by Marc Blake
“Fine! Now, close your eyes and keep them closed.”
Merzan view turns to black as he closes his eyes. He sees nothing now.
The teacher precisely instructs Merzan, “One element at a time, describe what you saw in this room from your brief study.”
Merzan begins to describe what he saw when he studied the room briefly moments ago. As he speaks the elements he speaks of fill the black void caused by his closed eyes.
“There is a wash of light with a cool blue tint coming in from the windows on one side.”
Merzan squeezes his eyes and face trying to force out more information from his recollection.
Poetically he continues to speak to the class, “This light reflects back from the creme color on the inside wall of the room. One side of the light is cool while the other side is warm. The desks are not quite arranged in perfect rows and columns. They appear like tree roots or some kind of mounds sprinkled across a vast spread of land. And each has a bouquet of color mounted like flowers on top of a plant or in a vase... but each is different. Each flower seems animated, crying out to be heard, or perhaps to simply be seen, Maybe just to be found.”
Merzan feels the slight breeze on his skin coming in from an open window in the classroom. His hair is, again, lifted by the breeze a little.
The students in the room get very quiet. They and the instructor become mesmerized and begins to fall hypnotically into Merzan’s poetically delivered descriptive story.
Merzan continues with his imaginary visual interpretation, “But together no flower speaks for the rest and no flower can be seen or heard. They seem eager with energy. However, instead they grow weak and they begin to wilt and withdraw in themselves. They are drying up and now the wind lifts them gently and casts them all away in many directions. And when the breeze stills, the light becomes warm and deep, then cool and soon is gone.”
As Merzan is painting this picture on what started out as a black canvas on the back of his closed eyes, it becomes a tropical island and a fading sunset. It’s not too much of a surprise that Merzan ends up dreaming about the tropics as he has since he was very young playing Prince of the Seas with his sister Geneviève on their farm.
Merzan opens his eyes and the room is very quiet. Everyone is captivated by the story.
Quietly, as if to not disturb a delicate creation that was in plane view and within physical reach the teacher responds, “Perhaps this is true Merzan. Perhaps you cannot draw, but you can see.”
There is dead silence in the room. Each student is uncertain about what has happened, yet affected.
Looking around the room, the breeze is lifting everyone’s hair just slightly creating the only sound you can hear.
The teacher regroups from his own emotional journey and his dialogue becomes more lecture-like than passionate.
“When you can paint the picture you just spoke of with your camera, Merzan, you will be a great artiste.”
Merzan is still at the front of the room. The teacher goes to Merzan’s desk, picks up and sprinkles the money on Merzan’s tabletop as an illustration.
“And the price the artist pays is often starvation and loneliness. For now, you must starve with the rest of the artists in this room. Sit down Merzan.”
21 The Fire that Speaks Across the Globe
The same sunset that Merzan was describing in his art class is exactly the scene on the beach of this beautiful Island of Mo’ore’a.
The view from the beach opposite the bay takes us in through the window of Matahina’s house while the sun gives way to the night.
Matahina and her mother are packing the Princess’s suitcase.
Élise says to her, “Matahina, when you are at school you will be wearing different clothes than you wear on our Island.”
They’re folding various items, inspecting, then choosing others.
Matahina playfully adds, “And will I cut my hair and wear it in the style of a modern Parisian fashion?”
She pulls her hair back and poses in front of her mirror.
They both (with their mutually long hair) look at each other and smile, shaking their heads, “no.” They laugh off the silly comment confirming they would never do this.
Élise explains, “When you get to Paris, there is a shop on the Avenue Victor Hugo where you will be able to get more clothes. It has been arranged and they will expect you. You’ll only need to see to it that a receipt is signed for the clothes you choose to wear.”
Matahina giggles and tells her mother, “I think I will choose something different to wear everyday Mother!”
“I think your father will have a problem with that Matahina.”
Then Élise picks up a top she is folding, holds it against her chest and spins around like a young woman who is excited about her first date.
“When your father walked into the grand ballroom at the Hotel Intercontinental Paris le Gran I saw him before he saw me. Well, at the time I thought I saw him first.”
She laughs, “He was miserable in his white tuxedo. He kept pulling at his collar trying to get a breath of air.”
Élise begins to reminisce in a romantic way, “He was so handsome and I was so shy. I tried so hard to stay as far away as I could.”
Élise draws in a large breath of air, pulling at her own collar to compose herself. Matahina is enamored with her mother’s story. Élise continues to daydream.
“Mother, I don’t think you did a very good job staying away from the King.”
Élise slips away from her daydream to answer, “Oh no! He was a Prince then. Just as your trip to Paris has economic design Matahina, your father also was there as part of a cultural exchange program. It’s always about the art Matahina. Through art we could find ways to handle our Island’s needs. What we feel becomes very important in our lives and we spend most of our time looking for ways to make what we are feeling become real. But the art and the artist gives us a window through which we can escape and live in a world that they are able to see. Artists have their own light in their very special world, my daughter.”
“How did you meet father?” Matahina has never heard this story!
They sit down, side by side, on the bed. Élise puts her arm around Matahina and draws her head in close, She leans on her mother, cozy.
