Witi Ihimaera - Uncle's Story

‘I’m leaving for Canada and America in a few days.’

‘As long as you come back,’ he answered.

Full of hope, I arrived at Toi Maori and awaited the telephone call from Ada Sylvester in Chicago. Her news came as a terrible blow. Having heard from Anne-Marie Davidson about how Sam died, I wanted to hear Ada tell me she’d found Cliff Harper. I wanted to be able to tell Tunui a te Ika, ‘We’ve found him.’

‘Sorry, honey, we’ve located seven Cliff Harpers in our all-points request, but none of them is the one you want. You sure you’ve got the right name?’

‘Yes.’ My brain was racing as I tried to remember any other relevant details that might give Ada a better lead. ‘He mentioned a place called Back of the Moon —’

‘Anything else?’ Ada asked. ‘Anything more substantial? His call-up papers? Name of the helicopter squadron? If you have any further information that might help me out, let me know and I’ll try again. Meantime, it’s a dead end, honey.’

‘Thanks, Ada, I really appreciate your help.’

’We mean to be of service and do —’

‘Yes, Ada, I will have a nice day.’

It was so unfair. So unfair. When Auntie Pat called, I didn’t have the heart to give her Ada’s news.

‘Have you been able to find Cliff? Is he still alive?’

‘Not yet,’ I answered. ‘Can you think of any other details about him? Anything?’

Auntie Pat’s voice became edged with hysteria.

‘You’ve got everything I had of Sam’s, the diary, everything. You’re leaving in three days! Do something —’

Around mid-morning I was still depressed about Ada’s telephone call.

‘I’m going back to the flat,’ I told Roimata. ‘I want to look at Uncle Sam’s diary. Perhaps there’s something in it that I’ve missed. Some clue about Cliff Harper.’

‘Okay,’ Roimata answered. ‘But don’t forget to be back for lunch with Tane Mahuta.’

I walked out of the office. Just as I got to the door, Jason came in. I took one look at him and realised that Margo had been right. He was in a bad state, back at the beginning again.

‘Aren’t you expecting me?’ he asked. ‘I left a message at the flat that I’d come around.’

His voice was ratcheted up a few notches. He was like a cat on a hot tin roof.

‘I wasn’t home,’ I answered.

‘Oh, I see. So how’s your new toyboy?’

I should have been kind and conciliatory, I know, but I’d had just about enough of everything. And I’d had enough of Jason, the things he said, the things he didn’t say, the things he meant, the things he really meant.

‘So it’s all right for you to have a new lover, Jason, but it’s not all right for me?’

Jason was so angry.

‘Why couldn’t you have waited?’ he asked. ‘Until I was through all this? Graham doesn’t mean anything to me. How do you think I feel about myself knowing no sooner am I out of the house than you’ve found someone to replace me? It just proves, doesn’t it, that you never loved me, ever. Well, there goes your last chance of ever having me back again.’

God, that really hurt. Jason still had the power to put his knife in the wound and twist it. Why didn’t our relationship end while it was still at its height? When we both felt that there were only the two of us in the world and we were all that mattered? Much better to have ended things at its height than have this long descent out of passion and love, feeding on its own flame and burning out in this tortuous consuming of each other. Better that than the onset of recriminations, accusations or terminal boredom — the lies, the simulation of love, the dissembling. The equivocation.

‘What do you want, Jason?’ I sighed. ‘All your signals are mixed up.’

He wasn’t listening. ‘I won’t let you off so easily,’ he said. ‘You think you can do whatever you want with impunity. Well, life isn’t like that. I want you to share my pain. Only then will you be able to face up to what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined my life, don’t you know that? I hope you treat your latest trick with more respect than you did me.’

That was it .

‘You keep saying I ruined your life, Jason, but I won’t take the blame. You ruined it yourself. You left me, you made your decisions and now you live with the consequences. Look, I really do care for you. I don’t know what you’re searching for. I don’t know what you want. I suspect that when you find it you’ll be so fried in your brain with all your therapy you won’t even recognise it. I won’t be the villain in your psychodrama.’

I cupped Jason’s chin in my hands. Jason struggled against me but I stopped him and looked deep into his eyes.

‘Where are you, Jason? Somebody has stolen you away and put another person in your place. The man I’m looking at looks like you, talks like you, walks like you. But he isn’t you.’

Jason pulled away. ‘You think you’re clever, don’t you. Well I’ve given you your last chance and you haven’t taken it. I’ll see you in court.’

He walked in one direction. I walked in the other.

Back at the flat I went through Uncle Sam’s diary again. I looked at Cliff Harper’s photo:

‘Tell me,’ I yelled. ‘Tell me how to find you —’

I was running late by the time I returned to Toi Maori. Tane Mahuta was sitting on my desk. Bronzed skin, eyes as bright as the sun. In his ear, a shark’s tooth pendant. The Noble Savage.

‘Kia ora, Michael. You look as if you need a beer. Let’s go over to the bar.’

‘Great.’

I looked around for Roimata but she had disappeared.

‘It’s just us.’ Tane smiled. ‘It’s man-to-man talk and, this time, I have been properly briefed.’

The bar was crowded and Tane was so well known that people stopped at our table to say hello and to wish him well.

‘This is what happens when you go public,’ he said. ‘It takes some getting used to but it comes with the territory. You can’t get any more public than doing Aids work.’

He looked at me quizzically and I had the feeling he was dropping a hint of some kind. To change the subject I told Tane about Uncle Sam. The story intrigued and excited him.

‘You say your uncle was both gay and a soldier? You know, if his story was known, he could become a pretty potent symbol. He would prove that you can be gay — and a warrior. If we could take that message to every marae in the country it would be a breakthrough, because if there’s anything our people understand it’s the warrior spirit. They may not like what gay Maori men are, but they’ve always admired bravery and strength. In the past nobody has been able to make a bridgehead because we’ve always acted on our own and without a precedent. But —’

Uh oh, I thought. Here it comes.

‘I’d better get down to business,’ Tane said. ‘As you know, Maori have always had this tradition of arranged marriages, taumau unions. In the old days they were used for political reasons — to begin or maintain tribal alliances. In my case, I was the only son, and my mother didn’t want the line to die with me. Our whakapapa is a distinguished one, and she refused to think of it coming to an end. Six years ago, when I was with Mum at the funeral of a distant uncle, Mum noticed Leah, who had nursed the old man in his last years. She made some judicious inquiries, spoke to Leah’s family, and the marriage was agreed.’

I nodded, smiling at Tane’s story. I knew it well.

‘I didn’t know anything about this,’ Tane chuckled, ‘until the following New Year. I was at home with Mum, fixing the tractor, and she said to me, “We have to go down to the marae.” She didn’t even tell me what it was all about! I was still in my hobnail boots and black singlet when, all of a sudden, I heard Mum karanga to these people. I looked at the gateway and there was Leah and her tribe. They had brought her to me! Well, I was angry at first. I could hardly speak to Mum. She had jacked the whole thing up with the tribe, and the next thing I knew was that we were all in the meeting house discussing the marriage! I told them it was impossible. But you know what our people are like. It goes in one ear and out the other. One of my uncles asked me, “Do you have a person in your life at present?” I said, “No.” And he said, “So what’s the problem?” Our people think being gay is just a momentary aberration. Something you get over when you come to your senses. Anyway, we were getting nowhere until Leah stood up. She said, “I would like to speak to Tane.” She laid it all out to me. To my surprise she wasn’t a doormat. She was strong, articulate and passionate —’