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Updated: May 6, 2025
The steamships, spending only twenty-four hours in Papeete port every four or five weeks, sent no trippers, and the bureaucrats, traders, and sojourners in Papeete apparently were not aware of the enchantment at our end of the island. T'yonni had found Tautira only after four or five voyages to Tahiti, and Choti had first come as his guest.
I could look to the reef and far across the lagoon to Hitiaa or down the beach, but from that spot no other house was in sight. If I went around the house, I was almost on the Broadway of Tautira, the home of Ori-a-Ori before me, and a coral church close to it, with other buildings and groves toward the mango copse of T'yonni.
The orare, aturi, and paaihere were like the gleaming mesh purses worn by the women of our cities, but the ihi was as red as the beard of the Greek god T'yonni. These fish we kept in tubs of sea water, alive and even moderately happy until cooked. Saturday's parties went far into the woods to gather a choice kind of fei, and the oranges and limes of the foot-hills.
T'yonni said that the deacon of the Protestant church expressed a belief that the Paumotuans or even the French might have followed the Darwinian course of descent, but that Tahitians could not swallow a doctrine that linked them in relationship with Uritaata. The Tongans, Polynesians like themselves, had a tradition that God made the Tongan first, then the pig, and lastly the white man.
Was I an average tourist or loafer come to put an unknown quantity in their smoothly working problem of a pleasant life in this Eden? The artist must have looked me over for indications of familiarity with brush and palette. I replied to Choti that I had breakfasted with T'yonni, and he smiled at my knowledge of his friend's Tautira name. "How about getting an apartment or a suite of rooms?"
I sank into dreams, with the slumbrous roar upon the coral barrier like the thunder of a sea god's rolling drum. My life at Tautira The way I cook my food Ancient Tahitian sports Swimming and fishing A night hunt for shrimp and eels. T'yonni and Choti were the only aliens except myself in all Tautira, nor did others come during my stay.
The Tahitian youth addressed the Greek god as T'yonni, which was an effort to say John, and I adopted it instanter, as he did my own Maru. T'yonni said that Uritaata was the bane of his existence at Tautira. After building his faré he had been called to America, and had danced in Chinatown the night before his steamship departed for his return to Papeete.
I raised my glass to our native land, and finding that the boy of Taravao had eaten his fill of fei and fish, I said ariana to T'yonni, and drove to Choti's. The painter was on the veranda of a cottage, finishing the late breakfast. He received me with enthusiasm.
Choti and T'yonni and I spent an hour at my house before they walked home to bed, and Choti read as a soporific, with a few bottles of Munich beer, the "Sermon to the Fishes" of St. Antonius. As he read, we heard the joyous stridence of an accordion in a hula harmony. The upaupahura was beginning in the grove where Uritaata lived. The austere St.
We entered the river regularly at eleven and four, but Choti, T'yonni, and I also swam in the lagoon at the mouth of the river, and never suffered bad consequences unless we cut or scraped ourselves on coral. About noon I prepared my déjeuner
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