Black Pearls and Poppies

By Michael C. Neitzel

Black Pearls and Poppies takes the reader to the magical islands of the South Pacific, where old and new cultures and generations clash, and where greed and violence acts out in the paradise of the South Seas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael C. Neitzel
• Release date: Jun 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301249930

Michael C. Neitzel

An award-winning filmmaker and author, Mike has sailed over 50000 miles on his own ketch between Vancouver, B.C., and the south seas islands, Australia and Hawaii. Mike recently directed and produced a one-hour special for PBS titled SOUNDS OF HOME - MUSIC FROM THE OZARKS. Mike is currently working on his new novel WILLIAM, a heart-wrenching and gripping story about a young man growing up during England's dark ages.Just recently published on Smashwords is his novel "Black Pearls and Poppies", and just awaiting publication are "The Valencia's Last Ridy" and "Follow Your Dreams", about Mike's and his family's three-year voyage through the South Pacific.

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BLACK PEARLS AND POPPIES

by Michael C. Neitzel

Copyright 2013 Michael C. Neitzel

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Beware of the bright lights of the cities,

for far too often does their brilliant shine

obscure much more than it reveals...

The Author

Prologue

The sky above was dark, stars as clear as diamonds seemed suspended in nothing. It was almost eleven o'clock. There were only a few lights blinking in the village, and no lights were visible from any fishing boat out in the bay. The two soldiers had stretched out on the grass under a big breadfruit tree, and had gone asleep. The short man was still sitting in the Jeep, smoking another Gauloise. Once in a while the end of his cigarette glowed in the dark, and his partner could smell the strong aroma of the black French tobacco. The taller one got out of the vehicle, and walked towards the narrow beach. He looked out to sea once more. Nothing. He sat down on the old trunk of a palm tree which had washed up from the water and waited. After a while he walked back to where the two dim shapes of the sleeping soldiers were lying on the ground:

Get up! We're going back! Stop at the public telephone at Pierre's, I have to call Tahiti. Get moving, we have to catch the plane tomorrow morning at seven. We'll just have enough time to reach the airfield!

The two soldiers grumbled, but got up immediately. Two minutes later they stopped in front of Pierre's. The tall man walked over to the phone, took out his notebook, and dialed a number. They could not see his face, he kept his back turned towards them. The conversation did not last long. He banged down the receiver, and came back. His face was stern, and without a word he climbed over the tailgate into the back of the open jeep, and they were off.

Driving at night along the narrow and winding road was hazardous, but at least it was cool. No one spoke. Towards dawn they approached the small airfield.

Take me over to the office next to the tower, I'll have to make some arrangements, The tall one said.

A couple of men in coveralls were busy around an ancient two engine propeller aircraft, which looked like it had been left over from the Second World War.

My God! We'll have to fly in that? The short one said in disgust.

Better than being stuck on that damn stinkpot for five days, Replied his partner. They pulled up to a small clapboard building. A dim light was on inside. It was getting brighter quickly and they could see a few people sitting on the ground next to some bags of luggage. Without a word the tall one got out and entered the building.

Inside there was only a middle-aged man dressed in shorts and a short-sleeve shirt with the logo of Air Polynesie stitched to the breast pocket. He was busy making entries into a book by the light of a kerosene lamp hanging from the low ceiling.

Yes? The man looked up, Can I help you?

We have to get onto this plane to Papeete. There's two of us, have you got any seats left?

Are you kidding? Monsieur, these flights are booked out for months in advance! No chance!

This is official business. You must make room!

He added: Here are our identity cards! He put them on the table, the man came over, and took them to his lamp. He checked the cards over carefully, front and back. Then he got up, took off his reading glasses and said:

Seems legit enough. Well, only thing I can think of is to go outside and see if two of the passengers want to sell you their tickets. That would be the easiest way. We can't take any extra passengers, or we'll get into trouble with the authorities. I'll come out with you and talk to the people out there. Some of them might not speak French.

They both went outside, the sun had just come up and it was still cool. The clerk went over to where the passengers were sitting on the ground and standing in small groups and talked to them, pointing at the Jeep and the two men. He nodded and came over:

You're lucky, monsieur. There is an old couple who don't mind, they are scared of flying anyways, and these tickets were a present from their son who lives in Papeete. They actually rather have the money. Just pay them 800 francs.

The man dug into his pockets, and pulled out an envelope filled with 100 franc notes. He counted out eight and gave them to the clerk, who went over and brought back the two tickets. The old couple smiled happily, and waved towards the two men as they left walking back down towards the village.

The engines of the plane kicked over and sputtered to life. The two men took their seats among the other few passengers, the plane taxied to the end of the field. The engines roared as the pilot pushed the throttles forward, the plane turned around and began accelerating slowly. Almost at the end of the field it lumbered into the pink morning sky, clearing the coconut palms by only a few feet. Soon the small plane was swallowed up by the sky in the distance and disappeared over the ocean. Finally it was gone.

