Illumine Her
Page 1
Illumine Her
A novel by
Sieni A.M.
Copyright © 2013 by Sieni A.M.
Cover design by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
Cover photo by Tim McKenna
Model: Teraina Constanzo
Editor: Maxann Dobson, The Polished Pen
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademarked owners.
Table of Contents
Glossary
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Glossary
Siapo: Tapa/bark cloth
Aiga: Family
Fale: Traditional Samoan house
Anak: Child in Tagalog
Soso: Someone who laughs uncontrollably
To’onai: Feast
Talo: Taro
Fa’i: Banana
Luau: Local dish
Koko: Cocoa
Teuila: Red ginger flower
Elei: Samoan patterned design
Kiga Kaliga: Ears hurting/sore ears
Lavalava: Sarong
Pele: Term of endearment meaning beloved
Tama: Father
Sei: Flower worn over the ear
Siva: Dance
Ua e iloa? You hear me?
Ea lau kala? What did you say?
Moso’oi: Fragrant ylang ylang flower
Fa’afetai. Fa’afetai lava: Thank you very much.
‘Ava: Root of the kava plant
Tanoa: Traditional wooden bowl
Keke saiga: Chinese cookie
Malo le ogosa’i: Well done on being patient
Tusitala: Storyteller
Saofa’i: Chiefly titles’ ceremony
Tama’ita’i: Girl
Feau: Chores
Fa’aaloalo: Respect
Ili: Fan
Sole: Greeting used towards a guy
Mi casa es su casa: My House is your House
Palagi: Foreigner
Fiafia: Happy/Celebration
Sapasui: Chop suey
Faikakala: Nosy
Kaukalaikiki: Cheeky/naughty
Po’u: Sores
Vae: Legs
Pa’ulua: Singing in a flat tone
Puletasi: Traditional Samoan dress for women
Apo: Grandchild in Tagalog
Ti polo: Tea made from lemon leaves
Keke pua’a: Pork buns
Moemimi: Little brat
Pisupo: Corned beef
Salu: Broom
Halu: Word used to shoo dogs/animals away
Ie faitaga: Traditional formal wear for men
Dedication
For all nurses working tirelessly in Samoa and in the Pacific region.
Also for my beloved grandmother who was a nurse for forty years.
Prologue
Samoa, 1918
The last of the day’s light was slowly losing its battle against the approaching twilight, its accompanying opaque horizon threatening to plummet the village into darkness in a matter of minutes. The small islands and their inhabitants prepared to bid the sun farewell in their customary way: sequestered indoors, chanting prayers and songs. Extended families gathered in their homes, sitting cross legged on the hard floor with their heads bowed, and young children tucked closely to their parents’ sides. One strong voice would begin, and they would all join in a unified choral effort. Words of praise and thanksgiving would be sung for the simple meal they were about to consume; for the well-being and happiness of their families; for the hope and anticipation of a safe and productive day the following morning.
But the chanting this evening would be vastly different from anything the people had ever experienced before. It would be far from ordinary, far from the norm. The prayers offered would be laced with a sorrow so deep, the songs of despair punctuated by painful cries and sobs. Mothers would be huddled with young ones beside them, tearfully mourning the lifeless bundle wrapped in siapo cloth in the center of the room: a father, a beloved grandfather, an uncle—the patriarch of the aiga. Titles and roles that guaranteed a life lived with love. Love from a wife, a daughter, a granddaughter. A life savagely cut short by a foreign disease that promised no hope once your family was affected.
***
There was nothing he could do. The disease was fast moving, killing slowly but quickly.
The man’s throat tightened and he closed his eyes in agony in an attempt to block out the tormented sobs of mourning in the little fale. With heavy feet he shuffled out of the warm house covered with woven pandanus leaves to the soothing fresh air that came from the sea. It was dusk and a sudden quiet had descended on the village. The houses dotting the village perimeter were beginning to flicker with light from the lamps within. With the clang of the evening bell, the chanting resounded, breaking the silence and surrounding his still form.
He crouched down in respect, lowering his head in anguish. Another innocent loss. Countless losses. This was too much to handle. His thoughts shifted to the past several weeks. The sickness was too overwhelming for his ability. He had felt it first on the old woman’s head and extremities; the influenza that burned in her blood came rushing back to him to the point that he felt like he had succumbed himself. He wanted to surrender to the pain and illness that had now claimed many lives, take it away and make it his own. But he knew he couldn’t. That it was impossible. There were just too many. He remembered the many bodies piling high to be buried in mass graves and winced.
His mind hovered to the young boy who lay still in his mother’s arms inside, her sobs breaking through his reverie.
