Murder on Easter Island (14 page)

They approached the entrance of a small hut. Daniel looked carefully, and sure enough, there was a wooden carving of a lizard above the entry.

Pakia looked around and yelled, “Uka! Uka! Where are you?”

Over a nearby hill a diminutive, elderly woman came running up to them with a big, toothy smile and more wrinkles than Daniel had ever seen on any one person. She was at least as slender as Pakia, and Daniel guessed the both of them together couldn’t weigh more than one hundred eighty pounds dripping wet.

“My Pakia!” she cried out as she excitedly hugged him.

“My Uka!” he exclaimed, kissing her forehead.

She looked at Daniel, her smile widening. “You are a guest in our home?”

“Yes,” Pakia answered, “His name is Dan-iel. He is here from a distant land and
will be staying with us for a while. You know I can use his help.”

“Of course, husband. The loads of fish that you have to carry are far too heavy for an old man.” She looked Daniel up and down and said, “We are glad to have you in our home. The first thing to do is to get you a loincloth, and I will make one for you this evening. Second, we
must
do something about your feet. Do you come from a land with no rocks?”

Daniel smiled at her concern. “Where I am from does have rocks, but we cover our feet to protect them.”

Uka said, “I see. For now, let’s wrap them up with barkcloth. Soon your skin will be strong enough to withstand the rocks.”

“Thank you, Uka,” Daniel replied, truly grateful.

“Now,” she said, “it is getting late, and soon it will be time to sleep. Are you hungry?”

With all that had been happening, his appetite was the last thing on his mind. But, come to think of it, he was famished. “Yes,” Daniel said.

“Oh, good,” Uka said. “Normally we have plenty of fish to eat, but there was no catch today. So, I have a special surprise. The traps I set out worked very well.”

Traps? thought Daniel.

“Follow me,” she said.

The three walked over to a steaming rock-lined earth oven, just to the side of the entrance facing the ocean. She carefully pulled out a sizzling bundle wrapped in banana leaves. She sat it on an adjacent rock and slowly peeled it open.

Inside were four cooked rats.

“Help yourself,” Uka offered.

Daniel gagged as he lifted one up by the tail and saw it smoldering in front of him, the rat’s face contorted in agony.

Daniel asked, “If you don’t mind, would you would show me how to eat this? We don’t eat rats where I come from.”

Pakia and Uka smiled, grabbed two of the remaining rats, bit off the heads, spat them off to the side and began skinning them with their teeth.

Daniel stared in disbelief.

Daniel lay on his back on a reed mat lengthwise in the dark hut. At the other end slept Pakia and Uka, both snoring loudly. Even though he had a splitting headache and his feet burned like they were on fire, he had to admit his stone pillow felt surprisingly comfortable. He began to recount the events of the day.

Last night he had been in present day Rapa Nui. In chasing the murderer he had gone into a cave, which he now knew was a portal from the present into the past.
How such a thing could happen he didn’t know, but the why of it wasn’t as important as his primary mission:

Find the murderer.

At last all the clues fit together. There was no fingerprint match because the killer was from times past, and the cannibalism was also something from old Rapa Nui. The murders had happened during the night, because the murderer’s appearance would be too distinctive to attempt killings during the light of day.

Daniel was concerned about Tiare, but knew at this point that whatever happened to her was completely beyond his control. He guessed she was okay; she was a survivor.

As Daniel thought of her, he was ever so grateful for the Rapanui lessons she had given him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to understand what was said here, and if he had been unable to communicate, he’d be as good as dead.

He would search again for the entry to the cave, but he knew it would be difficult to find. He had wandered around for quite some time near-blind from the sun, and after being knocked unconscious, was taken even farther away in an unknown direction. If he ever hoped to get back home, though, at some point he had to find it.

Of course, how could he not think of Mahina, her long dark hair, her beautiful face and her perfectly formed body?

Daniel smiled. He might as well have fallen in love with Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. One thing they and Mahina had in common was that they were fairy tales, completely unattainable.

For now, he had to find some way to get some rest. He knew the challenges he had to face would keep him awake for a while. But in spite of all this, for the moment Daniel grinned.

Like Tiare had said, they tasted like chicken.

