Witi Ihimaera - Pounamu Pounamu

‘I know a little.’

‘Hasn’t your Dad told you, Hema?’

‘A bit. I think he thinks I know already. I don’t want to ask him because he’ll think I’m dumb. But you’re my cousin and you’re eleven and I’m ten and I thought you should know and, well, I thought, I thought you could, you could …’

‘So you’re curious eh, cuz? Well, I’ll tell you. You see, there’s this stork and …’

‘Don’t make fun of me!’

‘So you really want to know, Hema. Okay. A man and a woman sleep together and they make a baby.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Well not exactly. They do “it”.’

‘What’s that?’

‘“It”! You know. “It”! Jeez you’re dumb! He uses his thing!’

‘But that’s rude! You’re lying.’

‘Well don’t believe me then. Go and ask your Dad.’

‘Dad wouldn’t do that!’

‘You wanna bet? That’s how you got here. Haven’t you ever heard of “it” before?’

‘Course! But I never thought that babies came that way. That’s rude.’

‘No it isn’t, cuz. It’s sweet.’

‘How do you know!’

‘I’ve done it.’

‘You teka.’

‘All right then, don’t believe me.’

‘I won’t.’

‘All right then.’

‘I still don’t believe you.’

‘Okay, okay.’

‘I don’t, you know.’

‘Okay! Quit it! You make me sick.’

‘I still don’t believe you. Who did you do it with?’

‘Somebody.’

‘Somebody who?’

‘Just somebody! I’m not going to tell you; you got a big mouth!’

‘I won’t tell. True I won’t. Where did you do it?’

‘In the bushes.’

‘The bushes where?’

‘Just in the bushes! Jeez, go to sleep won’t you!’

‘And you’re sure that babies are made by doing it? You know, with your thing?’

‘Aaargh, go to sleep.’

‘I’d never have believed it. I don’t believe it! But how does it work?’

‘You really want to know, Hema?’

‘Course I do. And you should know because you’ve done it.’

‘There’s nothing to it really! You just lie there and heave and snort and that’s all.’

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all.’

‘But why doesn’t the woman heave and snort all by herself then?’

‘It’s better when you both heave and snort together.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s fun, Hema.’

‘It’s still rude. Are you sure you did it properly?’

‘I think so. It was fun, and Anita, she said it was fun.’

‘You did it with that ugly thing!’

‘She’s not so ugly. Anyway it was dark so I pretended she was somebody else.’

‘Eeee!’

‘She called me her darling.’

‘But tell me, what happens?’

‘Hmmmnnn. Um, it just happens, that’s all!’

‘You don’t know at all!’

‘Course! It happens when you’re about thirteen or older. Then you’re a man.’

‘What happens?’

‘You become a man that’s all! Jeez, I wish you’d stop asking these dumb questions.’

‘But then, how come … the baby?’

‘The girl gets hapu, Hema. A big puku.’

‘And the baby, where does it come out?’

‘Haven’t you seen cows having calves, Hema? The baby comes out like that!’

‘True?’

‘True. So now you know.’

‘Yeah. Now I know. But are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Are you sure you’re sure?’

‘Jeez, go to sleep won’t you!’

‘I still don’t believe you did it with Anita.’

‘Aaaaargh! Don’t believe me then.’

‘You didn’t, did you!’

‘Go to sleep!’

‘I’m going to ask her tomorrow.’

‘All right then, I didn’t!’

‘I knew! I knew you were a liar! I don’t believe anything you’ve said.’

‘Oh, for crying out loud.’

‘But when did you say it happens, Tom? When you become a man? When you’re about thirteen? Boy, I can’t wait! But are you sure?’

‘Go to sleep! Go to sleep! If you don’t go to sleep, I’ll give you a bloody hiding! Leave me alone. Please, Hema, leave me alone!’

‘Okay. When I’m thirteen, right? Three years to go. What a long time to wait. What a long long long time.’

Looking back, Hema realises that three years wasn’t so long to wait after all. In comparison the eight years to come before he is twenty-one seem a dismally long way off. Once, he used to look forward to the time he was thirteen. He is thirteen now and a man. But now he’s got to wait until he’s twenty-one, because then he’ll be his own boss. It’s not much good being a man when you’re not your own boss. It just isn’t fair! But who knows, eight years may sneak past him without his knowing it! Somebody might even invent a time machine and he’ll be able to take a short cut to twenty-one. That would be just neat.

For the time being though, he decides to relish the idea of being thirteen and the tremendous thing which has happened to his body. For just two weeks ago, two fantastic weeks ago, his body coughed and wheezed and exploded into manhood and a little voice said in his mind:

‘Well, Hema, you’re not a kid any more.’

Mind you, the signs had crept up on him long before then. His shoulders started to broaden and his legs began to thicken out. Hairs began to appear in the most odd places, short and curly, and he used to look down at them and say:

‘Shake it up, won’t you!’

But the tiny tufts just sniffed back.

‘Just wait your hurry, Hema Tipene!’ they seemed to say.

However, Hema didn’t want to wait. His friends’ voices seemed to be breaking all over the place, but his was still like a squeaky kid’s. So he took up sneaking smokes from his Dad’s packet, because that was supposed to make your voice low and sexy. But then somebody told him that smoking stunted your growth so he gave it up. Oh, the agony of being only five foot two and a quarter inches tall! Everybody else was taller than he was and he was going to be a dwarf for the rest of his life. Worse still, he wouldn’t be able to get a girl and what use would it be if he was a man then? He used to lie in bed and be haunted with dreams of himself sitting on the beach while all those beautiful girls wandered past him on their way to ogle a six-foot giant striking poses with his huge biceps and leopard-skin togs. And the next morning, he would rush to the wall and measure his height again.

‘Five foot two and a quarter inches,’ the wall would intone. ‘No more, no less. And it’s no use standing on your toes, Hema!’

It just wasn’t fair. Why was he stuck with short parents? It was all their fault. Poor Hema, he would sulk all day.

‘What’s wrong with you now, son?’ his father would ask.

And Hema would draw his breath, expel it, and blow his father to smithereens. After a while, he would calm down and a steely glint would appear in his eyes. Even if he was going to be short, he’d show those girls a thing or two. After all, being tall wasn’t everything. You had to have powerhouse thighs, and he did, staying power which he definitely would have, and the last time he had measured his thing, it had almost driven him into fits of grateful hysteria.

And still the signs of his approaching manhood kept coming. Hundreds of people surely, had said to him:

‘Pae kare, you’ve grown in the last few years! Is this really that little boy we knew before? Hey, you’ll be busting out of your pants soon!’

Such remarks used to make him strut like a rooster and more determined to keep on wearing his tight school shorts to accentuate the obvious. He just loved hearing his relatives talk about him! He wasn’t so keen though, if they said he looked like his father (Dad was ugly!) or like his mother (With her big nose? Not likely!), but he didn’t mind when they said he was going to take after the Tipene side of the family. The Tipenes were renowned for being tall and also for their prolific breeding, legal or otherwise.