Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
and that it was midday now and everyone was sleeping. I could see why. It was stifling hot,
and I was dripping with perspiration.
She thanked me for the bananas, asking where I had come from. I told her about Aitutaki
and Rarotonga. She nodded her head, “Yes, I know those islands. I have been there long
ago. My husband Faali and I come from the Marshall Islands. He was a diver for the black
pearls. Now we come here to dive the pearls here in the lagoon. My husband still sleeping,
you come back later and meet with him. He help you with boat papers,” she said, nodding
and looking at me with calm, brown eyes. “Tongi will go with you; you come back later;
we your family now on Penrhyn so long you stay. We look after you Jonathan.”
“Thank you Manu, I am really happy to be here. I am honored to be part of your family,” I
said, nodding my head. I was quite taken aback by their honest and trustworthy hospitality.
I had seldom seen it so honestly meant.
I turned away to head back to the boat. Tongi was by my side like a pup, his little hand
again in mine. I still felt a little self-conscious, but relaxed somewhat as there was no one
around to see his show of affection or sweet naivety. (Or was that perhaps mine in this nat-
ural, untroubled, little world that time and the modern world had overlooked?)
We climbed aboard. It was obvious that young Tongi had been on yachts before. He waited
for me to step down into the cool cabin and followed me down. I sat at the saloon table at
one end, and he quickly took up the opposite seat. He looked around inquisitively. At first I
was alarmed at his curiosity. I was suspicious. What if he went back now and told his fam-
ily or friends all about what I had on-board. The radios, tape deck, navigation equipment,
binoculars, and many other items. I shouldn't have been. He soon spotted the guitar in the
case and made a beeline for it, looking back pleadingly at me. “OK, let's open it up for you
to see,” I said resignedly. He was very careful with it and cradled it wonderingly in his lap.
He beamed broadly, babbling excitedly about its shiny finish and liquid sounds.
After a while, he tired of this and went through to my double bunk and looked about him
and all the topics on the shelf. He was tired, I could tell, and soon he lay down to sleep. I
was tired too; I decided to lie down as well and, while I couldn't sleep, I rested while he
slept, his soft snoring reminding me of his sweet innocence and youthful presence. It was
unreal. I had barely arrived, and here I was almost asleep with a ten-year-old kid snoring
away not two feet from me.
There was a tapping on the hull after an hour or so, and I went out above to find a lean, dark
skinned local man smiling a greeting at me. “Hello, you just come now, you Jonathan?” he
asked looking around at Déjà vu. He had short, close-cropped, black hair, a sparse, grey
stubble of a beard, and his eyes were pitch black yet friendly, the corners of which were
now crows-footed from his smile.
