Merzan, the Destiny of an Artist

by Marc Blake

  Captain Bell clears his throat authoritatively. “Ladies and gentlemen.”

  He pushes past the crowd and stands protectively close to Matahina.

  “The Gods of the Island of Mo’ore’a have blessed us all on this memorable morning to be in audience of...” making a formal introduction, “... her Royal Highness, the Princess Matahina.”

  The tourists react with excitement at the news finding out she’s a real Polynesian Princess.

  Large Captain Bell struggles to drop to a knee and removes his hat to bow in respect to her Highness. The tourists try to do the same, muxing their honorary gestures of bows and hat tipping with trying to get the perfect photograph of this special moment. It all ends up creating comedic chaos.

  One extremely large woman rises from her poorly executed attempt to bow to the Princess just as a man behind the woman tries to take a photograph. The man ends up shooting a close up of the back of her sunbonnet – missing his shot entirely. He reacts with disgust and twists his face with a telling expression.

  Matahina gracefully drops to the sand, setting her basket of fruit and flowers beside her.

  She throws a gigantic hug around Captain Bell, who is still down on a knee. Matahina follows the hug with a big long kiss on his sloppy, sweaty cheek. Matahina doesn’t seem to mind.

  The tourists react with a mixture of “ahhhs” and “ichhhs.” Their expressions add more comedy to the scene.

  Captain Bell puts both his arms around Matahina who, by now, has found total comfort laying her head into his large chest. The Captain holds her just like a grandparent soothing their loved one.

  She lifts her head up from his chest and looks him in the eyes. Already knowing what is next, putting on deliberate airs, she speaks to the oversize Captain so that all can hear her!

  “Captain Bell, we have guests. It would be rude not to invite them to our table.”

  She gestures toward the sandy beach as the place for them to sit down and join in by receiving samples from her collection of the Island’s natural treats.

  Captain Bell, again clears his throat authoritatively.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, sit! Sit down to our table and enjoy the gifts of the Island of Mo’ore’a. The Princess has spoken. Now, there will be a great feast.”

  Matahina laughs. The tourists hesitate to sit on the sand... without some protection, a towel, a cloth, something! They’re not even certain this is a serious request with the playful behavior they’re seeing exchanged between the Captain and the Princess.

  Captain Bell continues, “Oh, no, no! Worry not. The sand of Mo’ore’a is pure and gentle to your...” he clears his throat and doesn’t exactly want to complete that thought. He says instead, “Well, there will be no additional tariff to sit down on this harmless pure white sand.”

  Captain Bell becomes authoritative, insistent and forceful, “NOW SIT!”

  The tourists immediately sit in response to Captain Bell’s abruptly delivered direct order. They’re fearful and dare not disobey!

  Matahina begins passing around fruit from her basket’s collection. She gets up and places flowers in some of the women’s hair.

  There is beautiful island music in the distance adding to the ambiance of the gentle and peaceful morning sharing the bay.

  Toanui is on his small boat rowing further and further away off shore. He is rambling on to himself, possessed by his own quest to secure the Island from any tourism. As Matahina is placing a flower in one of the women’s hair she momentarily glances past the woman and notices Toanui. Matahina’s friendly smile fades for that brief moment.

  Somehow, only she can tell that Toanui is commanding, “This is MY Island!”

  Tahitian drums crescendo into a storm of anger in support of Toanui’s hard attitude.

  9 The Calm Before the Storm

  Merzan has settled in for the evening in his dormitory room. He’s just falling asleep. He’s thinking about how good it feels being at his new school. Then he thinks about his younger sister, without him on the farm. There’s even a little touch of homesickness in his thoughts. Even so, he falls into a deep (night’s) sleep.

  The hours of the night pass. It’s early morning now and he finds himself in the middle of a dream about him and his sister Geneviève. In the dream he is playing his childhood game, “Prince of the Sea” in the fields of tall grass near the garden on their farmland home.