The old man in the valley below was just getting up when he heard the airplane pass overhead. He smiled to himself, put on his sandals, and walked down to the beach...

Chapter 1

Tao looked thoughtful out onto the narrow dirt road which passed his small house. His age was hard to tell, he could have been anywhere between fifty and seventy years old, maybe even older. A typical Polynesian, his once black hair had turned mostly silver now, but the sparkle in his friendly eyes spoke of a much younger spirit still dwelling inside. He usually wore the traditional Polynesian gay-colored wrap-around, called a pareu, which was popular with men and woman alike. But today he was dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of kaki colored shorts. His feet were bare, the way he liked it. His strong toes were slightly splayed, from years and years of walking barefoot, and climbing coconut palms. He lived about half a mile north of the school in Atuona, a small town on the island of Hiva Oa, which was the centre of the Administration for the southern group of the Marquesas. These islands were all part of French Polynesia, and one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Tao loved the islands. He would never dream of ever leaving here and move to Tahiti, where many of the younger generation went these days. The islands were a true Garden of Eden, summer and winter drifted in and out of each other over the years with little difference. Sure, the summers brought often heavy rains, and sometimes a destructive cyclone. But most of the time the islands lay peaceful and quiet under the dark blue tropical sky, and news from the outside seldom mattered much. These islanders were the prototype of what the rest of the world considered to be easy people living in easy surroundings. Life bore little excitement, but also little stress, a state of affairs that Tao deeply appreciated.

Tao's home looked much like the neighbor’s to the north and south, only that some had painted the dreary walls in pink, yellow, or even green. People called them hurricane houses. They were made of concrete, to withstand the often destructive cyclones that hit the South Pacific Islands. But Tao only remembered very few cyclones in his life-time; they were rare in the Marquesas, as these islands lay at the eastern extremity of the French Polynesian archipelago, and were spared most of the violent weather which occurred much more frequently in the Tuamotus and Society Islands, eight hundred miles or so to the west.

Tao preferred the traditional houses made of walls of bamboo, the floors covered with woven mats from pandana leaves and roofs made of palm fronds or the dried leaves of the breadfruit tree. The air blew through them all the time, and they were perfectly waterproof! Well, at least for the first few years. And if a storm blew them down, it had been no great loss. A similar house could be constructed out of readily available material within a couple of days! So what was the problem? Why did people want houses made of concrete? Tao did not understand.

In the beginning, many years ago, his family had lived on Nuku Hiva, the next island to the north, and had moved here during his great-grandfather's time, about a hundred years ago. There had been trouble in the valley, but to talk about it had been strictly taboo, although Tao had a hunch what it was all about. Now he lived a very happy life here on Hiva Oa. But he had these dreams.

He had this gift, at least that's what his father had called it, of having vivid dreams of the past. In these dreams he lived in the old days, in the valley of the Taipi, a tribe to which his family belonged, on Nuku Hiva. These were more than simply dreams one could forget about the following morning. They were very real, and it was as if he lived with his tribe in this other world, experiencing every detail of this past life as clearly as if it was happening today. He had heard people say that one did not dream in colors, and had no sense of smell, but in his dreams the flowers were just as colorful and the palms just as green as when he was awake. And the soft fragrance of the tiare and hibiscus flowers was just as strong!

In his dreams he entered the person of his great-great-grandfather. He knew this because of the sperm whale tooth which he had worn on a cord of coconut fibers around his neck before giving it to his grandson at his communion. His father had given it to Tao, and had told him that it came from his great-grandfather, and was passed on to the eldest son at the time he became a man and received his first tattoos in the old days. In his dreams Tao was always wearing it. That's how he knew. And by his name. Everyone called him Pakouteie in his dreams, his great-great-grandfather's name.

His own son, Joseph, did not have the gift. But his grand-son, Philippe, he was sure he had it. Often when he looked at him he felt a rush of love and surprise when he realized that his grandson was also present in his dreams. And he, Tao, was present in Philippe’s. He knew that, Philippe and he had talked about it, and it gave both of them strength and the feeling of a very special relationship. He had assured Philippe that this was something quite unusual, and nothing to be afraid of. The way he explained it to himself was that his people had no written language for thousands of years, everything was being passed on by the stories told by the elders. All these stories were in the collective memory of his family, and somehow he was allowed through a door of his mind into the past. The dreams were becoming less clear these past few years, and slowly began to fade into the background, sometimes replaced by dreams from his own life-time. Tao considered them really a curse more than a blessing. Some of the things he experienced had been painful, like the rituals of passing from boyhood to manhood. When he was young, only about eight or nine years old, he once dreamed when the too toe'ho'e, the surgeon, performed the incision on his penis, using the sharp edge of a fragment of stone. He had felt the sharp pain, and remembered having his swollen penis wrapped in fragrant leaves which were filled with herbs. And what they had done with their enemies disturbed him as well, things which were strictly taboo now. He didn't want to be reminded of all these ancient rituals and ceremonies, but there had been no escape.

