Telesa - The Covenant Keeper (3 page)

I pulled up a chair as Aunty Matile put a plate in front of me, overflowing with food. Steam rose in tantalizing swirls and the aroma had my mouth watering. I had only nibbled on the cardboard airplane meals, and I realized I was famished. Picking up my fork, I dug into the most recognizable item on the plate – fried rice – and took a huge mouthful, burning my mouth in the process. Aunty smiled at my enthusiasm.

“You are too skinny, Leila.
Oka
! Does nobody cook good food for you in America? Your grandmother - what does she cook for you?”

I choked on a piece of chicken at her words and paused to take several gulps of ice water. No-one had ever called me too skinny. And the idea of my elegant, Vogue magazine, grandmother actually
cooking
anything was enough to make anyone who knew her hysterical.

“My grandmother doesn’t cook. But she has a very nice lady – Maria – who made our meals.”

“So why are you so thin, then? While you’re here, we need to make sure you eat good food and put on some weight. Need to get healthy. Here, try some of my chop suey.”

Aunty scooped a pile of noodles onto my plate. I started on the other unfamiliar foods - chunks of grey potato-like stuff covered in a thick white sauce. Gingerly, I took a small bite and was surprised by the rich creaminess.

“This is good.” I exclaimed, and was answered with a beaming smile from Aunty.

“That’s
kalo,
taro. In coconut cream. Makes our Manu Samoa rugby boys big and tough.” Uncle Tuala offered helpfully.

I smiled with a mouthful of rugby player food as I made a mental note NOT to eat too much taro – I certainly didn’t need to grow any more. Aunty handed me a steaming mug of thick black liquid that I regarded with some mistrust. It looked like engine oil, thick enough to harbor state secrets. But the aroma of roasted chocolate made me bold. The first sip confirmed for me what I had always suspected. White people drank dirty water. Brown people? Now they knew how to make cocoa.

“This is amazing stuff, Aunty. I’ve never tasted anything like it back home.”

“
Kokosamoa
. Made from the roasted coco bean. I make it myself from our tree out back.” Aunty spoke with pleasure, as if unused to receiving compliments on her cooking. “Plenty of sugar to make it sweet. I put five spoons in your cup. Is that enough?” She looked worried.

I spluttered on my mouthful of
koko
. Five spoons of sugar!?
HELLO – this stuff was diabetes waiting to happen.

Uncle Tuala spoke. “Your grandmother would like you to call her. To let her know that you have arrived safely and are settled.”

Only a tremble of my hand betrayed my shock at this unexpected news. I took a deep breath to steady myself before answering, annunciating each word carefully to emphasize my calmness.

“My grandmother? You spoke to my grandmother?”

Uncle sounded surprised. “Yes, of course. She called us, a few days before your arrival. While we have never met, we were in complete agreement about the foolishness of this visit of yours. However, she seemed resigned to the fact that young people will do what they want to. Especially one as strong willed as you appear to be.” A slight smile softened his words somewhat, but I was still reeling at finding out that, far from being an independent force taking on the big wide world on my own, I was, in actual fact, on a journey that had been somewhat ‘sanctioned’ by Grandmother Folger. How deflating. Thinking of the old woman sitting in her Potomac mansion, reaching out with money-driven tentacles to control me, even now. Even here, thousands of miles away in Samoa. I began to seethe.

Aunty chimed in. “Your grandmother and I agreed there must be some rules for your stay with us. Rules that will ensure your safety.”

My dad would have seen my exceptionally polite tone for what it was. An indicator of my raging inner storm of anger. “Really? Rules you discussed with my grandmother. And what might these rules be?”

Aunty was pleased with my apparent acquiescence. “Well, both Tuala and I work all day at the church offices so you will need to be responsible and trustworthy. My cousin Falute comes every day to help with the house and the cooking so you will not be alone here. Also, Tuala has a nephew, Kolio, who works in the yard. It’s not decent for a young woman to go around unsupervised in this country. You will take the bus to school and back. But you will not venture anywhere else. School and home. Oh, and church on Sunday, of course.”

“Of course.” I reiterated dryly, clenching my palms tightly under cover of the table.

“You can enrol at school under our last name – Sinapati – it will make the process easier. We would rather keep your visit here as low key as possible. Oh and please, you will refrain from discussing your parents with anyone outside this house.”

