Travel Reference
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and I could not stop eating it. Manu scolded me, “Keep room in your belly for the other
food!”
The other food turned out to be the rest of the piglets and the yams that we had had the first
time I ate with them. The girls had helped Manu earlier with plates of potato salad, pretzels,
canned beans and peas, and other western delights that went down very well with the local
family.
Later, we heard the booming of a huge drum that the island drum makers had just finished
constructing. It was now being christened in the square at the post office, and we were all
invited to the dance. It turned out to be a gala affair, and it was here that I realized I would
never be able to dance Cook Island style.
It appeared that both the villages had turned out for the occasion. This was a big deal for
them, and the square was alive with excited, happy faces. There were just the five of us
westerners, and we hung back, curious and a little conspicuous. The star of the show, the
hugest skin drum I ever saw, was centered in the middle of the sandy square with the old
drum makers proudly squatting around it. To the one side were several other musicians with
their smaller skin drums and carved out Polynesian-styled click blocks, I dubbed them. All
different sizes amounted to an orchestra of different drum tones. I could tell they were itch-
ing to start, and in due course, the headman of the village on the other side of the lagoon
stood up and went over to the big drum. He was accompanied by his wife and a bevy of
pretty, dancing girls dressed in colorful skirts and shirts with flowers in their shining, black
hair and leafy leis, or necklaces, about their necks.
The headman now held up his hands for silence and, in broken English and Maori, he
recited a speech cementing their friendship with the villagers of Omoka. He blessed the
people of his village and said a prayer to their ancestors, thanking them for their health and
well-being. He then got around to the making of their big drum and described briefly how
it had been made and how long it had taken. He relived amusing little incidents of its mak-
ing, and how it was almost destroyed in a fire in the hut but fortunately only the hut was
destroyed. This brought on gales of laughter from all and sundry. Finally, he went over to it
and pronounced the drum part of Penrhyn's music scene and gave it a good wallop with a
huge stick. It boomed out around us and could be heard all the way back on the other side
of the lagoon. So said the beaming headman.
Immediately, the drummers in the orchestra started up and together with the new big drum:
one mighty drumming din erupted. The dancing girls sprang up and paired off with their
young male counterparts. Amid shrieks and yells of approval from the entire audience, the
dance got underway. The ground where we sat shook and vibrated to the thumping of the
drums. The air positively vibrated with the clicky clacking of the wooden, carved-out click
