The Number 8

by Joel Arcanjo

  Rongo continued, “Your Chiefs will accompany myself and Pio into the village, then you may enter and explore our village. In ten minutes time, we will gather at the fire pit so that I may show you how we prepare this evening’s feast.”

  Another cheer rang out around the courtyard. Dante, the skinny guy and the blonde Australian followed Rongo and Pio into the village, where both became much less intimidating and were only too happy to answer any questions. The three Chiefs were given a personal tour of the village. They met the women of the village and Dante made sure to compliment their beautiful voices. Everyone knew that the village was all for show and that these people did not actually live here, but it did not take away from the magic of the place. They had collections of old Maori heritage such as cooking implements, clothing and sculptures that could have been in any museum in the world such was the craftsmanship. It made little difference to him that one of the guys had a suntan from clearly wearing a shirt or that there were waiters in the restaurant who were fully clothed. It was an experience of a lifetime. It didn’t hurt either that he was being treated like a king.

  As planned the three busloads gathered around the fire pit where a giant hole had been freshly dug. To one side was a large metal pot smoking furiously.

  “Inside this pot we have chicken marinated with spices and some vegetables. But what is inside is not what is special about this meal, it is the way we cook it that gives it that smoked taste that we all love so much,” Rongo said gesticulating to his fellow Maoris who nodded in kind.

  Two of them prepared the pot by putting a cloth over the lid and lowering it into the hole. Next, they threw soil on top of the pot until there was almost no smoke billowing up from below. Finally they put another two cloths over the soil until the smoke was not visible any longer.

  “In about thirty minutes we will enjoy that,” he said pointing at the now covered hole. “But first we will go inside and enjoy a performance by our choir.”

  He beckoned to Dante and the other Chiefs to follow him. They did as asked. Inside was a small stage and on it were a row of smiling women with instruments. They were quickly joined by a row of men also holding percussion instruments.

  “The three of you will join me in the front row. You are our honored guests,” Rongo said.

  They thanked him profusely and sat down to enjoy the show. It only lasted five minutes but it was wonderful. Following the show some of the younger members of the village decided to teach the Chiefs and a few of the others how to do the haka. Dante was already halfway there. He had watched the haka probably a hundred times in his life, so he knew the basics. But he didn’t know much of its the history and as the young guys taught them, they explained some of it. There were several different types of tribal dance and they were being taught the traditional war dance. Dante got it pretty quickly, Asmir, however was failing miserably. He was not well co-ordinated and it was on show for all to see.

  The lesson didn’t last long because the food was ready. Rongo recruited some of the other passengers to dig up the chicken while the Chiefs sat at a high table with some of the village elders, Rongo and Pio. Dante looked and felt completely out of place. He was fully clothed and did not have one single tattoo on his face. But the elders did not make them feel like outsiders at all. They treated them like, for that night, they were part of the family.

  “I have never tasted chicken like this,” Dante said, holding his stomach.

  “The potatoes are my favorite,” said the skinny guy.

  “It’s the way we cook it. Covering the pot, so that not one single bit of smoke gets out, is what creates that taste you’re all enjoying,” Pio explained.

  “It’s the combination of the hot stones under the food and the wet sacks we put over the soil that creates the flavor,” Rongo added.

  “Is there a word for this style of cooking?” the Australian girl asked.

  “Hangi,” they both said together.

  “Is this about as traditional as it gets?” Dante asked, so interested by this colorful culture.

  “Yeah, this and some fish maybe. Anything you can hunt or scavenge,” Pio smiled, clearly proud of his knowledge.

  They continued to laugh, share stories and some of the elders even told them some of the great legends of the Maori people. The stories of Maui the demi-god who lived in Hawaiki, the great love story of Hinemoa and Tutanekai and, the most fascinating to Dante, the story of creation from the Maori perspective. All deeply spiritual stories that Dante made sure to remember. But the night was coming to an end and it was clear that a lot of the passengers were tired. Dante could have listened to them speak for hours, but it was not up to him. It was up to Mel.

