Always my home

Iosefina looked out across the familiar turquoise blue waters, waters that she had looked at every day of her life. The waters could be calm and soothing, as they were now. Or they could be wild and thrashing, destroying everything on it. Iosefina loved the ocean and its moods. It gave her people food, and sustained life. But it also took life away. Her husband Malo had been lost to the ocean while fishing. A storm had taken him and his two friends years ago. She sighed. Their bodies were never found. 

“Tutu! There you are!”

Ipo, her seventeen year old grandson ran up to her. She smiled. He was tall and very handsome. He looked like his father, Koa, Iosefina’s middle child. Koa and his wife Makani had left the island already. They were living in the United States in a place called Idaho, in a town called Twin falls. Now they were waiting for Ipo and Iosefina to join them.

“Tutu! We have to finish packing.” Ipo was excited. He wanted to move to the United States and be with his mother and father, and brothers and sisters. The world looked big, bright, and exciting to Ipo. But to Iosefina it was anything but. She didn’t want to move away from her island. She wanted to spend the rest of her life here. She believed that Pikinni was where she was meant to die.

Slowly she turned and headed back to her home — the same home that her husband Malo had brought her to those many years ago as a young bride. The same home she had given birth to her three children in. The same home that she had held the wakes for her husband and youngest child in. The same home she had welcomed all of her grandchildren in. There had been parties, there had been celebrations. All of her adult memories were in this home. Her home was the centre of her universe, and now she was going to have to leave it. 

It was a modest home, but it was a happy home, full of love. Iosefina did not want to leave her home.

Her eldest child, her daughter, Tamar stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips.

“Mama, look at this house! We have so much work to do! We have to be ready to go at midday, tomorrow.”

“I know Tamar. I just can’t seem to do it. My heart is heavy, and I don’t want to leave.”

“Mama,” she said softly, “I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us. But we have to leave. The soldiers will make us leave if we don’t co-operate. We should leave on our terms, not theirs. And because we are family, we will always have a piece of Pikinni with us, and in our hearts.”

“Tamar, you are young. You still have so much life ahead of you — your children, your husband, your work.” Iosefina paused. “You have been away from Pikinni before. You have been to school in Australia. You know what to expect. I have never been farther away than the distance our canoe can take me. And I have never wanted to go any farther. This is my home.” 

She looked around her beloved home.

“Mama, if you stay, you will die.”

Iosefina looked at her daughter. “Maybe that is for the best.”

“Please don’t say that. I need you. Koa and Makani need you. Think of Ipo. His quest was to bring you with him to Idaho.”

“Idaho.” She scowled. “What do I know about Idaho? I have never heard of such a place. It is not near moana, the ocean. What am I going to do without the ocean?” She looked at her daughter. “These waters are in my soul. I am a person of the ocean. I cannot leave the ocean.”

Tamar looked at her mother, and took her hands. “Then come with us. We are only going Rongerik atoll. It is very close. You will have the ocean. It is much closer than Idaho. The Americans have promised that we will be able to return home once the tests are finished. You can live with us, and then we can come back, and live like we did before.”

Iosefina looked at her daughter, a sad smile forming at her lips. 

“My darling daughter. It won’t be same. No, I don’t believe that I will leave. I want to stay here with the spirits of my family, your father, your little brother, Mana. All of my people are here. I cannot bear to leave. them”

When Iosefina had finished with lunch, and was cleaning up, her sister Kalama appeared in the doorway.

“What is this nonsense that Tamar tells me? That you are not going to leave! This is nonsense, Fina! The soldiers will drag you away! You must come with us! You have no choice. The elders and the chiefs agreed, and we need to comply! You will shame your family if you disobey the elders.”

Iosefina looked at her sister. Kalama was older than Iosefina and had always been bossy. She was a large woman, always in motion. When Iosefina watched her sister, she sometimes felt dizzy.

“So, Tamar spoke with you?”

“Yes! She told me of your wish to die here, on Pikinni.” She stopped, focussing Iosefina in her glare. “You will die in four days if you do not come with us on the American boat. Is that what you want? Your life to be over in four days?” Kalama paused and looked at Iosefina, a softening in her voice. 

“Fina, I love you. You are my baby sister. I do not want you to die here, alone, on Pikinni. If you do not want to live with Koa or Tamar, you can live with me. I am alone. There will be room for both of us.”

“I love you, Kalama. You have always been a good older sister. But I cannot leave. This is my home. I have no desire leave, or live anywhere else. Please believe me, this is where I want to be.”

