Letters from Blackwell Island Pt. 02

"I don't know," Patrick answered. "I haven't given it any thought."

"Well, it can be anything you want," I replied. "Something meaningful to you personally. Something associated with Ireland would be the obvious choice - maybe even the Hurley and Sliotar design I had put on your Kani would be okay."

"Maybe," Patrick responded.

"Have a think about it, okay?" I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "But let's not take too long, okay - if we're going to do it, let's get it done as quickly as possible. Say, by this time next week."

"You're really serious about it then?" Patrick asked.

"I just think it'd be a nice way to fit in with the rest of the islanders," I replied. "And even if we do end up moving back to England one day, it'd be nice to have some kind of permanent reminder of our time here."

"Well, since you put it that way..." Patrick said, clearly coming around to my idea.

The Price Of Permanence

It turned out that arranging for Patrick and I to get our own family markings was more complicated than I'd first envisioned. Having asked Jenni about what we needed to do in order to have our own Ohana Māka'u designs created, it turned out that we needed to be registered with the island's immigration department. We needed to have our visas extended as part of our renewed contract, so I had already expected to visit to the newly opened immigration office at the airport anyway. However, I was in for a bit of a shock once I made a few enquiries about the possibility of Patrick and I one day seeking permanent resident status. I met with a woman named Luana Mahi'ai (yes, Marea's sister whom I'd first met at Aiden and Lisa's coming of age ceremony.) With her strong physique and beautifully toned skin you could tell that like her sister she was one hundred percent of native Pā'ele heritage.

"You can have any design you wish," she said after my enquiry about Patrick and I having our own Ohana Māka'u's created. "Just as long as it is registered and approved by the government's immigration and naturalisation committee."

"How long would that take?" I asked.

"Not long - a couple of weeks at the most," Luana replied.

"And then we can have them applied?"

"Of course."

"So we don't have to be permanent residents to have our own family marks then?"

"Since the two of you are extending your stay here I see no reason why the committee would refuse to allow you to have one. Of course, by the time your new five year visas expire you would both be eligible to apply for permanent residency anyway."

"Yeah, about that - would permanent residency be especially difficult to obtain?"

"If the committee believes the two of you are serious about making such a commitment to stay here permanently, then I'd be very surprised if you encountered any serious difficulty in being granted permanent resident status," Luana replied. "You also have a fit and healthy husband, which would definitely improve your chances."

"In what way?" I asked her, not having a clue why simply being married helped our cause.

"Well, it's like this," Luana went on. "You see, we're a small and isolated community here and, well, let's just say that in the past the island's population had a bit of a reputation for inbreeding.

"It was totally unfounded of course, but you know how people are when it comes to things they don't understand. The truth is that we're no more inbred here than anywhere else in the world, but the government here nevertheless always welcomes new additions to the island's gene pool with open arms."

"Where exactly is this going?" I asked her. "And what has my husband got to do with it?"

"As a woman, you would be automatically granted permanent residency," Luana responded officiously. "But for your husband it would be conditional."

"Conditional? Why?" I asked her in some disbelief. "Isn't that just a bit sexist? That I'm automatically eligible just because I'm a woman, but for my husband it comes with strings attached?"

"As I said, our gene pool here is fairly limited," Luana went on patiently. "In order to help with that, the island's government requires that males may only be granted permanent resident status if they agree to sire at least three children with three unrelated resident women."

"Oh," I replied, a little taken aback. It wasn't for a few moments however before what she'd just told me hit home with a resounding thud. "Sorry, I think I must be hearing things! Did you just say my husband has to father three children? With three different women?"

"Uh-huh," Luana responded, as though it was the most normal aspect of immigration policy that any other nation would impose.

"But why? I mean, surely women can add to the gene pool too? Why would it fall upon my husband to spread his DNA around and not me?"

"Well, as a young couple I expect that having children at some point would be on your agenda anyway, but the fact is that it's easier for a man to spread his DNA among the island's population than it is for a woman," Luana answered my query. "With the greatest will in the world you can only carry one man's child at any one time, whereas in the time it takes you to have one child, a man like your husband could father dozens.

