Witi Ihimaera - Bulibasha

‘Tena koutou rangatira ma, tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou!’

Aunt Sarah nodded her head. ‘That’s new,’ she said, approving. ‘The judges will give them points for originality.’

To whistles and cheers, Hukareka swept on to the stage, the men at an angle from one side, the women at a similar angle from the other. They were moving at double speed, making an X pattern. When they met in the middle, the scissoring effect was so dazzling that the hall raised a mighty cheer.

‘Pae kare, they’re good this year,’ Aunt Sarah repeated. She should know. She had been trained by experts.

‘Look at that!’ Even Uncle Ruka was filled with admiration.

‘A bit showy,’ Aunt Ruth sniffed.

Aunt Sarah had her eyes on the judges. Showy, yes, but there was no doubt the judges were impressed. As Hukareka continued with their programme — the ancient waiata first, then action song, poi, haka and exit — all the judges except one known for his preference for the traditional nodded their heads in agreement. Last year Hukareka hadn’t even made it to the semifinals. But this year –

That was when Aunt Sarah realised.

‘They’re planning to take us on,’ she said. Her voice was filled with awe and respect.

It was no surprise to Aunt Sarah when the judges took so long to reach a decision on the final six. They had a heck of a job, and it would be worse on the night of the finals.

To cheers of applause the compere announced, ‘The haka teams in the finals are in alphabetical order. Hauiti, Hukareka —’ Rupeni Poata and his family yelled and screamed. They were sitting in the front downstairs. ‘L.D.S. Mahia —’ My heart lurched. We hadn’t made it. ‘Mangatu, Manutuke, Waihirere, Whangara and —’ The compere smiled up at us. ‘Sorry, Bulibasha,’ he apologised. ‘My alphabet was never any good: Mahana!’

We erupted into roars of relief.

‘I’ll wring your neck!’ Aunt Sarah yelled.

The compere waved good-naturedly at her. ‘See you next month for the finals.’

The red curtains swished to a close.

Just as Hukareka were leaving, Rupeni Poata looked up at us. He inclined his head.

At school the next week, not even Miss Dalrymple’s usual greeting could pour cold water over our excitement at making the finals. We were doing English — poetry appreciation, page 17 of Plain Sailing .

‘This is a Scottish tale,’ Miss Dalrymple began. ‘It is very famous throughout the English -speaking world.’ She got out a stick and tapped like a conductor on her table. When she thought we had the beat, she said, ‘Now, class, together!’

We began to read in unison. ‘ “O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, through all the wide Border his steed was the best — ” ’

I could hardly believe my eyes. Lochinvar, a young Scottish stud, was in love with Ellen, a girl forced to marry another man. So what did Lochinvar do? He rode his horse to the wedding and snatched her up from the altar and they escaped to live happily ever after.

It was the same story as Grandmother Ramona’s abduction on her wedding day.

That night the haka team met for the first time since the semifinals. As usual, Grandfather and Grandmother joined us as we assembled at Takitimu Hall, wondering what Aunt Sarah had in store for us. The month after the finals was when Maori cultural teams practised, polished, changed their repertoire and incorporated — some would say pinched — other people’s ideas.

‘Our main challengers are Waihirere and Mahia,’ Uncle Ruka said. ‘I don’t know what happened to Hauiti this year. Waihirere are solid and Mahia have got some great men in their haka.’

Aunt Sarah made a sign of assent. I began to feel irritated. Everybody was afraid to say what they really thought because Grandfather was among us.

‘No, our greatest challenge is from Hukareka,’ I muttered.

Everybody looked from me to the Lord Of Heaven.

‘The boy’s right,’ Grandfather said, amused.

It was just what Aunt Sarah had been waiting for. She started to crack her whip. ‘Did you all see the way they came on?’ she asked. ‘Ka pai, credit where credit is due, that was original. You put our entrance up against that one and who wins? Not us. We have to change our entrance.’

Uncle Ruka thought this through and nodded. The haka team groaned. No sooner did we get it right than we had to start all over again.

‘Notice anything else?’ Aunt Sarah asked again. ‘Any of you? Come on, you’ve all got eyes.’

‘They looked different somehow?’ Frances ventured.

‘That’s right, babe,’ Aunt Sarah answered. ‘They had new piupius, bodices’ the lot. What have we got? All you girls will be busy sewing this month.’ Haromi sighed. ‘That’s another thing,’ Aunt Sarah went on. ‘You know why they looked good? They weren’t resting on their laurels like we were. Compared to them, our front row was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. All the hems of the piupius were higgledy piggledy, especially yours, Haromi, pulled up so high. This is not a beauty contest to see who has the nicest-looking knees.’

Everybody grinned.

‘Did you notice something else?’ Aunt Sarah was really getting into it. ‘All their front row was young. Judges like seeing young girls in front. We may have to switch some of the oldies to the back.’ She began to pace up and down. ‘But we must come up with a trump card. Hukareka knows they’re on a winning streak so they’re not going to change their programme. That gives us the edge, because they think they know ours. We’ve got to come up with something that will appeal to all the judges, something traditional as well as modern. Something that will get us the Ngata Shield again —’ She stopped in mid-sentence. ‘That’s it!’ she said. Her eyes were shining. Whenever she got that look, trouble was bound to be brewing. ‘Tomorrow we change our programme. We’ll keep the poi and the haka. But we will learn a new entrance and a new action song. The action song will be our trump card.’

‘But Auntie,’ Andrew moaned. ‘Hukareka never even came anywhere last year. Why all the fuss?’

Aunt Ruth stepped forward. ‘Never underestimate Rupeni Poata,’ she said.

Aunt Sarah nodded in agreement. ‘Nobody is targeting us this year,’ she said. ‘They all know that Hukareka is the tops. We have to target them too, as sickening as that is for me to say.’

Then Andrew asked the million-dollar question. ‘And what’s our new action song?’

Aunt Sarah made my day. ‘Simeon hasn’t composed it yet, eh Himiona? You do the melody and I’ll do the words, ka tika?’

My mind boggled. Grandfather began to shake his head doubtfully.

‘Okay, Aunt,’ I said. ‘You say, me do.’

Of course it was just like Aunt Sarah to dragoon everybody, including Mum, into creating the all-new all-stereo sound and technicolor Mahana haka team. She had four weeks to do it.

‘I’ve had an idea about costuming for you girls,’ Aunt Sarah announced one night at practice. ‘Floor-length cloaks — floor length, Haromi, not knee-length, not even ankle length. Huria, can you drive me to the store to get some calico?’

‘Not Mum,’ I said quickly. ‘Get somebody else.’

Aunt Sarah looked at me quizzically. ‘You’re getting uppity, boy. Can you drive the car?’

Checkmate.

‘Why, he- llo ,’ Miss Zelda said as Aunt Sarah and Mum walked into the store.

‘Good morning, Zelda,’ Aunt Sarah answered. ‘We’ve come for the best calico you’ve got in the place.’ Aunt Sarah knew how to handle Miss Zelda.

‘Of course,’ Miss Zelda said. ‘Scott? Will you bring our best quality calico in for Sarah?’