‘The delirium of the dérive’: reflections on the poetics and politics of the archipelago

Then we were there, on the top, under the highest trees. And the ocean was before and behind us, slipping away into nothing at the ends of the world. Below us the ridges and valleys and the plains lay blue and still, as peaceful as our forefathers must have been when they fi rst settled here. [ … ] Then we saw the rock platform under the highest tree [ … ]. You know what we found, eh? … Two conch shells cracked and brown with age. [ … ] He had exaggerated as usual, Tauilopepe thought: they had probably never been up on the range, had never endured that trek, the whole story was a product of Toasa ’ s imagination. As for the lions and aitu, that was just too much. Toasa was becoming senile. So he had stopped listening, catching only bits of the story and nodding his head. (Albert Wendt, Leaves of the Banyan Tree , pp 67 – 70)