"Like it or not, that's just the way nature works. So, in 1951 the island's government passed a law that permanent resident status for male applicants could only be fully granted once he has successfully impregnated a minimum of three native women."

Well, I expect you could understand how utterly shocked I was about all this.

"That certainly puts a different spin on things," I thought aloud. "But at least it could be via IVF or whatever these days."

"Ah," Luana responded, in a tone that implied that there was a caveat coming. "I'm afraid it isn't quite as simple as that."

"How?" I asked.

I knew I probably wouldn't like the answer, but it was one of those questions that had to be asked.

"Like I said, we're a small and isolated community, and though we have a modern and well equipped hospital here, it isn't set up for carrying out IVF," Luana replied. "The only method the island's government approves of is for natural insemination.

"There's no other way to say it, Mrs. Wilkins, but your husband would be obliged to actually have sex with the women in order to impregnate them."

"But... that'd be literally asking him to commit adultery in order to live here permanently!" I responded with shock.

There would be no way in hell that someone as devout as Patrick would agree to such a thing - it definitely put a sizeable dent in any hope I had of staying here beyond our extended five year visa would allow.

"I'm afraid that's just something you'll have to talk to your husband about," Luana replied with a shrug.

"These three women my husband would have to have sex with," I enquired out of interest. "Do they like, volunteer? Or is it some kind of government call-up thing?"

"It's entirely voluntary," Luana answered levelly. "But there's rarely a shortage of young women who would volunteer."

I left the immigration office that afternoon in a state of mild discombobulation - to say I was a bit blown away by what Luana had told me about the price of permanent residency would be quite the understatement of the century. But a thought occurred to me - would I mind if Patrick had to get five women pregnant in order for us to stay here forever?

My answer shocked me - no, I wouldn't.

I mean, looking at it from a purely logical standpoint it wouldn't be behind my back or anything - in my mind it could only be classed as unfaithfulness if I was actually being cheated on. If it was all out in the open (not literally, for I still had yet to convince Patrick to make love in one of the red zones) and everyone involved was fully aware of what was happening and why, then surely it would be totally fine. I knew that I had to find out more though, and the only people I could turn to were those that had been in the exact same position as us. So with that in mind I hailed one of the little electric Tuk-tuk's that served as taxis on the island and went to pay a visit to Angela and Toby - the only couple I knew that had settled here from the UK and been granted permanent residency here.

* * * * * *

"Oh, my dear girl, that's wonderful news!" Angela enthused once I imparted my news about our extended stay on the island.

"It is," I agreed. "But of course it led me to thinking about seeking permanent residency one day, like you and Toby did."

"Well I can definitely say that it's the best decision we ever made," Angela replied.

Just then, Toby came and joined us with a tray of tea and biscuits - you can take us Brits halfway around the world and experience all the many wonders of vibrant local culture, but we're always happy to indulge in the familiar things that remind us of home. A teapot full of freshly brewed tea and a plate of Jammie Dodgers would make any Brit feel at home no matter where he or she might be in the world!

"Don't you think?" Angela asked her husband.

"Totally," Toby agreed as he poured the tea.

"Even though it came with, er, y'know, a rather unusual condition?" I asked them.

Both Toby and Angela stopped dead once I'd broached the subject - clearly they both knew what I was referring to. It took Toby almost overfilling the teacup before they were wrenched back into the here and now.

"Er, yes... well... it was just something we had to do," Angela stuttered.

"Something I had to do, you mean," Toby said. "I seem to remember that your permanent resident status was granted automatically! It was me that had to jump through the government's hoops to be allowed to stay here permanently!"

"So, you actually allowed it then?" I asked Angela in mild disbelief. "You let him have sex with three women?"

"It was the price we had to pay in order to stay here," Angela shrugged. "I'll admit we were both taken aback by what was being asked of us..."

