Witi Ihimaera - Bulibasha

Grandfather Tamihana’s rages came out of nowhere, out of some black hole in his past. They took over his entire body. His veins knotted at his neck, his eyeballs protruded and there was foam at his mouth. He was a demented animal, and most often he took out his rage on the person nearest to him — Grandmother Ramona. Whenever Grandfather was like this, it was always Dad’s job to pacify him. Now it was mine.

‘That’s enough, Grandfather,’ I said. ‘Leave Grandmother alone now. Okay?’

The words sounded absurd but they had the effect of turning Grandfather’s attention away from Grandmother and towards me. Grandfather looked at me incredulously and laughed.

‘Listen to the boy,’ he gestured. ‘Telling me what to do. Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to come between a man and his woman?’

‘Come on, Grandfather. It’s all over. Time to get back to bed.’

He started for me. I looked across his shoulder and motioned to my aunts to look after Grandmother. I backed out of the bedroom, Grandfather followed after me, jabbing at my chest.

‘I own you as much as I own her ,’ Grandfather shouted. ‘Whenever I want her I will have her. That’s the law. She belongs to me. You all belong to me. So don’t you order me around.’

He reached out to grapple with me. Frightened, I chopped at his windpipe with the edge of my hand. He fell back gasping.

‘You little bastard!’

Free for a moment, I took off out through the kitchen, into the rain and across the back yard. My strategy was to get Grandfather out of the house and keep him busy until his rage had gone. But –

‘Look out, Simeon!’

Aunt Sephora’s warning came too late. Something hit me in the back. Grandfather must have thrown a brick or a heavy piece of wood. The blow made me double up in pain and I fell against the outside pump. Then Grandfather was on me and I thought, I’m for it now. Nothing to do except hold tight to the pump and try to protect my stomach and face.

‘Get up, you son of a bitch!’

Grandfather was trying to prise my fingers loose, but I held on for dear life. He began to kick me — in the side of the head, the kidneys and the back. I was gasping from the blows. My aunts were screaming. I felt like I was being murdered. The pain . He was hitting my head against the iron of the pump. I didn’t have a prayer.

‘Come on, you little bastard,’ he panted. ‘Stand up. Stand up and fight like a man!’

Finally he lifted me up and propped me against the pump. I was groggy, soaking from the rain or blood. I don’t know which. The piledriver was coming. There was nothing I could do about it. Ah well, better me than Grandmother Ramona.

Glory, where are you, sis? Play dead, Glory, please play –

Grandmother Ramona was there, standing in the rain. She had a rifle in her hand. She reversed it so that she was holding the barrel. She slammed Grandfather over the head with the butt. Grandfather swayed, not quite ready to topple. She hit him again. With a groan he fell poleaxed to the ground.

My aunts were hysterical. They knelt beside Grandfather, trying to revive him.

‘Father? Father!’

Grandmother Ramona cupped my chin in her hands.

‘I’m sorry, Grandmother,’ I said.

‘You’re going to have a beautiful black eye,’ she said. ‘A real shiner.’

I felt ashamed that I hadn’t been able to protect her. I spat blood and a broken piece of tooth.

‘You did well, Himiona,’ Grandmother said. ‘Nothing to be sorry about. Anything broken? Or are you just bruised?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

‘Huria?’ Grandmother Ramona called. ‘Look after your son. As for you others, leave your father there.’

‘We can’t leave him out here in the rain,’ Aunt Miriam said.

‘Just do as I say,’ Grandmother commanded.

As she was speaking, Grandfather began to revive. His rage was over and, dazed, he looked up into Grandmother’s face.

‘E kui —’

‘Picking on a boy,’ she muttered. ‘Just be careful that next time I don’t shoot you.’

She went to walk past him. He grabbed at her nightdress and pulled himself up to clasp her around the waist. She paused, her face wan, then pushed him away and continued on into the house.

After this incident I fired my first shot across Grandfather Tamihana’s bow. I chose to do it in the only way and the only place that Grandfather would understand — at church during testimony-bearing. And I scandalised the whole congregation by taking the microphone after Aunt Sarah had vacated it.

‘Brothers and sister,’ I said, ‘you know that I rarely bear my testimony, so don’t expect this to be a habit. I have a black eye —’ There was a gasp. ‘And I have bruised ribs.’

Grandfather Tamihana was staring straight ahead. Grandmother Ramona began to pull her veil across her face, then decided against it. She nodded at me.

‘I went to help a woman who was being beaten up by her husband.’

My aunts were crimsoning and Aunt Sarah was flapping her hands at me in horror.

‘Do you think I should have left her to be beaten?’ I asked the congregation.

‘Brother, no,’ came the answer. ‘You should take the lesson of the good samaritan who did not pass by but stopped to help when it was needed.’

‘Thank you for your support,’ I said. ‘The person concerned is a member of this church.’ There were more gasps.

‘I give him fair warning that if it happens again I will seek your help against him.’

After church Dad approached me and said, ‘You shouldn’t have done that, son. The family can handle it.’

I saw Grandfather Tamihana in the distance. He came over to me, paused, and nodded.

‘So, Himiona,’ he said.

At the beginning of winter 1958, the family had achieved a good season. There was every chance that we’d be able to winter over without difficulty. However, no sooner had we had a chance to congratulate ourselves than my father Joshua faced two reversals.

The first announced itself when Dad was coming back from Tara, Mahana Four’s final shed of the season. He heard a clunk and the car lurched.

‘It’s not my car that should be shot,’ Pani said.

Pani looped a tow rope to the Pontiac, and towed it back to Mr Jenkins’ garage at Patutahi.

‘I’m sorry, Josh,’ Mr Jenkins said. ‘The repair is going to work out pretty expensive. Parts for cars like this are hard to come by and I’m going to have to get a new back axle —’

The Pontiac was a month in Mr Jenkins’ garage. When the car came out, the bill was enormous. Dad’s face turned white as a sheet.

‘We need the car,’ Mum said.

A car was really the only status symbol we had. Paying for the repairs wiped out our savings.

Then came a request from Uncle Matiu at the March family meeting. It was nearing its end when Grandfather Tamihana asked, ‘Kua pai?’ and Uncle Matiu coughed. He shuffled forward on his knees, his head bowed before Grandfather. He made his plaint.

‘Father,’ Uncle Matiu said, ‘I am putting this request on behalf of the pastor. As you know, a Mormon college has been established in Hamilton for our children. The church has been calling for more funds to support the college’s work, and more volunteers also. The pastor has asked whether our family might commit a tenth of our earnings to this work.’

‘On top of the tithe?’ Grandfather Tamihana asked.

‘Yes, father. The pastor realises we already substantially support the work of the church. He hopes, however, that the shearing season has been bountiful enough so that the Mahana family will be able to —’ Uncle Matiu paused.

Given Grandfather’s attitude to education, I didn’t think that our teeth-flashing pastor had a hope. I had forgotten that this was one of those matters which, if agreed to, would increase Grandfather’s public reputation and mana.