Fire Dancer

Original Story and Illustration prompts by:

Alan Rosenfeld

We live in the Pacific Ocean on a chain of green islands called O le Aniva in the middle of the blue blue sea. O le Aniva means “Milky Way.” At night we watch millions of bright stars cross the vast dark heavens. They guide us along our journeys on the land and sea.

My people live on Afi Paia, a small island in the chain of lush jungle islands. The name means “sacred fire.”

My name is Mareva, meaning “shooting star.” My mother, Alofa, gave me the name when my father’s face lit up as he saw me for the first time.

My father, Fetū, is our Ailao Afi, a fire dancer! During festival, when all the island villagers gather to celebrate, he is our master dancer and makes us proud. He dances from his heart and soul. All the villagers admire him.

Growing up, I stayed at my father’s side. I’m shy around other people and don’t have many friends. My voice disappears to a whisper when others are talking. So I follow my father wherever he goes.

My father is our fire dancer, but he’s also an excellent fisherman. On days when he goes fishing, I send him off with a wave from the beach.

Later in the day, I can sense when he’s returning, and I run down to the beach. I greet him with open arms and look in the fish basket to see what we will eat for dinner. Then we play and jump in the surf as the sun slowly
goes down.

Other days, my father gathers food from the land. He’s an expert at climbing coconut trees.

Father learned all he knows from his father, and he helps other villagers. He makes repairs on homes for women who have lost their husbands.

I spend nights under the stars with my father. I love looking into the fire we light each night. It leaps and dances and bends with the wind, but it always tries to keep burning and give us light. I dream of making my father proud of me one day, by becoming a fire dancer, too.

My desire to dance grows stronger each year. Now I sneak out at night to practice dancing the way my father does. Something deep inside me tells me to listen to the flames and move like they do as they dance in the wind.

Being the island’s fire dancer, my father is always happy to demonstrate his skills. But a mean boy named Toamalosi, who never smiles, is always asking my father questions about fire dancing, as he would like to fire dance, too. I’m jealous of him because by tradition, girls are not allowed to dance with the sacred fire.

I think about fire dancing every day. It is all I want to do. My parents do not know I go out into the jungle to practice.

During the day I have to complete my girl chores. I must help with washing clothes in the stream, making baskets out of wood and palm fronds, and cooking over the fire. I’m not good at those chores, because I love dancing like a flame more than anything else.

My mother gets frustrated with me for refusing to do my chores. “Mareva,” my mother says, “Every girl must learn these skills if you want to have a good life.”

I’m very confused. I want to be a fire dancer, but I also want to please my parents. My mother throws her arms into the air and says, “I don’t know what to do with you, Mareva. You must talk to tinamatua Nuanua.”

My grandmother and I sit down to talk. She can see the confusion inside me. She tells me that when she was a little girl, she hated chores, too. All she wanted to do was go fishing with her friends.

I ask her, “What did you say to your mother, tinamatua? How did you tell her that your dreams are different?”

Tinamatua Nuanua points to the night sky and tells me to always shine brightly like the stars in the heavens.

“Find what inspires you, and follow your heart. Every star in the heavens has a purpose. Some guide us on our travels across the ocean. Others inspire us to dance with nature. Follow your star, little one, and you will find your way.”

One beautiful night when the winds are calm and every star shines clearly, I slip away to practice dancing, but that mean boy, Toamalosi, discovers what I’m doing.

The next day he ran and told the elders about me. The elders scold me and say, “It is forbidden by tradition for a girl to dance with the sacred fire.”

My father pleads with the elders that fire dancing should be for women and men, but the elders do not agree. “Traditions must be followed.” they say and forbid me from dancing.

Since then I have been sad. How do I follow my star and become a fire dancer like my father?

One day while my parents are out visiting neighbors, I practice dancing in secret. Little do I know I’m being watched.

I begin to dance around inside our hut, and the fire girl inside me comes alive. She is fearless. She drives my dancing so that my anger toward the elders can escape. She dances with the sacred flames.

“Dance, move, sway, and dance more!” they say. I get lost in the dance of the flames and how they speak to me.

