Fathers

by David J. Daniel

  “Tena Korua, Haere Mai Jack and Keith,” said Bill as he slid his feet out and greeted us with a grin. He looked identical to the other day. The faded ‘All Blacks’ cap, the short shorts and the cut down swandri.

  “Tena Koe Bill,” replied Dad.

  “Yeah ah, hi again Bill,” I said feeling a little ashamed of my Maori language skills.

  “Grab those beers son and I’ll get the casserole,” said Dad.

  “Oooh, Ka Pai, Ka Pai,” said Bill as he rubbed his hands and licked his lips.

  “And what are you saying ‘Ka Pai’ about old man, the dish or the beer?” Bills wife had come to the door and stood there drying her hands on a tea towel.

  “Both my love. Both my precious little fur seal,” he said with a chuckle.

  She came and stood by her husband and smiled at me and Dad. She said, “Hello Jack, and you must be Keith?”

  I smiled and gave a little wave.

  “Hi. I’m Hinemoa, Hine for short. Bill said he met you the other day on the road.” She held out her hand then added, “Welcome Keith it’s a pleasure to have you here.”

  I took her hand and shook it briefly and said, “Gidday.” And mumbled something about being happy to be here, hoping there wasn’t going to be a fuss made over me; there wasn’t and in fact they made me feel part of their whanau, their family. Hine was a short woman, with a lean, strong build. She looked fit and healthy and was probably in her sixties but could’ve easily passed for fifty. Her facial features were more pointed than traditional Maori, with prominent cheek bones, a small pointed nose and thin yet attractive lips. Her eyes were almond shaped and her skin was the colour of Manuka honey. She wore her greying hair cut short, neat and practical, and was dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and tee shirt with open sandals on her feet. Her only jewellery was her gold wedding band, gold studs in her ears and a small greenstone tiki around her neck. It was hard to imagine the Hokianga’s as a couple as they were total opposites in fitness and physique and, I guessed, in personality. Bill was the joker, easy going, out for a good time and a laugh, while Hine, although I had only just met her, came across as quiet, serious, in control and someone who commanded respect, someone with mana. I was considering all this as we sat at the table on the veranda. Then the beers were poured and sipped and the banter started. I said “I’ve never seen a dog do that before; you know spin like that.”

  Bill answered, “Yeah he’s something special alright. We’re very proud of him.”

  “Now Bill,” warned Hine.

  Bill continued with a straight face. “Yeah he’s from good lines that one. Must be. We had to pay plenty for him.”

  “What sort of breed is he?” I asked.

  “Huntaway cross Border Collie,” he answered, and then in case I hadn’t got it the first time he added, “From good lines.”

  “Aw yep,” I replied, agreeing that he was indeed from ‘good lines’. Then I asked, “Is he good with the stock?” I was pleased with my question. Pleased that I sounded like a farmer, not a financial advisor.

  “Good? I tell ya what; I’ve never had a dog quite like him before.”

  “Is that right? What, pretty intelligent is he?”

  “We’ll you’ve seen the colour of him. He can blend in with the sheep. They don’t even know he’s there, that’s how good he is.”

  “Aw yep,” I answered, not really sure how that would help round up the sheep, but not wanting to show my ignorance by saying much more. And then, trying to sound like I was born and bred on a farm and not that I’d just watched the odd episode of ‘Country Calendar’ I asked, “Is he one of those ‘seeing eye dogs’?” I looked at Dad as I asked this and he just smiled and swigged at his beer, obviously enjoying every moment as I made a fool of myself. Hine said, “I’m just going to check on dinner.” And stood and left us, shaking her head as she went inside.

  Bill answered “Yes.”

  “Aha, so he is an ‘eye dog’?” I persisted, feeling quite clever with my questioning.

  “Yes. But there’s more to it than that. He’s a very rare breed.” He sculled the remaining beer in his glass, looked around to make sure anyone who shouldn’t be listening wasn’t, then he leaned in close and said quietly and confidentially to me, “He can see one eye with his other eye.” Then he leaned back in the chair, folded his arms and looked me in the eye and nodded once, as if to confirm what he had just said was true. I looked at my father then looked back at Bill not really understanding what he meant at all and then the penny dropped, I twigged and I said, “So what you’re saying is... He’s cross-eyed?”

  “Yes. And not only is he a Seeing Eye dog, but also he’s a Hearing Ear dog too.”

  I smiled. “So he’s deaf as well?”

  “Pretty much, yes,” he nodded, closing his eyes but still holding a straight face.

  “So he would be pretty hopeless as a sheep dog then wouldn’t he?”

  “Yes.” And this time he smiled. “But he is good at spinning and not many people can say they have spent as much money as I have on an SSD.”

  “SSD?”

  “Specialised Spinning Dog.”

  I laughed. “Where did you get him from?”

