by Sieni A. M.
“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.” Khalil Gibran.
“In helping others, we shall help ourselves, for whatever good we give out completes the circle and comes back to us.” Flora Edwards.
“We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love.” Mother Teresa.
When she read them they seemed too cliché, mocking the allusions a younger Alana embraced before her father’s death. Now the cold reality of the type of world she lived in blew that delusion out of her mind.
Her bed was in the center of the room underneath large windows that overlooked the lush valley, her bedding made up of old cotton linen, its texture soft from overuse. Over it draped a large mosquito net that blew from the wind that filtered through the louvers. A wide door framed with ivory curtains led to the balcony outside where a hammock hung, shaded by the leafy branches from the banyan tree. She looked forward to curling there later with a good book. The wooden paneled floor was covered in a woven mat and atop it sat a small table with a night light. An array of pink and yellow frangipanis that Alana knew Sala had placed there sat submerged in a small vase. Smiling at the gesture, she turned to her cupboard and pulled out the drawers that were empty from years of her absence. She would unpack tomorrow. For now, exhaustion overtook her, and she slipped under the mosquito net in her camisole and lavalava ready for slumber.
***
At dawn, Alana awoke to the chorus of chickens in the village making their obligatory wake-up call. Stretching, she rose and shuffled to the bathroom to clean up. After she washed her face and brushed her teeth, she laced up her sneakers and headed out for a jog around the village. She admitted this was her favorite time of the day when the world was not yet stirring and she could have a few moments of solace before the weight of the day and all its responsibilities hurdled towards her. There was something spiritual and nostalgic about dawn’s atmosphere. She remembered as a child awakening to the sounds of soft chanting coming from her grandmother’s room, her father’s mother, who lived with them before she passed away. Alana remembered the comfort she felt from her prayers wrapping warmth around her as she awoke, and the feeling never left her.
The majority of the sky was still black, the first twinges of purple and pink seeping through the edges of the horizon. The stars were slowly twinkling out, humbly giving in to the biggest star in the galaxy. A light breeze carried with it tropical scents from her mother’s garden, and Alana inhaled deeply.
Glancing around the yard, her eyes found her father’s grave at the side of the house. She noted her mother took great care in tendering a small garden around his tombstone, and her heart broke when she looked at it. It no longer looked like the fresh pile of dirt the day of the funeral, and her body trembled in reaction. It was as if somehow it was unreal that this happened, that the accident was all a big mistake and he would simply walk up the driveway at any moment with a smile on his face and call her pele. Alana made her way over and crouched down.
Smoothing a hand over the marble she drew in a shaky breath. “I miss you every day, tama,” she whispered.
Rising quietly, she left her family home and made her way to the main road. Turning her iPod on, Alana scrolled to Ryan Farish and settled into an even pace as she allowed Full Sail to soar and uplift her. It was a small country road, tar sealed but lacking paved sidewalks. Bushes and shrubbery covered the makeshift pathways along the sides, and she was forced to jog on the tar, mindful to face traffic coming from the opposite direction. Houses were obscured from each other and separated by the abundance of wild tropical flora that grew uncontrollably. Alana was grateful for the space and privacy it provided. When the road stretched to a steep incline, her legs started to tighten from exertion, and she welcomed the burn. The sun rose and spread warmth on her back, sweat beads forming on her face. She urged her legs and started to sprint, pushing through the aches in her muscles. It had been a while since she was free like this on the open road, and the feeling was exhilarating. When she reached the pasture where cows grazed behind a barbed-wire fence, she turned around and went back, satisfied with her thirty-minute jog.
Alana walked through the front gate and stopped short. One large dog was crouched low, growling and baring its teeth, saliva dripping down to the ground. Her heart rate picked up. How could she forget? Those dogs scared the bejesus out of her every time she visited home from university, and they never quite got along by the time she returned to Fiji. When he gave a sharp bark, he attracted the attention of the other three, and they came running out from under the fale. Her peaceful reverie was over.
Crap!
Alana bent down to pretend to pick up a rock, a branch—anything because everyone knew that when you did that to a Samoan dog, it would instantly bolt. But not her family’s mutts. No. They weren’t fooled.
“David! Get out here and come help me!” she cried out as they circled around her dangerously.
While it was a known fact that Samoa didn’t play host to hazardous animals that posed a danger to people’s lives like tigers and bears, it would definitely be argued that dogs in Samoa—domestic or stray—could easily fill that role. After taking a chunk out of her hip when she was a child, Alana was all too aware of the fact that Samoan dogs were far from the average cuddly, playful creatures she saw on American television shows.
“Still scared of a few little mutts there, a ea sis?” David appeared in his work clothes throwing out pieces of bread to deter them away from her.
The dogs scrambled towards him and immediately gobbled up the distraction, snapping the bread in their mouths mid-air. Alana shuddered and inched closer to the front door.
“Firstly, they are not little. What are you and Sala feeding them? And secondly, you know very well that they are capable of taking off my sneakers and biting off my toes.” She bolted inside and made a mental note to take food with her the following morning.