  The dream continues with what’s left of a storm just beginning to clear. However, imminent danger draws near with a pirate ship appearing on the horizon.

  Merzan’s dream consumes him. He fully senses the horror of his nightmare. He and his sister clearly feel the great fear with the approaching ship of danger drawing near.

  A shipmate rings out a warning with the ship’s bell.

  Merzan, startled by the bell, is awoken by the morning school bell and ponders his dream for a few moments. He shakes off his discomfort from the troublesome dream and gets ready for class.

  Even though it’s only been a short time since Merzan has started school in Paris, this day already seems familiar, much like the others. The daily school routine has quickly become quite normal. Merzan is involved in his typical classroom activity with other students. He ventures between his different classes during the course of the school day. Merzan’s adventurous spirit is tapping on his imagination more and more now that his comfort at school is well seated.

  The day ends and Merzan is back in his dorm for the evening. Merzan studies his schoolwork in his dorm each night after classes. He likes it there. On this night, when he closes his books, he picks up the newspaper that he recalls having stuffed in his book bag earlier.

  Relaxed, sitting up on his bed, he thumbs through the paper and happens upon an ad for a gallery exhibition. The announcement is for a traveling exhibit that will show in one of the famous galleries of a Paris museum. He notices the date of the opening, looks at his calendar on the wall and realizes it is scheduled for tomorrow night.

  Merzan tears out the announcement and holds it in his hands, near his chest. He turns out the light and goes to sleep with it as if it is a stuffed animal comforting him while he rests. He wants to attend this exhibit.

  The next night Merzan goes to the showing. This is something he’s longed to do for many years. The time has finally arrived. He’s even more excited than he expected to be. There is a grand opening taking place to celebrate the advertised exhibition of great works. Fancy cars are dropping off members of high society, elegantly dressed. The entire area outside the museum is alive with many people, lights and activity. Merzan, well under-dressed in comparison, finds his way to the entrance discovering he will need to buy a ticket to enter. He acts a little surprised to discover this situation. It exemplifies his naivety with the Paris art scene.

  Merzan locates the ticket booth. He checks his pockets for any amount of money as he approaches the ticket window. Now standing first in line in front of the ticket seller’s window, Merzan realizes that he is shy of the necessary funds to buy himself a ticket to the show.

  The extra friendly ticket seller asks Merzan, “What will it be young man? One ticket? Two tickets? I’ll bet a handsome young Frenchman like you has a lovely lady waiting by the door. Two tickets monsieur?”

  Merzan says, “No! Only one, but...”

  Failing to find enough funds, Merzan continues, “...I’m afraid I... Excuse me, just a moment.”

  Merzan steps off to the side. Meanwhile, the gentleman behind him observes young Merzan’s obvious financial misfortune.

  Then, this man of modest size, steps up to the ticket agent.

  The man is Philippe Sopoko. He’s a 61-year-old liberal-minded gentleman with tightly manicured, slicked down gray hair, a pencil thin mustache, wearing a gray V-neck button up wool sweater and a bright red beret.

  Philippe observes that Merzan is still checking every possible pocket for more money – apparently to no avail.

  The ticket seller seeks to accommodate the
buyer, “Bonsoir monsieur! One ticket for you, oui?”

  Philippe replies, “I will need two tickets for the exhibit mon ami.”

  TRANSLATION: my friend.

  In response the over zealous ticket seller seems to know, “Ah! A lady friend no doubt monsieur? Here you are sir. Trois francs s’il vous plaît.”

  Philippe simply smiles politely.

  Knowing more than he knows, the ticket seller includes, “Merci monsieur! I am certain you and the lady will enjoy this art show.”

  Philippe thanks him, “Merci.”

  Philippe turns toward, then approaches Merzan who has now stepped a bit further away from the ticket window.

  Philippe speaks out to Merzan, “Young man, perhaps this is what you are looking for, no?”

