Breadfruit

by Célestine Vaite

  Materena is getting more confused by the second. “I don’t understand.”

  Pito gives her one more chance to reveal the truth, the whole truth, the explanation.

  “You smoke paka or what?” Materena says in desperation.

  So Pito throws the letter in Materena’s face. “What’s this, eh? It’s not a letter of separation?”

  Materena reads the “letter” and bursts into laughter. Then she tells Pito the truth, the whole truth, the explanation.

  Pito scratches his head. “It’s just that when I read that letter . . .”

  He doesn’t finish the sentence, but Materena knows that the end of the sentence is “my heart broke into a thousand pieces.”

  Materena says good-bye to her mother and walks home with Pito.

  As they are about to cross the road, a bridal car drives past, tooting its horn. Materena waves, and calls out, “Happiness to you two!”

  Pito watches Materena and says nothing.

  But he is now thinking about it, marriage. He remembers his marriage proposal to Materena—but that was months ago, and he was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying, and there was that silly love movie on the TV the night before.

  Now it’s very late and Pito wishes there was beer in the fridge to help him go back to sleep. He rolls to Materena’s side and hugs her. She’s fast asleep. He hugs her for a while and smells her perfume. It feels good, he thinks, to hug someone you care about. They had sexy loving this afternoon because there were no children at home and because they were in the mood. Pito hugs Materena tighter.

  And he thinks that it is about time that he marries this good woman. He’s sure that she’d be very interested. The way she looked at the married couple in the bridal car, the envy in her eyes, the secret desire to be a bride. Pito saw all that.

  Pito remembers his parents’ marriage. There was his father dying in the hospital room and there was his mother, and she kept saying, “Frank Tehana, don’t you dare die before you slip that ring on my finger.” And there was the priest hurrying the ceremony. Frank Tehana struggled with his marriage vows. He made Roti his wife and died soon after. Pito, then fourteen years old, couldn’t believe that a woman would care more about a ring on the finger than losing her man. Pito had a big argument with his mother. He yelled, “You couldn’t just let Papi die in peace, eh! You had to have that bloody ring. Well, he gave you that ring and then he died. You’re happy now?”

  Mama Roti yelled back, “Your father died a happy man! He died making me, the mother of his children, his wife. He didn’t just give me a ring. He gave me his name! He gave me dignity.”

  Pito is thinking that it is about time that he gives Materena his name, and dignity.

  Because he cares about her, she’s a big part of his life. But there was a time when he wasn’t interested in her. In fact, he wasn’t interested in any serious relationship at all, but Materena fell pregnant . . .

  He was so angry. His mother said, “Ah, that’s the oldest trick in the book! What a rotten trick!” Then she said, “You don’t owe that girl nothing, but I’m not having a grandchild with Father Unknown written on his birth certificate. Pito, you better do the right thing by your child or you are going to live to regret it.”

  And so Pito asked Materena to move in with him, but she wouldn’t leave her mother. So Pito just paid her visits. Then he saw his son being born and that was a mind blast. He packed his bag, got a job, and moved in with Materena.

  Then he got used to being with her.

  But she’s not just a habit.

  Sunday morning, and Pito and Materena are having breakfast.

  “Are you going to get the kids soon?” Materena asks. “Mass is in an hour.”

  Pito nods. “In a minute, but first I have to ask you something. It’s important.”

  She looks at him and waits.

  He takes a deep breath before committing himself. He knows that she’ll say, “Oui.” She’ll probably shout that word. After all, she said yes to his marriage proposal before, but she mustn’t have taken it seriously, since he was drunk.

  But now he’s sober, and very serious. If he asks, it’ll be like being already married. Materena will tell her mother about it, then she’ll tell her cousins about it, and before Pito knows it, everything will be organized, from his wedding suit to the bridal car.

  “And so?” Materena asks. “Come on, give birth.”

  “Materena Mahi,” Pito begins, “would you marry me?”

  Materena widens her eyes. “Marry you?” She gets up and clears the table. “Marry you.” She takes the cups to the sink.

