Its not all black and white in Tahiti

The thunder rumbles out to sea, fighting with the dying sun silhouetting the islands. A languid tropical breeze wafts over me carrying the floral scent of the vahine’s. Angelie must be near, faithfully delivering my apertif. I have become close to her in these last few days - her long shiny black hair with Tiare flower tucked seductively behind her ear, her lithe brown body wrapped in a colourful pareo. I covet this nightly ritual and toast my last night on Tahiti Nui. Angelie timidly approaches me with fluttering eyelashes. She asks of my plans for the evening and suggests I meet her Mahu friends. You see, Angelie is a Mahu- the ''third sex" common to French Polynesia.

Mahu's are genetically men, who as part of a cultural tradition are raised as women, and like Angelie, are commonplace in hospitality. They are a widely accepted and cherished part of French Polynesian culture unlike their outcast counterparts, the Raerae’s. These women are transgender by choice often turning to prostitution for survival. Downing the glass and with trepidation I coyly accept Angelie’s invitation for a night on the town.

We meander through the buzzing streets of the nation’s capital, Papeete. The US Navy are in port and the air is electrically charged with aching sexual tension, the music flowing to the streets is intoxicating and the heady scent of gardenias omnipotent. Angeline spots a group of her friends and pulls me into a café to join them. Giggles and furtive glances are exchanged. I am mesmerized. Gorgeous girls are dancing provocatively in couples and I hear a bawdy American sailor proclaim the discovery of Nirvana. Enchanted, I’m drawn closer and realise most of the thrusting couples are actually Mahu ‘s in a tryst with an authentic woman. Angelie, catches my eye through her oh so French smoke haze and reads my mind. Most Mahu, she purrs, are very popular with the ladies. I notice some Mahu, unlike Angelie, are actually more like effeminate men, male pattern baldness, beer belly and all!

Starting to feel the buzz of the Hinano beer my feet become intoxicated with the tribal dance beats and cheesy French pop music. I am engrossed in the fluid sexuality in the room. Suddenly, in some sort of bizarre mass exodus, patrons spill into the humid night air and make their pilgrimage to the granmere of all Tahitian nightclubs, Le Piano Bar.

Seedy, dark velveteen curtains herald my entrance into yet another world. I stumble in the darkness as Raerae's flock to me posing like seductive temptresses. I order an extortionately priced beer. It appears everyone else is in a spirit buying cooperative sharing it with cheaper mixers amongst themselves. The entire gender and sexuality spectrum is on parade. I can't help gawping. The joie de vivre of the patrons is contagious, Angelie, whisks me to the dance floor brimming with gyrating Raerae's. Angelie smiles, raises her hands ecstatically as the music hits a crescendo and cheekily coos, “Bienvenue a Tahiti!”