Without another word, Kalama turned on her heel and walked out of Iosefina’s house.

Tamar looked at the man in the army uniform. She had been chosen because her English was the strongest, and because she was a doctor. A doctor was to be trusted. 

“I wish to remove my mother’s name from the roll.”

“Why is that?”

“She has died. Last night, in her sleep. We buried her this morning.”

“Do you have any proof of this death?”

“Yes. I am a doctor. I trained in Australia, and I am the physician for these islands. I will sign the death certificate.”

The soldier turned, and pulled out a form, and handed it to Tamar.

“Fill this out.”

After Kalama had left Isofina’s kitchen, she had gathered the family together. They met on the beach at twilight, away from the listening ears of the Americans. Once everyone was together, Ipo brought Iosefina to the gathering.

Iosefina’s entire family was there. Her daughter, Tamar and her husband, her grandchildren, her sisters and brothers, their children, and their children’s children. Three generations met with her on the beach.

“I will not be travelling with you, away from these islands. Instead, I am staying here. I will instead join our ancestors here on Pikinni.”

Ipo looked stricken. “Tutu, no! We need you to come with us. I need you! My mother and father need you! Please! You have to come with us!”

“Ipo, you know that I love you all. But this is where I need to be. I have decided.”

She looked around the circle of the people she loved the most in the world.

“The souls of my parents, my husband Malo, and my baby son, Mana, are all here. Who will look after them if I leave?”

She looked at Kalama, who stepped into the circle with Iosefina. 

“We are going to celebrate Fina’s life tomorrow. We are gong to have a burial ceremony. This will be our final goodbye to her before we leave this island.”

That evening, well after dark, all of her family members had visited her on her porch, one by one. There had been tears, and there had been laughter. They had reminisced and they had spoken of the future. Iosefina had given away her possessions, artifacts of a long, happy life. These were the momentos for her loved ones to remember not only her her, but also Pikinni. 

Of all her family, Ipo was the saddest. She spoke with him last.

“Ipo, please, don’t be sad. This is my decision. You have a long, long life ahead of you. I have very few years left if I left with you. My time would be spent missing my home.”

“I know, Tutu. I don’t think I can live without you. I want you to tell me stories of my ancestors. I want you to be there to listen to my problems and share in my happiness. I want you to watch me grow into a man. I want you to come to my wedding. I want you to meet my children. I don’t want a life where you’re not in it.”

“Oh, Ipo. I will be with you. My spirit will be with you. Always.”

Ipo broke down, sobbing. Iosefina hugged him to her. When he drew away, Iosefina looked at her grandson.

She pointed at his heart. “Ipo, I will always be with you, right there.”

Ipo had stayed with her well into the early hours of the morning. She told him stories of their ancestors, the stories of how their people had come to live on these islands, stories of why their people were chosen to by God to live in harmony with the earth, the sea, and the sun.

The next morning had been beautiful. Iosefina dressed in her best pulu tasi robe, the one made from the soft white material Tamar had given her when she had come home from school. She had hand-sewn her best muumuu, and had added embroidery and fine touches around the neck, which made it very special. It was perfect for her “burial.” She added her plain gold cross and her wedding ring, both treasured gifts from her husband. Just before sunup the men of her family arrived with a litter for her to lay upon. She lay down, and closed her eyes. As the men carried her to her spot high on the hill, overlooking the ocean, villagers lined the route, sending her good wishes for her journey. 

When they arrived at the site, Iosefina thanked her family for their understanding. Because they had said their goodbyes the previous evening, she simply hugged them all, and told them how much she loved them. The last to go was Ipo.

“I love you Tutu. I will come back for you.”

Iosefina hugged her grandson, and told him she would wait for him, right at this spot.

When she was alone, she looked around. The ground had been turned on her “grave,” a simple cross placed at its head. This was a perfect spot, right by a large rock where Iosefina could sit and look out at the sea — her sea.

The day had come. The day that the Americans had said was the reason that her beloved Pikinni Islands had to be evacuated. Over the last three days Iosefina had watched the soldiers preparing her island for their tests. And yesterday, they had all left. Iosefina was alone, the only person left on these islands where her family had lived for many, many generations. 

She was again sitting at her grave, leaning against the rock, looking out at the water, for what she knew, would be the last time. There had been sirens going off at the beach that Iosefina assumed had been installed to warn of the imminent test. Who were they warning, she wondered? She was the only one here. She was the last person at her ancestral home. Soon she would be one of the ancestors.