“Excuse me?” The first few rules I had expected, but this? This was insane.

Uncle shifted his feet awkwardly and stared out the window as Aunty Matile continued.

“Leila, you must try to understand. There are things you don’t know. About life here. And it would not be a good thing for your presence here to become common knowledge. It could be awkward.” Matile halted, as if unsure how to proceed. “Oh – I wish you would reconsider staying here. This can’t end well. It won’t end well. This place is too small. Oh, how can we possibly keep this quiet?” Her voice rose one hysterical notch and for one awful moment, it looked as if she were about to cry. Uncle took over, placing a comforting hand on hers.

“What your aunty means is that you are here in a strange place that you know nothing about. There are different customs and … and expectations here that may seem strange to you. We are responsible for your safety. And your behavior will be a reflection on us – your
aiga
. We wish to ensure that your stay here is as uneventful and peaceful as possible. That means working hard at school, going to church on Sunday like a good girl, and not roaming about like some manner-less child with no parents.”

I winced at his phrase.
A child with no parents
. My rage seeped away, my body wilting in the late afternoon heat as I mulled over those words. What else had Grandmother Folger told him? About my fighting at school? My nightmare-filled nights? The psychiatrist the school had insisted I go to after my dad’s death? The medication I had refused to take? The long days filled with crying? The failing out of most of my classes? I thought I would escape all that, here in this tropical paradise. But who was I trying to fool? Even here, I was Leila Pele Folger. A child with no
real
family. No friends. An anger management problem.

I refused to cry in front of these strangers. Quietly I pushed my chair away from the table and rose to my feet. “Uncle I totally understand. And I promise you both I will be no trouble. If you don’t mind, I’m very tired. Can I call my grandmother later, after I’ve had a rest?”

Aunty rushed to reassure me. “Of course. You go have a good sleep. That’s what you need after your long trip. We can talk again later. Tomorrow we will go to town to get your uniforms for school on Monday. And any other supplies you might need.”

Great. A uniform. Just what I always wanted.

My steps were unsteady as I made my way back to the little room, turning on the fan before tumbling face down onto the bed. The threatening tears, however, did not come. But blessed sleep did instead.

I woke the next morning unsure of my surroundings. The fan whirred overhead and traffic rattled and roared past on the road out front. I must have been asleep for at least ten hours, but instead of feeling refreshed, I only felt sluggish and hot. Gathering my things, I slipped down the hall to the bathroom where a cold shower went a long way towards waking me up and lifting my mood somewhat.

Once clean and dressed, I ventured out to find my ‘family.’ The kitchen was empty, but, on the table was a still-hot kettle of
kokosamoa
, and underneath a netted dome covering was a platter piled high with little round pancakes. Breakfast. I sampled them hesitantly but needn’t have worried. They were delicious. Crunchy on the outside and sweet with ripe banana on the inside. And perfect when dunked in sugary sweet koko. However prickly and unpleasant staying with these people would be, the food, at least, would never be a disappointment. When I was done washing up my dishes, I knew I couldn’t put off the call home to Grandmother Folger any longer. I took a deep breath, before hitting speed dial on the pink iPhone she had given me as a farewell gift before I left. The one loaded with limitless credit “
so you can keep me updated via email and direct calls every day on where you are and what you are doing. I want daily reports Leila, do you hear me?! If you do not agree to this condition then I will have my lawyers make your trip to Samoa VERY difficult. I can put a freeze on all your accounts. And you don’t even want to know what good lawyers and a disgusting amount of money can do to your trust fund if you take this too far young woman! Don’t you dare push me Leila, I can’t stop you from going, but I can make sure you have no money when you’re there.”

Yes, Elizabeth Folger had been scrambling for ammo when I announced my decision to come to Samoa. It was driving her crazy that, as of my birthday a few months ago, I was legally an ‘adult.’ And she was going double as crazy that my dad’s life insurance policy had given me a substantial amount of money immediately that was
separate
from the Folger trust fund I would inherit when I turned twenty-one. As the executor of the trust, she had been counting on the fund to control me and had been most displeased that the death money gave me the freedom to fly halfway round the world. Away from her. Elizabeth Folger wasn’t used to people defying her. Especially not her own family. But a month after my father’s death, she’d had a mini-stroke and her health was now a barrier to enforcing the kind of control she liked to have over everyone and everything. I had never seen her so frail as the morning I had said goodbye, and it was that frailty more than her threats that had made me agree to accept the phone and now, to use it.

