Easter day
2nd April, 1972
As I go on transcribing the diaries I realise that I do need to provide a measure of privacy for the people I talk about. It all happened over fifty years ago and many people have died. The children are middle aged but perhaps would prefer a measure of anonymity even now. I’m using initials instead of names as Helen Garner did when she published her diaries recently. I welcome any advice on this.
We went to mass last night rather late because of Mungo yelling. It was about half an hour’s walk into town with the little pack of dogs that seems to go wherever we do. It was a starry night but the path was mostly lit by street lamps which are all over the island now. There’s twenty four hour electricity.
As we got further into Hangaroa more people were walking to church with us. The church was full with a little crowd outside and at the back as well. Our hostess F. and I edged our way into the little crowd at the back and then she went out leaving me with the girls. Men and women were roughly separated with men on the left side of the church and women on the right. There were a few women with the men but not vice versa. Almost everyone was remarkably smartly dressed, some almost exotically so. One girl had a satin dress plucked up like a cinema curtain in pale cream. Some were wearing rather inappropriately hot clothes but very elegant.
There was quite a bit of shifting about in the little crowd at the back where I was. Firstly any person entering the church pushed through to the little pedestal containing holy water. They dipped a finger in this and crossed themselves. A lot of people put their first finger in their mouth for a second after this. I wonder if this is a Catholic practice or particularly Pascuence.
The mass was sung beautifully and was a strange mixture of ordinary chanting and Pascuence music. Every so often a singing leader would break out into a verse of chant and the whole congregation would take up the line and the church would resound with the noise.
Extraordinarily some babies slept through all of this. One or two didn’t and squawked from time to time. One’s squawkings were identical to Mungo’s so I started every time I heard them. It was an inspiring service, especially when it came to taking communion when the Pascuence took over completely. A surge of singing accompanied a general surging towards the altar to take the bread and wine. At least half the congregation went up. I don’t know how many people went to confession. There was a certain drift up the right side of the church throughout the service so I suppose that’s where they were going.
F. didn’t take communion but she rushed through the little crowd at the back door just as everything seemed to be finishing and people were moving out of the church. Nobody seemed as frivolous about church as she is though there is a bit of whispering at the back.. Mostly, however, people attended strictly. A lot of people were late including two nuns. It didn’t seem to matter.
F. 0is a kind person I think. She is full of energy and has awful varicose veins which she is going to have treated in Santiago some time. She is always preparing little meals. The style seems to be South American – lots of sauces with a fairly simple main dish. We had some good soup last night with a sort of onion omelette and sweet potato. Lunch was avocado and spaghetti with a chunk of salami on top. Breakfast was bread and avocado with a chunk of salami.. All the meals were accompanied by Nescafe. We add our own to a cup of boiling water. The children eat more or less the same as us though I think they may have had chocolate and bread for breakfast. All except Mungo seemed not to have milk.
Powdered milk was supplied to babies at the hospital and it could be bought at the government store too
They eat quite a bit of bread. The youngest wears a T-shirt and no nappy. I haven’t noticed any accidents yet. The older boy wears some ragged trousers and a shirt and the girl a dress with pants. Her hair seems unbrushed and scruffy though the boys’ is quite clean. They are nice kids, though J is very aggressive at times. He came to me this morning and told me his little brother had got hold of a knife which I thought was good.
Presumably telling me about it was good, not Christian having it!
Apparently there is little notice taken of children crying. Mungo’s crying was quite happily tolerated last night (though it upset me). F’s husband H said his kids didn’t mind. They’d all grown up with it and all they did if it bothered them was to get up and go into another room.
Mungo seems a bit disturbed by the racket and activity at the moment- especially the noise of the record player blaring out at night, or worse, the local radio station with its crackles. I’m going to let him cling for a bit because I think he’s quite justified. It is an ordeal having him in our room though.
Last night F. asked me if I had any perfume. I produced my “Maja” which she liked. She loves clothes and scent. I wonder how far I should go in sharing my things. For instance I have 8 nappies – too few according to my standards but should I give her four? I think I need all I have here but should I share it anyway? I’m not going to give away clothing yet.
My packing for this expedition left a lot to be desired. Why on earth did I bring perfume? Where did I think I was going?
I think we’ve settled quite well though I still feel terribly tired after all the travelling and the mass last night.
6pm
We went to the couranto this morning.
Courantos are earth oven feasts held by different families on religious holidays. They are open to everyone, including tourists.
We arrived late because it started at eleven and we thought it started at 12. Lots of people were already coming away. It took place by the church in a field. The earth oven had been emptied by the time we arrived and all the food was in a little hut. A boy came out with some chunks of meat for us and some sweet potatoes and sweet porridgy stuff wrapped in banana leaves which was made of bananas, flour and sugar. We ate it sitting on leaves under a tree with people hanging around in groups and children ferreting in the pits for any last bits left over in the ovens. The meat was remarkably tender and eaten with lemon. We had melon afterwards and we were given a bunch of bananas too.
The people we passed on the way were loaded with food. One of them called F over and showed her what she had wrapped in a cloth. People here walk, travel in trucks and on horseback. The cars don’t seem to make a habit of giving lifts.
There was a feeling of aimless congregation about the feast. We were there ages wandering from group to group – or between about three groups. I talked a little to N. who has two half American children – a boy and a girl. Apparently five marriages came out of the Americans’ stay. They were here five years and left a year ago. N. works in the hospital now, She seemed to half feel she should go back to work most of the time.
An old rather drunk man with a captain’s hat kept saying “English American” to me and talked a quite incomprehensible English under the tree and later at the house of P. who gave the couranto. I went and sat on the step with a group of people and Mungo was played with. The same sort of aimlessness prevailed. A few men sat apart with a bottle of alcohol and drank that.
Afterwards we were invited to the town house of P. He’s a big man, very black because he has a Tahitian mother. A bottle of brandy was produced for Grant. Later a Chilean director of the cooperative (an occasional shop that sold local produce and stuff brought in from Chile by individuals on the weekly plane) turned up. I left with F. and we walked home calling in at her father’s (where she bought a bottle of brandy for 100 escudos) and her sister’s, where we talked through the window. The whole day has been in Pascuence. Now I feel I need to learn that too. Grant was given a fish on the way home which we are having for dinner.
I look back with affection on F’s vitality and willingness to take me everywhere with her in those early days. I was very passive, not being able to speak either Spanish or Rapanui.