“I was standing on the balcony looking out on the lights of Paris. Inside the music was playing and I could hear all the voices. People were laughing. It was a wonderful ball. Your grandfather, my Papa, was one of the curators for the Musée du Louvre and we attended many wonderful functions. I always felt a little out of place though. Everyone was very nice, really, but somehow, my mind would wander and I would think about distant lands. I imagined places where the pace was different than Paris.”
Recollecting the many years ago when this took place she continues, “Well, I was standing looking at the lights and imagining they were a sea of small vessels on the bay, somewhere, somewhere very beautiful.”
Matahina asks her, “Mo’ore’a Mother?”
Élise replies, “I did not know of Mo’ore’a. I remember feeling a warm breeze and the sound of the breeze was more present to me than the sounds from the ballroom. The breeze was very quiet but somehow louder than the sounds from inside the ball. I was there on that balcony and not there at all – all at the very same time. I can’t explain!”
Matahina is growing anxious for the answer to her question, “But, Mother, how did you meet father?”
Coming back to the question at hand, “Yes, assurément.”
Élise surprises herself, “Huh! I speak such little French anymore.”
Matahina quickly provides her reaction, “Je ne m’inquiète pas si vous parlez Français ou en Anglais ou Tahitian. Je veux juste savoir comment vous avez rencontré le père!”
TRANSLATION: I don’t care if you speak French or English or Tahitian. I just want to know how you met father!
Élise is now blushing like a little schoolgirl. She tells more of the story, “I was
on the balcony not aware of anything but that warm breeze. I pictured boats, with lights reflecting on an imaginary sea. Then a voice startled me and I turned to look. There he was tugging at his collar trying get more fresh air. He looked into my eyes and I felt like he was gazing deep into my soul. He spoke to me. But all he said was, Eeva!”
She draws a fresh breath as if enjoying the sweet fragrance caused from her memory, “I stood there and repeated what I heard him say, asking him, Eeva?”
The Queens story sends her back in time to the Grand Ballroom nearly two decades earlier in time. It is a kind, gentle evening in Paris.
Élise’s memory causes her to picture the younger Prince Temaru. He is at the balcony standing next to a younger Élise. He looks up to the perfectly clear bright starlit sky.
Temaru says to her, “Star of the night.”
Élise looks at him curiously.
Temaru asks, “You are Élise are you not?”
Élise is surprised and wonders, “How do you know me your Highness?”
Prince Temaru loosens the tie from his neck and opens his collar, removes his jacket and drapes it over the railing.
“Your father introduced me to you.”
Élise knows this can’t be so and politely corrects him, “I don’t think so your Highness.”
Temaru is not concerned with the diplomacy and tells her, “Eeva, please! I am Temaru. Please address me by my name.”
Élise shyly complies, “Of course your Highness...”
She stutters, “Err... ahh... Temar...”
He helps her, “Temaru.”
Élise tries again, “Tem a ru. We have not met.”
He tells her, “But your father has spoken to me about you.”
More shy, then shocked Élise tries to ask him, “Why would he...”
But Temaru interrupts and explains, “I asked him about the beautiful woman in the photograph on his desk during our meeting. He was gracious enough to tell me your name.”
They both turn back to the railing and look up at the sky.
Élise observes, “It’s a lovely night in Paris.”
Temaru continues telling her, “When your father told me you are his daughter, Élise, I told him that in Tahitian, this means star of the night.”
“Eeva?” She asks.
“Yes,” he says, “that is your name in Tahitian.”
Élise admits to him, “It’s a lovely name.”
Temaru makes it clear that, “And it’s a name that is reserved only for a princess.”
Élise’s eyes are sparking and blue. Her story has filled them with amazing light as if she is still on that balcony catching the all the beauty of Paris, the City of Lights with her eyes, including reflections of the younger Prince Temaru. They’re as beautiful as Matahina’s eyes.
22 The Princess has Landed
It’s early morning and an intimate fanfare is taking place. Matahina has arrived in Paris and is being greeted by a group of French dignitaries. Matahina steps out of the doorway onto the ramp and looks out upon this new horizon in a foreign land – one she had never seen before. She draws in a deep breath to sample what Paris has to offer, but notices the odors of the airport are nothing close to the floral bouquet and ocean tints of Mo’ore’a. Matahina almost starts laughing, but stops herself realizing quickly that the open sea and a big city airport’s tarmac are hardly candidates for comparison. She walks down the ramp to disembark the airliner. Those in attendance bow to her and show the highest respect. The activity gets the attention of the general population at the airport. There is a particular woman, Claudette who is a 35 year old proper, conservatively dressed, plain and to the point type of personality. Claudette has been assigned to tend to Matahina as a personal aide.
“Welcome to Paris your Highness,” Claudette bows.
“I am Claudette Neuville your personal assistant. I am at your disposal your Highness.”
Matahina responds, “I am honored to meet you Mademoiselle Neuville.”
Matahina gestures with a royal bow and nod of her head. Matahina’s formality is genuine and well-trained in her upbringing. Somehow, we sense that Matahina behaves this way because others expect this, more so than this protocol is the driving nature of her personality – even as a royal.