"What was being asked of me, you mean," Toby interjected.

"Whatever," Angela responded. "But we both decided that it was worth it so that we could live here permanently."

"What was it... I mean, how did it... was it like an arranged thing, or...?" I said, trying my best to frame my question as best I could but clearly failing miserably.

Fortunately, Angela seemed to get the gist of what I was trying to say.

"The government put out word that a couple was seeking permanent residency and asked for young unmarried women to volunteer to let Toby get them all pregnant," she explained. "The only stipulations were that their families had to have been on the island for at least three generations, and of course not be related to one another. Apart from that we could choose whoever volunteered."

"So, you got to choose, right?"

"Oh, yes," Toby recalled fondly. "That was an interesting experience! Being confronted by a lineup of naked nubile beauties who want you to get them knocked up!"

"It wasn't quite like that, was it?" Angela reminded her husband. "Men!" she added in a tone of mild admonishment.

"Well, they were naked, and they were all young - well, apart from a couple of them who were in their thirties - and they all wanted me to get them pregnant," Toby went on.

"Yes, but you weren't the one confronted by them," Angela responded. "I was the one confronted by them, and I was the one that chose which of them we would move forward with."

"Yeah, well, you know what I meant," Toby said huffily as he sat down with his cup of tea.

"Anyway, I chose the three lucky women that would be getting a chance to have sex with Toby and carry his child," Angela continued. "And over the months that followed he managed one by one to get them all pregnant."

"How did you feel about it all?" I asked Toby out of curiosity, since I wanted to try and gain some insight into what Patrick would think of what would be asked of him to do in the name of staying on Blackwell Island.

"Exhausted, if you must know!" he chuckled. "Having to have so much sex in the space of a few months might sound like any man's ultimate dream come true, but take it from me, it was hard work!"

He paused to consider his response for a few moments before going further.

"Mixed emotions, I guess you could say," he eventually concluded diplomatically.

"In what way?" I prompted him.

"Well, on the one hand I was being given the opportunity to have sex with three different women," Toby replied. "But on the other hand I was basically being asked to betray our wedding vows."

"Even though Angela had agreed to it all?" I asked.

"I think it's okay to say that she was one hundred percent in favour of it, whilst I was fifty-fifty," Toby answered. "But, she had utterly fallen in love with living here, and to be honest I had too, and so under a little duress I agreed to go ahead."

"So, how did it all work out?" I enquired. "Was it like, all of them at once, or one after the other?"

"Definitely not all of them at once!" Toby roared with laughter. "I'm not Superman, y'know!"

I felt colour rising in my cheeks at my verbal ineptitude.

"Once I'd selected them they spent the next few months tracking their monthly cycles in order to determine when would be the best time to attempt to conceive," Angela took over. "Then, as soon as the best time to y'know, "do the deed" was calculated, the first potential new mother came to stay with us and, well, not beating around the bush here, spent three days having sex with Toby as many times as possible."

"I was absolutely knackered after all that sex!" Toby chuckled, and I couldn't help but notice that the memory had caused his penis to awaken a little. "My poor willy was damned near worn out!"

"It was worth it though," Angela said as she looked lovingly at her husband. "In an odd way I felt really proud of him."

"I won't deny that I felt like a stud at the time," Toby said, with just a hint of pride in his voice.

By now I could see that he was fully erect, and even a little glistening bead of precum had formed at the exposed tip of his circumcised penis.

"Mind you, it was definitely an odd experience too, doing it in front of Angela," Toby went on as he dunked his biscuit into his cup of tea, seemingly unaware, or simply not caring, that he was fully erect before me. "And not just her but, what was the girl's name?"

"Taina," Angela responded.

"Yeah, that was it," Toby replied. "Not just in front of the wife but in front of Taina's mother too!"

"So, it wasn't in private or anything?" I asked.

"Oh no, it had to be witnessed, apparently," Angela replied. "It had to be beyond a doubt that it was Toby who was the father, so Taina's mother had to be there to witness everything. As were the other women's mothers too when it was their turn."