  “Non.” She smirks. “There’s too many complications when you separate, and I want to be able to just pack your bags and send you back to your mama if I get fiu of you.” She turns the tap on and starts to wash the dishes.

  Pito slowly rises. “I go and get the kids,” he says.

  How Materena Got Married

  Where’s that Mama Teta?” The bride is getting anxious. “She’s nearly half an hour late.”

  “Come on, Materena,” Rita says. “Let’s walk to the church, it’s not far.”

  “We wait a bit longer.” Materena really wants to arrive at the church in a bridal car.

  “I’m not walking anywhere,” Giselle says. “Look at me, Rita. You want me to start contracting on the road?” Giselle’s second baby is due in two weeks.

  Materena can’t believe Mama Teta. She reminded her of the date and the time yesterday and Mama Teta said, “Girl, it’s all recorded in my head. I’m going to pick up your godfather and then we’ll see you at your house at about eleven.”

  “Maybe it’s a sign for you not to get married,” Giselle says as she munches a slice of bread.

  “Giselle!” Rita gives Giselle an angry look. Then, to Materena, she says, “Cousin, don’t you take Mama Teta’s lateness as a sign. I’m sure Mama Teta just had a little trouble with a gendarme. You know how she is with gendarmes. She won’t be long.”

  Meanwhile Pito is standing at the altar, waiting. He turns yet again to the entry of the church and there is still no Materena.

  “She changed her mind,” Ati jokes. But Pito isn’t laughing. He’s wondering what is taking Materena so long. Everyone else in the church is wondering too, and feeling sorry for Pito, who looks so worried.

  “He looks worried,” Loana says to Imelda, sitting beside her.

  “It is God testing him,” Imelda says.

  Loana nods. She doesn’t know how this marriage came to be. Materena just came to her house two months ago and said, “Pito and I, we’re getting married, Mamie.” Loana was going to ask Materena, how on earth did she manage to get Pito to commit? but now she can see that Pito might have committed himself. Loana gets up and goes to Pito. “You want me to go and see what’s happening?” she asks.

  Pito smiles. “Non, Loana, it’s okay. You know women, they’re always late.” He is trying to see the positive side of the situation.

  “She changed her mind,” Ati says for the tenth time. Pito wants to grab Ati by the collar and shake him a little, but he just turns around to check the entry of the church.

  He’s thinking that it is possible that Materena has changed her mind. She has, after all, refused his marriage proposal many times.

  “Marry me,” he said over and over.

  “Non.”

  “Marry me.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Marry me.”

  “I’m beginning to be fiu of you asking me!”

  “Marry me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Non.”

  “Marry me.”

  Materena finally said, “Okay.”

  It took Pito about six months.

  Back at the house behind the petrol station, Materena has given up waiting for her chauffeur. She’s afraid that the priest will decide to go and change, and then what is going to happen to all the food that her godmother paid for?
r />   “I’m walking to the church,” she says, and calls out to her youngest bridesmaid, Leilani.

  “What about Uncle Hotu?” asks Rita.

  Materena has completely forgotten about Uncle Hotu. “Let’s just hope that he’s at the church.”

  “And what if he isn’t?” Giselle just wants to know.

  “Well, I’ll take this as a sign,” replies Materena.

  And so the bride and her bridesmaids, all wearing identical missionary-white dresses with a breadfruit-leaf print, walk to the church. They’re nearly at the church when a truck pulls to the side of the road, and out hops Hotu.

  “Godfather!” Materena runs to him. She’s so happy to see him.

  Hotu gives Materena a big kiss on the forehead. “So, are we ready?” He’s not even inquiring after Mama Teta’s whereabouts.

  And Materena takes her godfather’s arm.

  It is now eleven o’clock at night and the party behind the petrol station is going full blast. The dance floor is packed, as Georgette keeps on turning out great dance music. Tonight, her music is a wedding gift to the newly married couple. And so was the delicious chocolate wedding cake. And the bridal car, even though it never came.

