46 The End of The Matter

Having given the matter some thought, I decided that it would be safe to share my draft with Netto so, the next day, I returned to his office and handed over the manuscript. We agreed to meet again a week later and I went back to my father’s house.

Much to my surprise, I found that he was not at home but, on the table in the kitchen, there was a note in Bahla’s handwriting to say that they had gone together to Langanipa’s house and asking me to join them when I returned. It was already growing dark when I arrived there, to find the doors and windows open and the lights burning. People were walking in and out but no one seemed to know what was happening. Eventually I found my father and he, too, was none the wiser.

“I was out in the garden when Bahla arrived with Iliva,” He said. “and asked me if I could spare the time to come here with them. He wouldn’t say why, but he was very insistent.”

I found a table laid out with food in the dining room. Fasi insisted that I help myself but I could not get an answer from her as to the occasion and, even though I spoke to various people that I knew, I found all of them as puzzled as I was.

At last, Langanipa came into the room and called for silence.

“Friends,” he said to the crowd, “Fasi and I would like to thank you for coming round at short notice – with no planning at all, in fact – as we have some news that we would like to share with you.

You all know, I think, how pleased we have been to have found our niece, Iliva. I think that we had feared her lost to us forever.

Well, just as we were growing used to having her here, I have to tell you that she is about to leave us again. Do not be alarmed. She will not be going far because Iliva has, today, agreed to marry our good friend Nayir Bahla!

They told us this afternoon that they will marry at the next full moon and we decided immediately that a celebration could not be delayed. Now, I would like you to drink to the health of the happy couple. Bahla! Iliva! Our warmest congratulations and blessings.”

When the cheering died down, Iliva began to speak.

“It may seem strange,” she said, “that after so many years and so much difficulty, we would have the confidence to decide so quickly to marry.

That is not how we see it. Bahla and I have known one another for many years. I have always relied on his help and good will and in the time that we have been apart, both of us have realised separately that we now wish to be together. When one has made as many mistakes as I have, then it comes as a relief to recognise something that is definitely not an error.

I would like to thank all of you, family and friends, for your help and support. In particular, I would like to thank my Aunt and Uncle, Fasi and Langanipa and also especially Tommu, without whose heroic inebriation and intervention I might never have returned to a normal life.”

A burst of laughter rang through the room, increasing as I blushed and hid my face in my hands. I have never liked being on public display but on this occasion, with so much joy and good will in the air, there was nothing for it but to smile and nod as the crowd started to applaud.

Later I had an opportunity to congratulate Bahla and Iliva.

“I’m not surprised,” I said, “that you are getting married. It was clear before Iliva went away that you were good for each other. I am shocked and taken aback, though, that you didn’t give me some warning of your intentions.”

“Hah!” Bahla responded, “And where were you this morning when we came to your father’s house so that you would be the first to know our news?”

“OK! OK! Point taken,” I laughed, “I was up in Netto’s office. He’s going to take a look at my manuscript.”

“I thought that you didn’t want any Gardeners meddling with the contents?”

“I got on really well with him.” I defended myself against the implicit accusation of giving in to pressure, “and he has promised not to change anything. But tell me more about your own plans.”

“I’ve made an agreement with Manaku Jim.” Iliva answered, “He is so pleased with the picture you gave him that he is going to have a formal event to celebrate it and hang it in a special room that he is having built onto his house.

I’ll supervise the arrangements and the catering and then Bahla and I are going to get married and live happily ever after. I have a new job in the Reading Room so I’ll see my new husband, my son and my daughter at home and at work. It may sound a lot but, having missed each other so much, I can’t imagine that I can ever get too much of them.”

“And, even if I can’t speak for the others, I feel exactly the same.” Bahla continued gallantly.

The celebrations continued late into the night with friends coming and going and were thoroughly enjoyable. In view of my recent experience, I was careful to avoid any strange fruit concoctions, limiting myself to two glasses of beer, which, having been made by Langanipa, had a precisely predictable alcoholic content.

My invitation to Manaku Jim’s party arrived the next day and the rest of that week slipped by, time stolen by the excitement of the various preparations, so that it was almost with surprise that I found that the day of my next appointment with Netto had arrived.

I found him waiting for me, as before, behind his desk and he stood up to shake my hand warmly. Although I had decided earlier that at all costs I should not appear too eager, I could not resist opening the conversation.

