Telesa - The Covenant Keeper Read Free

school. No way. When I had walked out of the National Cathedral after graduation it was with the firm resolve that I was DONE with high school. I had come here to find out about my mother and her family ( however unsavory they may be , I thought darkly), and I wasn’t going to waste any time with school, thank you very much. Before I could point all this out reasonably and politely, Uncle Tuala spoke pre-emptively.
    “We know that children in America are raised differently from here. We are sure that our ways may seem a bit strange at first to you. But we must make it clear that while you stay, you will be our daughter, and so you will have to behave a certain way. We have seen those types of young people that come here from America with their styles and their language and their disrespect. We hope you will not be like that.” He spoke firmly from the front seat, his gaze never wavering from the winding road and I had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying to be nice by warning me that what I probably took for granted as ‘regular’ behavior would be considered horrifying by Aunty Matile. I almost felt like, in him, I just might have an ally against the indomitable Matile who continued to sit straight backed, shoulders rigid.
    I thought back to the teenagers on the flight from L.A.X. and cringed inwardly. Well, if that was what they were comparing me with, then I would have to allay their fears ASAP. I thought about Grandmother Folger and her strict expectations and how well she would probably get along with my Aunty Matile, and I hid a grimace. A deep breath.
    “Please don’t worry, Uncle. I want so much to learn about my mother’s culture and her family. I’m certainly not here to cause trouble or to bring any disrespectful attitudes from America.” My tone was earnest. I wanted to find a place here. And I certainly didn’t need any conflicts with the two people who – let’s face it – were being very generous allowing me to stay with them – even though they didn’t have the slightest clue about me. If that meant enduring a new school in some third-world education system, then so be it. There was a slight relaxing of the tension in the front seat at my words. Feeling better about the next three months, I settled back in my seat to enjoy the sightseeing ride. Samoa was unlike anywhere I had ever been. Nigeria had been beautiful – in a stark, dry kind of way. Rolling hills and red earth. But the tired desperation of so many of the people we had met had gone a long way to obscure the land’s promise. It had been difficult too, to accept the appalling poverty of so many – contrasted with the sleek high-rise wealth of the cities.
    But here, while many of the houses were humble, there was an unabashed cheerfulness about the scenery. There was green everywhere. Every house surrounded with multi-colored bushes and flowering trees. We passed a pool of fresh water, encircled with rocks where half-naked children splashed and waved at us as we passed by. Further along the road, a group of women swept cut grass into piles with long-handled brooms – scattering chickens and shooing gambolling dogs. People walked alongside the road as if they owned it – not the cars that frequently slowed to let them cross, or swerved to avoid clusters of youngsters sitting on the tar-seal. I was starting to realize why Samoa needed such a slow speed limit. Grateful for the cool escape of the air conditioning, I closed my eyes, allowing the tiredness of eighteen hours of non-stop travel to lull over me.
    I awoke with a start at the sound of the car door slamming shut. We had arrived. Uncle Tuala was struggling with my suitcase at the back of the pick-up while Aunty Matile was shooing an enthusiastic canine. It had to be the ugliest dog I had ever seen. Splotchy black and brown fur, missing half his tail and one ear ripped to shreds but his coat was sleek and shiny and he was far too fat to be a stray. I watched fascinated as