Our Sunday Best

Early Sunday morning, dressed in our best clothes on board, we dingied into Hapatoni with Chuck and Linda to attend the morning church service. Since nothing every happens on time in the South Pacific, we sat around the front of the church and had a lovely talk with a local women who worked as a teacher in a neighboring village. She was so gentle and elegant you can understand the love the Marquesans share for each other.

A local Tahuatan lady tells Linda from Jacaranda about life on the island.

We entered the beautiful stone walled church a little early so we could get good seats near the back. Women dressed in beautiful Polynesian prints and flowered head crowns meandered into the church, which seemed almost too perfect for the setting. Since we got there a little early, we were treated to choir practice. Words can not describe the beauty of the women’s harmonious voices singing in two-part harmony with the men. It sounded as close to one voice as I've ever heard, with everyone in perfect pitch. Men in the front row strummed their guitars and on occasion drums from outside the church joined in.

The Catholic service was conducted in Marquesan, which shares the fluidity and beauty of French, the islander's second language. The setting, the melodious singing, the acoustics, and more than anything else, the smiling faces of the children, made for an almost perfect experience. Someone mentioned "if church was like this back home I'd go everyday."

This little girls was handed in through the window and passed from auntie to auntie up the pews.

While we couldn’t understand a word of the French/Marquesan Catholic service, we did focus on all the little things going on around us. The huge Marquesan father with his beautiful young daughter with a red hibiscus i her hair balancing on his lap. The little baby who was passed from pew to pew as various women consoled her and showered her with affection. The cute five-year-girl seated directly in front of us whose focus would wander, causing her to hang her head back over the chair and look at us upside down. The intricate tattoos on the backs and necks of the women, complimented by the beautiful flower crowns they wore. The whole experience was surreal for those of us from different cultures and more complicated lives.

We lingered for awhile after the church services, watching as the palenque games started up and the children chased each other on the lawn. We both had such a contented feeling on the ride back to the boat marveling that such a place and people existed in the world.