Breadfruit

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by Célestine Vaite


  The more I write about Tahiti, the more I love (and with passion!) my fenua, my birth land, our ways, our customs, the Polynesian sensibility, my people. Each trip home—for holidays, book fairs, or to visit schools—gives me new issues to explore and people to develop because I’m in a constant state of fascination. I take everything in: stories, people, colors, sounds—the whole lot!

  Why did you decide to write in English, your second language? Do you think in English as you write, or do you think in your native language and translate your thoughts? Does writing in a second language affect the way you develop your characters or tell a story?

  I always act out my dialogues (it helps me see my character as if she/he were standing right in front of me) and I talk in French as my character—professional cleaner, teenager, doctor, etc.—would. Then I write in English. As for the narrative voice, it comes out directly in English but with the French/Tahitian voice in my head, as if my mother or auntie were telling me the story. Very often I’m translating literally. So it’s Mind your onions and not Mind your business.

  Writing in English is a lot of fun! True, it is a lot of work, but it forces me to really think about what I’m writing, and gets me focused on the tempo, the rhythm of storytelling.

  Throughout your novels, you allude to various political and economic problems in your native country. Do you, after living and writing in another country, want to see a change in Tahiti? Or does living elsewhere make you appreciate the way things are in Tahiti?

  Becoming an avid reader at eleven years old profoundly changed the course of my life. Not only did books give me an insight into how people lived in other parts of the world (far from my fibro shack behind a petrol station in Faa’a, Tahiti) but they increased my vocabulary and turned me into a verbally confident young girl. And to be able to express yourself is, for me, power and freedom.

  Going back to your question now, becoming a writer has given me access to places I otherwise wouldn’t be allowed as an expatriate: meeting politicians at the National Assembly in Paris, for example, to discuss the low literacy rate in Tahiti. Personally, I want to see the literacy rate go through the roof!

  How do cultural norms in Australia differ from those in Tahiti? Marriage, for example, is certainly treated differently in the two cultures. How would Materena and Pito’s de facto situation be viewed in Australia as opposed to Tahiti? Which point of view do you identify with more?

  Weddings are extremely rare in my family—the last wedding was twelve years ago and went on for days. The bride wore white and her children and grandchildren said she looked so beautiful. But we have a lot of baptisms. Priests might be telling us to get married before conceiving babies galore, but we know what works best for us.

  In Australia, it’s more, Give me the ring and the honeymoon first, and then we’ll talk babies.

  Each country their thing.

  On relationships, I believe that they are tricky all over the world, ring or no ring. Two people, two hearts, two sets of desires, two ways of upbringing, children, encrusted habits, money matters, in-laws, phew! That is a lot to take on board . . .

  Where do you tend to draw inspiration for your characters and stories? Are your characters based directly on certain people, or are they composites of many people and observations? What was your inspiration for Pito’s character?

  I have hundreds of relatives, which is very handy when you’re a writer, bless my family, but I don’t use them one hundred percent. I take one bit from this auntie and another bit from that cousin, and I might even throw a little bit of myself in the mix. A journalist in Finland asked me, “Don’t you get confused?” No, I don’t. By the time the camera is rolling, I know my characters down to their last pubic hair!

  As for Pito, he’s my brother and my husband, nice guys with strong ethics but oh la la, they really need their eyes opened up a little sometimes!

  My married name is Pitt, so everyone from Ulladulla immediately thought, “Pitt—Pito, of course!” But I actually chose that name because Pito means belly button in Tahitian.

  You are thirty-nine years old, with four children and three books—when do you find the time to write? Do you write at a scheduled time each day or whenever the mood may strike? How long does it take to write a book?

  Although I’m now a full-time novelist (and I thank the universe for this every morning), I still write as I did ten years ago—at key points in my day, in between looking for socks, cutting onions, hanging clothes on the line, brooming, waiting for my youngest two children at the bus stop, sitting on the beach while they surf, organizing paperwork and other things for my older two children, etc. So at key points during the day I’m furiously writing down ideas (when I ask myself, what happens next?) and words for my dialogues (when I ask myself, what issues will my characters talk about here?), and then when the night comes and all is quiet, I jump on my laptop and furiously type away.