I’m so lost in dancing that I accidentally drop one of the torches. The flames spread quickly. I’m terrified and confused about where to run. Out of nowhere, Toamalosi bursts in and drags me to safety.

“Toamalosi, you saved my life! But why? I thought you hated me for dancing.”

“Mareva,” he says, “I’m so sorry for hurting you. I was jealous of you and your father. I was jealous I could never be as good a fire dancer as you are. I practice and practice, but I never can match how well you dance.”

“Thank you, Toamalosi,” I say. “I didn’t know how you felt. Your words and actions mean the world to me.”

My parents return to see me crying and our home burned away to a pile of ashes.

My father yells at me for the first time. “Mareva! Our home is gone!” he says, and I’m so sorry.

During the days that follow, the villagers come together and rebuild our family hut.

My new friend, Toamalosi, tells me, “It was an accident. It’s not your fault.” Toamalosi invites me on a seashell hunt to take my mind off the fire, but even a shell hunt doesn’t make me feel better on that day.

My mother pulls my father aside and tells him I won’t be happy if I don’t dance. “How do you stop a star from shining?” she asks. They decide that my father will secretly teach me to fire dance.

My father and I say we are going fishing. And we do fish. My father tells me that the dancing lessons are mostly about the nature around us.

He says, “The glow from a tide pool is like a little part of heaven here on earth. The rhythms of nature are the same as the rhythm in the fire dance.”

As he teaches me, he says, “Fire is a celebration of life and nature. The heavens created the fire and gave it to us as a gift to use and take care of.”

After the lesson, we pick up the torches, and my father demonstrates the dance moves as I follow what he does.

My mother notices that my father has a bad cough. He says it is nothing, but it gets worse as the days go by.

My father is not well. Some days I go to him and ask if we are going “fishing.” He says, “Not today, my joy. Maybe tomorrow.” But each day he continues to grow more ill, and tomorrow never comes.

The island’s healer, or taulasea, comes to visit. He tries many different remedies from the jungle and the sea, but my father is still ill. The taulasea tells my mother that he has done all he can to help.

My father calls me to his side and tells me to be brave and smile when he is gone and to help my mother.

“Mareva, my joy, remember what I have taught you. Keep practicing and listening to nature. I will always be with you like the stars in the night sky. Let the fire inside you burn bright for all to see.”

Fetū, my father, whose name means star, passes peacefully with family and friends around him. He is still my inspiration and my joy. He is my greatest friend. His passing is a great loss to our island and culture.

People from many of the islands in our chain attend his funeral to show their respect and admiration. He has touched so many with the power of dance.

A year has gone by since the passing of my father. I continue to slip away to go “fishing” and practice his teachings. Some days, I let Toamalosi join me, and I demonstrate my torch skills to him.

Afterwards, we sit on the beach and talk about the glittering stars in the heavens, while the gentle waves wash ashore.

As I dance, I look toward the stars and see my father looking down on me. But I am lost again. I have the knowledge and skills he taught me, but I can’t share what I have learned with my people.

My mother takes me aside one day. She and I have grown closer since my father’s death. She says, “This year the festival will be held on our island to honor your father.”

She goes on to say, “You are your father’s daughter. He gave you gifts from nature that no one else knows. But you must follow the rules of the elders. You may speak of him but not dance.”

“Yes, I know,” I say. “It’s forbidden for a girl to dance.”

My mother continues, “Now Mareva, I don’t want you to be upset, but the elders have asked Toamalosi to dance at the festival for our island.”

“What?!” I scream. “How could he do this to me?” I angrily went to speak with Toamalosi.

“How could you do this to me, Toamalosi?” I say. “I thought we were friends. I shared with you my father’s dance, and now you’re going to dance and make it your own. You betrayed me. Don’t you see how unfair this is?”

“It’s not like that at all, Mareva.” Toamalosi says. “ I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you were going to be upset. The elders asked me to perform for our island to see if I have what it takes to be our island’s Ailao Afi. I would never use your father‘s dance moves that you shared with me.”

“I wish I could believe you, Toamalosi. Now I’ll never see my dreams come true to honor my father,” I say. “Don’t you see how I’m treated as less of a person than you because I’m a girl?”

Tinamatua Nuanua goes to the elders in hopes of changing their minds to allow me to dance.