“Good morning, Father,” I began, “Have you been able to take a look at the manuscript?”

“Indeed I have, Tommu, indeed I have. And it has been a pleasure to read. I must compliment you on your handwriting. Entirely legible and clear and, if I may say so, almost a thing of beauty in itself.”

“And the content?”

“Very interesting,” he replied, smiling, “although I did find it difficult to discern what message you were trying to convey. I do not think that you should give up your job as a Reader to pursue writing; you would have a very thin time.

I think that most people would prefer to see a clearer point of view. This vague retailing of other people’s opinions can only go so far. At the same time, I think that for me, personally, it provided a number of fascinating insights. In particular, I think that you take both Captain Hasiki and Manaku Jim rather too much at their own estimation.

Jim is far from the bluff, sociable character that he pretends to be. In fact, I think he may be the shrewdest politician we have on the island. Even given his unique position, it took real skill to create for himself a status that is almost beyond attack. Think of the touch of scandal and impropriety that has always attached to his name and the rather self indulgent lifestyle he leads, and yet even Lomu and Tahmo Lukuni cannot touch him.

Hasiki is also a clever man – you have obviously recognised that yourself – and he manages to say rather a lot by not saying it. At the same time, though, you have to understand that today he has very little influence on things. Perhaps Tommu, he is like you and me and lacks the singleness of purpose necessary for leadership.

It is instructive to compare him with Minister Lomu. He certainly has a more subtle mind than Lomu, who is altogether more direct. But in some ways, that is to Lomu’s advantage. If a leader sees more than one side to a question it is imperative that he does not let anyone know. He needs to demonstrate a simple faith in what he proposes that gives others no choice but to follow.

Hasiki’s solutions have always been too complicated, refining arguments and relying on people to line up with him on the same side of a split hair. So give Lomu credit for the way he has mobilised people to support him. The lines he has drawn are very clear and, as a result, it is easier to tell today whether someone is for you or against you.

The Fire was his opportunity, of course. It provided the incentive to bulldoze the old barrios and to transfer the inhabitants to properly built housing, documenting them and ensuring that anyone living there illegally could be rounded up. Then he was able to create the detention centres for suspicious individuals so that they could be processed and properly dealt with.

That was a breakthrough because the barrios were almost no-go areas for the Guardians. Once we had built the New Settlements, separate from the Village itself, on a uniform plan of two and four room houses, we could keep track of everyone. Any sign of trouble and, come five a.m. the Guardians could be there, knocking on the door, checking identities and anyone unauthorised...”

“I’d heard that the New Settlements were hard to control?” I looked at him in surprise.

“Not without their problems, I’ll admit.” He answered, “It does concentrate people who might have issues in one place. But that is also a benefit because the problem is on the outside, so we know where the enemy is to be found. Sometimes simplicity has a lot of advantages.

And we also have the detention centres, of course. The real hard cases are housed there and we keep them too busy working to cause trouble. They build houses and they take a lot of the load of the work in the fields – all for the cost of lodging and food.”

“How long, generally, does it take to reform someone who is sent to the detention centres?” I asked.

Netto looked at me narrowly.

“Tommu,” he said severely, “if someone else were to ask that, I don’t think that it would be a permitted question. I shall, however, give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you really do not know the answer.

I don’t think that there is much hope of reforming any of those people. And even if one of them did reform, how could you ever trust them? They would pretend to reform and then, as soon as they were released, they would be burning and killing again. No. The detention centres are permanent, I think. They are there as a reminder of the threat we face. You see, Our Granny has a place even for the evil doers. They are a warning to us all.

And now, I think, your book requires an ending. I have thought about how it should end and how it can be concluded on a note that puts everything into the right perspective:

Fifty five years after the departure of the Americans, the great work of Our Granny on the island of Morakeewa was attacked with fire. Many of our people lost their lives and we thought, at the time, that this was the greatest disaster that might befall us.

On reflection, however, we found that it was part of the wisdom of Our Granny to include this event in her Plan for the Island. The attack generated a great cleansing, undertaken with a new sense of purpose, in which the miscreants and dissenters who threatened Her Plan were separated and placed apart.

Today, the Village is smaller and, physically, less prosperous. Spiritually, however, it is closer now to Her plan. The enemies, outside, are gradually being combated, caged and controlled. Tithes and tributes increase, respect for Our Granny grows across the Village.

Our Granny’s Will Be Done.

THE END"