  Breadfruit is a part of a trilogy, following the inimitable Materena and her life on a Tahitian island. When did you realize that you were writing a trilogy? Why did you decide to continue writing about Materena?

  I wasn’t expecting a trilogy out of Materena and her family with the aunties, the cousins, the extended family—Breadfruit was it. But Materena came back to haunt me (write about me again!) and Frangipani was born. Halfway through writing it, though, I knew there had to be a third book, one last one for the road.

  People ask me if there’s one more book about Materena on the horizon, one more, just one. There isn’t. I love Materena to bits, she’s a wonderful and fun woman to be with until the early hours of the morning, but she has fulfilled her purpose now. It is time for her to go. She can put her broom to rest.

  Questions and topics for discussion

  1.Breadfruit is, fundamentally, a story about love—above all, the love between Materena and Pito. How did you feel about Pito and Materena’s relationship? How did their respective views of love differ? What do you think it was that made Materena want to get married after sixteen years of never thinking about it? Why was Pito so opposed to the idea at first?

  2.When Materena begins covertly gathering information for her wedding, did you share in her excitement, or worry she was going to get hurt? Why do you think the author detailed Materena’s secret wedding research? Did Materena learn anything (other than prices) when she inquired into Cousin Moeata’s cakes, Mama Teta’s car, and the seemingly excellent deal on the new bed?

  3.In Breadfruit, Vaite set out to re-create the Tahiti she knew from her childhood—complete with an almost comically large extended family. What role did Materena’s family, both immediate and extended, play in her everyday life? How would you characterize the women in her family? How would you characterize the men? Are their roles similar to or different from the gender roles in your family?

  4.What did you make of the story of Loana and Materena’s father? Why do you think Loana put “father unknown” on the birth certificate, and why did she take so long to tell her daughter the truth? Did the story give you insight into Materena’s relationship with her mother? Did it shine any light on Materena’s relationship with Pito?

  5.Materena lives in a small Tahitian town, with little access to the outside world and to the conveniences and luxuries we enjoy in many parts of America. And yet the characters in Breadfruit are acutely aware of the way the world is changing. In what instances do you see Materena and her family attempting to balance Tahitian tradition with modern beliefs? Would you identify any of the novel’s characters as “traditional” or “modern”?

  6.Vaite’s characters face numerous difficulties in their lives, and yet no one in the novel is unhappy. Does this surprise you? Why do you think the author writes of hardship in such a jovial manner? With only a few overt political references, do you consider Breadfruit a political novel? Why or why not?

  7.On one hand, Materena and her family are Roman Catholic. On the other hand, they find comfort in Tahitian beliefs that predate the arriva
l of Catholicism on the island. How do these two ways of thinking differ, and how are they similar? What role does spirituality play in the characters’ lives?

  8.Why do you think Célestine Vaite chose the title Breadfruit for this novel? Can you think of a particular passage or episode in the story that relates to the title? What does the title mean to you?

  About the Author

  CÉLESTINE VAITE grew up in a big extended family in Faa’a, Tahiti, where storytelling was part of her everyday life. She now lives with her family on the south coast of New South Wales.

  . . . and her celebrated novels

  Célestine Vaite is the first native Tahitian ever to receive the coveted Prix littéraire des étudiants, which she was awarded twice—in 2004 for Breadfruit and in 2006 for Frangipani. Both novels have been published in the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, Italy, Spain, Norway, Sweden, Finland, the Netherlands, Brazil, France, Germany, and French Polynesia. Frangipani was also short-listed for the 2005 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards and long-listed for the 2006 Orange Prize in the United Kingdom. Vaite’s third novel about Materena Mahi and her family, Tiare in Bloom, will be published in 2007.

  An excerpt from the opening pages of Frangipani follows.

