The light banter was a relief. It was as if the lunchtime conversation hadn’t happened. I rushed to fill the gaps with more ease. “You want to go for a ride? I’m still not used to driving it yet, so don’t expect Mario Andretti skills or anything.”
“Leila, Andretti driver skills are the last thing I would expect from you, from any girl. Haven’t you heard that female drivers are absolutely shocking?!”
I parried his gibe with a threat. “If you keep that up, the closest you’ll be getting to my Wrangler, is when I run you over with it.”
He just laughed as he lightly flexed and climbed into the passenger seat, making a big deal about adjusting the seatbelt. “Bring on the worst that you got girl, I’m all buckled up and ready for the ride.”
I merely rolled my eyes at his drama and started up the engine. “Where do you want to go?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment then lightened, “I know, let’s go to my place, I want you to meet my grandmother.”
He gave me directions as I drove out of the school compound. I studiously ignored the curious spectators unsure if they were gaping at the car or the ruggedly beautiful boy sitting in the front seat with me.
I was thankful for the firm grip of the steering wheel, which was the only thing steadying me. I had only limited experience with grandmothers, and they weren’t positive. The thought of meeting Daniel’s grandmother made me feel slightly queasy. And since when did teenagers want to take their friends to meet their grandparents? Back home, meeting grandparents and parents was something only old, about to live-together-get-married people did. I kept quiet and shrugged. Oh well, maybe this was another of those weird cultural habits that I didn’t know about yet? Maybe everyone at school had met Daniel’s grandmother and vice versa? Maybe I was supposed to invite people to meet my grandmother? I stifled a giggle as I thought of the First XV traipsing into Grandmother Folger’s white-on-white living room. Sweaty and shirtless. I had to laugh.
Which had Daniel looking at me. “What? What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about my grandmother back home. I wouldn’t want anyone to meet her. She’s a dragon lady. What’s yours like?”
“We’re each other’s only family. She’s everything to me.” He spoke simply, an obvious truth. “I was born in Tonga. I didn’t know my father, and my mother died when I was a baby. She had been their only child so I became their only son. We lived in Tonga until I was about five, then we moved here. Grandfather was a welder and started his own workshop. I worked with him every day after school. He taught me everything I know. When he died two years ago, I kept the business open. So it’s been pretty much just me and Mama.”
His openness caught me off guard. I snuck him a sideways glance. In that moment, he looked every inch his nineteen years and then some. I couldn’t imagine having to take on a business at the age of seventeen and was impressed again by his sense of responsibility. He spoke so matter of factly about death and the loss of loved ones that I felt almost ashamed of my own struggles to cope.
“So let me get this straight. You run a business, play sport, and go to school? I don’t get how you manage it all? How do you do it?”
“It’s a lot of work – what with school and training – but we’ve got three welders that work with me. So as long as I’m organized properly – I manage to stay on top of things. Grandfather was sick for a long time before he died and so I was already helping out a lot at the workshop. Then when he passed away, I took a year off school to run the business. I wasn’t planning on going back but grandmother wouldn’t let me give up on school. So we worked out an arrangement so I can still manage the shop and school. I’ve really had to be organized – but then Mama wouldn’t let me NOT be focused! Usually I don’t take a lunch break. That’s when I do my assignments because there isn’t much time for homework after school. The coach was great. I talked to him about my situation so he moved rugby training to the early mornings so I could still be on the team. I was going to quit but Mama wanted me to still play – besides, my chances of a scholarship are better if I keep up the rugby. I had a few offers last year for rugby scholarships at some high schools in New Zealand and one in Australia, but I wasn’t prepared to leave Mama. If I can get a contract at the senior or professional level, then I can afford to close the business, take engineering as a part-time student and even take Mama with me. She doesn’t know about that part of the plan though – she would hate the idea of moving!”
I didn’t know how to respond. He had clearly thought out every step of his long-term plans for at least the next five to ten years of his life. Clearly, his desire to provide for his grandmother was a key factor in those plans. And his every daily decision now, revolved around those plans. I was awestruck at his vision and commitment, which I had never encountered in a teenager before. I thought of the girls in my year at Washington Girls, planning as far as what dress they would buy for their sweet sixteen, how they would spend their graduation presents, whether they would summer in Aspen or Paris. And I thought of my own self-absorption as I had carried out my decision to sell my car and come to Samoa – no matter what Grandmother Folger said or how she tried to stop me. Guiltily, I confessed to myself, that concern for my safety and my happiness would have been paramount on her agenda as she had tried to block my attempts to come here. Sitting there listening to Daniel share his plans for the future – his future and his grandmother’s together – I was confronted by my own contrasting selfishness and an uncomfortable reality. This boy is far too good for me.
Thankfully, he distracted me from my morose thoughts. “Turn up here, my house is up this way.”