“Doctor?” The boy’s uncle bent down to crouch beside him. “It is happening to my family.” His voice of resignation confirmed reality. “You have seen the others. There is nothing you or anyone can do for us now.”
Chase Malek nodded in acknowledgment, his brows furrowed. No. There was nothing he could do. It was all part of a greater plan that was now out of his hands.
Slowly he rose and retreated to the trees behind the family home. He walked, then began to run. He soared, picking up lightning speed, allowing his strength to propel him forward as far away as possible, the wind whipping through his hair, the branches crushing underneath his weight u
ntil he reached the north side of the island. Approaching the port before midnight, he ascended a ship that would take him far away from there—away from the pain and suffering and away from the inexplicable feeling that was slowly creeping into his mind that he had failed.
As soon as the ship sailed off into the expanse of dark ocean, its sails high and flapping, he had made his decision. It was time to move on, but he would return one day. And when that day arrived, he promised the people of the islands he had come to love that he would somehow make it up to them. For their sorrow and loss.
And perhaps for his own.
Chapter 1
Present Day
Two years ago she stopped looking at the sunset. She didn’t enjoy them anymore. Hues of crimson, orange, and yellow bleeding onto the water only made her throat tighten, a deep ache clutching around her heart twisting it dry. She was relieved when darkness finally descended because it signified that it was over, that she had the dawn to look forward to.
Today, as she smoothed down the front of her gown and gazed at her reflection in the mirror, she had only one thought in mind. He should have been here.
***
“Lana! Lana! Over here!”
Alana Vilo turned and eagerly searched for the familiar voice through the crowded mass of graduates, a sea of blue academic caps and gowns in an arena packed with people. Finally spotting them, she waved to her family as they descended the steps to the common area.
As graduates and families collided in an array of hugs and candy leis, she jostled and shifted her way out and was immediately swept up in a bear hug. “My baby sister has finally done it! She has outsmarted us all.”
Alana smiled and swatted her brother’s arm before he set her down on the ground.
“We are so proud of you, honey,” her mother approached, tears in her eyes. Placing a perfumed lei over her daughter’s head, Alana hugged her in return.
Perlita, a petite woman who moved from the Philippines to Samoa when she married her father, was radiant with pride, her almond-like eyes crinkling when she pulled away. “Lola and Papa are very happy for you, anak. They send their love and have a special surprise for you when you return home.” Perlita’s American father and Filipino mother were living on the east coast of the States and were Alana’s only living grandparents, and she glowed at the mention of their names.
“Let’s see this fancy shmancy diploma of yours,” her sister Malia said, snatching the paper away from her hands. “Oh no, Lana, they spelled your name wrong!” she exclaimed. Alana smiled and snatched it back. Older by six years, Malia lived on a different island in Samoa from the rest of the family teaching English and History in a village high school. Taller and fairer than Alana, her eyes an amber hue and hair that was Filipino straight, Alana admired her outfit, the top tucked and belted into a maxi skirt and a thick necklace made from large shells gracing her neck. Rural setting or not, she was ever the fashionista.
Alana allowed herself to bask in the congratulations and hugs from her uncle and aunty who also traveled for her graduation ceremony while lei upon lei was placed over her shoulders, creating a pile that threatened to obscure her view. She could scarcely believe they were all there for her on one of the most important days of her life.
“I’m amazed you all made it,” she exclaimed. “When David called and said the flight was canceled, I was about to go into cardiac arrest.” She turned to her older brother and punched him in the arm. “Thanks for the best surprise ever,” she said.
David, the oldest sibling, was the spitting image of their father: tall and broad shouldered with dark brown eyes and curly hair.
“We wouldn’t dare miss this day, Lana,” her uncle Gasolo said. A slight, stocky man, he was the physical opposite of his twin brother. “Your father would be very proud of you, as am I and your aunty Malae.” At the mention of her father, Alana sucked in a ragged breath. Pushing through the ache, she plastered on a smile while her uncle continued speaking. “Fiji is a very nice place. You have a good university here. It’s wonderful to see where you have been for the last three years.