Claudette gets right to the business at hand and suggests, “If your Highness is not too tired from the flight we can go directly to Magasin Rouge Chemise for your wardrobe.”
Matahina, rested well on her flight, answers, “That would be so nice, mademoiselle.”
“Please, your Highness, won’t you call me Claudette?”
Matahina negotiates, “Then you must call me Matahina.”
“Oui. Merci beaucoup Princess Matahina.”
Matahina is escorted into a limousine, given a brief tour of some landmarks as they work their way to the clothing shop to select a wardrobe.
Claudette informs Matahina that they are nearly there.
“Your Highness. It is just down the street a few blocks on the Avenue Victor Hugo.”
Matahina says, “Thank you. Merci. We say Maruuru in Tahitian.”
Matahina adds, “Our language is a variation of Polynesian actually, but Tahiti gets the most attention outside of French Polynesia, so we reference Tahitian and Polynesian as somewhat one and the same.”
Claudette shows a nod of understanding the references then tries to speak Tahitian, “Marr..u”
Matahina helps her, “Ma ruu ru... Paris seems so large. It’s nothing like my small Island of Mo’ore’a.”
Claudette is drawn in by the mixture of kindness and powerfully compelling beauty along with the aura of the Princess. She asks her, “Princess Matahina? Your name is so lovely. Does it mean something special?”
Matahina tells her, “It means, “Goddess Eyes,” Claudette.”
Then Claudette carefully requests approval, “May I speak freely Matahina?”
Matahina responds, “What is it Claudette?”
“You are so very beautiful your Highness and I speak for all of us here who will be assisting you when I say we are truly honored to welcome you to our city.”
Claudette bows showing respect and honor.
Along the way, Matahina notices the camera shop that’s in route.
Matahina is not shy to speak out, “This looks to be a camera shop ahead. S’il vous plaît, can we stop here?”
Claudette, without hesitation, speaks to the driver, “Arrêt de pilote à la boutique de la caméra.”
TRANSLATION: Driver, stop at the camera shop.
Merzan is just stepping out of Philippe’s camera shop and turns the opposite way from the approaching limo. He had dropped in early to leave some film to be developed and is hurrying to get back to school. He doesn’t even notice the approaching limousine.
While running down the street, Merzan sees the familiar old woman inching her way into her flat. She is just finishing up a little sweeping of the areas in front of her place.
Merzan has become a neighborhood favorite. The local folks encourage him and his quest to find his art but treat him like a dearly loved celebrity.
He passes the flower stand and the flower vendor, a 73 year old round, red faced, jolly man, stops Merzan.
He says, “Merzan! Look at all the color. Is this not perfect for your next photograph?”
Merzan, almost without stopping, looks and a snapshot locks into his vision demonstrating to himself what would result in a beautiful photo of the vendor and his flowers.
Merzan answers, “Oui, this is very nice but I must get to school and I have no time.”
The flower vendor offers Merzan a flower, “Then take this to help you design the photo when you have more time!’
He smiles and hands Merzan a flower.
Merzan continues further down the street and makes time to stop at the old woman’s location. He places the flower in her hair, like a Polynesian woman would wear an orchid.
Merzan, in that moment, looks at her and she be
comes beautiful surrounded by gleaming light. Gentle movements of her appreciation change her into a temporary, but old, tropical beauty.
In the background, the limo pulls up to a complete stop right in front the camera shop. The driver jumps out of the limo and opens the door for the Princess Matahina and Claudette. Others on the street are absorbed by the rare occasion of the parked limo. Hurried Merzan doesn’t notice the attentions and disappears out of sight.
Claudette invites the Princess into the shop, “Come Princess Matahina, let us go inside.”
Claudette helps Matahina out of the car and they approach the door to go in. Matahina is stopped by the window display. She looks at the Rolleiflex camera. She ponders a minute as if to suggest she might just want to purchase that camera for herself.
They go inside.
23 Another Life is Changed Forever
Philippe welcomes them with a spirited attitude, “Bonjour. Bonjour! And what have we here?”
Claudette takes control, “Monsieur, may I present the Princess of Mo’ore’a who wishes to come into your shop.”
Philippe raises an eyebrow and acts more playful than reserved in the presence of royalty.
He replies, “A princess. Well, then how can a simple shopkeeper like me be of service this Princess?”
Matahina wanders over to the window display to get a closer look at the professional Rollei camera while Philippe is addressing his comments to Claudette.
Claudette, acting as the official spokesperson tells Philippe, “I will inquire as to what the Princess seeks monsieur.”
Philippe doesn’t need an intermediary, “Perhaps this would be a better task for me mademoiselle.”
Philippe supersedes Claudette’s attentive behavior and approaches Matahina.
“Young lady. I am Philippe Sopoko. Welcome to my shop. What can this simple shop owner do for a Princess?”
Philippe touches Matahina’s cheek, barely, but kindly – causing Claudette and the driver, who remains standing off to the side of the shop, to both react with tremendous shock.
Claudette gasps, “Monsieur?”