“She just stepped in now.” Perlita was on the phone when Alana entered the front door. “Papa and Lola,” she mouthed quietly, gesturing for her to come closer. “The ceremony was long and stifling hot as graduations usually are… yes, she looked beautiful… She will be starting soon… I’ll let her tell you all about it.” Her mother said farewell to her parents and passed the phone to Alana.
Beaming, she grabbed the handle and pressed it to her ear. “Hi, Papa and Lola! It’s been too long.”
“Alana, we are so proud of you, darling girl!” her grandfather boomed down the receiver. Despite the assistance of his hearing aid, he continued to shout his words. Alana giggled out loud.
“Honey, your Papa and I are thrilled about your graduation.” Her grandmother’s lilting voice came through from the second telephone in their house. Alana imagined she was in the upstairs bedroom while her grandfather was speaking from the phone in the kitchen. “Now, we know how much you have pined over the years to travel to one of those dream destinations of yours,” she paused. “Well, as a graduation present, we want to send you to one of them. All you have to do is pick one.”
Alana gasped in surprise. “What? No, this is too much, Lola.”
She heard chuckles on the other end. “Of course not, sweetheart. You deserve this because you earned it. We have been saving up for this since you started university so everything is covered.”
Alana was speechless. “Really? Are you sure? I never imagined this. Is this for real?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. One of her dream destinations! What an incredible gift.
“The big question is where do you want to go?” Papa asked.
“I don’t…I don’t know,” she stammered. “I don’t even know what to say. This is the best surprise ever. Thank you both so much.” Incredibly touched by their thoughtfulness, she was moved to tears by their kindness.
“Well think about it and let us know,” her grandmother responded.
“Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Lola. This means so much to m
e. I love you both so much.” Alana allowed a tear to spill over.
“Goodbye, darling girl. We love you. Stay in touch.”
“I love you, too.” She sniffed and hung up.
Chapter 3
“Wear this flower in your ear.”
Alana frowned. “Sala, I’m not going to a siva. I’m going to work.”
They were sitting around the small round table in the kitchen, one of Alana’s favorite rooms in the house. It was designed in a way that from whichever angle you stood, one always had a clear view of the gardens outside. Large windows surrounded them and kitchen cupboards in a mix of blue and green dominated the bottom half. Bowls of ripe papaya and guava from the garden and vegetables from the local market, spices for curries and stews, a box of cereal, and a tin of powdered milk were placed on the countertop.
“Nonsense! Doesn’t matter if you are not going dancing. The sei is the perfect complement to a woman’s attire.” Sala huffed and continued. “It enhances her natural beauty. You wear this and it will bring joy to your patients. Plus, it won’t hurt to catch the eye of some doctor either, especially one of those foreign students, ua e iloa?” She strategically placed the pink flower on Alana’s right ear demonstrating the age-old Polynesian adage. “Now, this will inform everyone that you are single so there will be no confusion. Eat your breakfast.” She bristled past and started boiling water for lemongrass tea. Alana sighed and took a bite out of her toast with avocado spread.
“How’s work going so far?” her mother asked, clipping the ends off flowers she was preparing to sell to the florists in town. A retired florist herself, she now devoted her time to growing every tropical flower under the sun before distributing them in bulk to hotels and shops.
Alana thought about work. It had been three weeks since she started her job at the National Hospital. The hours so far had been decent, but she knew that would change soon. As exhausting as it was being on her feet all day long, she was beginning to form attachments to some patients, most recently an older gentleman who reminded her of her father and a teenage girl who, despite her initial biting personality, was beginning to open up and warm to her.
“Well, I haven’t overdosed anyone, so I guess it’s going okay” she replied flatly. “We’re having a special department meeting this morning. Some philanthropist is flying in and visiting the hospital today, and we all have to be on our best behavior and uniform to impress him.” She yawned then bit into a piece of toast. “The head RN is going nuts over the state of the office. All that paperwork needs to be moved onto the computers for records sake, and I feel sorry for the poor intern who has to do it all. I don’t even know why. It’s not like the donor is going to look through them.”
For months the hospital was tirelessly preparing to receive this special guest. Money, whether it came in the form of aid or not, was always welcomed with arms wide open, and the hospital desperately needed it. While Alana was expecting the limited supply of basic medical resources, she was still taken aback on her first day. As resourceful as her people could be in any given situation, they were not about to pass up on seven million US dollars.