Three years. It had taken three years of grueling hard work and studious discipline away from her family and everything that was familiar to her to come to another country to achieve her life-long dream of becoming a nurse. She remembered a trip to her father’s village when she was eleven that cemented her decision. Her family traveled to attend the funeral of her younger cousin who had died from dengue fever. She wondered why she was taken away so young and whether the same fate could happen to her. Why didn’t anyone help her? Why didn’t anyone save her? When she asked her father, he only shook his head in sadness. She never forgot the look on her aunt’s face, the sunken, dull eyes and bowed head. It was a loss that struck the extended family hard, one that Alana never forgot. She wanted to take their pain away, to become someone who could give immediate relief to a person when they became gravely ill. Focusing on the sciences in high school, she pushed herself until she graduated. The nursing program was an exceptional one at Fiji National University, and Alana grabbed at the chance when she was awarded a full scholarship, the reward for all the blood, sweat, and tears she shed to attain it. It was the culmination of her academic life, achieving something only a handful of students were able to accomplish. But it was one that would become anti-climactic in the years to come.
While Fiji was barely a couple hours away from Samoa and had the familiar buzz of a tropical island, the same flora and fauna, sticky heat, and friendly smiles, it wasn’t home. But with time she fell in step with the rhythm of campus life and made friends. Now she was going to have to say goodbye to it all and return to a home she dreaded with her father’s absence.
When she thought of her father, it was always the same familiar feeling. Like a stabbing pain that knifed its way into her heart, her stomach clenched in anguish and she felt light headed. Alana remembered the midnight phone call that changed everything. Since she was away, she didn’t ignore her cell phone ringing at odd hours of the night in case there was an emergency at home. Her worst fears came to life when she heard David’s distressed voice on the other end of the line. He never cried and this had immediately made her worry.
“Alana,” his voice broke.
“David, what is it? What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously. She sat upright in bed, her posture rigid. Her heart rate picked up, and her mind flicked through all the worst case scenarios.
“It’s dad.…”
Her breath hitched. “What? What’s happened to him? Is he alright?”
“No, Lana… he’s not.”
Her stomach dropped to the floor, and her throat tightened in anticipation for what was to come next.
“There was a car accident … he didn’t make it, Alana.”
That had been the day her world collapsed around her. She barely remembered the week that followed: the last minute flight home for the funeral; all the preparations that were involved; family flying in from overseas; being constantly surrounded by hordes of people; carrying out endless errands that accompanied Samoan funerals; white and black everywhere; the numbing feeling of disbelief. There was never a moment of solitude to allow it all to sink in. When the week was over, she didn’t want to return to Fiji. She didn’t want to simply go back to life as if nothing happened, the thought making her sick to her stomach. But when she reluctantly returned, she broke. Never had she experienced loss at a scale that shredded her to her core. She skipped classes, missed out on tests, and dodged her professors. Her heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Her two best friends were tremendous pillars of strength, pushing her day by day to get out of bed, take a shower, and complete her assignments. She decided then and there that she would devote every moment of study in honor of her father. She wasn’t doing this for herself anymore; she was doing this for him. It was the only way she could push forward.
After he passed away, David moved back into the family home to comfort and look after their mother. While Perlita was far
from the vulnerable woman her physical appearance made her out to be, Alana sensed she was still in mourning and terribly lonely. She didn’t know how she was going to live there again without her father’s loving presence, but she attempted to push that painful thought out of her mind immediately before it consumed her day.
“Alana!” her best friend and roommate called from across the arena, racing to hug her. “We did it! All those late nights and coffee-induced comas finally paid off!” Sera laughed and released Alana’s shoulders before proceeding to greet everyone in her family. Smiling, Alana admired her friend for her openness and easy confidence. She was instantly drawn to her when she moved into the dorms, her friendly nature easing her into life in her new home. Petite with caramel brown skin and enviable honey-colored curls that bloomed around her face, she came to Fiji from the Solomon Islands to study mental health nursing. As a result, she would often psychoanalyze Alana’s mood swings to her own amusement. Alana argued that it couldn’t be helped during that time of the month when her personality went from hot to cold and then back to hot again.
Manu approached the group with his mother and introduced themselves to Alana's family before turning to her. He grinned and playfully tapped under her chin. “Congrats, Lana,” he said with a genuine smile.
Like her, Manu came from the same island in Samoa and craved the same food she did when they were homesick. When she and Sera first met him, he was well into studying medicine. After an afternoon of touch rugby and a BBQ to welcome new students to campus, the three became inseparable soon after.
Alana peered up at him. “Congrats to you as well, Manu. Or should I call you Dr. Vai?”
His brown eyes warmed with a smirk. “I’ll never get used to that.”
“Well get used to it, Doctor, because you worked your butt off for it!” Sera said. “Not to mention the selfless hours I devoted to help you study.”
Manu snorted. “You mean the times you read my notes and then called and woke me up in the middle of the night claiming to have some kind of disease?”
Sera pursed her lips. “Well, it’s not my fault that an excessive amount of medical knowledge would lead me to freak out a bit.”