by Albert Wendt
‘The poor bastards are probably regretting they ever came,’ Laura replied.
‘They loving it,’ Lemu said proudly. ‘Good for them.’
Like manuhiri being welcomed onto the marae, Mere led them up until they were standing a few paces away from the squad.
‘Warriors, atten – tion!’ Keith ordered. The squad, in unbelievable military precision, clicked to attention. ‘Squad, sa – lute!’ The young warriors saluted in perfect harmony, and held it. Daniel was surprised at what happened next.
‘Malo, malo!’ Lemu congratulated the squad. He clicked to attention, raised his right hand and saluted the squad, which saluted back. Mere started clapping, the others laughed and clapped also, and a jubilant Daniel almost broke into tears.
‘Kia mau!’ ordered Aaron, who’d stripped off his t-shirt and was now advancing to the front of the squad. On his command, the group had gone into the haka stance. ‘Ka mate! Ka mate!’ Aaron started, his feet pounding into the earth, and the squad joined in.
Immediately the whole summer shook, swayed and stamped to their rythmn. Keith joined in, and, to everyone’s surprise and jubilation, Lemu stripped off his shirt and began advancing on the warriors. Before he realised it, Daniel had slid up beside his father and totally immersed himself in the fiery celebration of Te Rauparaha’s triumph over death:
Ka mate! ka mate!
Ka ora! Ka ora!
Ka mate! ka mate!
Ka ora! Ka ora!
A silence as huge as the haka cut down over them as soon as they finished. Laura, Mere and the manuhiri lined up, and a panting, sweating Aaron, Keith and their warriors came up to hongi them. Laura noticed that Daniel’s eyes were full of tears and, as she reached to hongi him, she clasped his hand.
‘Hey, headmaster, I didn’t know Niueans knew how to haka,’ Mere joked with Keith.
‘We Niueans scared Cook away with a haka and he called our civilised place, “the Savage Islands”. There!’ Keith replied.
‘What about the warrior from Hamoa?’ Paul said.
‘Yeah, Koro Lemu, you’re the greatest.’ Aaron congratulated and hugged Lemu. Daniel gazed at his father and concluded it was the happiest he’d seen him for a long time.
‘You real koa, guys,’ Lemu congratulated the teenage warriors. ‘Yeah, real koa!’ He went to hongi each one, and for most of them it was unusual but flattering that an elder was at their level, with them, and loving it.
A short while later, while Daniel and the warriors emptied the van and took the luggage to the rooms, Aaron showed the adults round the double-storey house. ‘I thought this was supposed to be a “bach”, bro?’ Mere had to ask.
Aaron said, ‘It’s a new type of bach, sis.’
‘It makes most homes in Auckland look small,’ Laura joked, and Aaron grinned and led them over the large front veranda and through the sliding glass doors into the lounge.
‘Arona, this a beautiful house,’ Lemu said. ‘Who own it?’
Aaron avoided looking at Mere as he said, ‘Some friends.’
‘What they do?’ Lemu asked in all innocence.
‘Farmers: they own a large farm in Te Awamutu, Koro,’ Aaron replied. Laura glanced at Mere and Paul; they were trying to suppress their disbelief.
Lemu, being the only elder there and the most vocal in his admiration of the house, was alotted the master bedroom, which he later described to Tautasi as ‘a palace like the one in the Arabian Nights’. Mere, Laura and one of the teenage girls got a bedroom featuring three large original landscape paintings by Peter McIntyre; Cherie, Langi and the other teenage girl got one with large framed portraits of the Prime Minister and the Governor General. Paul, Daniel, Keith, Ropata, Kepa and Aaron were to camp with the young warriors in the tent. Later, when Daniel reminded Aaron of the bedroom above the garage, he said that was their office; their ‘command post’.
When the females and Lemu emerged from the house, Aaron led them to the tent, where Keith and the warriors were waiting. Lemu and Mere sat with Keith and Aaron in front of the group; the other adults sat with the warriors. Brilliant sun gripped everything outside, and the wind had eased to a gentle breeze that was saturated with the smell of burnt grass and drying mud, but it was cool in the shade of the tent. As usual everyone waited for Mere to start.
Quickly she thanked te Atua for their safe journey, then she thanked the warriors and their teachers for their impressive welcome, Aaron and his ‘friends’ for ‘this opulent new kind of bach’, and everyone else for carrying out their allotted tasks and duties ‘properly and with grace’. She looked forward to a ‘harmonious continuation of that’. Laura marvelled at the way Mere made everyone feel a vital part of the group while articulating, in meticulous detail, what was expected of them all so their holiday would be ‘the best one ever’. Kepa came into Laura’s view: he was gazing out to sea, over the long burning stretches of exposed sand, mud and pools; she hoped he wasn’t feeling left out or, worse still, rejecting Mere’s leadership. If it was the latter, she feared that it would bring the ire of the Tribe on him, and she quickly switched her thoughts away from that possibility, and especially away from what Aaron might do. ‘And now Uncles Aaron and Keith will tell us about the week’s holiday programme they’ve drafted,’ Mere ended.
