Witi Ihimaera - Pounamu Pounamu

‘You should have warned me,’ Jerry said. He cast a gloomy eye over the crowd. They all seemed to be wearing gumboots or old dresses, balaclava hats, holey jerseys and baggy pants. He knew he looked oh so clean.

Indeed, as one of the men’s teams walked past one of them said, ‘Ace, man, somebody’s brought me a Pakeha to make really dirty.’

‘Don’t take any notice of them,’ I said to Jerry as he went even whiter. ‘Anyway, you’ll be a sure hit with the girls.’

‘I can just see it,’ he said sarcastically, glancing at the group of little kids who were following him, pointing at him and giggling. But before he could brood any more, the tournament began.

Nani Kepa wandered onto the field, shooed away a couple of cows, and shouted into a megaphone. ‘People, would you please remember to close the gate when you come onto the paddock?’ he asked. ‘Otherwise you’re all going to put your feet into some rather embarrassing substances.’ He announced that it was time for the Grand Parade.

‘What’s that?’ Jerry asked.

‘Before the games begin,’ I told him, ‘all the teams parade around the field and the best-dressed team wins a cup.’

‘You’ve got to be joking.’

‘No,’ I answered. ‘Come on!’

I pulled Jerry over to where the Waituhi men’s team was standing. All four of them: Dad, Uncle Hepa, Boy Boy and Hone. Now we were six. We needed five more.

‘Mo-Crack will be here any minute,’ Dad said. ‘He’s coming from the pub. Then Frank’ll be here after he’s dropped Bub at her work. That makes eight, enough for the parade. Come on, boys.’

We followed Dad onto the field where all the other teams were milling: eight other men’s teams and sixteen women’s teams from the Coast. The women, naturally, were dressed in uniform. One of the men’s teams was too. But the rest … well …

‘I feel so conspicuous,’ Jerry muttered as we were marching around the field. I couldn’t help but agree. Apart from being a head taller than anybody else, Jerry was also the only one with red hair and freckles. Not only that but he was spotless as.

‘Hey, Pakeha,’ somebody laughed. ‘See that cowpat? It’s got your name on it.’

Dad consoled Jerry. ‘We’ll protect you,’ he said. Dad turned to me. ‘That was a great idea for you to bring such a well dressed friend with you. With him on our side we’re bound to win the parade.’

We all laughed and, by the time the parade had lined up to be judged, Jerry was feeling more at ease.

Nani Kepa and a woman from an East Coast team were the judges. They wandered along the ranks of the women’s teams, inspecting the dressage, uniforms and overall appearance as if the women were on military parade. Nani Kepa’s eagle eyes darted here and there, making sure that socks had been pulled up to the right length, shirts were tucked in and boots polished and laced properly. Competition for the parade was always a more serious business for the women than the men — and, after all, there was more at stake than just a hockey match. You think these girls had taken hours to glam themselves up just for a walk around a cow paddock? Get real. They were here to find boyfriends too or, at the very least, a date for the dance — and get that cup and their brief shining moment of stardom.

Nani Kepa and the woman from the East Coast team went into a huddle. They announced the winner. Unfortunately, that winner happened to be the team of which the woman judge was captain. There was great applause from their followers and catcalls from their rivals. ‘Favouritism! Favouritism!’

‘I must say that that’s a bit unfair,’ Jerry said.

‘Actually,’ I explained, ‘it’s a good decision. That team hasn’t won for a few years and it’s their time this year.’

The judges took less time over the men’s teams. The woman judge took a shuddering look at the motley lot and hastened quickly over to the only men’s team which was wearing uniforms. However, on the way the clouds opened and the sun blazed down on Jerry in all his flawless glory. That did it. The woman judge came staggering over to our team to make sure that she wasn’t having a vision and then pointed a finger at him.

‘Oh yes,’ she said, taking a closer look. ‘You are most definitely the winner.’

The crowd clapped and cheered. The few derisive hoots were soon booed out of existence.

‘But that other team should have won!’ Jerry said.

‘They always win,’ I answered. ‘It’s about time they lost.’

‘No, it’s not that,’ Dad said, winking at Jerry. ‘Didn’t you see the way that lady judge was looking at you, boy? You better watch out. She’s a man-eater!’

Then Nani Kepa rang the cowbell again, which meant that the games were to start. He announced the first round: a game between two of the women’s teams. The fun began. The women began yelling to one another.

‘We got enough sticks?’

‘Who’s worrying about sticks! Worry about whether we got enough players first!’

‘Hey, Huria! Put the baby down and come and be our left wing, eh?’

‘Which side is left!’

‘What about Nani Marama? What about asking her to play for us? She used to be a good player.’

‘Yeah, fifty years ago maybe, when she was twenty.’

‘Well, she can still stand on her legs and walking stick, can’t she? She can be our goalie. So how do you play this game again? I’ve forgotten.’

‘So have I! Hey, Cissie, what’s the rules!’

‘Don’t you girls worry. Look, you hold the stick this way and you try to hit the ball over into the other side’s goal. Not that one, that’s ours. The other one. See? It’s only easy.’

All this time Jerry was just standing there, stunned.

‘I don’t believe it,’ he said, as he saw the women taking the field. About half were dressed in uniforms, so one could assume they knew what they were doing. As for the others, well, Huria was hitching her skirt into her pants, Nani Marama was borrowing Nani Kepa’s glasses so she could see where the goal was, and Cissie was still yelling to other girls to come and help out. Among them was my cousin Moana, who was actually supposed to be playing for another team.

‘Be a cuz, Moana!’

‘But I’ve left my stick in the bus!’ Moana answered.

Jerry came to the rescue. ‘You can borrow mine,’ he said.

Moana was the fantastic looking cousin I had actually tried to tell Jerry about. Not that I needed to. I saw the way she and Jerry looked at each other and, even though it was a sunny day, I had the uneasy feeling that both had been struck by lightning. It was one thing to introduce Jerry but did I actually want it to go any further?

‘What a babe,’ Jerry said.

No, no, three times no. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warned him.

The game began. It was a match showing all the expertise of military manoeuvres, and the women played it superbly.

If you couldn’t reach the ball and a rival player could, you threw your stick at it or her.

If you swung at the ball and missed, you swung again. Whatever you hit, player or ball, it was all the same. If you missed the ball and hit the player, too bad for her. She shouldn’t have been in the road anyway.

If you hadn’t played the game before and you didn’t know what to do when the ball came your way, don’t worry about it: just sit on it. Then the referee would blow the whistle and the game would start again.

Not to worry if you got hit yourself. Just remember who it was who hit you and, some time later in the game, hit her back.

See? It was an easy game.

‘This isn’t hockey,’ Jerry said. ‘Look at that girl! She’s standing way off side.’

‘Oh, that’s all right,’ I answered. ‘She’s from Waituhi. Nani Kepa is refereeing this game. He’s from Waituhi too.’