EEK! Squeamish in paradise

Joel Pritchard
Apr 26, 2024
2 min read

Most of us struggle with change and even if you’re embracing a different lifestyle, that in itself, can have its own challenges. An unknown land, culture and language is not for the faint hearted but rather, a recipe for the stalwart and resolute pioneer.

I started unpacking my container like a new kid on the block. Six weeks of cleaning and arranging items flew by before I was somewhat satisfied. Like most island homes built in the early 1900’s, the Kimiangatau family homestead is made of limestone and quite beautiful in a shabby chic way.

Extensive rewiring and plumbing is required, the lounge ceiling needs replacing and the four remaining rooms demand new ones – my bedroom has a 60cm open space between the walls and roof, great for air circulation and climbing over when I’ve locked myself out.

An insurmountable body of work to accomplish, I did what any 5ft 2in girly girl would do. I put my city skills to work and hired two local men to paint the 10 ft high walls instead, the big stuff left for male members of the Kimiangatau Clan. I’m still waiting, forever hopeful.

Mauke is no different from most tropical islands and hosts numerous insects. Common household tenants, small lizards called mokos must love the bright yellow staining the walls. Their insect control capabilities slightly make up for their rent-free status on my bedroom walls and I was told by my aunt in no uncertain terms, “DO NOT KILL” the fist-sized spiders in the house as they attract untold wealth. Again, still waiting, fingers and toes curled……

Native wood roaches can grow up to 4cms and fly – mostly in your face! Their saving grace a pre-warning of inclement weather and the crabs are so territorial, despite my effort to gain control of my vast shoe collection, I have had to give up the ghost. They are skittish and tenacious crawlers, claiming my boots as their current address and using the buttercup netting surrounding my bed as a scaling exercise.

My coconut blood must be surfacing or maybe I’ve grown accustomed to sharing my space with gross four-legged plus creatures? And I’m quite proud of how I handled the dead rodent in my beautiful woven basket... pushing it out of the room with the end of a kikau broom does work ladies. Luckily, my cousin got rid of both the next morning, I’d reached the end of my tether.

Given all that, the homestead is my haven. I start each day on the back porch, seated at the table made from scraps of wood by my late cousin Ina, sipping a flat white or plunged coffee – yes, no compromise on my early morning beverage.

Through the rows of coconut, franjipani and pandanus trees, I share this quiet interlude with my late father and sister, grandparents and cousins.

Life is good, all the time.