“Who are you to say boy or girl, man or woman, has no right to pass on their father’s mauli?” Mauli means soul or spirit.

Tinamatua Nuanua continues, “This child of Fetū possesses his living mauli. Are we to lose what he passed on to her because she is not a man? Our culture and our children will lose that knowledge.”

Just then Toamalosi shows up. “May I be allowed to speak?” Toamalosi says. The elders agree, and he addresses them.

“Why should girls be treated differently than boys? What makes them less of a person than me?” he says. “Mareva is a much better dancer than I am and would represent our island better than I can. Shouldn’t we be putting the best of our island and community above our self interests? If Mareva can’t dance, then I don’t want to represent our island.”

Tinamatua Nuanua smiles with pride and says, “They named you well, Toamalosi.” Toamalosi means “brave strength”.

“I agree with Nuanua and Toamalosi,” says a senior elder. “We must not lose the spirit of Fetū. It is a gift. Let Mareva share his mauli.”

After a spirited discussion, the elders finally decide to allow me to dance at the festival. I learned later from tinamatua Nuanua how Toamalosi stood up for me. I express my gratitude to him.

The day of the festival has come! Our entire village turns out at the beach to greet the guests arriving from the neighboring islands.

The women wear their most colorful wraps and put flowers in their hair. Some of the men wear head dresses made of flowers and feathers and thick grass skirts.

The women of all the islands set out a lavish spread of our island foods while everyone talks, laughs, and shares news. Just beyond us, the sea laps gently at the shore, and the stars crawl unseen in the bright blue sky.

As the sun goes down, the men of each island get ready to perform their island’s fire dance. It isn’t a competition, but a celebration of pride. We love all the island dances, but I think that my father‘s dance is the best.

Before the dancing begins, all the islanders gather and talk about new fishing grounds, the discovery of a new plant that helps heal scrapes and cuts, and the star tracks that guide them to find new lands in distant waters.

Then the drums start rumbling, and the first dancers begin.

When it’s our time to dance, Toamalosi pulls me aside and wishes me good luck. “Mareva,” he says, “We are all proud of you. Shine like a star.”

It becomes silent. Only the sound of torch flames gently whispering in the wind are heard. Then I remember what my father, mother, and grandmother have said to me. I look toward the drummers and nod for them to begin playing again. I raise my torches skyward and say to myself, “This is for you, my father.”

As the beat of the drums fills the night, so too does my father’s spirit. It embraces me as I dance the joy from his heart. I dance the way he taught me of the heavens and earth. I even add a few of my own moves.

The scowls from the crowds change to cheers and clapping. As I dance, the crowd stays with me, urging me to share what’s in my heart.

My father is there, the heavens are above, and the fire leads me to dance on and on like the flames flickering under the stars. I dance in honor of my father.

When the drums stop, many men rush to congratulate me and tell me I was very good, like my father. Even the elders say they want me to be our island dancer from now on.

With great enthusiasm, Toamalosi rushes to congratulate me but trips and catches my arm. We both fall to the ground laughing and giggling, wearing huge smiles.

My mother and tinamatua Nuanua are proud. I’m proud of myself. I am good at something that I enjoy, too. It is what I have been searching for.

The next day the village turns out to bid a farewell to our guests and neighbors. The festival will be remembered for generations to come.

It is a special time of change. It starts many new traditions for girls and boys, and the rules about what girls and boys can do disappear. Now we can all pursue our dreams.

Since that wonderful day years ago, I continue to keep our island traditions alive. Today Toamalosi is my husband, and I have my own little fire girls.

I pass to them the knowledge and wisdom my father taught me. Now they know the joys of nature and feel the love of a star for his daughter through me.

The End

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my editor, Ann Howard Creel for her insights and guidance. Your professional feedback was invaluable.

Thank you to Malani DeAguiar for her cultural review and insights.

Thank you to my friend Jeff Shank as always for being there for me as my graphics advisor and providing image sweetening. You always have my back.

Thank you to Lemoa Henry S Fesuluai for his professional feedback on Samoan word usage and meanings.

Thank you to all my friends and family for their reviews and support.

All images generated using Microsoft Bing Image Creator Generative AI using original prompts.