In the distance she heard the drone of an airplane. A few minutes later she was able to track it. She watched as it came closer. It was very high in the sky.  

There was a blinding flash over the lagoon, and Iosefina felt the air being sucked out of her world. Her Pikinni atoll was gone forever.

Dr. Leo Sam stepped into the water, and pulled the zodiac up on to the shore. He looked around him. It was beautiful, a tropical paradise, with white sand beaches surrounded by coconut and breadfruit trees. He could hear the slight swishing of the palm fronds in the tropical breeze. It was magical and idyllic. But it was also unrelentingly deadly and haunted. He turned and helped his passenger onto the shore.

They were on Enyu Island, his family’s ancestral home. His family had known this place as Pikinni, but it was now infamously known as Bikini Atoll, site of twenty-three nuclear tests. His family had been some of the last evacuees before the nuclear testing had begun in 1946 — well, almost all of his family. They had been promised that they would be able to return to their home after the testing, but this had never happened. Leo knew the ground and the water were poisoned, unsuitable for human habitation. He was part of the team evaluating the habitability of the islands seventy-five years after the beginning of the nuclear testing. 

But right now he was on a personal mission. 

“Welcome home, Tutu Ipo.” Leo turned to look at his grandfather. Ipo was 92 years old, and as strong and steady as men half his age. But right now, his eyes were filled with tears. He looked to Leo.

“I never thought that I would see my home again. I am so grateful.”

They walked across the beach to the coconut grove, and the island beyond it. Ipo turned back towards the lagoon, facing the beach, pointing.

“That is where we had the family meeting, where Tutu Iosefina told us she would stay on the island. I was so sad.” He paused and looked around again. It is so familiar, but so different. The palms are different.

“The blasts flattened everything on the lagoon side, including the trees. The army replanted these trees.”

Ipo nodded is head slowly, saying nothing. He turned and headed inland. 

They walked for less than five minutes. Ipo stopped.

“This was where our village was.”

Leo looked around. There was nothing to suggest that there had ever been a village. But Ipo turned full circle, remembering, talking and pointing.

“The cooking circle was there … our meeting hut was there …. Our church there.” He turned to the left, and walked forward, stopping after twenty paces. 

“This is where our house was.” He stopped, lost in his memories. “It was a happy, happy home. There were always people coming and going. It seemed like we were always making food, and eating food, celebrating this or that.” He paused. “And Tutu Iosefina was the reason for all that happiness.” He paused again. “I still miss her, so much.”

He turned to Leo. “Let’s go up the hill.”

Leo was in awe of his grandfather. He walked with a steady purpose, inland towards the middle of the island, up the steep incline, only stopping once to get his bearings. Ipo was as surefooted as the goats he had raised. While climbing he told Leo stories from his childhood.

“… My friends Kai and Lani would race me up the hill. I was always the fastest …”

“… We found the best breadfruit at the top of the hill. It was sunny at the top of the hill …”

“… We could see all the way to Airukiiji Island from the top …”

When they reached the top of the hill, Ipo slowly surveyed the ground.

“This was our burial ground. We buried our people here because it was the highest spot on the island, and we believed our ancestors would be closer to God.”

Leo looked around. This was not part of the reforestation effort around the beach, and the flora that grew here grew wild. Vines covered the stumps of broken and dead trees. Misshapen breadfruit, papaya, and banana trees grew in profusion, making the summit seem more junglelike, complete with the sound of birdsong and the buzzing of insects. He could just barely hear the sound of the ocean below.

“There!” Ipo said, pointing towards a large rock. “That’s Tutu’s grave!” He moved towards the rock, without hesitation. Leo followed. Together they pulled the vines away that had covered the stone.

“I was the last person to leave the burial site that day. When I left, Tutu Iosefina was sitting with her back against the rock, looking out at the waters of the lagoon. It was my last memory of her.”

Ipo slowly knelt down by the rock, rubbing his hand along the stone. He stopped.

“Leo, please tell me — what does this look like to you?”

Leo crouched beside his grandfather, and studied the rock.

“It looks, roughly, like the shape of a person, Tutu.” 

Ipo and Leo had discussed what could have happened to Tutu Iosefina. Leo remembered Ipo showing him the human shadows of people who had been vaporized after the bombs had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Something caught Ipo’s gaze. He put his and down by the side of the rock, and pulled out a plain gold cross, on a gold chain. 

“This was Tutu’s cross. My grandfather gave it to her. She was wearing it the last time I saw her.”

Ipo looked at his grandson.

“Tutu said that she would wait for me here. And she did. I have found my Tutu.”