Alana finished her breakfast and stopped and checked her appearance in the hallway mirror. Out of both her siblings, she resembled her mother’s face the most: heart shaped with eyes that had a slight almond shape to them and long lashes that fanned the tops and bottom, her eyebrows were dark and dipped low to the edges of her eyes. She had thick, wavy hair the color of cocoa extending past her shoulders and stopping at her hips. It was wiry enough that when she tugged on a strand and pulled it out, she could use it as dental floss, the effect causing many raised eyebrows back in her dorm days. A birth mark the size of a grain of sand lay distinctly beside her right eye, and a round scar from contracting the chicken pox marred the side of her chin. The rest of her body took after her father’s sisters: brown skin, curvy figure, and a height that was not too tall and not too short. While she looked like the average Polynesian woman, she had one striking feature that was a result of her Occident heritage. Alana had hazel eyes with flecks of brown and olive-green that illuminated brightly when she wore anything resembling the color of moss. Her grandmother said that they reminded her of the colors that blended together to create a rainforest. But these same eyes also caused many children to taunt her in school and resulted in endless tears. Mata pusi! Cat’s eyes! They would tease the one feature that was vastly different from theirs. Alana fingered the delicate shell around her neck and heard the distinct beeping of a car horn outside sending the dogs into disarray.
“Alana, Lisi is here!” Sala yelled over the noise.
“Can someone please shut those dogs up?” She smoothed down the front of her white nurse’s uniform and picked up her bag.
“Eh, stop complaining,” Sala admonished. “They are here to protect you and this house. Without them you will come home one day and find that all your precious books and that beloved iPod of yours gone.”
Alana snorted. “Protect me, my bum. More like attack it,” she quietly mumbled out the door. She wanted to correct her—it was highly unlikely that her books would be target. Besides, all a burglar had to do was give the mutts a piece of bread and they would gladly roll over and let them pass.
“Ea lau kala? What did you say?” Sala shook her head and tossed pieces of bread out as Alana bolted to the awaiting vehicle.
“Bye, Sala! Thanks for breakfast.” She moved hurriedly and hopped into the pick-up truck, slamming the door firmly.
“Good morning!” Lisi smiled brightly, handing her a cup of coffee from their favorite local café.
“You are my savior,” Alana said, taking the beverage and sipping the warm latte.
Lisi, a fellow nurse at the hospital, instantly befriended Alana during her first week at work. Mid-thirties, married to a sailor, and well-rounded from giving birth to four children, Alana appreciated getting rides with her every morning since David always left early and took the only family car to work.
“Ready for the big meet?” Lisi asked when they were on the main road.
“We should be! I swear it’s like everyone’s been sitting on pins and needles. It’s time to deflate the stress balloon,” Alana responded by snapping her fingers.
“I heard the donor flew in on his private jet last night. Isn’t that crazy? I’ve never met anyone who owns his own private jet before,” Lisi said.
“Lifestyles of the rich and the famous,” Alana sang. “He must be some really old bag who’s on his deathbed and wants one last hurrah before he goes out.”
“Alana!” Lisi admonished, swatting her across the arm.
“Watch the coffee! But seriously, how much money can someone have that he'd be willing to donate a substantial amount to a small island in the Pacific? This old man is loaded!”
“And we are very grateful for it.”
Alana smiled. “Yes. Of course. I’m just curious what his story is. What’s making him travel all the way over here?”
“He’s an incredibly generous person, that’s what.”
Lisi parked the truck in the hospital parking lot, and they made their way to the nurses’ station. The head RN, Donna, was already barking out orders to the intern by the time they entered the office.
“And I don’t want to see any of those boxes laying on the floor. Get rid of them. These curtains need to be washed and louvers wiped down. Oka, why are these things always left to the last minute? We don’t have much time so be quick about it.” She glanced up and spotted Alana and Lisi. “Oh good, you’re here. Meeting starts in five. See you in the staffroom.”
The meeting room was buzzing with doctors and nurses alike dressed in their finest scrubs and Crocs. Manu approached Alana and tapped her playfully under the chin. “Hey Lana. Quite the fiasco, isn’t it?” She snorted and nodded her assent.
“Alright, people, let’s settle down,” one of the head doctors spoke, and the room quieted immediately. “As you are aware, we will be hosting a very spec
ial guest this afternoon that is flying in from America. He will be arriving at one, and the ‘ava ceremony will take place shortly after in the main fale. For those who are not on rotation, please be prompt.…”
“Hey,” Manu whispered beside her. “Do you have that time off?”
“I’m off for a few. I want to see what this guy is all about, maybe get to shake his billionaire hand,” Alana whispered back.
“…and the caterers will be serving lunch afterward. Let me remind you that while it is a buffet, save some for the others who will be on rotation. Okay, let’s get back to work, people. We have patients waiting.”
Alana checked the board for notices before making her rounds. She visited the older gentleman first.
“Alana, aren’t you a sight for these old man eyes,” he croaked as she checked his vitals and changed the IV bag. “That flower in your ear is very pretty, as are you.”
Alana smiled warmly down at him. He had the same kind eyes her father had. “Now there, Mr. Filipo, if my Sala could hear what you just said she would be piling them all over my head.”
She checked on her teenage patient next. Tiana was propped up on pillows, her broken leg suspended in midair.
“Alana! Did you catch the netball game last night? We beat Fiji! The girls did so well.” Tiana, who was supposed to be traveling with the Samoan national team to the Pacific netball tournament, fell during a training exercise and promptly broke her leg. Bitter about her fate, Alana arranged for one of the few television sets in the hospital—a 1980s model—to be delivered to her room so she could watch her team’s games.