Daniel lived in Moata’a village, only a few minutes’ drive from school. “Some of the best rugby players in the world come from Moata’a.” he announced proudly as we pulled up in front of a green brick house with a sweeping breadfruit tree in the yard. To the right was a grand old church with gleaming stained glass windows and lacy spires. On the left was a steel frame warehouse with a faded sign blowing in the wind. ‘Daniel’s Welding.’ The double doors were wide open and a man in blue overalls, his face obscured in a steel helmet, was welding a chain link gate. I stood mesmerized by the golden red sparks as they danced and fizzed on the concrete, and was sorry when the man noticed our arrival and abruptly extinguished the hot blue flame of the welder. Lifting his helmet, his weathered face lit in a smile, he walked to greet us.
“Sole Danny! I wasn’t expecting you back this early. No game today?”
“Nah, games got suspended for a few weeks while they sort out the mess over the fight the other day. Too bad, cos we were ready to take on Avele College.” He turned to nudge me forward with one broad shoulder. “Sene, I want you to meet my friend, Leila. She just moved here from the States and I’m bringing her to meet Mama.”
The older man raised one bushy gray eyebrow as he looked me up and down. “Ahh, I see. It’s nice to meet you Leila. This is something new. Danny doesn’t often bring friends home to meet his grandmother.” Sene wiped grease-stained hands on his overalls before reaching forward to give me a firm handshake.
I swallowed nervously. Was he meaning that ‘Mama’ was so scary that nobody wanted to meet her? Great. Just great.
“Well, I’m looking forward to it. What were you working on Mr. Sene?”
Both Daniel and Sene smiled at my words.
“Just Sene will do fine. I’m fixing up a gate for a customer. Since Mr. Rugby Star here has been too busy lately to get this order finished – but then he doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time anyways … he’d probably screw it up as usual.”
Daniel replied with a guffaw. “Ha yeah right! Leila, I taught Sene everything he knows and I’ve still got tons more in reserve. He can’t handle too much information at his age, can’t teach a old dog new tricks, you know.”
Sene waved him away with a good-natured grin.“Yeah, yeah – there goes the boss – mouthing off as usual. You better get Leila inside to me
et your grandmother before she changes her mind about wanting to hang around a loudmouth who can’t weld half as good as he talks.”
I couldn’t resist jumping in. “Actually I’ve never been inside a welding workshop before. Do you think I could have a look around well, I guess later after I meet your grandmother of course?”
“Sure.” Daniel was surprised. “If you like, we can come back out here and check out Sene’s work. Only we’d better be careful, he’s not too steady on the arc welder and we might get our faces burned off.”
Sene’s only reply was to pull his helmet back down, turn the welder on and wave it at us threateningly. Daniel laughed his golden laugh and took my hand in his.
“Come on, let’s go in. Mama will probably be out back in her garden, where she always is.”
Loving the feel of his hand in mine, we walked around to the back of the house. I stopped short in amazement at the sight that greeted me.
“Ohmigosh, it’s beautiful.”
Gold green sunlight danced on the abundant garden before us. It was a slice of rainforest heaven – but with some semblance of order to its lushness. Coral rock pathways meandered through giant ferns and low-lying tamaligi trees. Everywhere, stunning orchids trailed their seductive branches. Rare purple, orange, white blossoms. Where Nafanua’s acreage was a vast expanse of green lushness, this was a far more compact but harmonious collection. It felt like every sprig had been handpicked, every leaf was known, every flower beloved. The earth spoke of love and closeness. Not since the nightmare reaction in Nigeria had I felt such a powerful emanation from a piece of land. This garden was speaking to me. Of serenity, happiness, and peace.
I turned accusingly to Daniel. “You never said anything about your grandmother’s garden!”
His reply was a casual shrug, his face somewhat puzzled by my excitement. “It’s no big deal. She loves plants. Uses them to make different medicines and stuff. People are always coming to her for help when their kids get sick and stuff.”
“Your grandmother is a native healer?”
His green eyes flashed warning fire. “Hey, we don’t take too kindly to being called natives you know.”
I hastily tried to explain. “I didn’t mean that kind of native. Sorry, I meant native as in she uses plants native to your land for healing. This kinda stuff is sort of what I was into back home. This is really big, Daniel. There’s tons of research being done nowadays on traditional medicines because Western science is finally opening their eyes to the fact that the answers to all sorts of disease can be found in traditional knowledge and - oh, look at that …”
I stopped short in my spiel, my eye caught by a green- and red-veined plant clinging softly to a coconut stump. Kneeling beside it, I gently touched it, hardly daring to breathe on it.
“Daniel, do you know what this is?”
His blank face and raised eyebrows were answer enough. I spoke in hushed tones.
“This is the mamala plant. There’s a lab in the States studying this right now because initial trials show it inhibits the cells that cause HIV. Can you just imagine? This tiny plant right here, from an island in the South Pacific that most people have never heard of, could be the cure for several million people worldwide. And yet, native Samoan healers have been using this plant for centuries in their medicines. There’s just so much Western science has to learn from native healers in all cultures.”
Daniel’s face was quizzical as he stood looking down at me. “Leila, just when I think I have you figured out, you go and add another piece of you to the mix and I have to start all over again.”
