Witi Ihimaera - The Whale Rider

I went to get out. Clara screamed again, ‘Oh no. No. His tribe could be on us any second. Payback, it could be payback for us. It’s only a native.’

I pushed her away. Tom yelled, ‘For God’s sake, Rawiri, try to understand. You’ve heard the stories —’

I couldn’t comprehend their fear. I looked at Jeff but he was just sitting there, stunned, staring at that broken body moving fitfully in the headlights. Then, suddenly Jeff began to whimper. He started the motor.

‘Let me out,’ I hissed. ‘Let me out . That’s no native out there. That’s Bernard .’ A cous is a cous.

I yanked the door open. Clara yelled out to Jeff, ‘Oh, I can see them.’ Shadows on the road. ‘Leave him here. Leave him.’ Her words were high-pitched, frenzied. ‘Oh. Oh. Oh.’

The station wagon careered past me. I will never forget Jeff’s white face, so pallid, so fearful.

The second event occurred after the inquest. Bernard had died on the road that night. Who’s to say that he would have lived had we taken him to hospital?

It was an accident, of course. A native walking carelessly on the side of the road. A cloud covering the moon for a moment. The native shouldn’t have been there anyway. It could have happened to anybody.

‘I don’t blame you,’ I said to Jeff. ‘You can’t help being who you are.’ But all I could think of was the waste of a young man who had come one thousand years to his death on a moonlit road, the manner in which the earth must be mourning for one of its hopes and its sons in the new world, and the sadness that a friend I thought I had would so automatically react to the assumptions of his culture. And would I be next ? There was nothing further to keep me here.

It was then that another letter came from Porourangi. The child, a girl, had been born. Naturally, Koro Apirana was disappointed and had blamed Nanny Flowers again. In the same envelope was another letter, this one from Kahu.

‘Dear Uncle Rawiri, how are you? We are well at Whangara. I have a baby sister. I like her very much. I am seven. Guess what, I am in the front row of our Maori culture group at school. I can do the poi. We are all lonesome for you. Don’t forget me, will you. Love. Kahutia Te Rangi.’

Right at the bottom of Kahu’s letter Nanny Flowers had added just one word to express her irritation with my long absence from Whangara. Bang .

I flew out of Mount Hagen the following month. Jeff and I had a fond farewell, but already I could feel the strain between us. Clara was as polite and scintillating as usual. Tom was bluff and hearty.

‘Goodbye, fella,’ Tom said. ‘You’re always welcome.’

‘Yes,’ Jeff said. ‘Always.’ Each to his own .

The plane lifted into the air. Buffetted by the winds it finally stabilised and speared through the clouds.

Ah yes, the clouds. The third event had been a strange cloud formation I had seen a month before above the mountains. The clouds looked like a surging sea and through them from far away a dark shape was approaching, slowly plunging. As it came closer and closer I saw that it was a giant whale. On its head was a sacred sign, a gleaming moko.

Haumi e, hui e, taiki e .

Let it be done.

I wish I could say that I had a rapturous return. Instead, Nanny Flowers growled at me for taking so long getting home, saying, ‘I don’t know why you wanted to go away in the first place. After all —’

‘I know, Nanny,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing out there that I can’t get here in Whangara.’

Bang came her hand. ‘Don’t you make fun of me too,’ she said, and she glared at Koro Apirana.

‘Huh?’ Koro said. ‘I didn’t say nothing.’

‘But I can hear you thinking ,’ Nanny Flowers said, ‘and I know when you’re funning me, you old paka.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Koro Apirana said. ‘Te mea te mea.’

Before Nanny Flowers could explode I gathered all of her in my arms, and there was much more of her now than there had been before, and kissed her. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I don’t care if you’re not glad to see me, because I’m glad to see you .’

Then I handed her the present I had bought her on my stopover in Sydney. You would have thought she’d be pleased but instead, smack came her hand again.

‘You think you’re smart, don’t you,’ she said.

I couldn’t help it, but I had to laugh. ‘Well how was I to know you’d put on weight!’ My present had been a beautiful dress which was now three sizes too small.

That afternoon I was looking out the window when I saw Kahu running along the road. School had just finished.

I went to the verandah to watch her arrival. Was this the same little girl whose afterbirth had been put in the earth those many years ago? Had seven years really gone past so quickly? I felt a lump at my throat. Then she saw me.

‘Uncle Rawiri!’ she cried ‘You’re back!’

The little baby had turned into a doe-eyed, long-legged beauty with a sparkle and infectious giggle in her voice. Her hair was unruly, like an afro, but she had tamed it into two plaits today. She was wearing a white dress and sandals. She ran up the steps and put her arms around my neck.

‘Hullo,’ she breathed as she gave me a kiss.

I held her tightly and closed my eyes. I hadn’t realised how much I had missed the kid. Then Nanny Flowers came out and said to Kahu, ‘Enough of the loving. You and me are working girls! Come here! Be quick!’

‘Nanny and me are hoeing the vegetable garden,’ Kahu smiled. ‘I come very Wednesday to be her mate, when she wants a rest from Koro.’ Then she gave a little gasp and took my hand and pulled me around to the shed at the back of the house.

‘Don’t be too long, Kahu,’ Nanny Flowers shouted. ‘Those potatoes won’t wait all day.’

Kahu waved okay. As I followed her I marvelled at the stream of conversation which poured out of her. ‘I’ve got a baby sister now, Uncle, she’s a darling. Her name is Putiputi after Nanny Flowers. Did you know I was top of my class this year? And I’m the leader of the culture group too. I love singing the Maori songs. Will you teach me how to play the guitar? Oh, neat . And Daddy and Ana are coming to see you tonight once Daddy gets back from work. You bought me a present? Me ? Oh where is it, where is it! You can show me later, eh. But I want you to see this first —’

She opened the door to the shed. Inside I saw a gleam of shining silver chrome. Kahu put her arms around me and kissed me again. It was my motorbike.

‘Nanny Flowers and I have been cleaning it every week,’ she said. ‘She used to cry sometimes, you know, when she was cleaning it. Then she’d get scared she might cause some rust.’

I just couldn’t help it; I felt a rush of tears to my eyes. Concerned, Kahu stroked my face.

‘Don’t cry,’ she said. ‘Don’t cry. It’s all right, Uncle Rawiri. There, there. You’re home now.’

Later that night Porourangi arrived. Among the family he was the one who seemed to have aged the most. He introduced me to Ana, for whom I felt an instant warmth, and then proudly showed me the new baby, Putiputi.

‘Another girl,’ Koro Apirana said audibly, but Porourangi took no notice of him. We were used to Koro’s growly ways.

‘Oh, be quiet,’ Nanny Flowers said. ‘Girls can do anything these days. Haven’t you heard you’re not allowed to discriminate against women any more? They should put you in the jailhouse.’

‘I don’t give a hang about women,’ Koro Apirana said. ‘You still haven’t got the power.’