And then it happened. Hongi. The Embrace. Noses pressed together, the ha, the breath of life, is exchanged and intermingled. Through this physical greeting, you are no longer considered manuhiri, a visitor, but are one of the People of the Land, the Tangata Whenua.
This sharing of the breath of life came directly from the Gods.
The Gods created woman, her form molded out of the earth. Tane embraced the figure and breathed into her nostrils. She then sneezed and came to life. Hineahuone. Earth-Formed-Woman.
Hail Mary, full of Grace—
“This is my friend, Levi Junior. Tell the boys your last name honey, I can’t get my mouth around it.”
Seems Dee and Levi Junior met at the doctor’s office the day I got my diagnosis and they got on together like wildfire. Beau had been in the car, his face buried in The Mists of Lancashire and my mind was elsewhere that day, I guess. So Beau and I had missed the first meeting of the only Maori with a full moko that we have ever seen in New Zealand. But here he was again at Spirit’s Bay.
As the four of us strolled out the long footpath that leads along the high windswept point of Cape Reinga to the massive white lighthouse, Dee explained to Beau and me everything she had learned from Levi Junior about his body tattoos and about his facial moko, the history of his life, etched for all to read, if they knew the key.
“So I says to him, you know Levi, I got a moko of my own, kind of, and I had my eyelids tattooed so I never have to put on eyeliner or eye shadow. It’s permanent. He couldn’t believe it, said he never heard of such a thing in New Zealand. But everybody in the Desert is doing it now, Palm Springs, Rancho Mirage, Palm Desert, the whole shebang, the whole kit and caboodle. The whole Megillah.
“It hurt like hell, the idea of it anyway, and I was nervous but it doesn’t hurt the animals, like cosmetics do, you know, the rabbits and cats, they spray those cosmetics right in their eyes to test them for humans. So I got my eyelids and my lips tattooed, no more eyeliner, no more mascara, no lipstick, and I always look good, well, if that is possible at 78, ha! No fuss and it don’t kiss off. As if I had anybody to kiss in my life at my age!
“My moko is this, I want to look pretty, if that is possible, and I believe we must be as kind to our brothers and sisters the animals. I love St. Francis for that. We praise you Lord for all your creatures— Brother Sun, Sister Moon and Stars— Brothers Wind and Air, fair and stormy— We praise you Lord for Sister Water— Brother Fire— Sister Earth.”
Dee sighed long and low as Levi led her and us on out the Cape.
“We praise you Lord for Sister Death from whom no one living can escape.”
“One thing I won’t ever do though is get my face carved and stretched like everybody else in California. Oy, I seen so many bungled face-jobs come into my beauty shop you wouldn’t believe it. And it’s getting so every plastic surgeon has a signature look. Soon as they walked in to my shop, I could tell, one look at their kissers and I’d say Doctor Leaf, or Doctor Johannsen, I’d say to myself, or— well, I can tell you exactly who nipped and tucked Schwarzenegger’s mug just by looking at him. And Betty Ford and Rosalind Carter.”
Levi Junior is laughing hard now and I notice he is holding Dee’s hand as he guides us out the Way of the Spirits.
“Boys, I told Levi here, it’s kind of the opposite of what he tells me. The Maori get their history carved into their faces and tattooed in permanently, or they used to, while in America everybody gets their faces carved up and the skin stretched tight for just the opposite, to erase their history. No history, no telltale wrinkles or sags or signs of history.
“You see these old ladies tottering along the aisle in Costco, then zap, they turn around and there is a face tight and smooth like Tea-Party Barbie from Wasilla. On their feeble old bodies. It’s scary, honey. I’m all for looking your best but some things in life you just gotta put up with.
“Lot’s o’ things.
“So at the doctor’s office in Kaitaia I ask Levi here, is he Jewish. Jewish, he says, what makes you think that, Mum? He doesn’t know Levi is an old Jewish name. Aaron was the great-grandson of Levi. Aaron the High Priest.”
Dee squeezed my hand when she said this.
“I got lots of Levi customers back in Palm Springs, you know and I told Levi Junior here about Dolly Levi, you know, Hello Dolly! Carol Channing. She’s got a place right there in Sunrise Country Club where I live now for so many years. I like her. No, he says, not Jewish. His parents named him for Levi Jeans, you know, Levi Strauss, can you believe it, he says to me. Isn’t that crazy, he says. And they named him Levi Junior after those little jeans ’cause his Nana, his granny, brought him a pair when he was just little.
“And I says, oh Levi, you were little? Just look at you now! Look how big you are. Now that’s a success story! Anyways, I love the name and I don’t think it’s stupid. As long as they named you with love, that is what counts, and it’s a beautiful name. I love it. Look at my Beau, I named him with so much love. And just look how beautiful he his.”
Dee fell silent and we all remained silent the rest of the way to the point.
