Witi Ihimaera - Bulibasha

‘E koe,’ we said before our mother could open her mouth.

‘Aue,’ she agonised, ‘Kei te haramai a Dracula ki konei!’ Dracula will get us now for sure. She had been to see Bela Lugosi in Dracula a month before. Dracula was even worse than kehua because he sucked your neck.

We stopped again. Dad went over to talk to Pani.

‘We should shoot your car,’ Dad said, ‘and put it out of its misery. Never mind. You follow us. And look —’ He pointed to the moon, rising full across the sky, lending silver light to the road ahead. ‘Who needs lights when we have the moon to show us the way?’

My mother wasn’t so sure. A full moon meant that Dracula would find us easy.

By that time our mother’s anxiety was affecting us as well. We kept on saying, ‘Hurry up, Dad, make the car go faster.’ Dracula was already following us. He was coming over the hills. His mouth was opened and his fangs were starting to grow and –

Saved! Ahead was the sign for the Williamson station and, beyond, the track leading along the side of the hill past the two-storeyed house where the boss lived, to the shearing shed and shearers’ quarters beyond. But what was that? Luminous green eyes staring at us from out of the darkness! Vampires! We screamed.

Only sheep. Phew.

A lamp was shining in one of the quarters.

‘Is that you, Joshua?’ Uncle Hone called.

‘Ae,’ Dad said.

‘Good,’ Uncle Hone continued. ‘Early start tomorrow. You and your family are in with Sam Whatu’s family. Pani, you’re in bunking with the single men. Sephora, you and Esther are in with Auntie Molly. Ruth? Albie’s over in the quarters next door. He’s been waiting eagerly for you all night.’

‘I’ll bet,’ Aunt Ruth said.

By torchlight and moonlight we unpacked the two cars — the bedding first, so that my aunts and Mum could make up the beds for us; then our belongings, stores and provisions for the kitchen, twenty-five yards away next to a small stream. Finally, Dad and Pani took out the handpieces, blades and assorted equipment they would need for tomorrow’s shearing. I could hear them talking as they worked; Pani sounded unusually anxious. Apparently Mahana One, on their way to Horsfield station, had come across Poata Three.

‘Are you sure?’ Dad asked.

‘That’s what Maaka told Hone,’ Pani said.

‘Could he have made a mistake?’

‘No. They came around a bend in the road and, hello, there were the Poatas as plain as day. They looked like they’d just come from the Horsfields. Anyway no sooner had they seen Mahana One than they scooted off in the other direction.’

‘They’re way out of their territory,’ Dad said.

‘Ae,’ Pani nodded.

‘Has Dad been told?’

‘Aua,’ Pani shrugged. ‘That’s up to Matiu.’

Dad paused. ‘Something must be going on. I don’t like the sound of it.’ He was pensive. The moonlight glinted on his blades.

‘Come to bed,’ Mum called, interrupting him.

We had arrived.

‘Okay, sweethearts, rise and shine,’ Aunt Ruth yelled the next morning. I opened one eye and then another. No, this wasn’t a nightmare, this was real .

‘Come on,’ Aunt Ruth repeated. ‘This is second call, you fellas! The cook is cooking and the shearers are already over at the shed. Get to it .’

Aunt Ruth roused the single men who were still in bed in the bunkhouse. I looked around. Dad and Mum had already gone, and so had Glory. We had arrived in the middle of the night and four hours later were straight into work.

‘Faith! Hope!’ I said. ‘Kia tere. We’re late.’

Aunt Ruth poked her head in through the door. She was scrubbed and energetic. She had tied a red scarf around her hair. She wore green overalls.

‘Good, you’re up, boy. No hurry. The sheep are in the shearers’ pens but they haven’t started the engines yet.’ Aunt Ruth’s eyes twinkled. She had caught me unawares and I had dreamt one of those dreams. ‘Is that your stick to whack the sheep with?’ she laughed. She could be so embarrassing.

Her eyes returned to Faith and Hope. ‘Come on, girls! You two are on kitchen duty.’

I dashed down to the creek to wipe the pikare out of my eyes. When I was ready I walked past the kitchen, cocky this year because Willie Whatu was the poor shit taking my place there — and he was already quailing under Auntie Molly’s orders. Affectionately known as Good Golly Miss Molly, she had been Mahana Four’s cook for ages . Behind her was Aunt Esther as second cook and, entering, the Frog Queens as the female kitchen hands.

‘Oh my giddy aunt, Willie,’ Molly was growling. ‘Get a move on, boy. Bring that pot over here. Not over there. Over here.’ She turned to Faith and Hope. ‘Where have you two been! Don’t be late tomorrow morning or you’ll have your pay docked. Esther? You show the girls how to peel the spuds the way we want them, ne? Thank goodness you’re here. I don’t know how I could manage without you — just look at this kitchen! Oh for crying out loud , Willie —’

Aunt Molly sat in the doorway, trying to escape the worst of the smoke as it billowed down the ineffectual chimney. All shearers’ kitchens were variations on bad and, boy oh boy, by midday they turned into a smoky fiery furnace.

‘Good morning, Aunt Molly!’ I called cheekily. ‘Isn’t it a lovely day to start a new shed? The birds are singing and the bees are humming —’

Aunt Molly tried to be stern. She was physically enormous. She never did any cooking herself but, rather, directed from afar. She sat all day in one place, ordering you around, and if you didn’t do your job properly she had a switch that stung your legs.

‘Don’t think you can laugh at me, Simeon Mahana! You think you’re on easy street now, ne! I can still get you back in here for one more year!’

I grinned and blew her a kiss. ‘I love you too, Auntie!’

I ran along the track to the shearing shed. The Pakeha shepherds were saddling up to bring in the sheep from the far paddocks. Sheepdogs scampered and barked and squealed around the horses’ hooves, daring the horses to kick them. The shepherds had whistles shaped by sovereigns in their mouths. The air was filled with the excitement of their whistling and the barking of the dogs.

I took a quick look at the sheep yards at the back of the shed. Good — they were filled with sheep and there were two shepherds there.

‘Kia ora,’ I said to them. ‘My name’s Simeon and I’m the sheepo.’ Me . Wow.

The shepherds nodded. They were in their late teens.

‘Gidday,’ the red-headed one said. ‘My name’s Mick. This here’s Phil.’ We shook hands. ‘We’ll keep the sheep coming. If they’re coming in too slow, give us a whistle. Okay?’

‘Sounds good to me.’

I saw Uncle Hone and he winked at me. Then, into the shed.

There was nothing like the first day at a shed before the engines started up. Outside was the yelp of dogs, swearing of shepherds and constant bleat of sheep. Inside was purposeful preparation. Aunt Sephora was Mahana Four’s wool classer, but now that Aunt Ruth had been assigned to us she was deferring this position to her elder sister. Apart from the mana of the position, it also brought in more pay.

Aunt Ruth smiled. ‘No, sister,’ she said, ‘everybody’s used to you.’

My mother and Aunt Kate, Uncle Hone’s muscular wife, would be working with Aunt Ruth and Aunt Sephora on the table. Two on each side. Mum waved me over.

‘Did you say your morning prayers?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ I answered. Under my breath, WethankyouforthisdayinJesusnameAmen.

‘Ka pai,’ she continued. ‘You ready to do your job?’