At breakfast this morning, there was
exciting news. An American couple had
just arrived, telling us they were on the flight from Lima that arrived at 5:30
this morning. We lit up with the hope
that our bags were finally here, in plenty of time for our departure back to
Lima this afternoon. Never mind that the
LAN folks had told us the bags would be coming from Santiago at 5:30 in the evening,
50 minutes earlier than our departure time.
We rushed out to the airport, but the place had already closed. We peeked through the windows at the baggage
claim area, but no bags were in sight.
Another day with the same shirt and other articles of clothing. Neither of us has even a comb.
Stone carving outside the museum
Our first stop after the airport was the museum, which had fascinating displays, including replicas of three of the wooden tablets that remain with Rapanui writing. It's a sort of hieroglyphics, which no one has ever been able to interpret. The symbols run left to right, apparently, and every other line is upside down; so you would have had to flip the tablet over and over to follow the thoughts of the writer. Here we also read more theories about the history of the moai and the people
We did a
final tour of the island, stopping to scoop up a tiny bit of pink sand and
making some last photos. And to
celebrate our impending departure, we stopped by a special shop we had found,
selling the most wonderful flavors of ice cream you can imagine. Who would have ever thought you could buy
gourmet ice cream in the most isolated place on earth? Next time you are here, you simply must try
the tres leches in a sugar cone. It
comes piled high—two scoops at least, and the flavor is, as they say, to die
for. Thick and creamy, with at least 16%
butterfat, with the smoothest flavor imaginable. We even forgot our clothing predicament,
until the management politely requested us to please take our cones outside.
Moai protecting the island again, at Anakena beach.
You have been patiently awaiting the
writer’s theories on the creation, use, and fate of the moai on Easter
Island. The conclusions that follow are
meant for only a few select eyes.
Hopefully you will be honored at having been chosen to be one of those
with special knowledge. Now you may share the truth with friends whenever the
subject of the moai on Easter Island is raised in casual conversation. You need feel no obligation to credit the
writer by name; a simple, “I have it on high authority . . .” will do.
Only a few Polynesians, history’s
most skilled ocean navigators, arrived on Rapa Nui after a 2,000 mile trip
sometime before the year 1,000. They
found a lush island, with plentiful water in the craters of the three main
volcanoes that had created the island a million years earlier. Their families planted crops they had
brought, depended on the sea for nourishment other than fruits and vegetables,
and lived in a virtual paradise. Over a
few hundred years, their numbers grew into the thousands and the strongest and
brightest became chiefs and priests. The
latter two leaders, as so many around the world before and since (Egypt,
Angkor, China, etc.), realized it was important to keep the natives busy, and
to promise them great rewards for their work.
The religion that had been brought
from Polynesia underwent rapid changes, culminating with a belief that various
paternal gods would inhabit great stone likenesses, if only the likenesses
could be built and transported around the island. The gods would keep watch over and shield the
villages and the island. The people were
promised protection from evil spirits so long as the eyes of the idols were
gazing toward them, and an eternal afterlife as an even greater reward for
their work. The idols were made larger
and larger as the years went by, fed by a belief that larger spirits would
defend against more power forces. As
promised, no evil befell the people.
Then one day a strange sailing ship
appeared, with strangely dressed men, who came onto the island and proceeded to
use strange, loud weapons to kill some of the people—without reason, as far as
the people could tell. When the
intruders left, strange diseases began to infect the people, and many died of
inexplicable causes. The moai had failed
to protect the island. The chiefs and
priests had lied; the spirits in the moai were weak and useless. The people ceased to worship the
idols—toppled them, removed their eyes and tossed them into the sea.
A new system of selecting leaders
was created: the precursor of term
limits, known as the birdman competition.
This lasted until the enslavement and removal of the people from the
island. The destruction of the written
language of the people—except for 28 remaining wooden tablets—insured that no
one (present company excepted) would ever know the entire truth about the
mysterious moai of Easter Island.
But as Roger observed, the giant stone images that were created to protect the people of Easter Island are again, in their special way, providing protection in the way of attracting 50,000 tourists each year. Tourism is the only industry here, and without it, the people would not survive. But as tourism continues to grow exponentially in a place that has little infrastructure and no waste water system, we will leave it to the reader to decide whether the existence of the moai will ultimately lead to the destruction of the island.
As this is written on our LAN flight
to Lima, we await a miracle there. The
person who promised our bags would be on the 5:30 flight from Santiago today
made one last promise before our departure:
the bags will be waiting for us in Lima.
Somewhere.
Charlie and Roger
© 2013
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