  In fact, when Materena’s news of marriage hit the coconut radio, everybody came forward with something to give.

  Rita put herself in charge of getting the dresses. Tapeta offered to sing for Materena when she walked into the church. Tepua, although still sad over the baby girl she lost to that popa’a couple, got busy all yesterday decorating Materena and Pito’s house with plastic red roses. And Mori built the dance floor in the backyard.

  Materena is so happy that everybody is having a good time tonight.

  There’s Mori now, trying to chat up one of Pito’s cousins, who is as big as him. Rita and Coco are somewhere out the back. Loana and Mama Roti are talking and laughing! Leilani is dancing with her brother. Moana is dancing with Materena’s godmother, Imelda.

  And there’s Pito. He’s still wearing his wedding suit, and he looks so handsome. He’s talking to Ati and that friend who’s come home for the first time in more than seventeen years to be at Pito’s wedding, Colonel Tihoti Ranuira himself. Lily and Loma certainly look very impressed with all Colonel Tihoti Ranuira’s medals, pinned on to his military uniform.

  Materena goes back into the kitchen to get some more food. She’s in the kitchen cutting up more bread when she hears some moaning coming from her bedroom. It sounds like a moaning of pain but it could be a moaning of pleasure. Materena tiptoes to the bedroom to investigate the situation.

  And here is Giselle, contracting on Materena and Pito’s new bed. “Ah, it’s you, Cousin,” Giselle says, moaning. “My baby is coming.”

  “Can you feel the head?” asks Materena. She tries not to think about her new bed.

  Giselle moans louder, and Materena rushes outside to get her auntie Stella, the best midwife on the island, but Auntie Stella has passed out. Materena needs someone who has a car and a driver’s license, someone who is sober.

  Right at that moment, Mama Teta arrives, tooting the horn. She turns the engine off, but she’s not even out of the car when Materena opens the back door. Mama Teta immediately begins to apologize, but Materena interrupts her. “Giselle is having contractions. You have to drive her to the hospital.”

  “Oui, okay, okay, okay.” Mama Teta is already turning the engine back on. Materena rushes to pluck Giselle’s boyfriend, Ramona, away from the party, but he’s too far gone. He would be of no use in the delivery room.

  And so Materena hops into the car next to Giselle, who is now crying her eyes out, but Materena has got to tell someone what is happening in case people start looking for the bride. The bride just can’t go disappearing like that.

  “One second.” Materena is out of the car and here’s Rita, and her hair is all messed up.

  “Ah, Rita!” Materena exclaims. “You save me! I’m off to the hospital with Giselle. She’s having that baby tonight. Just pass the news.”

  But Rita also wants to go to the hospital, and so the message is passed on to one of the kids playing ticktack in the dark. Materena hops into the front with Mama Teta, and Rita takes Giselle’s hand in the back and gives it a squeeze.

  Mama Teta is now speeding away to town. Giselle has a big contraction and Rita whispers to her to hold on a bit or she’ll have a daughter called Mama Teta junior. Giselle just has time to giggle before she has another huge contraction.

  “What a day,” Mama Teta says to Materena. “Nothing went according to my plan today. I’m so sorry, Materena.”

  Materena smiles. “Don’t worry about it, Mama Teta.”

  “But I’ve got your good-luck gift,” Mama Teta says. Materena had forgotten all about her good-luck gift. “Here.” Mama Teta passes Rita a little box. “Pass it to Materena.”

  Materena slowly opens the box, wrapped in white paper, and there’s a tape.

  “Is this a love-song tape?” Materena asks. She was expecting something else.

  “Well, give me that tape,” Mama Teta says, chuckling. “You might as well listen to it now.” She puts the tape in.

  And there’s Mama Teta’s voice coming out of the car’s speakers. “So, Pito,” she’s saying, “I hear you and Materena are getting married.”

  “That’s right.” Pito sounds a bit embarrassed.

  “And why are you marrying Materena?”

