Witi Ihimaera - The Whale Rider

It was then that the ropes snapped. Koro Apirana gave a cry of anguish, burying his face in his hands. Swiftly he turned to me. ‘Rawiri, go tell your Nanny Flowers it is time for the women to act the men.’

Even before I reached the dining hall Nanny Flowers was striding through the rain. The women were following behind her.

‘In we go, girls,’ Nanny Flowers said. ‘Kahu, you stay on the beach.’

‘But Nanny.’

‘Stay,’ Nanny Flowers ordered.

The women ran to join us. Porourangi began to chant encouragement. ‘Toia mai,’ he called. ‘Te waka,’ we responded. ‘Ki te moana,’ he cried. ‘Te waka,’ we answered again. ‘Ki Tangaroa,’ he chanted. ‘Te waka,’ we replied a third time. And at each response we put our shoulders to the whale, pushing it further seaward and pointing it at the ocean stars.

Out to sea the herd sang its encouragement. The elderly females spouted their joy.

Life or death ?

A ripple ran along the back of the whale. A spasm. Our hearts leapt with joy. Suddenly the huge flukes rose to stroke at the sky.

The whale moved.

But our joy soon turned to fear. Even as the whale moved, Koro Apirana knew we had lost. For instead of moving out to sea the whale turned on us. The tail crashed into the water causing us to move away, screaming our dread. With a terrifying guttural moan the whale sought deeper water where we could not reach it. It is death . Then, relentlessly, it turned shoreward again, half-submerging itself in the water, willing its own death.

It is death .

The wind was rising. The storm was raging. The sea stormed across the sky. We watched, forlorn, from the beach.

‘Why?’ Kahu asked Koro Apirana.

‘Our ancestor wants to die.’

‘But why?’

‘There is no place for it here in this world. The people who once commanded it are no longer here.’ He paused. ‘When it dies, we die. I die.’

‘ No , Paka. And if it lives?’

‘Then we live also.’

Nanny Flowers cradled the old man. She started to lead him away and up to the homestead. The sky forked with lightning. The tribe watched in silence, waiting for the whale to die. The elderly females cushioned it gently in its last resting place. Far out to sea the rest of the herd began the mournful song of farewell for their leader.

Nobody saw her slip away and enter the water. Nobody knew at all until she was halfway through the waves. Then the headlights and spotlights from the cars along the beach picked up her white dress and that little head bobbing up and down in the waves. As soon as I saw her, I knew it was Kahu.

‘Hey!’ I yelled. I pointed through the driving rain. Other spotlights began to catch her. In that white dress and white ribboned pigtails she was like a small puppy, trying to keep its head up. A wave would crash over her but somehow she would appear on the other side, gasping wide-eyed, and doing what looked like a cross between a dog-paddle and a breaststroke.

Instantly I ran through the waves. People said I acted like a maniac. I plunged into the sea.

If the whale lives, we live . These were the only words Kahu could think of.

We have lost our way of talking to whales .

The water was freezing, but not to worry. The waves were huge, but she could do this. The rain was like spears, but she could do this.

Every now and then she had to take a deep breath because sometimes the waves were like dumpers, slamming her down to the sandy bottom, but somehow she bobbed right back up like a cork. Now, the trouble was that the lights from the beach were dazzling her eyes, making it hard to see where she was going. Her neck was hurting with the constant looking up, but there, there , was the whale with the tattoo. She dog-paddled purposefully towards it. A wave smashed into her and she swallowed more sea water. She began to cough and tread water. Then she set her face with determination. As she approached the whale, she suddenly remembered what she should do.

‘That damn kid,’ I swore as I leapt into the surf. For one thing I was no hero and for another I was frightened by the heavy seas. Bathtubs were really the closest I ever liked to get to water and at least in a bath the water was hot. This wasn’t. It was cold enough to freeze a person. I knew, because I’d only just before been in it.

But I had to admire the kid. She’d always been pretty fearless. Now, here she was, swimming towards the whale. I wondered what on earth she expected to do.

I saw Porourangi running after Koro Apirana and Nanny Flowers to bring them back. Then the strangest thing happened. I heard Kahu’s high treble voice shouting something to the sea. She was singing to the whale. Telling it to acknowledge her coming.

‘Karanga mai, karanga mai, karanga mai.’ She raised her head and began to call to the whale.

The wind snatched at her words and flung them with the foam to smash in the wind.

Kahu tried again. ‘Oh sacred ancestor,’ she called. ‘I am coming to you. I am Kahu. Ko Kahutia Te Rangi ahau.’

The headlights and spotlights were dazzling upon the whale. It may have been the sudden light, or a cross-current, but the eye of the whale seemed to flicker. Then the whale appeared to be looking at the young girl swimming.

Ko Kahutia Te Rangi ?

‘Kahu!’ I could hear Nanny Flowers screaming in the wind.

My boots were dragging me down. I had to stop and reach under to take them off. I lost valuable time, but better that than drown. The boots fell away into the broiling currents.

I looked up. I tried to see where Kahu was. The waves lifted me up and down.

‘Kahu, no,’ I cried.

She had reached the whale and was hanging onto its jaw. ‘Greetings, ancient one,’ Kahu said as she clung onto the whale’s jaw. ‘Greetings.’ She patted the whale and looking into its eye, said, ‘I have come to you.’

The swell lifted her up and propelled her away from the head of the whale. She choked with the water and tried to dog-paddle back to the whale’s eye.

‘Help me,’ she cried. ‘Ko Kahutia Te Rangi au. Ko Paikea.’

The whale shuddered at the words.

Ko Paikea ?

By chance, Kahu felt the whale’s forward fin. Her fingers tightened quickly around it. She held on for dear life.

And the whale felt a surge of gladness which, as it mounted, became ripples of ecstasy, ever increasing. He began to communicate his joy to all parts of his body.

Out beyond the breakwater the herd suddenly became alert. With hope rising, they began to sing their encouragement to their leader.

‘Kahu, no,’ I cried again. I panicked and I lost sight of her, and I thought that she had been swept into the whale’s huge mouth. I was almost sick thinking about it, but then I remembered that Jonah had lived on in the belly of his whale. So, if necessary, I would just have to go down this whale’s throat and pull Kahu right out. No whale was going to swallow our Kahu and get away with it.

The swell lifted me up again. With relief I saw that Kahu was okay. She was hanging onto the whale’s forward fin. For a moment I thought my imagination was playing tricks. Earlier, the whale had been lying on its left side. But now it was righting itself, rolling so that it was lying on its stomach.

Then I felt afraid that in the rolling Kahu would get squashed. No, she was still hanging onto the fin. I was really frightened though, because in the rolling Kahu had been lifted clear of the water and was now dangling on the side of the whale, like a small white ribbon.