  “OK guys, I think you will all agree that tonight has been a phenomenal success, so I would just like to raise a glass to the kind people of this village that took us in for a night and made us feel right at home!”

  For the third time that evening a cheer went up, this one the loudest of all. The feast had been prepared to perfection and the hosts had been exceptionally kind. But the feeling that it was time to head back to the hostel permeated quickly through the air. Dante thanked Rongo and Pio and went to find Asmir. He hadn’t spent any time in the village with Asmir because he had been the Chief. But he wanted to find him now to see what he had thought of everything.

  He found Asmir by himself taking close-up shots of what looked like a fertility statue carved from wood.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Dante said, lightly tapping Asmir on the shoulder.

  Asmir jerked away from him and nearly dropped his camera. “Do not sneak up on someone who has a precious piece of equipment in his hand!”

  “Noted, but what are you doing?” Dante asked.

  “I was inspecting the craftsmanship of this piece. It is exquisite don’t you agree?” Asmir said putting on a posh English accent.

  “Yeah, but you wouldn’t know exquisite craftsmanship if it bit you on the ass. So spill it, what are you doing?”

  “Just thought it was funny. Not every day you see a giant… Mel, nice to see you, are we heading back?” Asmir said catching sight of Mel who had appeared right behind Dante.

  “Nice save, genius, and yes, we’re going now,” Mel said, her cheeks bright red from the drinking.

  Dante and Asmir followed her back to the bus and it was only then that he realized he still had part of the fern from the beginning of the ceremony in his right hand. If he was at home he would have framed it and given it pride of place in his room. But it would die within a day so he decided to leave it neatly on a wooden pole by the exit. It was a shame, but it wasn’t like a precious stone. It would go brown and crumble to nothing.

  As they arrived at the bus he had a horrible feeling that he was the last one back again and he was right. As he got on he was greeted by the final cheer of the night but this cheer was not excitement of gratitude. It was a mocking cheer.

  “Look who finally made it back. Had a good night, Chief?” Dick sneered.

  “Still got your feather, Chief?” Carl chimed in.

  “It’s a fern, you imbecile. Are you blind as well as stupid?” Dante said through gritted teeth.

  “Ohh the Chief speaks! How was it sitting up there with the old farts? Did you…” Dick was interrupted by Asmir who had punched him right in the face, hard.

  “Still want to finish that sentence, Dicky boy?” Asmir grinned.

  Dick looked up at him, not with anger, but surprise and a hint of fear.

  “Thought not. What did I tell you before? Think before you speak. You might get hurt.”

  The bus laughed in unison. The tables had turned. That shut Carl up too, which was unfortunate, because Dante felt like punching him as well and making it a pair of idiots with broken noses. Instead he just glared as he passed. Mel had somehow missed all of this and was instead busy talking to Ben about the route back to Rotorua.

  Dante sat down next to Asmir. They bumped fists to signal a job well done and then fel
l silent. It was a while before Asmir finally said, “Just so you know, there is no chance in hell of me calling you Chief.”

  Chapter 26

  “Last night was amazing,” Dante said. It was the next morning and they were packing. The bus was meant to leave in a little under thirty minutes and Dante wanted to make sure he was on first.

  “It was, even better for you, I’m guessing,” Asmir puffed, again struggling to get his clothes into his gigantic case.

  “Yeah, turns out being the Chief was pretty awesome. The only hairy bit was the welcoming ceremony. He wasn’t that big but he had the whole intimidation thing down pat. The eyes, the tongue, the spear. Scary as hell.”

  “Can’t lie, I was a little bit jealous of the rest of it though.”

  “Yeah, we were treated like royalty. But I feel like the pale, skinny guy didn’t make use of it at all. He sat there in silence the whole night. I think he asked one question.”

  “What a waste of a Chief,” Asmir said jumping on his suitcase.

  “Back to our investigation. See anything last night?” Dante asked, zipping up his suitcase and righting it.

  “Have to admit, I wasn’t really looking for anything suspicious. The food was too good and the giant tattooed Maoris were kind of a distraction.”

