybody else is getting out of it and having a good time?’
‘No,’ agreed Brian. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘So just for a hoot I got Bazil. Done him up. And the locals love him.’
Brian looked at the packed dancefloor. ‘Obviously.’
‘I love him, too,’ said Milne. ‘He works for nothing. He never complains. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t do drugs. All I have to do is go up every now and again and change the tape.’
‘What sort of music does he play?’ Brian shook his head. ‘I mean. What sort of music do they like?’ Just as Brian said that, The Beach Boys cut out and Jo Jo Zepp and the Falcons’ ‘Honey Dripper’ cut in.
‘Rock ’n’ roll,’ said Milne. ‘Beach Boys, Dave Tice, Daddy Cool, Motown.’
‘Dragon, Cold Chisel, The Rolling Stones?’ suggested Brian.
‘Yeah. Anything they can bang their feet to,’ said Milne. ‘And I have a bit of fun playing MC. Hey. I heard music coming from your room earlier — sounded all right. Did you bring some tapes with you?’
‘Yeah. I brought a few from home,’ said Brian.
‘Okay if I have a listen? I might nick a few tracks.’
‘Yeah sure, Ron,’ replied Brian, pleased the President liked his taste in music. ‘Anytime you like.’
Another tray of drinks arrived. Brian reached over for a beer and gave a double blink. A monstrous bamboo bong with a huge party cone had arrived on the table and on a wooden board, Chief Somohl was chopping up mull from a plastic container full of juicy heads as big as corn cobs. Ebonee and Keleu were rolling up fat joints along with the chiefs’ wives. Except for the military on duty, bongs and joints were appearing all over the place.
‘So this is it, Ron,’ said Brian. ‘Drug city.’
‘That’s us, Brian,’ nodded Milne. ‘Lan Laroi. Drug capital of the universe.’
‘Somebody should ring the drug squad.’
‘I would,’ answered Milne. ‘Only trouble is …’
‘You are the drug squad,’ said Brian.
‘How did you guess?’ grinned President Milne.
Brian was about to say something when Chief Somohl pushed the bong and a Bic lighter in front of President Milne.
‘Sawi,’ said Chief Somohl.
Milne moved the bong in front of Brian. ‘I believe the first honour belongs to Takatau.’ There were nods of approval from all at the table. ‘There you are, Takkas me old,’ said Milne. ‘Go for your life.’
Brian stared at the cone sitting on the bong. You could have eaten a boiled egg out of it. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
Brian got some air into his lungs then clamped his mouth around the end of the bong and started sucking as Milne held the lighter to the cone. Brian felt the smoke filling his lungs. But there was no bitter taste; the marijuana was that fresh and full of resin it was like smoking honey. He took in a lungful, held it for a moment then let it all out in one great cloud. The whole table cheered, then it was Milne’s turn. Chief Somohl packed a fresh cone, held the lighter to it and the President sucked it all in with relish. He held it, let some out and sucked it back through his nose, then blew a thick smoke ring and as it drifted across the table, leant over and sucked it back in through his nose. The table clapped its appreciation then got into the ganja. Brian felt a tap on his shoulder and Keleu handed him a fat joint. Brian took a toke and handed it to Milne. Milne took a toke and handed it back to Brian. Brian took another toke and handed it back to Keleu. Brian was a social smoker, if that. There was no way he’d toke on a saliva-covered joint going round some party, and he never knew a bong existed the size of the one sitting on the table, now joined by a couple of others equally as big. It was the first time he’d ever been bombarded with so much pot in such a short space of time. He had another mouthful of beer and felt the full, fresh taste as it slid slowly down his throat and washed around his stomach. Then the world turned and Brian was stoned. Immaculate.