As the line rang, I was rehearsing my replies for all the possible questions and attacks she would have ready for me. So much so, that when she did answer, I was taken off guard.

“Hello.”

“Oh, Grandmother Folger, is that you?”

“Well of course it’s me, you foolish child. Who else would be answering my personal line? Leila? I’ve been expecting your call, you were supposed to call yesterday. Where are you? What is it like? Where are you staying? Is it safe and secure?”

I tried not to let my exasperation show in my voice as I replied. “Hello Grandmother Folger. Yes, it’s me, Leila. And yes, everything’s ok here, I mean, alright here. I’m sorry I didn’t call last night but I was really tired from the trip. Aunty Matile and Uncle Tuala met me at the airport and they’ve given me a lovely room in their home to stay in. It’s very clean, very safe. The property is fenced. Nobody else lives with them. Aunty Matile is a wonderful cook and made tons of food to welcome me. We’ve already discussed the rules and guidelines for my stay with them – including the fact that I’m just to go three places while I’m here. Home, school, and church.” I could totally imagine the satisfaction that last bit would give her.

“School in a third-world country harrumph. What an incredible waste of time. When you could be working on getting valuable credits at the private summer academy I went to great lengths to arrange for you. Honestly! Your stubbornness serves you no good at all when it is so misdirected. When are you going to shake off this ridiculous mood you’ve got yourself in and start facing up to your responsibilities? Your commitments here at home? The longer you delay college, the more difficult it will be and dallying about in some wretched little island in the middle of nowhere will do nothing for you – not to mention … blah, blah, blah.”

I automatically zoned out as she continued on a much-worn path of brisk recriminations, knowing that she wouldn’t take a breath until she was done with having her say. She was starting to wind down though, just as I saw Tuala’s pick-up pull up at the front of the house. Quickly, I interrupted her.

“Grandmother, I have to go now. Matile is taking me to town to get uniforms for school on Monday and I can’t keep her waiting. It was lovely to talk to you. I’ll call you again tomorrow – or maybe just send you an email. Bye!” I hung up before she could protest, and put the ringer on silent before going to help Matile carry in plastic bags of shopping. She nodded appreciatively.

“Thank you. Tuala and I went out early to do some shopping at the market. We didn’t want to wake you but I left you some breakfast – did you eat?”

“Yes thank you. And those were the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted Aunty.”

A stiff smile was my reward as Matile moved about the kitchen putting her groceries away. “Was that your grandmother you were speaking to on the phone earlier? Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I checked in with her, let her know I’ve arrived. I told her I would be enrolling in school on Monday.” As if a lecture from thousands of miles away wasn’t enough, Matile then proceeded to speak to me sternly.

“Good. It’s important that you keep in contact with your grandmother. I know you haven’t had much exposure to your Samoan culture, but here in Samoa, a young woman would never disobey her elders and travel around the world by herself this way. We are very sorry for your grandmother. She must be so worried about you and frustrated about your trip. I hope that while you’re here, you can learn many more useful customs and traditions, about what it means to be a
tamaitai Samoa
, a Samoan woman. Now come, let’s get you to Carruthers store in town for those uniforms.”

I took a deep breath and followed her out the door to the car, reminding myself
stay calm Leila, be polite, you’re a guest here, she’s your aunty, be patient, nod and smile and agree with everything.

Thankfully, Aunt Matile’s lectures were substantially shorter than Grandmother Folger’s and the ride to town was punctuated only by Tuala’s attempts to be a helpful tour guide as he pointed out places he deemed to be of interest along the route. Places like the church headquarters on the main Beach Road where he and Matile worked. The Police Station. The Mulivai Cathedral. The weary courthouse where a sniper had shot a protesting Mau leader. The government building of offices on a stretch of reclaimed waterfront land. I looked around with great interest. Apia was small. Dusty. Hot. And colorful. I loved the abundance of flowers everywhere and the view out to the golden blue harbor was breath-taking. We stopped first at an ATM so I could withdraw some cash, the Samoan tala notes feeling strange in my hands. At the clothing supplier, buying the uniforms was painless as the first one I tried on, fit perfectly. It was the colors that had me reeling – bright orange pinafores and sunburst-yellow blouses.