  The Day You Came to Me

  When a woman doesn’t collect her man’s pay she gets zero francs because her man goes to the bar with his colleagues to celebrate the end of the week and you know how it is, eh? A drink for les copains! Then he comes home with empty pockets, but he’s very happy. He tells his woman stories that don’t stand straight to make her laugh, but she doesn’t feel like laughing at all. She’s cranky and she just wants her man to shut up.

  Finally he falls asleep. He wakes up with a sore head and says that he’d like some slices of roast beef and lemonade.

  Well, Materena is fiu of all this!

  She’s not asking Pito to give her all his pay down to the last franc. She just wants a few thousand francs, that’s all. Just enough for food, gas, kerosene, washing powder, and bits and pieces for their son. That is why it is imperative that Materena collects Pito’s pay, to which she believes she’s absolutely entitled. She’s Pito’s cook, cleaner, listener, lover, and she’s the mother of his son. It’s not as if she does nothing all day.

  Materena asks Pito if she could collect his pay, with sugar in her voice and tenderness in her smile.

  “Don’t even think about it, woman,” Pito snaps, flicking a page of last week’s newspaper. He tells Materena about his colleague whose woman collects his pay, and how all the others mock him. “Who’s the man and who’s the woman between you and your woman? Who’s the noodle? Who wears the pants? Who wears the dress?” they taunt him. Pito doesn’t want the same thing to happen to him. When you have no respect at work and the colleagues mock you from seven thirty in the morning to four in the afternoon, both behind your back and to your face, your life is hell. You don’t get invited to the bar on Friday afternoon.

  On Thursday night, Materena combs her hair wild-style, rubs coconut oil on her body, sprinkles perfume behind her ears, and attacks Pito with caresses just as he’s about to drift off to sleep. Pito opens his eyes and chuckles. And while Pito is busy satisfying Materena, she’s busy thinking about collecting Pito’s pay, filling her garde-manger, painting the house, buying a new oven. The future and not just tomorrow.

  Materena often imagines herself old, with her gray hair tied up in a thin and tidy bun. She’s sitting in a colonial chair and Pito, old too but still handsome, is standing behind with one hand on Materena’s shoulder and the other leaning on a walking stick. They are in a photo studio.

  Materena moans with pleasure because Pito sure knows what he’s doing. She loves him so much right now. She adores him. He’s the king of the sexy loving.

  “Pito, I love you!”

  With a grunt, his nipples harden, Pito sows his seeds.

  After the romance, Materena tenderly and lovingly strokes Pito’s hair as he falls asleep with a smile, his head nested on Materena’s chest. Materena hurries to ask Pito about his pay before he falls unconscious. “Pito, chéri… You’re so wonderful… your muscles are so big… Can I collect your pay?”

  Pito’s answer is a tired whisper. “Non.”

  That con, that jerk! Materena yells in her head. He only says oui when it suits him! Well, sweet water is over. Materena lifts Pito’s head off her chest and plonks it onto his pillow.

  The following Thursday Materena (one hand around nine-month-old baby Tamatoa sitting on her hip and the other stirring the breadfruit stew) asks Pito, who’s just walked into the house, about his pay.

  “Are you going to leave off about that pay?” Pito growls.

  “Non!” Materena’s answer is loud and clear.

  “You want the colleagues to laugh at me?” Pito professes again how he sure doesn’t want the colleagues to laugh at him. He doesn’t want the colleagues to say behind his back: “Between Pito and his woman, who’s the noodle? Who’s the boss? His woman, she wears the pants? Who slaves by the machine five days a week? Pito or his half?”

  Materena, who didn’t even have enough money to buy a can of tomatoes for the stew, explodes, “Ah! It’s your mates who decide these days? It’s not you? It’s your mates who wash your clothes, who cook your food? It’s your mates who open their legs when you need?”

  Pito gives Materena a cranky look and stomps out of the house.

  “Pito?” Materena calls out, rushing to him. “You’re not eating?”

  But he’s gone.

