Witi Ihimaera: Pounamu Pounamu

‘Hello, Mum? I’m thinking about writing a novel, but it’s about a boy who goes back to Waituhi for the tangi of his father.’

‘You’re what ! But Dad’s still alive.’

‘I know that, but this will be fiction.’

‘I don’t care what you call it, people at Waituhi will think it’s about Tom. Oh well, you better write it before Dad dies, and then people will know it’s just your usual make-believe.’

You’ll never know the agony I went through while writing the novel. Of course I knew Dad wouldn’t die while I was writing it, but you never could tell … if he did, I realised that I would have to tell David the novel must be scrapped.

Well, Dad lived to a wonderful old age, he became my longest and best friend, and Pounamu Pounamu was followed by Tangi in 1973 and then Whanau in 1974.

But that was all in the future.

As for Pounamu Pounamu itself, it is the spring at the beginning of my writing career. One of the greatest thrills was when it was published in a Maori language version with a translation by Jean Wikiriwhi, becoming the first book of fiction in New Zealand to be translated and published in Maori.

The water from Pounamu Pounamu is still as clear, sparkling, fresh; and it reminds me that I have always in my life been greatly loved. Even today, when I am trying to find my way back to Maori stories, I always like to come back to that spring and drink of its clear water and try to share that love, that aroha, with others.

Seek always to attain

excellence, equity and justice.

If you must bow your head let it be

only to the highest mountain

Tena koutou katoa.

Witi Ihimaera