  Dante nodded. “Yeah, me neither. Was blown away by it all. I didn’t notice any clandestine meetings or any particularly strange behavior going on. But then again, it doesn’t seem like this person’s style to give anything away.”

  “Or people,” Asmir corrected as he jumped onto his case and tried to force the case closed.

  “Right,” Dante agreed. “Or people.”

  “So what’s the plan for Taupo?” Asmir said triumphantly as he squeezed the zipper the last few centimeters.

  “Well, they call it the adventure capital of the North Island, so I guess skydiving and speed boats. There are some huge lakes in that area, so there is bound to be some water-related stuff to do.”

  “Bungy jumping?”

  “Maybe, but I’m definitely waiting for Queenstown for that. It’s one of the highest in the world.”

  “Yeah, sounds good. Skydiving?” Asmir asked hopefully.

  “You know the answer to that. I can’t afford to do that and bungy jumping. I have to choose.”

  “So choose skydiving.”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Asmir strode over, his face serious like he was about to say something really important. He placed a a hand on Dante’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Haven’t you ever wanted to fall out of a plane and travel really, really fast towards the ground knowing that if that fragile piece of equipment attached to your back misfires or comes out at all wrong, you will plummet thousands of feet to your undignified and probably messy death?”

  “Wow, when you put it like that, it’s an even easier choice,” Dante said, shrugging Asmir’s hand off his shoulder and turning to search his bedside cabinet.

  “It’s the ultimate adrenaline ride. Live or die. Fifty-fifty.”

  “Firstly, promise me you will never be a marketing manager. You’re hopeless at selling this, and secondly, I’m pretty sure the odds of surviving are a hell of a lot better than fifty-fifty.”

  “All right, all right, I give in, I’ll pay for it,” Asmir said with a goofy smile on his face.

  “No chance. You’ve already paid for all of the hostels, I’m not letting you pay for anything else.”

  “Oh, stop being a baby. Come and jump out of a perfectly good airplane with me.”

  “Drop it, Az. Maybe I will come white water rafting at River Valley, OK?”

  “Is that in doubt too?” Asmir asked, furious.

  “We’ll see. Now let’s get out of here. It’s been a lot of fun, but it’s a bad sign that my nose has gotten used to the smell of rotten eggs.”

  “Huh?”

  “The sulphur from the geysers, it stinks like rotten eggs,” Dante clarified.

  “Oh man, yeah, I’ve gotten used to it too. Let’s go.”

  This time everyone was on time and they left with a minute or two to spare. The next stop was Te Puia, a nature reserve which held the largest geyser in New Zealand and the chance at a rare sighting of a kiwi. By pure chance it was a Kiwi who spotted the only kiwi seen that morning. Next, it was on to Huka Falls. The passengers stood on a bridge just down from the falls for about twenty minutes, staring up at it. It looked like a glacier that had all of a sudden just decided to melt. The water was also the color of glacial run off. It had a light blue tinge and Dante imagined that it was every bit as cold as it looked. Dante had seen waterfalls before, but this one was distinctly different. It looked like a water slide in a theme park in that it was not in any way steep. It was a gradual decline until the last five meters when there was a short drop that signaled its end. Nevertheless, it was an impressive creation of nature and the prospect of photographing it got Asmir dizzy with excitement.

  The last hour or so was filled by stopping at some of the spectacular lakes around Taupo that were so flat that, when someone dropped a stone in, the ripples could be seen for nearly 100 meters. Again, this got Asmir incredibly excited and he even tried to explain what he was doing to Dante who appreciated it in his own way.

  “I don’t care if you’re trying to catch the reflection of the sky in the water, go tell someone who cares,” Dante said after nearly a full two minutes of Asmir explaining which exposure would be best for a shot like this.

  Finally, they arrived at Taupo, a town on the banks of the largest lake in the southern hemisphere. The water was nowhere near as calm here. It was not that there was strong wind, it was simply that the lake was so large that the light gusts that Dante could see were gathering speed over the wide open space.