  Merzan’s eyes grow big when he sees a ticket for the exhibit being handed to him. He’s not shy to accept the offering. Merzan smiles receptively.

  Merzan is grateful, “Monsieur, this is for me? I don’t understand.”

  Philippe tells him, “Come let’s go inside I’ll explain. It’s simple really. The show is inside and you are outside. You are here to see the art collection, no? So, unless you go from outside to inside, you will see nothing!”

  Merzan unable to argue with that logic offers a simple, “Oui monsieur.”

  Over compensating with appreciation, Merzan begins a verbal recital that is completely out of character for what we’ve come to know of his reasonably collected demeanor thus far. He says to the stranger, Philippe, “I have dreamed of going to an art show since I was very young and then I came to Lycée Michelet from a small village north of Montataire to study art history but there’s a great problem because no matter how much I try I cannot draw and I do not know how I can be a great artist when I have no talent in my hands and everything I see stands still for me begging to be a grand work which should be painted by the hands of a great master...”

  Merzan’s voice is fading as they get further away headed to the museum entrance.

  None the less you can still hear Merzan without a breath going on and on, “...and I have never seen the great paintings except in the books at school and I did not think about money to come to the opening and see this collection...”

  Finally, Philippe interrupts, “Young man. What is your name? How long have you been in Paris?”

  “Forgive me monsieur,” Merzan answers.

  Philippe introduces himself, “I am Philippe Sopoko. Please, call me Philippe, son.”

  Merzan politely says, “Monsieur Sopoko...”

  Philippe insists, “Philippe!”

  Merzan agrees, “Of course.”

  Merzan carefully pronounces, “Philippe.”

  Merzan falls back into his over excitement saying, “Merci beaucoup Monsieur Philippe. I am Merzan L’Granaré. This is but my second week in Paris and my first night away from the school. I must see this exhibit. I have dreamed of being in a gallerie my whole life.” Merzan corrects himself, “I mean I have dreamed of seeing a gallerie exhibit my whole life,”

  Philippe picks up on Merzan’s slip of the tongue and tucks this information into the back of his mind.

  Philippe is happy to direct Merzan, “Then into the gallerie we go... Merzan L’Granaré!”

  Philippe puts on airs, yet with dignity and respect, guiding Merzan, “Right this way my young artiste!”

  He escorts him through the open doors into the exhibit.

  They are walking together looking at the artwork. Merzan is spellbound and can’t see enough at once. He’s overwhelmed by everything – every angle of the room – the colors – the light – the people – the art!

  Merzan tells Philippe, “I am so grateful to be here.”

  Everything is perfect for Merzan. It’s more special than he had expected.

  Comfortable with first names by now, Merzan continues, “Philippe. Merci, merci, merci beaucoup. But you haven’t told me why you are being so kind.”

  Philippe plays it down, “Oh! It’s nothing really. I could see you wanted badly to get into the exhibit. Let me see, you are about the age my own son would be.”

  Merzan asks, “Would be?”

  Merzan is both curious and afraid of the answer.

  Philippe explains, “Ah! Oui. His mother died from complications during child birth. Some problems here...”

  Philippe touches his stomach area to identify the location of the problem.

  “...and there was nothing they could do for the baby.”

  Merzan regretfully tells him, “I am so sorry, Philippe.”

  Merzan is very sensitive to this sad situation. Philippe detects his genuine concern.

  The two new friends sit down at the museum café.

  They are drinking café au laits.

  Philippe is continuing his personal story, “I never married again. I came to Paris and opened a small shop not far from your high school. Say! Merzan, I invite you to come to my shop. I will write down the address and you can visit when you will.”

  He writes the shop address on a piece of coffee stained napkin, then looks at his watch.

  Philippe regretfully tells Merzan, “But now my young artiste...”

  Merzan reacts to Philippe hearing him call him a young artiste, “But I can not draw Philippe!”

  Philippe interrupts, “None the less Merzan, I must go. A man my age must get his proper sleep.” He laughs as he tells Merzan his little old man joke.

