5 July 1497
As the builder assesses the clump of ash allotted to him under the rim of the Rano Raraku Volcano, he sees the face of his great-grandfather in the back of his mind, and his heart swells with pride. He must do justice to the great deceased chief of his clan. He must enshrine the beauty of his progenitor so that those who descend from this clan will remember him many years from now. The builder takes his pick made out of basalt stone, and he chips away at the ash. He shapes a nose long and thin. He indents two eyeholes under a stony eyebrow. He clumps the ash at the edge to resemble ears. He gives the head a body and arms and feet.
He finishes, and he looks out at what he has created and he feels the pride again. He has recreated the visage of his great-grandfather to the extent that anyone else who comes from the bloodline of this once great chief will look at the moai, and know exactly who it is. The builder’s body radiates in happiness because he has accomplished something. He has created a piece of art. He knows his moai will stand for centuries after he has long perished from this earth. It will remind anyone who happens to look at it that there was once an artist, and he had something to create, and he had gone out and created it.
The builder does not have time to rest. Creating the moai is one part of the builder’s job. Now they must figure out where to place it. They will move the moai using many men and rope. The chief will have an idea in mind, but the builder has his own place to suggest.
The builder wants the moai of their great-grandfather to be at the very edge of the island, on the cliff right where the greens of the grass overlook the waves of the ocean. The great-grandfather was known to face out into the ocean and ask his clan questions. What were the names of the great beasts and creatures who ruled the waters? If there were civilisations coming from the other islands to visit them, when would they take their own boats and visit these other kingdoms? Of course, this man was a chief, and so no one questioned him directly. But the other members of the clan did find it odd that their chief asked such bizarre questions, and it was common for them in the privacy of their hare paenga to wonder why he liked to reflect on such inane possibilities.
The builder was not like the other people of his family or clan. He had a close relationship to his great-grandfather. He respected the questions of his great-grandfather, and his eternal curiosity. From his perspective, the moai of their great-grandfather deserved to face out into the ocean, in the same way he had done when he was among the living. It was the only way to respect this great chief’s spirit, to allow this man even after passing to continue to look outwards, forever and always.
17 March 1774
“How is it possible that they can live on an island like this?” James Cook asked his translator as he walked back onto his boat. “Their boats are made of the flimsiest wood. It would be impossible to go anywhere.”
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