A
fter a breakfast of dried fish and bananas, Daniel and Pakia walked to the coastline to fish. Pakia carried two bundles of fishing line, and Daniel toted a reed basket containing water-filled gourds. Daniel’s tender feet were wrapped in barkcloth and he wore a loincloth that Uka had made for him.

As they hiked along, Daniel began wondering how far back in time he had traveled. He asked Pakia, “Tell me about your experiences with outsiders.”

Pakia thought for a few moments and replied, “When I was young, white men came in three boats to our island. We were very curious, and when we gathered around them, they pulled weapons to their shoulders which spewed fire and death. Many were killed.”

He’s talking about the Dutch, led by Roggeveen, who came in 1722, Daniel thought, remembering Tiare’s history lesson.

“The next time came much later, when we were visited by two ships with white men who spoke differently than the ones so long ago. They also fired their weapons, but not at us. They played their drums and instruments that whistled when played —”

Fifes.

“— and they were very friendly to us. They also showed us a white tablet, which we were allowed to draw on.”

As Tiare had told him, the Spanish came in 1770, and believed they had obtained the land rights of Rapa Nui for Spain with the islanders’ “signatures.”

“Around a year ago the last ship came, led by a man who I believe was named Cuuk —”

Cook, the British captain who noted the poverty of the island and how some of the moai had been knocked over, came in 1774. Daniel figured it must be somewhere around 1775.

As they reached the shore, Pakia handed one of the bundles of fishing line to Daniel and kept one for himself.

Curious, Daniel asked, “What’s this made of?”

Pakia explained, “The line is made of the bark of the hau tree. Your hook is made of stone, while mine is made of human bone.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It was taken from the thigh bone of the best fisherman in the history of our island. His name was Kahi, and he died when I was a child. We all called him Kahi because of the large kahi he would catch when he went fishing far out in the ocean. The mana from such a bone is good for fishing.”

Daniel searched his memory: Kahi means tuna.

“But the days of kahi fishing have passed. The trees we used to build the boats to take us out to sea were cut down long ago. Now we fish from shore, and the catch is not so much anymore. Maybe today will be different.”

Pakia reached down and grabbed one of the small, soft-shell crabs running along the beach and pierced it with his hook. “Watch me first, then you can try.”

Next Pakia gathered the fishing line, like he was preparing to hurl a lasso, and swung it over his head faster and faster. He flung the line far into an upcoming wave, and in seconds the line was almost jerked from his hands.

“Ah, the fish are hungry today,” Pakia said with a smile. He pulled the line in and, as he landed a small, silvery-grey fish, added, “Wonderful! We have caught one of my favorites, the nanue. We will eat well tonight — unless you prefer rats again.”

Pakia laughed at the face Daniel made, unhooked the fish and put it in the reed basket next to the gourds.

“Now, your turn,” insisted Pakia.

Daniel baited his hook with another of the soft-shell crabs and awkwardly spun the line above his head and tossed it into the ocean, not going nearly as far out as Pakia’s throw. As with Pakia, the line became taut, and Daniel pulled in another nanue fish.

Pakia slapped Daniel on the shoulder. “I think you have good mana for fishing. If you’re not careful,” he joked, “I’ll rename you Kahi!”

They both laughed heartily.

Daniel and Pakia stood on the beach and fished together, and after a long day the basket was full of nanue and many other colorful island fish. They
carried it back to their hut where Uka had already stoked up the earth oven in preparation.

Pakia then yelled out, so all could hear, “Friends and neighbors, come share our fish!”

A group of men, women and children gathered around and took portions of the catch. In return, they deposited small piles of taro, sugar cane and yams. Before long, all that was left of the fish were three nanue, which Uka gathered up and, along with a handful of yams, wrapped in banana leaves and shoved the entire bundle into the earth oven.

“Pakia,” Uka said, “we have time for the meal to cook. Our new friend should know more of our island lore. Would you tell him the legend of the nanue fish?”

Pakia asked, “Dan-iel, would you like to hear it?”

Daniel replied, “I’d love to.”

They all sat down by the earth oven on the rocky soil as the sky began to darken. The sound of soft singing from the nearby huts began to fill the air; a cool breeze brushed against their faces, carrying with it the pleasant aroma of baking fish and yams.