  Merzan jumps out of his chair and stands up respectfully to offer a hearty handshake to his new friend.

  Philippe signs off with, “So, good-bye then. You! Go!”

  Philippe points him to the exhibit floor and explains, “Study the light Merzan. There is much to learn.”

  Philippe leaves.

  Merzan walks up to a great work of art. The subject is an amazing night scene enveloping a natural landscape. Merzan gets lost in thought trying to understand why the work is causing him such an emotional response.

  10 His Eyes are the Window to Life’s Canvas

  The intense painting melts us back to Mo’ore’a where palms are bordering the edges of the scenic tropical view. The palm trees are swaying from the light push of calm trade winds. They are reflecting on the glistening water. All of this is seen below the immensely abundant bright star-splashed sky. There is native music in the distance. Matahina and her mother, Élise, are on the sand talking about nothing special. In the background a light shines through the window of a home and you can just make out two men busy engaged in some kind of involved discussion.

  Inside that house, the two men are talking island business. It is Temaru, the Island’s King and Amura, the King’s close friend. Amura is 66. He’s a weathered Tahitian man who is the Minister of Culture for the Island. Sitting quietly, observing their meeting, is Amura’s young son, Toanui.

  Temaru questions Amura, “You propose we send ambassadors to Paris, Amura?”

  Amura explains the value of his plan, “A delegation will present our offerings to the French Department of Tourism. Then, we will set up an exchange program. We will be able to increase the tourist trade in Mo’ore’a by sharing and spreading our Tahitian culture and other island offerings in Paris.

  Toanui says to his father, warning him, “Father, they will steal our land and destroy our heritage.”

  Amura tells Toanui, “My son, there is nobody that can take your heritage from you. We are born as one with this Island. We die as one. This is our ancestry. This will always be our story and the story of our Island. The Gods of the Island put us here for a special purpose. They guide our lives with a destiny told in the stars.”

  Amura puts his arm on Toanui’s shoulder and leans down close to him to reinforce his certainty, “When it is time, we travel past the horizon where the Gods take us back into their arms.”

  Toanui mumbles, “These tourists! The Gods will become quiet and die when tourists make this their island!”

  Amura sternly reacts, “Toanui!”

  T
oanui lowers his head out of respect, showing defeat from his father’s verbal scolding.

  Back outside on the beach, Matahina asks her mother a lingering unanswered question, “Mother, why do I have no brothers?”

  Élise is quick to answer and says, “Matahina, your grandmother gave birth only to me as I have given birth only to you my Princess. This is a blessing that I have inherited from her.”

  Matahina is yearning for more information and asks, “But mother, why can you have no more children?”

  Élise explains, “Matahina...”

  Matahina interrupts, “Will I be able to have children mother?”

  Élise looks up to the stars afraid she knows that a very possible truth for that answer is, “No.” Even so, the Queen keeps this potential hereditary malady from her young daughter so as to not worry her while reminding herself one is never completely certain what the Gods of the Island have written in the stars.

  Élise tells her, “Matahina, you will need your own island for your family because Mo’ore’a will be far too small.”

  She draws Matahina in close. Looking past Matahina, the Queen’s warming motherly smile turns to sadness and tears. Matahina, not seeing this, remains fooled by her mother’s comforting words.

  Inside the house, that conversation continues. Temaru pulls out the chair from the table and escorts Amura to sit down.

  Temaru, in his collected manner says, “Amura, my dear friend for so many years. We won’t need to send a delegation of ambassadors to Paris. Your idea of a cultural exchange is worthy. I am thinking about a different way to encourage the French to travel to Polynesia. I have a different plan.”

  Temaru walks over to the window and see’s his wife and daughter on the beach. Toanui turns to see what Temaru is looking at and seems to understand that his plan might involve sending Matahina away to Paris. Toanui grows outwardly concerned becoming hopelessly restless in his chair.