Telesa:The Covenant Keeper. Chapter One

Telesa:The Covenant Keeper. Chapter Two

           CHAPTER TWO: TELESA THE COVENANT KEEPER

Monday morning dawned fresh and clear with a light sprinkle of hot rain. I lay for a while in bed just listening to the sounds of life outside my window. Dogs barked, growling at passersby on the dusty front road. Birds – so many birds chattered in the lush richness of the backyard. A cat yowled in protest as someone threw a splash of water from the cook house in the neighbor’s back yard. A bus roared past, gears grinding, wooden seats rattling. Children laughed as they walked by the roadside on their way to school.

School. I sat bolt upright. That’s right. It was my first day at school in Samoa. I grimaced with disgust at the school uniform hanging next to the bed. Could it get any more outrageous? Oh well. I didn’t want to be late on my first day so I had to swallow my revolt and dress quickly. School started early in this country. I had to be there at 7:30 for assembly – or so Aunty Matile had informed me.

Breakfast was hunks of hot bread with slabs of butter melting onto the plate. A pot of thick, sweet kokosamoa that burned the tongue. Licking the butter drips off my fingers, I mused – no wonder most Samoans were overweight and built like football players. If they ate carbs like this every day.

Hmm … I would have to do something about making changes to the household diet if I wanted to stay the same size. Because this hot bread and koko thing was way too tempting to refuse every morning. Grabbing another piece of bread to savor in the car, I made sure to thank Aunty Matile for breakfast and wish her a ‘lovely day’ – and was rewarded by a fleeting smile from the usually sour-faced old woman.

Uncle Tuala was giving me a ride to school – at least until I figured out the bus routes myself. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to do that since apparently there was no regular bus schedule … or any printed timetables … or even proper bus stops.

“So, how do people catch the bus to school on time?” I asked, thoroughly puzzled.

“Oh, you just look out for the right bus on the road and when you see it coming you wave at it and it stops. Then when the bus goes past where you want to go, you pull the wire and it stops.”

“How can I be sure it will go where I want it to?”

“Because. Everyone knows the way the bus goes. There’s not many different roads you know, Leila.”

Okay. So catching buses would be one thing to add to my list of ‘what to learn if you want to live in this country.’ In the meantime, I would be suitably grateful to Uncle Tuala for taking me to school.

Unbidden, a memory flashed of my car at home. The thoroughly-unlike-me, red Mazda Miata that Dad had bought for my last birthday. Completely shocking me. And terrifying me. How was I supposed to hold my head up high driving such an obviously wannabe preppy car? But he had insisted.

Taking me for driving lessons on deserted roads so I could get used to it. Blasting the stereo with his country songs and deliberately embarrassing me by singing along to the music. Especially whenever we had pulled up next to cars with boys in them and Randy Travis soulful voice warbled through the trees.

“Oh Dad, puh-leeeze stop that. You’re killing me here! You really don’t want me to have a social life at all do you? You want everyone at school to think I’m totally ridiculous with a country singing dad singing off key AND driving a pukey cheerleader car.”

I’d hated that car. But oh how I had sobbed when I sold it. Stood at the car lot and sobbed as if my heart would break. Cried so hard the dealer looked worried and offered me more money in an attempt to console me.