Immediately the music sounded sensational. Aretha Franklin was singing ‘Respect’ and Brian felt he could see the music pumping out of the speakers. Even Bebop Bazil came to life. He turned to the dancefloor and now it seemed like the natives were doing a raindance. The colours in their clothes and the beads, flowers and face paint looked glorious. The stone kicked up another gear and went electrical. However, instead of getting paranoid being in a strange place full of strange-looking people and having to worry about cops busting you for laughing, Brian felt marvellous. Cruising into the kaleidoscopic vortex, all snug and warm with not a worry in the world. The three chiefs and their wives all smiled at Brian. Brian smiled back. Ebonee and Keleu smiled at him. Brian smiled back at them. However, while he sensed Keleu was just looking at him, he picked up a different vibe from Ebonee. More like she was looking into him. Milne and Airu smiled at him. Brian returned their smiles. It was like a dream sequence of flowing colours, movements and sounds amidst looks of mutual understanding. Only it wasn’t a dream. Brian felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. It was a woman in her fifties, a little dumpy, flowers in her long black hair, wearing a red wrap-around and shells around her neck. From Brian’s point of view, she looked like she’d just stepped out of a cartoon.
‘Would Takatau honour me with a dance?’ she asked with shy politeness.
Brian rose slowly to his feet. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Tamilla.’
‘Tamilla. It would be my pleasure to dance with you. You’re beautiful.’
Smiling fit to bust, Tamilla led Brian onto the dancefloor, where they’d shifted most of the chairs and tables so there was more room. The people moved back and Brian and Tamilla started stomping to The Chiffons ‘He’s So Fine’. Brian had never stomped before. But his mother had got a bit drunk at her fortieth birthday party and given them all a demo of how she did it at the Surf Club cabarets at North Bondi and Maroubra.
You didn’t have to be Rudolph Nureyev. All you did was bang each foot twice on the floor, pump your hands up and down and go round in a circle every now and again. Brian slipped in with the locals easily, and he wasn’t being paranoid and imagining everyone was watching him. They were. Then a cheer went up from the crowd when they saw him in action. Not only was Brian Takatau. Takatau could dance. Full of the good stuff, Brian banged his feet and pumped his arms as the natives accepted him even more. He had three dances with Tamilla, thanked her then went back to the table getting a polite round of applause from the others.
‘Hey, I was watching you out there, cool rockin’ daddy,’ said Milne. ‘You’re not bad on your feet, for a white man.’
Brian swallowed half his bottle of beer and belched into his hand. ‘I had a good teacher.’
A fat joint appeared in front of him, Brian had time for a toke and a beer chaser when he felt another tap on the shoulder. This time she was in her thirties, lean, hatchet-faced, with long black hair full of feathers, wearing a blue wrap-around and red, white and yellow paint on her face. She looked terrifying, but had a soft voice like a child.
‘Would Takatau honour me with a dance?’ she asked.
Brian finished his beer and stood up. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Uvoodoo.’
‘Okay, Uvoodoo,’ said Brian. ‘Let’s go do that Uvoodoo that you do so well.’
Brian hit the dancefloor to Daddy Cool’s ‘Eagle Rock’ and had two wild dances with Uvoodoo to avid acclaim from the crowd. After that it was back to the table for a beer and a toke then back to the dancefloor with another woman. Milne had wound them up and they all wanted to dance with Takatau. Brian noticed the husbands and boyfriends watching him from under their painted faces, so he started hamming it up. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it catch around his elbows, banged his head up and down and spun around li
ke he was going to take off. Everyone loved it. The others at the table joined him. Takatau Bradshaw could do no wrong.
Brian danced on into the night, then after one frantic burst with a skinny girl in a floral wrap-around to Talking Heads’ ‘Puzzling Evidence’, he needed a break. Ohlo and Sohte were keeping an eye on their table and getting the drinks. Brian told them if any more women wanted a dance, Takatau was too rooted.
‘Fair dinkum, I’m knackered,’ said Brian, as he flopped down next to Milne. ‘I must have just danced with nearly every woman in the place.’
‘You’ve done well,’ said Milne. He pushed a rum punch in front of Brian. ‘Try this. It’ll put some more pep in your step.’
Brian took a sip, then a mouthful. It had a kick like a horse, but tasted great. ‘Hey, this is all right. Blueberry.’
‘With a bit of banana. So are you having a good time Brian?’ asked Milne.
‘Having a good time?’ repeated Brian. ‘I’m dancing like a lunatic. Smoking unbelievable dacca. Drinking beautiful booze at fifty cents a pop. Not counting the welcome, the choice food and the unreal surf today. Yeah Ron. I suppose you could say I’m having a good time.’
‘That’s good. Because Chief Namalek wants to see you about something later.’
‘He does?’