“What do you mean?” I was suddenly embarrassed by my response to his grandmothers garden. Seeing myself through his eyes. Kneeling in the dirt, fussing over plants, ranting about science and medicine. Good one Leila, now he’s gonna think you’re a freak.
“Well, as far back as I can remember, Mama has taken care of her plants and I gotta say I never really paid much attention to it at all. Was just real thankful for her garden when she cooked me up nasty concoctions every time I got sick. I remember this one time. It was real bad. Just about everybody in the village was sick with a real bad stomach virus … ugh … you did NOT want to be anywhere near us then! Anyways, Mama made a special drink for everyone that worked almost right away. I had never been so grateful for her garden as I was that night. Then, not only that, she also took some plants to grow by the side of the water spring where most of us get our drinking water. Said they would disinfect the water so we wouldn’t get sick again. And it worked.”
He paused to shake his head at the memory. “But like I said, I don’t pay much attention to Mama’s plants. Just help her when she needs it. Then I bring you here and you make me think about curing HIV and native healers and all that and well, you just make me open my eyes a bit that’s all.” As if sensing my disquiet, he smiled reassuringly at my hesitant stance. “I like it. Go on, tell me some more. How about this plant? Don’t tell me this ugly thing has some use?” He poked with his foot at a prickly cluster of red leaves.
Before I could answer, a quiet voice spoke from behind us. “Daniel. Who is this?” Guiltily, I jumped up, brushing the dirt from my knees, hoping I didn’t look too disheveled. Daniel turned to greet the grey-haired woman who stood motionless behind us.
“Mama, this is my friend Leila that I was telling you about. She was just admiring your garden. She loves plants too.”
There was an edge to the air as I moved to greet the old woman. She was a lean, imposing woman, almost as tall as I, wearing a man’s grey buttoned shirt and slacks, a woven ribbed hat, and chunky boots. She shook my hand lightly, almost unwillingly, as if she couldn’t wait to release it. She had searching brown eyes that regarded me with questions. With unease? I shifted my feet apprehensively. Without even speaking a word, I knew this woman didn’t like me. She didn’t want me here. Daniel seemed oblivious to the tension though as he continued.
“Leila’s mother just gave her a car so she was trying it out, I had her give me a ride. Thought we could check out your kitchen, see what treats you cooked up this morning?” His teasing tone was hopeful and the old woman’s face softened in response.
“Ahhh Daniel, always thinking of food. Will things ever change? You’re in luck. I made some coconut buns this morning. Leila, why don’t you take a seat out here while Daniel helps me with some refreshment?”
The two walked into the house while I moved to sit on the wrought iron bench beside a honeysuckle bush. Through the open window, however, I could hear them in the kitchen as they moved about with plates and cutlery. There was no mistaking the old woman’s statement.
“Tanielu. She is not for you.” The words were spoken with finality.
“Mama, what do you mean? Leila’s my friend.” Daniel’s answer was puzzled.
“Tanielu, I mean exactly what I say. She is not for you. You would be wise to stop this friendship before it goes any further. Before it’s too late. No good can come from it.”
“Mama, you speak in twists and turns. You’ve always trusted my judgment. Why not now?”
“Because there are things I know that you do not. Things I can sense that you cannot. I speak not to hurt you, my son. Nor to cast doubt on your judgment. I tell you with a clean heart, Tanielu. That girl is not for you.”
A typical teenage boy would probably have stomped and muttered. Ranted and raved. Thrown a tantrum. Sworn and smashed things. Stormed out. Leaving a parent shaking their head at the rashness and ignorance of youth. But Daniel was no typical teenage boy. And clearly, his relationship with his grandmother did not follow ‘normal’ societal rules on parent-teenager interaction.
There were the sounds of glasses rattling as Daniel continued preparing the lemonade. The silence was not one of seething angry resentment, but of careful consideration. Numb with shock at the exchange happening in the kitchen, I realized Daniel was thinking over his grandmother’s words, thinking what to say. What to do? About me?
I c
lenched my fists, willing myself not to get angry. What had I done to make this old woman hate me? What did she see that I didn’t? What could she sense that I couldn’t? For a brief moment, I didn’t care what Daniel’s answer would be. I felt a rush of familiar heat and all I wanted to do was storm out of the garden and get as far away as I could from Daniel AND his grandmother. It seemed that I would never have any luck with grandmothers the world over…
They came out to the garden before I could act on my impulsive thought. Daniel carefully balancing a tray of glasses, chock-a-block with ice, a glass jug of clear lemonade. Mama had a platter of coconut buns. Daniel sat beside me on the crowded seat while Mama served the afternoon tea.
“So Leila, tell me about your parents?”
I was subdued, frostily polite. “My father is American. He died last year from cancer. My mother is Samoan. I’ve been visiting with my aunt and uncle and only just met my mother a few days ago actually. I’m staying with her for a little while but I plan to go back to the States in a few months.”
Telesa - The Covenant Keeper Page 20