Adaptations and artefacts
April 8-9, 1972
It’s been a slightly trying day. I had to stay in all morning with the kids so Carlo could telephone his parents and find out if Georgina was OK on the conti. Rosa from over the way came over and made herself a cup of coffee and after Carlo’s remarks yesterday I felt obliged to keep an eye on what went on. Then she brought me a plate of bananas. When I showed these to Carlos he turned his nose up rather.
At about three Grant came home with the little English speaking Chilean and the head of the cooperative and they stayed chatting for a while. I went for a walk to see Maria, Georgina’s sister but the place was all padlocked up.
I discovered somewhat to my horror that Florencia (aka Soledad) is coming to live here. She keeps pressing me to go to the cinema, go bathing with her. I don’t want to because last time she guided me round the American base and begged bread off the Chilean FAC base. I don’t feel it comfortable becoming an inseparable partner to her and she speaks the peculiar pidgin English that is more difficult to understand than Spanish. We (Grant and I) went to the hotel tonight after looking in at the FAC cinema and I chopped my toe up. Carlo keeps on about Mungo needing a corrale (playpen) and doesn’t like the food I cook. Ah well.
Sunday, 9th April
We got up at 6.30 this morning to go to mass. Grant wants to go to all three – 8am, 10am and 7.30 pm. We were quite surprised to find the church chocabloc at the early mass but were told people went to it because it was not as hot as later in the day.
I like the mass. It seems a really joyous celebration and an assertion of Pascuence identity. So much here is improvisation and voracious adoption that its good to see something unique – though I suppose the mass too is adopted. I felt much happier after going to the mass even with Mungo grubby and smelling and wriggling around.. I lurked around the church doors quite a bit, though I began the service inside and the old lady sitting next to me was not above giving Mungo the odd tickle. People were not quite as glittering as at Easter but still smart, though I noticed one old lady in bare feet.
Regarding “improvisation and adoption” mentioned above. Flattened oil drums for building and many other purposes as well as plastic flowers for tarting up tourist houses come to mind! I remember thinking before we left for the island that it would somehow be “ethnic” and being disappointed in the drabness of the cement buildings that predominated in Hangaroa. I would have liked a grass hut or two I think! Specially to live in.
I got a lift home with the girl next door and her boyfriend. She wore a silver lame and white dress and looked as though she’d stepped out of a bandbox. We’re going swimming this afternoon.
Milarosa, another of Georgina’s sisters came up to me after the service and I thanked her for the tins of sweet potatoes she’s given us. I do wonder why they have tinned sweet potatoes here. Surely they are the one type of food that could be home grown.
Probably remnants from the American base.
The children woke fantastically early today and larked around in their room. Apparently all Pascuence children get up early in town and Coca (Georgina’s daughter and oldest of the three kids in the house) wakes the others up.
LUNCHTIME OVER 12.30
Rosa (lived in a tiny house next door with Luis, Georgina’s brother) brought her little girl to lunch. I think Carlo wanted Soledad and Rosa to eat in the kitchen but they wouldn’t. Soledad took a surreptitious small portion at first and then more. Some kind of class system operating but not very successfully. Carlo made Rosa put the jugos in the fridge. The meal of nicely done rice and meat pleased Carlo. Perhaps that’s why he let Sole get away with eating with us (as she cooked). I still can’t fathom her status at all. Every chance she gets Sole goes for a solitary dance with the record player.
I went to Anakena Beach with the Edmunds Rapahango today.
Percy Edmunds was the sheep ranch manager on the island from 1904-29 and sired two big families whose descendants continue to be influential.
Orland Paoa is after Grant for giving a talk to his tourists and was going to take us both to the beach but Grant wouldn’t go.
Orlando Paoa ran various tourist enterprises and Grant would have been an asset because he spoke several language and knew a lot about the island. But to have helped anybody with tourism would have caused complicated problems which we didn’t need.
I was startled by the barrenness of the rest of the island. A few sheep, but not that many, on the yellow brown hills. I saw a moai. (Easter Island statue).
Moais are omnipresent these days and indeed I bought three in Bunnings the hardware megastore to make a little altar in the garden for Grant’s birthday a few years ago. Among many other figures, politician Malcolm Fraser was likened to a moai (and not kindly). The stony and mysterious inhumanity of the image seems to trigger mockery. Worse yet, appalling artefacts have emerged such as a tissue box where you pull your tissue out of a moai’s nose. It is sad. Nobody would demean a crucifix thus (not that such an object really lends itself to mundane adaptation). Anyway I for one affirm the beauty and nobility of the moai above and am glad it will stand long after I am gone.
Lots of visitors today, “eating up food,” so Carlo says bitterly. But I think he likes them to come. He was awfully bored tonight with no one here.We planted my seeds today. Silver beet, thyme, squash and beans. Hope they grow.
I walked down to meet Grant in the dark tonight. It wasn’t creepy but I was alarmed by a madman or a drunk and a dog and was glad to get home after missing him because the mass was already over.