  “My cousin jacked it up for me. Said the farmer didn’t want him anymore as he was retiring and didn’t need him. He told me he was from good lines; he was three years old and was neutered so I didn’t have to worry about him wandering.” He swigged his beer Dad had refilled for him. He continued. “Five hundred bucks and he was mine. A bargain. Said he would organise it all. The swine. He delivered him while I was out fishing. I had the money sitting there but didn’t know he was coming. I reckon he waited till he saw me leave, then he raced in, conned the money out of Hine, dropped the dog off and scarpered. Haven’t seen him since. Turns out the dog was six years old, not neutered and half blind and half deaf. I found out pretty much straight away that he was scared stiff of the sheep and he nearly died when he came close to a cattle beast. In fact he is scared of everything. Saw him out here one morning as a rabbit hopped past. He got up and slinked up onto the deck with his tail between his legs. Petrified he was.” He laughed then added, “I tell ya what though, he‘s a damn good attack dog.”

  “Really?” I said taking the bait.

  “Really. No matter what food I put in his bowl, he will attack it. Doesn’t give it a second chance. Straight into it, rips it to bits he does.”

  Hine came back out with a plate of freshly steamed mussels and small paua fritters and bowls of sweet chilli sauce and slices of lemon. She placed them in the centre of the table.

  She said, “Just for starters... Has he finished telling you the story about poor Casper?”

  “I think so. Aw, these are great!” I said as I chewed on mouthfuls of paua and mussels.

  “Aren’t they just. Absolutely delicious,” agreed Dad.

  Hine said, “Casper’s a lovely dog though. He has a gentle soul, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Yeah that’s what’s saved him from the bullet all these years I reckon,” added Bill with a frown.

  There was silence for a bit as we all looked at Casper as he twitched and yelped and ran in his sleep. Running away from things, I suspected, rather than running after them. I smiled and reached for another fritter as I said, “So where’s your mother?”

  Bill had just taken a mouthful of food and said, “Eh?” Looking somewhat perplexed.

  “Your Mum? When I spoke to you on the road you said your Mum would cook us a feed.”

  “Did he just?” Said Hine smiling “Mum is me. He always calls me mum, confuses anyone who doesn’t know us...Bill I’ve told you about that before,” she gently scolded.

  “Sorry Mum,” chuckled Bill. “Oi, Keith, come with me and I’ll show you around the place,” he said standing up and grabbing his glass and a bottle of beer.

  Hine said, “Going for a smoke more like. I know what you’re up to Bill Hokianga. Sneaking off like a school kid for a fag behind the bike sheds.�
�

  “Nah, doubt it. Gave that up ages ago. It’s bad for ya eh Keith.” He nudged and winked at me.

  “Oh for sure Bill. Real bad. Only an idiot would smoke these days,” I kidded.

  Hine laughed. “Yes exactly Keith. Are you going Jack, or are you going to sit here and keep me company.”

  “Hmm, what a choice. Walk off with a crusty old ugly smoker or sit here with an attractive young lady. Now let me see...”

  “Hmph, enough of the old, Grandpa! And you’re not exactly an oil painting yourself!” Snapped Bill.

  Hine giggled, Dad laughed, and Bill and I wandered off into the early evening with a cold beer in our mitts, and a grin on our faces.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  As we approached a wooden gate with the intention of leaning on it, Scrappy took off yapping after a rabbit that burst from behind a strainer post. We watched in silence as the gap increased between the rabbit and the dog until eventually Scrappy gave up on the chase. Feeling somewhat pleased with himself - that he’d saved us from the killer rabbit - he trotted back with his tail wagging and then sat, no doubt expecting a pat as a reward. I gave him a scratch behind the ear as I asked, “So how much land have you got here Bill?”

  Before he answered, Bill rolled a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. He produced his lighter, sparked it into life and lit his cigarette. He dragged deeply on it then blew out a great cloud of smoke through his nose and mouth. “Ah choice. Been hanging out for that,” he remarked. He then repeated my question. “How much land have I got?”

  “Yeah, where’s your boundary?” I said as I scanned the area. Flat, grazing land dotted with sheep and cattle surrounded the house before rising to the hills up and away from the coast. Green changed to blue with distance, and pasture eventually gave way to never-ending forest. There was the odd windswept macrocarpa and stands of cabbage trees on the flats, but apart from that, the land was featureless. I could imagine that in winter it would appear barren and harsh and unforgiving. It would take someone special to live out here, to scrape out an existence from this rugged landscape. The house site had an awesome sea view however, better than my father’s place as it was slightly elevated and looked out over craggy outcrops which formed sheltered little bays, some sandy and some stony and rocky.

  “How far can you see?”

  I looked at his face. “What do you mean?”

  “As far as you can see is what I own. In fact further than that.”

  “You’re joking?” I looked away and resurveyed the land.

  “Nope.”

  “But how do you farm it all?”

  He chuckled. “Oh I do bugger all. A manager run’s the farm for me; I just take the dollaros off him every month!”

  “So where’s the manager?”

  “Um, about ten ‘k’s’ down the road. You’ll see a sign ‘Wanea Station’. At the end of that long driveway there’s a flash house, a homestead, and that’s where he lives.”