‘Yeah. But it’s okay.’
Brian settled back and watched the dancefloor. Everybody at the table got back up except Keleu sitting next to him. Although he was enjoying just sitting, listening to the music, Brian felt he had to do something or he’d come across as being rude.
‘I’m a bit wasted, Keleu,’ he smiled, ‘but would you like a dance?’
‘I’d love to, Takatau,’ she replied.
Brian had a slug of rum punch. ‘Okay, surfer girl, let’s go.’
They stepped onto the dancefloor to ‘Land Of A Thousand Dances’ — Cannibal and The Headhunters. Then ‘Surfing USA’ — The Beach Boys and ‘Electric Mud’ — Ray Hoff. Keleu had a cute style of dancing. She’d throw her hands up in the air, shake her head, poke her backside out and wiggle it around. And when she poked her backside out, it was one cute little backside. They had half a dozen or so dances between drinks, then finally went back to the table. Brian sat down next to Milne and Airu. The wives and Ebonee were at the table, but the chiefs were missing.
‘How are you feeling, mate?’ the President asked.
‘Terrific,’ said Brian, drinking another rum punch. He smiled at Keleu. ‘Keleu’s been showing me some new steps.’ Keleu smiled back over her drink.
‘That’s good.’ Milne finished his glass of rum punch. ‘All right. You got a few minutes? We want to see you about something,’
‘Yeah sure.’
Brian had a quick mouthful of drink and followed Milne outside, then across the street to the jetty. The chiefs were standing there smoking a joint about as big as a Worcestershire sauce bottle. In the flickering fairy lights hung round the tugboat they looked a little sinister and Brian started to wonder if he might have done something wrong. Chief Namalek didn’t quite take him to his breast earlier. Milne stopped in front of the chiefs and turned around.
‘Brian,’ he said. ‘Chief Namalek would like to say something to you.’
Chief Namalek stepped forward and placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder. ‘Takatau. Would you do me the honour of joining my tribe? The Opwuhi.’
Brian was that drunk and out of it, he would have joined the Ku Klux Klan. ‘Well, yeah. Sure,’ he blinked. ‘What’s …?’
‘I have consulted with the other chiefs. They are in agreement. And Sawi also gives his approval.’
‘Okay,’ said Brian.
Chief Namalek beamed. ‘Then it is done. The initiation ceremony will be here tomorrow, half an hour after midday.’ The chief bowed his head at Brian. ‘Thank you, Takatau. I am honoured.’
‘Hey. No worries, Chief Namalek,’ said Brian.
‘Now. Let us have a ceremonial watering,’ said Chief Isosueri.
‘Good idea,’ agreed President Milne. ‘I’m busting.’
The three chiefs faced towards the distant mountain range, lifted up their wraparounds and started piddling over the side of the jetty. Milne unzipped and joined them. So did Brian. After they’d finished, Milne looked at his watch.
‘Shit! This is the last tape. I’d better go and tell Bazil it’s time to pull the pin.’ Milne shook his head. ‘Bloody hell! Where did the time go?’
‘It definitely flies when you’re having fun,’ said Brian.
Chief Namalek handed Brian the monster joint. Brian took a toke and the five men ambled back across the road and through the crowd to the bar. Brian wasn’t sure what was in the last joint. But instead of walking inside with the others, he was somehow able to float above the roof, drift down through the thatched ceiling and materialise back on his seat between the President and Keleu. Brian had three more dances with Keleu before Milne got back in the DJ booth. He turned down the track that was playing and switched on the microphone. Everybody who was on the dancefloor stayed there while the rest of the crowd moved closer.
‘All right, music lovers,’ announced Milne. ‘It’s that time of the night again. But what a night it’s been.’ A roar of approval went up from the crowd. ‘And what about our special guest Takatau. Can the boy dance or what?’ Another, even louder roar of approval went up from the crowd. ‘Come on, Takatau,’ said Milne. ‘Take a bow, me old. You’re the belle of the ball. You’ve earned it.’ Brian smiled, nodded and waved to the people around him. The people smiled and clapped. Tamilla came over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘And tomorrow,’ continued Milne, ‘Takatau is going to be initiated into the Opwuhi. We’re all looking forward to that.’ There was another cheer from the crowd. ‘Anyway, it’s time to say goodnight. But before we go, how about a big hand for the ace man here.’ Milne put his arm around the torso. ‘The best DJ in the Pacific. Beeebop Bazilll. Come on. Let’s hear it for Bazil.’ The club echoed with cheers and applause. ‘Yeah. What a crowd. What a night. So we’ll go out with Bazil’s finishing song. And we’ll see you here next time. Good night, sleep tight, and don’t let the gummy sharks bite.’ Milne hit the play button and wheeled Bazil back behind the curtain as the Warumpi Band’s ‘My Island Home’ rang out through the speakers.