  Materena and Pito have a miserable week. There’s no yelling—no drama. Pito doesn’t talk to Materena, and he sleeps on the sofa.

  A few times Materena tries to lighten up the atmosphere, but Pito refuses to cooperate. When Materena tells Pito, “It’s hot, eh?” he doesn’t reply. When she irons his clothes in front of him, Pito looks at the ceiling. When she asks him if he’d like to eat corned beef with peas and tomato sauce or corned beef with breadfruit and tomato sauce, he shrugs. But he eats everything. He even has second servings.

  Four times Materena says, “Pito… ,” and waits for him to say a word, but he’s lost his tongue.

  Days pass.

  A week . . .

  Gradually things get back to normal. Pito sleeps in the bed again. He agrees with Materena that it’s hot. He smiles. He rakes the leaves. Materena forgets about his pay. Materena smiles.

  Then Materena finds out she’s pregnant. She cries her eyes out because she’s happy but at the same time she’s devastated. Another child, with the pay situation still the same! Materena can’t believe what’s happening. Aue eh… eh well, the baby is conceived, she tells herself. Welcome into my womb and into my life. Now, Materena decides, she will simply have to collect Pito’s pay.

  Materena is very nervous as she opens the office door. She’s wearing her old faded brown dress. She wants to make the right impression.

  “Iaorana.” Materena does her air de pitié to the young woman at the reception.

  “Iaorana.” The woman’s greeting is polite and professional. A bit abrupt too because, so Materena understands, the woman doesn’t know who she is and maybe she’s mistaking Materena for someone who’s here to sell something to eat. So Materena reveals her identity (I’m with Pito Tehana, he works here, we live in Faa’a behind the petrol station, we have a ten-month-old son, he’s with my mother today for a few hours, etc., etc., etc., and how are you today?).

  Minutes later Materena knows that Josephine has a tane and a fifteen-month-old son. She lives with her tane’s parents but that’s only temporary, she’s looking for a house to rent. Josephine’s mother-in-law is a bitch woman. Josephine’s father is a postman. Josephine’s mother died a long time ago, she fell out of a tree. Josephine was in labor for forty-eight hours with her son, Patrick. Josephine’s tane just stopped smoking…

  Finally there is a silence and Materena can explain her delicate situation.

  Josephine immediately understands. �
��Aue oui, of course,” she says. “There’s food to put on the table… There’s bills to pay… No problems.”

  She gives Materena the envelope with Pito’s name written on it and Pito’s pay in it and asks Materena to sign her name in full in a black book—the picking-up-pay procedure. After the procedure, Materena opens the envelope and takes Pito’s pay out. Then she puts back one thousand francs. There, that should be enough for Pito to buy himself three beers at the bar tonight.

  Less than two hours later Materena is in her house feeling very happy as she puts away the cans of corned beef, the packets of rice, the washing powder, and the chocolate biscuits for Pito. The family-size can of Milo that was on special and . . . what else did Materena get? Ah, mosquito coils, two cans of salmon for Pito, a bottle of Faragui red wine for Pito, soap, aluminum foil, shaving cream for Pito. Materena’s arms are sore from carrying the shopping bags, but she’s not complaining. It hurts more walking home from the Chinese store carrying just one can.

  After putting away all the goodies, Materena steps back to admire her pantry stacked to the maximum. Nothing compares to a pantry that is stacked to the maximum; an empty pantry is so sad to look at. Materena hopes Pito is not going to be too cranky with her. She hopes he’s going to be very happy about the salmon, the chocolate biscuits… and the baby inside her belly.

  At quarter past midnight, the baked chicken is still on the table, but it is now cold and stiff, and Materena is still waiting for Pito to come home.

  He’s absent the whole weekend and by Wednesday he’s still missing. To explain things to the relatives who ask where Pito is hiding, Materena invents a story about Pito looking after his sick mother. Six relatives, including Materena’s mother, say, “Ah, that’s nice of Pito to be with his mama when she’s sick. I didn’t know he was like that. We learn things every day.”

 

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