His family had arrived here by outrigger canoe three generations ago, and he had dreamt about the voyage which had brought them to Hiva Oa. They had settled just over in the next valley, called Taaoa. He remembered that the great mountain peak of Temetiu was often hidden from view in the heavy trade-wind clouds which blew in off the ocean, and he had grown up in an ea foie, as the traditional houses were called. He had continued to live in one for most of his life. But after his wife had begged him for years and years to build a solid home in town, he had finally agreed. She had died a few years ago, and Tao was happy to have his daughter Madeleine, her husband Joseph, and their seven children, including Philippe, live with him here.

He didn't like the house. But that was not all. Other things as well were changing too much and too quickly for Tao's taste. There were even cars on the island now! Why would anyone pound along the often bumpy dirt roads, if one could quietly walk, or take a horse? Tao's small world was changing, and these changes made him uncomfortable.

The windows of his house were all wide open, simply holes left in the walls. Colorful curtains were blowing in the gentle breeze, and as they were all pulled to the sides, one was allowed an unobstructed view into the sparsely furnished dwelling. There was a rough wooden table in the kitchen, with a few rickety chairs placed around it. An old couch had been covered with brightly colored material, and a picture of the Virgin Mary holding the baby-child hung next to a crucifix against the opposite wall. A fishing spear hung there also, its points were fastened to the wooden shaft with sinnet, a material woven from the dark brown fibers of the coconut shells.

The roof was covered with corrugated iron that had once been painted in a dark red color, but it had faded over the years, and the rusty metal was showing here and there. When the sun hit the roof during midday, it became unbearably hot inside, another reason why the old houses had served so much better, Tao thought.

A wooden veranda ran all along the front and one side of the house, and that was where Tao was sitting in the shade. A big tree full of greenish-yellow pamplemouse was right next to a little wooden gate in the fence, opening onto the narrow dirt road in front. Next to him, against the wall of the house, leaned a small guitar, which he often picked up and strummed in the evenings to accompany the girls when they were singing. The house was surrounded by beautiful flowers, he had a breadfruit tree in the back yard, and a few banana trees as well as a giant papaya, his special pride. Several rows of green-leafed taro, the staple root diet of all of Polynesia, grew in the back garden. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers and fruit trees, a wonderful sweet scent which hung over the entire island. Fragrant frangipani, sweet scented gardenias, and bursting bougainvillea bloomed all around. Several varieties of hibiscus stood close to the house, adding their heavy scent to all the others. The afternoon sun left a golden hue over everything, the thick tropical air alive with insects.

But Tao's weathered face looked stern, there was no sun in his heart this afternoon. Tao was worried about his grandson, Philippe, whose Marquesian name was Tei Tetua. He was a handsome young man. His skin was of a warm chocolate color, and he had dark brown eyes. His gentle face had always been ready to smile, but lately the boy had become quiet and unresponsive to his grandfather's offers of affection. They used to go out fishing almost every night when the boy was still going to school here, but since Philippe had to move to Papeete to attend high school there, something in the boy had changed.

Philippe, which he was mostly called nowadays, was just seventeen, a beautiful young man, a true picture of his father, who was a proud Marquesian whose family had lived on Hiva Oa and before that Nuku Hiva for many generations, and in his second last year at the high school in Tahiti. These were school holidays, and Philippe had arrived just a few days ago from Tahiti, where all the boys and girls who lived in the Marquesas had to go for their final years of schooling.

There were too many distractions there for the young islanders, as far as Tao was concerned, and many were lost to the traditional way of life on these beautiful islands forever, once they had tasted modern and westernized society in the big city of Papeete.

Tao sighed, and got up out of his old worn out easy chair.

I am going down to beach Tahia, my love! I'll be back before dinner! He called to his daughter, calling her by her Marquesian name, which he still preferred in his house. And with these words Tao went through his little gate and turned left towards the village. He walked down to the beach, where the restless breakers of the South Pacific Ocean were pounding the narrow shore. The black sand was hot from the afternoon sun, and Tao sat down on the concrete wall, looking out onto the sea.

Chapter 2

Hey, Sabrina, over here!

Philippe stood up from where he sat on the sand and waved to a beautiful young girl, who came galloping down the beach on a small chestnut colored horse. She turned, noticed Philippe, and with a quick pull on the reins turned the horse around, and came towards him. She stooped just in time, and slid from the horse's back straight into Philippe’s arms.

Mon Cherie, it's so good to see you! She said.

Philippe put her down with a smile, she now stood on her toes, her long black hair blowing in the stiff breeze off the ocean, and her colorful pareu was clinging tightly to her dark body.

Give me a kiss! Philippe laughed, he lifted her up into his arms again and turned around and around in the dark sand.

"How