  Not sure whether he was having me on or not I eyed Bill’s face to see if he would suddenly crack up or something and give the game away. He remained straight faced as I asked, ”So what are we talking here, acreage wise?”

  “Five thousand usable acres, many more in bush and scrub. We run about twenty thousand sheep give or take, and a few hundred cattle, when there’s enough of grass.”

  I frowned at him. “Are you having me on?”

  He looked straight ahead as he sipped his beer. “Nope. Look I don’t own it all by myself. My whanau does, and it’s a large family believe me. Plus there’s the hanger on’s that’ve always got their hands out, looking for a slice of the pie. We’ve owned this land forever. My father owned it and his father before him and I’ll hand it on to my kids. See, we held onto the land for our families. Never let it go like alot of our cuzzy’s did with their land. Yeah, we’re lucky we make enough off it to feed and house our tribe. Never be rich mind you. Not rich in money, but I’ve got everything I need, right here. I’ve got the lifestyle, the peace, a stress free happy life. I’m sweet as man!”

  I nodded my head. “Yep. I believe you are Bill... So how many kid’s you got anyway?”

  “Five. Three boys, two girls. All doing well, all in good jobs. In fact my eldest son Mike is the manager of this place and he’s married with three kids. Nice to have your family nearby.”

  “And the others?”

  “The middle son, Rangi, is in the army. A sergeant, in Timor at the moment. He’s married with one son. My eldest daughter’s married, Pam, just had a girl so that makes two, one of each, and she’s a nurse when she’s not having babies. My youngest daughter, Jo, is studying law at the moment but she can’t decide whether she wants to join the police or be a lawyer. She’s single at the moment.”

  “And your other son?”

  “Ah yes, Tamati. Well Tamati’s our special one as Hine likes to put it. He’s very successful, something to do with fashion, I hear. Don’t see him too much, but I believe he is with someone. One of those, ‘life partners’. At least that’s what I think they’re called,” he frowned.

  “Oh, I see... Is he a good person, Bill?”

  He paused and looked at me. He dragged on his cigarette before answering in a cloud of exhaled smoke. “Yes... Yes I s’pose he is.”

  “Well then, what else matters? You can count yourself lucky to have such a good and wonderful, and by the sounds of it, happy family. You and Hine must be very proud.”

  “Yep. We certainly are,” said Bill, and then thinking out loud he said quietly. “I must get in touch with Tamati, see how he’s getting on.” He slugged back his beer and poured another. I held out my glass and he topped it up. He took a drag from his smoke and rested his foot on the rail of the gate as he exhaled. He swatted a mozzie away from his face and said, “So how are you finding it out here?”

  “Yeah, not bad Bill, starting to enjoy it.”

  “Your old man not giving you too much of a hard time?”

  “Nah, he’s alright.”

  “He thinks the world of ya.”

  “Really?”

  “Course he does. Always talking about ya. Was really looking forward to you visiting.”

  “Well that’s a surprise.”

  “Whatta ya mean?’

  “Well, we were never that close. I always found him a bit quiet. A bit aloof at times.”

  “Aw, don’t blame him for that. He just doesn’t know how to act around ya, that’s all. No one’s ever shown him.”

  “I’m not with you Bill...What’re you saying?”

  “That he’s had no real father in his life. No male role model. Oh sure, he had his Dad for a short time when he was younger, but no one to look up to when it really counted. You know, in the later years. You see a boy needs his mum when he’s real young then, as he gets older the father should have the greater influence on him. Teach him how to be a good father. Jack never had that.”

  I thought about that for a while as the light faded around us. I could hear the surf crash on the beach and somewhere in the distance, the forlorn cry of a morepork calling for a mate. Bill flicked away his smoke and drained his glass. He said, “I s’pose we better be headin’ back before Mum comes looking for us.” We moved off and headed towards the house, Scrappy nipping at our heels as we walked. On the veranda Dad and Hine were deep in conversation. Bill stopped and turned to me. “Give him a chance Keith. The more time you spend with him the easier it will be for both you and him. He’s a good man, but I think he’s had a fairly hard life in his younger days. Having you around will be good for him.”

  I nodded and said, “Yeah, cheers for that Bill.”

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  As darkness fell the beer flowed and a never ending supply of food was brought out by Hine, for us to enjoy. As well as the mussels and paua, there were crayfish and the pheasant casserole, spuds and corn on the cob
, salads and baked snapper and smoked Kahawai. For dessert, there was fresh fruit and rich chocolate cake with hokey pokey ice-cream. We had port and a single malt scotch after dinner and I smoked a fat cigar handed to me by Bill. We chatted and joked and told tall stories and shared our adventures. It was a pleasant evening and I was relaxed and happy and just a wee bit pissed when I heard Hine say, “Excuse me fellahs but I’ll just go and tidy up”. I stood with her and said, “I’ll give you a hand.” I followed her into the kitchen and we set about cleaning up the mess and washing and drying the dishes. And then out of the blue Hine said, “So tell me. Where’s your life headed now Keith. What’s your future?”