Everybody joined in, singing along with the words, dancing and clapping their hands. Milne came down from the DJ’s booth, joined the chiefs and their wives and along with Brian and the girls formed a circle. It was a lovely way to the end the evening. The song picked up for the last few bars then faded out. Brian joined the others back at their table where they all clinked their glasses for a final good luck toast. Brian was a completely shot bird and looking around him, he felt the others were heading in that direction too.
‘You’re going to join the Opwuhi tomorrow, Takatau,’ said Keleu. ‘That is my tribe.’
‘Fair dinkum?’ said Brian. ‘What a coincidence. And you can call me Brian if you want to, Keleu.’
Keleu dropped her eyes. ‘Only if you insist, Takatau.’
‘Well, I don’t insist. But bugger it, you may as well.’ Brian took another sip of rum. He was off with the pixies. But he was doing his best to act cool. ‘So what’s the initiation ceremony I got to go through tomorrow, Keleu?’
‘Oh, not much,’ replied Keleu. ‘You put on a mavu, a blue top to show which tribe you belong to. And you get your mutami, a shark to wear round your neck. Then you dive in the water.’
‘Yeah? And then I become a member of the tribe and a shark worshipper.’
‘Yes. That is right — Brian.’
Brian looked at the little redstone shark around Keleu’s neck. ‘Unreal. I can’t wait.’
Milne turned to Brian. ‘Well, Takatau. It looks like the party’s over. We’d better get you home. I’ll tell Sohte to bring the car around.’
‘Bring the car around?’ said Brian. ‘Ron. I live next door.’
‘You do? Shit!’ exclaimed Milne. ‘Bloody sho
rt-term memory loss again. It must be all those drugs.’
They finished the last of their drinks. The chiefs and their wives said goodnight and drifted off. The crowd dispersed. Most pedalled away on their mountain bikes, some had brought blankets and crashed out on the grass alongside the harbour. The older ones went by trishaw or got driven home by Ohlo and Sohte in a flatbed truck or the Jackeroo. Finally all that was left in the bar was the staff cleaning up, plus Milne, Brian and the three girls. Everyone was tired and looking forward to bed, and rather than put up with the President’s drunken snoring, Airu was stopping with the two girls in the house.
‘Well, I suppose we’d better make a move,’ said Milne. ‘Reckon you can get home all right from here?’ he asked Brian. ‘You’ll be flat out getting a taxi this time of night.’
Brian tried to think of a retort. But he was just too buggered. ‘I think so, Ron. I’m not sure about the stairs though.’
‘You’ll have to make it up the stairs, Takatau,’ said Milne. ‘We’re going to make a quick call at the kitchen. It’s munchies time.’
‘Shit! The munchies,’ said Brian. ‘I’m that out of it I almost forgot.’
They waved goodbye to the staff, turned left out the front of the bar and a few metres further on walked noisily into the Presidential Palace. With Milne leading the way, they climbed the stairs to the kitchen. Milne opened the door and switched on the light. Brian stepped inside with the others and thought he’d walked into the back of a four-star restaurant. Stainless steel shone around the walls, behind black granite benches. There were double sinks and big ovens and open grillers with utensils hanging above. A double-door fridge was against one wall and pinewood shelves and drawers were built round the others. A window overlooked the harbour. Next to a chopping block in the middle of the room was a table and stools, and sitting on the table were two trays covered by a tablecloth. Milne whipped away the tablecloth to reveal a neat stack of fish tacos with avocado and chilli sauce and a bowl of tossed salad.
‘Good old Lengi,’ smiled President Milne. ‘Okay, Takatau. Go for your life.’
The Ultimate Aphrodisiac Page 10