Witi Ihimaera - The Whale Rider

Then the final tragedy of the movie began. The whale, wounded, was dying in its own blood. The soundtrack was suddenly filled with the sound of the whale in its death throes: long, echoing, sighing phrases which must have been recorded from real whales. The sound was strange and utterly sad. No wonder when I looked at Kahu she had woken from sleep, and tears were again tracking down her face. Not even a lolly would help to pacify her.

Nanny Flowers and Koro Apirana had finished their argument by the time I returned home, but the atmosphere was as frozen as the Antarctic wasteland in the film.

‘He’s sleeping in the bunkhouse with you tonight,’ Nanny Flowers told me, jerking her head at Koro Apirana. ‘I’ve had enough of him. Divorce tomorrow, I mean it this time.’ Then she remembered something and after taking Kahu from me, screwed my ears. Ouch . ‘And that’ll teach you to take my grandchild gallivanting all over the place. I’ve been scared to death. Where’d you go?’

‘To the movies.’

‘To a picture ?’ Bang came her open hand over my head. ‘And then where!’

‘Down the beach.’

‘The beach ?’ I ducked her hand (Ha ha, ha ha, you missed me, you missed —) but kick came her foot to my behind. ‘Don’t you do that again!’ She hugged Kahu tightly and took her into hers and Koro Apirana’s bedroom and slam went the door.

I thought of my darling, Cheryl Marie. ‘Looks like both of us lucked out tonight,’ I said to Koro Apirana.

Half way through the night I suddenly remembered something. I tried to wake Koro Apirana, snoring beside me, but he only tried to snuggle up to me, saying ‘Flowers, darling wife …’ So I edged away from him quickly and sat there, staring through the window at the glowing moon.

I had wanted to tell Koro Apirana that on our way back from the movie, the boys and I had gone up to the Point at Sponge Bay. The sea had looked like crinkled silver foil smoothed right out to the edge of the sky.

‘Hey!’ one of the boys had said, pointing. ‘There’s orca.’

It had been uncanny, really, seeing those killer whales slicing stealthily through the sea, uncanny and disturbing as a dream.

Even more strange, though, was that Kahu had begun to make eerie sounds in her throat. I swear that those long lamenting sighs of hers were exactly the same as I had heard in the movie theatre. It sounded as if she was warning them.

The orca suddenly dived.

Hui e, haumi e, taiki e .

Let it be done.

The following summer, when Kahu was three, was dry and dusty on the Coast. Koro Apirana was concerned about our drinking water and was considering at one point bringing it in by road tanker. One of the boys suggested that the sweetest water was DB light brown and that the hotel up at Tatapouri would be happy to deliver it free. Another of the boys added that we’d have to escort it to Whangara because, for sure, someone would want to do a Burt Reynolds and hijack it.

Into all this rough and tumble of our lives, Kahu brought a special radiance. Koro Apirana was as grumpy with her as ever but, now that Porourangi was home, and now that the school sessions were attracting young boys for him to teach, he seemed to bear less of a grudge against her for being a girl and the eldest grandchild.

‘Don’t blame Kahu,’ Nanny Flowers used to growl. ‘If your blood can’t beat my Muriwai blood that’s your lookout.’

‘Te mea te mea,’ Koro Apirana would reply. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’

In particular, Koro Apirana had discovered three sons from royal bloodlines to whom he hoped to pass the mantle of knowledge. And from the corner of his eye, he could see that Porourangi and his new girlfriend, Ana, were growing very fond of each other. Now she didn’t have any Muriwai blood so, you never knew, Porourangi might come up with a son yet.

Under these conditions, the love which Kahu received from Koro Apirana was the sort that dropped off the edge of the table, like breadcrumbs after everybody else has had a big feed. But Kahu didn’t seem to mind. She ran into Koro Apirana’s arms whenever he had time for her and took whatever he was able to give. If he had told her he loved dogs I’m sure she would have barked, ‘Woof woof’. That’s how much she loved him.

Summer is always shearing season for us and that summer the boys and I got a contract to shear for the local farmers around the Coast. On the first few mornings when Kahu was at home I would see her staring at us over the windowsill as we left. Her eyes seemed to say, ‘Hey, don’t forget about me, Uncle Rawiri.’ So one morning I made her life happy.

‘I think I’ll take Kahu to the shed with me,’ I said to Nanny Flowers.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Nanny Flowers said. ‘She’ll drown in the dip.’

‘No. No. She’ll be all right. Eh, Kahu?’

Kahu’s eyes were shining. ‘Oh yes . Can I go, Nanny?’

‘All right then,’ Nanny Flowers grumbled. ‘But tomorrow you have to be my mate in the vegetable garden. Okay?’

So it was that Kahu became the mascot for me and the boys and it only seemed natural, after a while, for us to take her with us wherever we went — well, most places anyway and only when Nanny Flowers didn’t want her to help in the garden.

But that first night I got my beans from the old lady.

‘ Hoi ,’ she said, and bang came her hand. ‘What did you do with Kahu at the shed? She’s tuckered out.’

‘Nothing,’ I squealed. Biff came her fist at my stomach. ‘She just helped us sheepo and sweep the board and press the wool and pick up the dags and —’

Swish came the broom. ‘Yeah,’ Nanny Flowers said. ‘And I’ll bet all you beggars were just lying back and having a good smoke .’

You could never win with Nanny Flowers.

At that time the school sessions were proving to be very popular. All of us felt the need to understand more about our roots. But Nanny Flowers still grumbled whenever we had our hui. She would sit with Kahu in her arms, rocking in the chair on the verandah, watching the men walk past.

‘There go the Ku Klux Klan,’ she would say loudly so that we could all hear.

Poor Kahu, she could never keep away from our school. She would always try to listen in at the doorway to the meeting house.

‘Go away,’ Koro Apirana would thunder. But there was one school that Kahu could not eavesdrop on, and that was the one which Koro Apirana led when he took us out in a small flotilla of fishing boats to have a lesson on the sea.

‘In our village,’ Koro Apirana told us, ‘we have always endeavoured to live in harmony with Tangaroa’s kingdom and the guardians therein. We have made offerings to the sea god to thank him and when we need his favour, and we have called upon our guardians whenever we are in need of help. We have blessed every new net and new line to Tangaroa. We have tried not to take food with us in our boats when we fish because of the sacred nature of our task.’

The flotilla was heading out to sea.

‘Our fishing areas have always been placed under the protective custody of the guardians,’ Koro Apirana said. ‘In their honour we have often placed talismanic shrines. In this way the fish have been protected, attracted to the fishing grounds, and thus a plentiful supply has been assured. We try never to overfish for to do so would be to take greedy advantage of Tangaroa and would bring retribution.’

Then we reached the open sea and Koro Apirana motioned that we should stay close to him.