"So, you got this Taina pregnant then?" I asked.

"Not the first time," Toby replied. "The second time was a success though. And after her there were two others over the course of the next couple of months. There's three little "Toby Juniors" running around the island thanks to me."

"They won't be so little now, dear," Angela reminded her husband. "The youngest will be in his twenties by now!"

"So you kept in touch then? With this Taina woman?" I asked.

"I saw her just yesterday," Angela replied. "On an island as small as this it's difficult not to keep in touch with one another! In fact, our son, Morton was best friends at school with one of his half brothers."

The longer I chatted with Angela and Toby the more and more I was both unnerved and aroused by it all in equal measure. I pictured myself in our bedroom, with some mature woman beside me as we observed my husband rutting himself into her daughter. I could not deny that it was quite an interesting, and yes, arousing mental image.

* * * * * *

I knew I'd have to spend the next few years working hard to convince Patrick to agree to the government's condition on being him granted permanent resident status, but that could wait until later. Instead, I returned my attention to designing and registering our family markings.

Patrick had opted to go with the Hurley and Sliotar design that Mrs. Laukea and I had come up with for his Kani, whereas I decided on something that referenced my hometown of Guildford. In the end I sketched out a design that incorporated the three main landmarks in the town: the cathedral, the castle and the River Wey. It took me a few attempts to configure them just how I liked, but I was more or less happy with it in the end.

With our designs finalised we submitted them to Luana at the immigration office for final approval, and a couple of days later we received letters informing us that our designs had been approved and were both now fully registered. All that remained was to get them tattooed on us, like proper Pā'ele people. We booked an appointment with Mrs. Opunui, the Kahunapule who'd presided over Lisa and Aiden's coming of age ceremony, to have our newly approved Ohana Māka'u's tattooed onto us.

"You realise this is gonna hurt like hell," Patrick said as we walked up to her small but beautiful traditional house located near one of the island's many beaches.

"I had thought of that," I replied dryly. "But if Jenni, and Toby and Angela, not to mention Lisa and Aiden can get it done, then I see no reason why you and I can't go through with it."

"Sure I know that, wo'an," he huffed in response. "I was just saying it's gonna hurt a bit, like more than it would with modern equipment."

Like all Ohana Māka'u's ours were to be applied using traditional tattooing equipment - applying our markings would, quite literally, be a painstaking process. But I was confident that we'd both be able to endure it - although I did feel a stab of sympathy for Patrick. As was the Pā'ele tradition on Blackwell, not only would he have his own marking on his left buttock, he would have my marking tattooed just below it as well, which meant that while I was only to receive one Ohana Māka'u, poor Patrick would be getting two, and enduring twice the pain in the process.

We greeted Mrs. Opuni warmly with a hug, and in line with Pā'ele tradition we handed her a gift of fresh fruit and a garland of hibiscus flowers - the "fee" for her services. Although Patrick and I had seen her at the twin's coming of age ceremony and at several other traditional island ceremonies since, we'd never exchanged words with her so we weren't sure what to expect. As it turned out however, we found her to be just like any other woman of her age.

"Thank you," she said to us as she accepted our traditional gift. "I have everything set up ready for you in the back room."

"I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous about this," I said as Mrs. Opuni led us into the other room. "Well, both of us, I guess. We've never had a tattoo done before - well, as you can see for yourself."

"Well, I can promise you both you're in safe hands," Mrs. Opuni replied as she smiled a smile that radiated comforting assurance of her skills.

I looked with a stab of nervousness as I saw the Māka'u Papa - the traditional tattooing table - set up in the middle of the room with the traditional tools laid out on a small tray beside it. It suddenly all became very real.

"Yes," Patrick replied nervously. "I'm sure we are."

"So, who wants to go first?" the old priestess asked us.

"I will, er, Madame Kahunapule," Patrick replied immediately, being sure to address Mrs. Opuni with her correct title. "Sure I may as well get it over with," he added with a shrug.