"What happened?" Moira said.
"The island became deforested over several centuries of man's habitation here. First of all, it is a very small island. The population grew. Wood was needed to build boats and houses, keep warm, and for several centuries a great deal of it, we believe, was needed to move the moai from the quarry down to the respective ahu. There were other problems as well—rats that fed on the palm nuts, for instance.
"So here were the finest mariners the ancient world produced, and they had no wood to build boats. They couldn't leave, even if they wanted to. The population grew to the point that the island could not sustain it. Starvation ensued. Warfare broke out between the tribes and individual clans, probably over resources. That is when the moai were toppled. There is some evidence of cannibalism, although I'm not one who is completely convinced on that subject. The world of the moai builders essentially came to an end."
"But it was replaced by the bird man cult, wasn't it?" Moira said. "Isn't that what I heard this morning?"
"It was, but think about it. These rituals were timed to coincide with the arrival of the birds. It is true that birds and their eggs are good food sources. But more importantly, the birds arrive at the same time as the large tuna in the deep water way off the coast. Now a good catch of tuna would feed a lot of people. But no wood. No boats. No tuna. I have a feeling that those who participated in the bird man rituals must have heard the old stories about the arrival of the tuna. The people here have a very rich storytelling tradition. So here they are, stuck on an island with no resources, and they know that once upon a time, they could have got out to the tuna."
"That's terrible," Moira said.
"And it gets worse," Christian interjected. "Care to guess why?"
"I'm betting we showed up," I said.
"Exactly," Fairweather said. "The arrival of the Europeans. That essentially destroyed Rapa Nui culture virtually overnight. The first documented visit by a European was that of the Dutchman Josef Roggeveen. He arrived in 1722, at Easter, hence the name. At that time the moai were still standing on the ahu. The Spanish claimed the island in 1770, Cook visited after that, then the French. By the time a Russian arrived in 1804, there were only about twenty ahu still standing.
"After that it was a free-for-all. Various people took over the island for commercial reasons, and slavers were constantly raiding it. One particularly terrible event took place in 1862. All the able men of the island, including the priests and even the ariki mau, were kidnapped and taken to work the guano fields in Peru, where many died from the terrible conditions. While Christianity had not yet been brought to Rapa Nui—the priests didn't arrive until 1864 and didn't stay until 1866—the Bishop of Tahiti heard of their plight and insisted the islanders be sent home. Very few made it, but those who did brought smallpox with them. Within a very short time, the population of the island was down to exactly 110 people, where there had been thousands, some say as many as ten to fifteen thousand, before.
"It is a terrible story in many ways," Fairweather said. "The horrendous treatment and deaths of the people from smallpox, of course, but think also of all that was lost with them—the family stories, the folk tales, the myths they valued, and the secrets these families shared. Even their written language, rongorongo, was lost."
"How depressing," Moira said. "So are you going to accept Robinson's invitation to his presentation tomorrow night?"
"Haven't decided," he said. "A colleague of mine, Rory Carlyle, will be there. We drew lots and he lost, so he had to attend on behalf of a few of us who are working here."
"We met him," I said. "He refers to the congress as the lunatic fringe."
Fairweather laughed. "Trust Rory, he always has an interesting turn of phrase. He's filling in for me at the University of Melbourne while I'm on sabbatical."
"Isn't he working up on Poike, too?" Moira said.
"He is," Christian said. "We all are."
"Speaking of Rory, there was a man at the hotel the night before last by the name of Felipe Tepano," I said. "He predicted to Rory that someone was going to die on a particular spot."
Victoria Pakarati looked startled, then perturbed. "I don't like the sound of that," she said, looking over at Christian, who frowned. We'd been speaking English, which had left Victoria's mother out of the conversation, but now Victoria translated for her mother. The older woman shifted uneasily.
"Come now, all of you," Fairweather said. "It's nonsense."
"I'm not sure," Victoria said. "There have been other times."
"The motorcycle accident," Christian said.
"Yes." She turned to us. "I don't want to alarm you, but strange things happen here from time to time. Someone else made a similar prediction about a particular place on a road, and that very night, two young people on a motorcycle lost control, and died on the very spot."
"Coincidence," Fairweather said. "A good Catholic like you shouldn't be telling tales like that."
"I'm not a Catholic," she said.
"Then why is it you haven't missed the nine o'clock Mass on Sunday morning in the five years we've been together?" he said, smiling.
"I'm a Rapa Nui Catholic," she said. "That's different."
"We saw the church yesterday," I said. "I think I understand what you're saying."
"Come to Mass on Sunday," she said. "You'll understand even better. But I wouldn't discount what Felipe Tepano says."
"He's a very powerful man in his family—the patriarch, I think you'd call him," Christian said. "I'm related to the Tepanos on my mother's side, and I can tell you people think he does have some spiritual power."
"Gordon laughs about Rapa Nui Catholics," Victoria said. "Men like Felipe Tepano go to Mass every single day, but when they leave, they also do prayers to the spirits of the island and to their family aku-aku. We don't see anything contradictory in that, do we, Christian?"
"No, we don't," the young man said. "At least the older generation doesn't."
Edith was starting to get restless, so it was obviously time to go. Victoria had the last word. "If Gordon decides to go tomorrow, I'm counting on you to keep him in his seat and quiet," she said.
"Tough job," Christian said, laughing.
When we got back to the hotel, some of the congress delegates were sitting either in the dining room finishing their dinners, or out on the terrace or around the pool having a drink. Dave was deep in conversation with Kent Clarke, and he didn't seem any too happy about it. Jasper Robinson was nowhere to be seen, but then Yvonne wasn't either, a fact that was remarked upon by more than one person.
Daniel and Mike were holding up one end of the bar, a spot they seemed to have staked out for the duration of the congress, and we went to join them. "I hear you filmed an interview with Cassandra de Santiago last night," I said. "That must have been entertaining for you, Mike." Moira, who would have no trouble guessing what I was up to— which is to say, checking out an alibi—was no doubt doing some mental eye rolling, but she said nothing.
"Entertaining? That's a good word for it," Mike said.
"A bit of a nutter if you ask me," Daniel said.
"Why have a nutter on a documentary?" I asked.
"Like the film Rapa Nui, this one's a dog." Mike said
"It is that," Daniel said. "I should know."
"Kind of eats into your drinking time, doesn't it, filming it in the evening?" I said. "Are you on call twenty-four hours?"
"Kent thought the nutter would be better at night, you know, kind of dark and creepy," Mike said, as Daniel rocked with laughter.