“Cape Reinga.” Levi held out both arms. “From everywhere in New Zealand, from everywhere in Aotearoa, the Spirits of our Dead travel north on their journey to the afterlife in the spiritual homeland of Hawaiiki. They use the Spirits’ Pathways to come here, to Reinga, the Underworld, and Te Rerenga Wairua, the Leaping Off Place of Spirits.”
We four reached the furthest point we could walk to and stood and watched the tidal race as the Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea fiercely clashed to create a furious mingling of the two oceans.
“The Spirits depart the land here,” said Levi, stamping his foot three times. “They leap off an 800-year-old pohutukawa tree.” He waved his right arm ahead and then pointed out to the northwest a little. “They turn briefly at the Three Kings Islands for one last look back towards the mainland. Then continue on their journey.”
Levi began to speak Maori now, softly, almost a chant. Probably it was a chant. A good bye, God-be-wi’-ye, for his father who had died this past year. Levi told us he had traveled all the way north for he had promised his dead father, at his funeral, his tangi, that he would do this.
“I wonder,” he said, “why we met up here today. Us. By chance. Do you believe in chance?”
We all remained silent, each silent and alone with private thoughts. But the four of us together in some kind of communion.
Perhaps Dee was thinking of Marcel, wishing him well, sending him long lost but never forgotten love. Probably, too, she was thinking of Arleen, her daughter, dead at only sixteen in mysterious circumstances. Killed when Beau was only eight. Perhaps she was thinking of her own end to this life, at 78 it was closer than ever. And thinking of Stevie, her beloved nephew that she raised like a son, more of a brother to Beau than a cousin. Dead at 23.
Beau, thinking of Arleen his beloved sister. Thinking of Stevie. Of Santi Jr. his half-brother through their philandering papa, kidnapped in Florida and thrown in the trunk of a car, driven to Tennessee, murdered and thrown down a well because he, too, was Gay. So much sorrow and tragedy in just one small family.
I thought of my dead brother, dead at 18 months, accidentally run-over by our beloved but careless uncle Arnie. Uncle Arnie, only 17 years old at the time. Thought of my cousin Tommy, run over by a city bus in Saint Louis when he was only 21 and just returned from a stint in the U.S. army in Germany. Of my cousin Stanley, dead at 24 of a rare bone marrow disease. Dead while he was in hospital, being prepared for a bone marrow transplant from his identical twin. Who is still alive today and healthy, but separated from the twin he jostled with and embraced in the womb. So much sorrow and tragedy in each small family.
We are all dying, said my friend Kate Moananui Spencer. Some of us just die sooner than others.
Aaron, do you know you have leukemia
No I didn’t know that
Don’t take it personally Death has happened It happens to everyone
O Nobly Born Now is the moment of death
Do you know you have leukemia
No, I didn’t know that
The time has come for you to start out You are going home
The furious mingling of the two oceans
The Spirits depart the land here
Said Levi, stamping his foot three times
They leap off an ancient pohutukawa tree
They turn briefly at the Three Kings Islands for one last look back towards the mainland back towards home
Then continue on their journey
Do you know you have leukemia
Some of us die sooner than others
Don’t take it personally
I stilled my mind to see if I could feel those Spirits at the jumping off place at Cape Reinga.
I think of Leonard Cohen. Polish-Lithuanian-Jewish, born in French Canada, singer-songwriter-Buddhist monk. Told by his parents proudly that he was a descendant of the Kohanim. A descendant of the High Priest. A descendant of Aaron, tribe of Levi.
Aaron, do you know you have leukemia?
I think of Leonard Cohen’s song.
Who by fire?
Who by water?
Who in the sunshine?
Who in the nighttime?
Who by high ordeal?
Who by common trial?
Who in your merry, merry month of May?
Who by very slow decay?
And who shall I say is calling?
And who in her lonely slip?
Who by barbiturate?
Who in these realms of love?
Who by something blunt?
Who by avalanche?
Who by powder?
Who for his greed?
Who for his hunger?
And who shall I say is calling?
Who by brave assent?
Who by accident?
Who in solitude?
Who in this mirror?
Who by his lady’s command?
Who by his own hand?
Who in mortal chains?
Who in power?
And who shall I say is calling?
END OF CHAPTER EIGHT
Wait for the next chapter on Substack or buy the whole book on Amazon
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Aaron Allbright’s novel in five parts will be published on Substack.
Before too long!
In a Desert or a City
BOOK I
‘PRINCE CARTIER’ or HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE BEING GAY WITH MY SAUDI PRINCE AND TO START WORRYING
BOOK II
MONSIEUR LE PRINCE, PARIS
BOOK III
THE MYSTERIES OF PARIS
BOOK IV
TYROMANCY AND LUCIFER
BOOK V
WHY WAIT FOR THE LIGHT?