  There’s a long silence and Materena can hear Pito breathing heavily. “Mama Teta,” he finally says, “isn’t this a bit —”

  “Just answer the question,” Mama Teta interrupts.

  “Why am I marrying Materena?” asks Pito. “Eh, well, but, because… because she’s a good woman.”

  “Did she force you to marry her?”

  “Ah non!” Pito chuckles. “I forced her. I asked her to marry me until she accepted.”

  “Ah oui?” Mama Teta sounds surprised. “Why did you do that? You could have just taken her non for an answer.”

  “I really wanted to marry her,” Pito replies.

  “To regularize the situation?”

  “Oui, a bit, but that’s not the main reason why I wanted to marry Materena.”

  “What’s the reason, then?”

  Another long silence, and the three women riding with Mama Teta hold their breath—even Giselle.

  “Were you scared Materena was going to go marrying someone else?”

  Pito chuckles yet again. “Oui, maybe, but I wasn’t thinking about that when I asked her.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “I was thinking about . . .” Pito seems to hesitate. “I was thinking about… about how… how much I… how much I love Materena. I’ve never told her this, because . . .”

  “Hey, you people!” Giselle yells suddenly. “I’m having a baby right now!”

  Rita and Materena shriek, Mama Teta veers to the side of the road, and in the confusion the tape is completely forgotten.

  Acknowledgments

  I owe this novel to many good people . . .

  My husband and most loyal friend—thanks, Michael, for putting your own dreams aside so that I could fulfill mine.

  My little tribe, Genji, Turia, Heimanu, and Toriki—thanks for the cups of tea, doing the dishes, and understanding that mothers have dreams too. Thanks for the cuddles.

  Thanks, Santi Mack, Tracy Marshall, Lisa McKeown, Terri Janke… friends and amazing women in many ways.

  Laura Patterson—thanks for your encouraging words about my writing when I sent you my first three short stories. You greatly inspired me.

  Louise Thurtell, editor with microscopic eyesight—thanks for such a great job.

  Last, but not the least, thank you, Katie Stackhouse, for being such a perfectionist, counting glasses of wine, and wondering what happened to the heroine’s shell necklace.

  But this revised edition of Breadfruit is the brainstorm of another talented and dedicated editor, Amanda Brett. Mandy, you’re the best
, thank you so much for your vision.

  To you all… maururu.

  Reading Group Guide

  Breadfruit

  A novel by

  Célestine Vaite

  A conversation with the author of Breadfruit

  Célestine Vaite talks about love, life, and Tahiti

  Although you grew up in Tahiti, you now live with your family in Australia. What is it like to write about a place from memory? Do you think the distance allows you to be more or less accurate in your portrayal of Tahitian life? Do you ever go back to Tahiti for inspiration and research?

  I’m in Tahiti twice a year and speak regularly to my family on the phone so I know my place and my people inside out. But writing about them from Australia gives me the freedom to be bold. I’m not intimidated, for example, to have Materena speak up in court and tell the judge what she really thinks about his unfair court summons. And the electricity man is in for a real surprise as he tries to disconnect Materena’s electricity when she didn’t even receive her disconnection notice, which is, in her mind, so absolutely against the law!

  Then there are the taboo issues that don’t seem taboo to me at all writing on my kitchen table in Australia: teenage pregnancies, a woman having fun with another woman, transvestites, priests and confessions . . .

  When Breadfruit was released in Tahiti, I was quite nervous. But a year later L’arbre a Pain won the Prix littéraire des etudiants, the first time such a prize was awarded to a native. So I guess I passed the test.

  You have said in interviews that you began writing because you were homesick; this is how Materena came to be. What was the first story you wrote? With the various book contracts and deadlines you now juggle, is writing still as therapeutic for you as it was back then?

  It’s true. Pregnant with my third child and feeling very nostalgic, I began to write a short story—“The Electricity Man”—about a woman, Materena, telling off the electricity man for daring to disconnect her electricity when she didn’t even receive a disconnection notice. I’d lived that scene so many times in my childhood that I knew it by heart. Writing it made me feel good, like I was back home.