Daniel smiled as he recalled the camping trips with his grandpa and the joy of seeing the flames of an open fire flicker in front of his grandfather’s face as the s’mores baked.

Pakia solemnly cleared his throat and began: “Two young mothers went out in the evening to catch fish, and one of them brought along her little boy, Ahina-oioi. The child’s mother put her sleeping youngster down and went to the nearby ocean with her friend to catch fish and crabs.”

Daniel looked over at Uka as Pakia spoke. She was dreamy-eyed and sat in rapt attention.

“While she was away, an evil spirit named Hiti-kapura came, took the child and tossed him into a nearby pool of water. The child cried and sang this song:

‘O mother, my time has come to an end,

The evil spirit Hiti-kapura has me in his grasp,

Reflection of the moon.’

“The mother heard her child singing, and both of the women rushed over to him. When the mother picked up the boy, he became lifeless. Frightened, the mother put him back into the water and he revived. The mother and child both wept and the child sang again:

‘O mother, my time has come to an end,

The evil spirit Hiti-kapura has me in his grasp,

Reflection of the moon.’

“The tide rose to where the three were, and a wave washed the little boy off to sea. As he floated away he was changed into a fish. He swam along the coastline until he arrived at Motu Kao Kao.”

Daniel asked, “Isn’t Motu Kao Kao one of the rocky islets by the town of Orongo?”

“Yes,” answered Pakia, looking a little hurt that he was interrupted. He went on. “His mother and her friend followed him there and wept as they watched him swim round and round the rock. Finally, he disappeared into the deep waters and was never seen again. Since that time, the little boy, Ahina-oioi, has been known as the nanue fish.”

At the conclusion of the story, Uka rushed over to her husband, held him in her arms and gushed, “Husband, the story gets better every time you tell it.”

Pakia smiled and kissed his wife affectionately on the cheek.

Daniel was pleased to see their devotion for each other, and began to wish more than ever that he could find someone with whom to grow old.

The sun began to set behind a bank of clouds on the horizon, and the nearby singing continued to waft along with the breeze.

After their meal, Daniel crawled into the hut and once again lay on his back onto the reed mat, his head resting on the stone pillow.

Immediately his thoughts went to Mahina.

T
he sun began to peek over the eastern horizon. Daniel and his adopted family were still sleeping when they were awakened by a voice calling from outside their hut.

“Pakia? Uka? Dan-iel? Are you awake?”

Pakia grumbled from his end of the hut, “We are now.” Daniel heard him say to Uka, “I was dreaming that I had hooked the biggest kahi in the ocean. I was about to pull it into the boat when, this!

“I am coming!” he barked to the voice from the outside.

The three emerged to find the shaman Paoa waiting, wrapped in a cloak of barkcloth against the chill of the morning air.

Daniel looked at Pakia and Uka; they were clearly shaken by Paoa’s presence.

“Paoa . . . we were not expecting you,” Pakia stammered out. “May I . . . give you food or drink?”

Uka added, “We have . . . fresh bananas!”

Paoa smiled and said in a kindly voice, “No, thank you. I have come to have words with Dan-iel.” He spoke to Daniel, “Come, let us walk.”

Daniel followed Paoa a short distance from the village. When they reached a cluster of boulders suitable for sitting on, Paoa motioned for Daniel to take a seat, while Paoa claimed the boulder beside him.

Paoa was tall compared to his fellow Rapanui, probably in his late forties, and while slender, appeared toned and fit. His long, straight dark hair was tied behind his head and had some streaks of white. As the sun illuminated his face, Daniel noticed Paoa had a scar that extended from his right forehead into his scalp.

Aware of Daniel’s scrutiny, Paoa explained, “A wound from an eastern warrior who decided the shaman of the Miru no longer deserved to live.”

“How did you stop him from killing you?”

“Not a problem. I turned him into a rat and stepped on him,” Paoa deadpanned.

When Paoa saw Daniel’s shocked look, Paoa chuckled and said, “No, no, I’m only joking. No matter what you’ve heard, shamans can’t do that sort of thing. Fortunately, one of our Miru warriors noticed my predicament and put a spear through his head.”