Carried by the Wind and Remembered in the Stars
Long ago, under the clear Tahitian sky, nestled in a peaceful village in Huahine, lived a couple, Taua Tiaroroa and his wife Rehua, with their two beloved children—Pipiri and his sister, also named Rehua.
One splendid night, while the stars shimmered high above, the parents silently left their home. On the soft, cool mats inside their fare (house), their little ones were peacefully asleep.
Carefully, they uncovered their canoe and pushed it on the water. Holding a rama, a flaming torch, they paddled out into the dark bay to go torch fishing, a time-honored tradition of their people.
The flame glowed over the water like a star, drawing fish toward their nets. The sea was generous, and soon their canoe was full of fresh catch. Smiling with joy, the couple returned to shore.
Taua hurried to prepare the fire to cook their catch. Soon, the scent of fish grilling on hot stones filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of taioro (fermented coconut), fe’i poe (a sweet treat), and coconut milk from freshly cracked nuts.
Once everything was ready, Rehua laid out the meal with loving care.
She turned to her husband cheerfully, “Everything is ready. Go wake our little ones.”
But Taua hesitated. “No,” he said softly, “let them sleep. They are in deep slumber.”
But Pipiri and his sister were awake… the delicious smell of the food had pulled them ouf of their sleep.
When they heard those words from the darkness of their room, they felt heartbroken. Never before had they been forgotten, never before passed over when it was time to share the joy of food and family. Hurt and confused, they quietly slipped out, crawling through the dry purau branches that walled their sleeping hut.
Outside, they hid beneath the awning, hearts aching.
When the parents finally came to wake them, they found only warm, empty mats.
“They are gone!” cried Rehua, panic in her voice.
Searching, calling—“E Pipiri-ma! Pipiri-ma!”—they rushed out into the night.
The children, upon hearing their names, ran. Up and up they climbed, to the summit of a nearby mountain.
As the parents neared, something strange floated in the air—a kite, drifting in the wind sent by a trickster spirit.
Pipiri and his sister grabbed hold of its tail. The kite lifted them into the sky.
Below, their parents cried out:
“E Pipiri-ma! Pipiri-ma! Come back to us!”
But from above, the children called down:
“No, we will not return. You did not share the catch from the torch fishing with us! You ate without us.”
Over and over, the parents pleaded:
“Come back to us!”
But always came the same reply:
“No, we will not return. You let us down.”
At last, Taua spoke, voice heavy with grief:
“It is enough, Rehua. We cannot reach them. Let us go.”
But Rehua would not listen. Her voice rose into the sky, again and again:
“E Pipiri-ma! Pipiri-ma!”
And in the distance, the reply faded like a dying wind:
“No… we will not return…”
From that night on, when the Southern constellations glow over the islands, the people of Tahiti look up and point:
“There—there is Pipiri-ma, changed into stars.”
The children became celestial spirits shining in the heavens. The kite that carried them was turned into a brilliant red flame, trailing behind them forever.
In the clear night skies above Tahiti, the Scorpius constellation stretches across the heavens, marking the place where Pipiri and his sister, forgotten during a torch-fishing feast, clung to the tail of a drifting kite and were carried into the sky. The heart of the constellation is marked by the red star Antares, glowing brightly at its center.
When the Pleaides retire from our celestial roof, marking the end of Matari’i i Ni’a and the beginnning of Matari’i i Raro, the light of Pipiri Ma takes seeds, reminding us that the flame of hope always shines bright, pulsating with the innocence of Pipiri and his sister.
Today, when Tahitians point to Scorpius, they remember Pipiri Ma, and their story lives on in the stars. After all, if the ocean carried the dreams of our ancestors, doesn’t the sky reflect their wisdom—and their unwavering belief in light?
Source: Tahiti Héritage