  The first thing they realized when they jumped down the steps of the bus was that it smelled fresh and clean, unlike the rotten egg, sulphur smell in Rotorua. The next thing they noticed was the mountains in the distance, white-tipped with snow around their peaks. The cloud had cleared and the sun fell on the luscious green edges of the lake. It was not yet the New Zealand summer. Dante had read that this area received a fair amount of sunlight, around 150 sun hours in the month of September as well as about 110mm of rainfall. It was the perfect climate to maintain a healthy amount of greenery. It wasn’t warm, around 16 degrees Celsius, but being from the UK, this was still T-shirt weather with the sun out. New Zealand had been experiencing some unseasonably warm weather over the last couple of weeks and luck was still on their side it seemed. But Dante knew that it would get a few degrees colder as they made their way south.

  “This is more like it,” Asmir said as he gazed at the glistening lake.

  “What? You weren’t a fan of Rotorua?” Dante asked.

  “On the contrary, D, the place was epic. I’m just not a fan of waking up to rotten eggs in the morning.”

  “Well, I agree with that for sure.”

  Mel assembled them by the lake. Their hostel was on the other side of the road but clearly she had a little speech prepared.

  “Welcome, everyone. This is Taupo,” she said gesturing towards the town, “and this is its namesake, Lake Taupo,” she said turning and pointing to the lake.

  “Now it doesn’t look like it, but this lake is actually a huge volcano.” She smiled, pleased with herself. A few of the passengers backed up a step or two.

  Mel saw this and addressed it immediately. “There’s no need to worry, it hasn’t erupted since 181 AD. I think you’re all pretty safe for now. But when it did erupt, nearly 2,000 years ago, it was powerful enough to affect the sky as far north as Europe. There are also a few Maori legends about Lake Taupo but for now I will let you take some photos and check in to the hostel. This afternoon is free for you to do anything you want. Taupo is known for its skydiving, hot pools and fishing. You can ask me or any of the staff inside for directions to the activities and trails of Taupo. Help the passengers… Oh…damn.”

  She had be
en reading off a card and had accidentally carried on reading a part that was not meant for their ears, but only for her eyes. She scurried away to speak to Ben while half the group went to grab their bags and the other half stayed to snap a few pictures of the lake. Asmir stayed behind with his camera shuffling from one position to another trying to take the best picture he could. Dante went to check in.

  It was the afternoon and everyone who had wanted to take part in a scheduled activity was off having fun. Dante, after nearly caving to Asmir’s constant begging, had stood firm and stuck with his decision to save money. There was only one problem, he didn’t have a clue what to do for the afternoon. He had toyed with going fishing, but that would have cost money too. Granted, it was a lot less than skydiving, but it was still money he could put towards activities that he liked the sound of later on. So, he just decided to get out and walk around the town. The town itself was fairly small, but he knew there were hiking trails everywhere around it.

  Dante stepped out of the hostel, picked a direction and started walking. He had chosen to walk around the lake counter-clockwise. He knew there was no chance he could get round the lake in the time he had but he didn’t really want to anyway. The next day he and Asmir were walking the Tongariro Crossing. Dante had seen pictures of it and while it was where Mount Doom from The Lord of the Rings was filmed, it was also a long walk, so he wasn’t about to go hiking for miles today.

  It was a nice day so he made sure to take his camera. He wasn’t on Asmir’s level of expertise but he wanted his own memories. Ones that hadn’t been rigorously molded into works of art or reworked in an editing program. He wanted raw photographs taken by him.

  He made his way around the lake passing families with small children, couples taking an afternoon stroll and health-conscious folks running back towards the town. His mind drifted from their Viktor dilemma to his home life. He hadn’t called home in a while. It was expensive from here but he needed to check in with his Mum once in a while. He knew she would be worried. What Mum wasn’t? Plus, after their loss, he should really be doing more to support her. Shooting off to the other side of the world was great for him, but he had no idea how it was affecting her. He could only guess.