She moved over and sat down beside Kepa, who smiled up at her and touched her arm tenderly. Laura breathed easier and glanced at Daniel. His head was back and slightly tilted to the left. His eyes were wide open, bulging, glazed over, and his hands were clasped in his lap, the forefinger of his left hand tracing a circle on the back of his right hand between the thumb and forefinger. It was his characteristic pose whenever he was composing a poem or analysing an intriguing idea or image in his mind.
‘Firstly, whānau, we have to agree about the more mundane but necessary arrangements that’ll make our holiday quarrel-free,’ Keith outlined. ‘This is the roster of cooking, cleaning and supervision duties. I’m going to read out the main things on it and then post it on this board.’ While he read out the duties, and the names of those responsible for each one, Laura noted with pleasure that he had put her and Daniel in charge of the kitchen and the cooking. ‘If you want any changes, let me know straight after this meeting,’ Keith said. He pinned the roster on the soft board leaning againt the centre pole of the tent.
Aaron outlined the programme for the week, which included swimming, diving and fishing with Cherie, Paul and Ropata in charge. Paul, the historian, was to organise excursions to explore the surrounding area and its history; and Kepa was in charge of sports and games.
16
Daniel considered himself a good driver, but he didn’t enjoy it, so he was relieved when Laura took the van’s keys from Paul, after they’d agreed on the list of provisions they were to buy in Waioha and had received the large wad of money for it from Keith. Laura headed for the car, trailed by the two male warriors, Aleki and Tahu, who’d been selected for kitchen and cooking duties. Daniel followed them, pulsing with rapturous happiness knowing he was to be with her for a while.
For about ten minutes on their way to Waioha, with all the van windows down and the wind swirling in round them, cooling them, Laura and Daniel didn’t say anything to each other. Paul’s cousin, Aleki, reached forward and, tapping Daniel on the shoulder, said, ‘Hey, Uncle, how come you and Auntie don’t like talking?’
‘Yeah, Uncle, how come?’ chorused Tahu.
Daniel glanced at Laura and they started laughing, reflections of the road and surrounding landscape flashing across Laura’s dark glasses. ‘You, guys, don’t like silence?’ Laura replied.
‘No,’ Aleki said. ‘This is my first time in the country and I like it but it’s creepy, Auntie.’
Surprised at the boy’s unusual revelation, Laura asked, ‘What do you mean creepy?’ In the rear-view mirror she caught Aleki glancing at Tahu for help.
‘Y
eah, Auntie, it’s too bloody quiet here,’ Tahu offered, nodding at the whole outside landscape.
Daniel hadn’t thought of it that way; he’d been in the country numerous times before.
‘Aleki, are you sure this is your first stay in the country?’ Laura asked.
The boy nodded and said, ‘Yeah, man, my first time to stay in it.’
‘Me, too, Auntie; you know we’re city what-you-ma-callits,’ Tahu said. ‘This is my first camping out.’
‘Are you enjoying it?’ Laura asked, realising her belief that most Māori were still of the rural areas was a stereotype.
‘Yeah, Auntie, but the sandflies and mossies are bloody yucky, man,’ Aleki said.
All the way into Waioha, Daniel enjoyed Laura’s patient way of exploring their youthful helpers’ views of ‘the country’, and helping them feel more at home in it (and about themselves). He learned more about her, and loved what he was learning. She looked so – so beautiful in the the summer light, with the wind sweeping through her hair.
They parked in the crowded parking area in front of the supermaket, and, as the two boys ran off to get shopping carts and Daniel and Laura followed them, she said, ‘They’re lovely kids.’
He said, ‘I’m an only child, too.’
‘But you have a family and a community,’ she said, avoiding his eyes.
Aleki and Tahu returned, pushing a cart each. ‘Auntie, do we need ta put our shirts on?’ Aleki asked, and for the first time Daniel noticed they had their t-shirts draped across their shoulders.
‘Why?’ Laura asked. Tahu pointed at the fully clothed shoppers that were streaming into and out of the supermarket. ‘Bugger that,’ Laura said, smiling, and surprising Daniel. ‘They’re just ashamed they haven’t got physiques like you guys,’ she said. The boys flexed their muscles in bodybuilding poses.
‘Hey, Auntie, is Uncle ashamed to show his body?’ Aleki joked as they entered the supermarket.
‘Eh, you getting cheeky, now,’ Daniel countered. No way was he going to strip off his shirt.
‘Yeah, man, your uncle’s body isn’t like Hercules!’ And with her now devoted fans, Laura laughed wildly, oblivious to and uncaring of the attention they were attracting.
For the rest of the time as they shopped, Daniel merely tagged along, appreciating and revelling in the company, and now and then answering inquiries from the boys about what they were buying. It was obvious to him that with Laura these street-wise, street-hardened kids were quickly becoming trusting members of a family. And he was inextricably involved – and welcomed it – in Laura’s life, and needed to know her past and why she was the person she was.
It was intriguing how the boys, who were from poor families, were teaching Laura about the best prices and bargains: nothing was bought unless they’d sussed out the options, and whenever it was expensive, they would rush off and find cheaper options. Once Daniel, in shocked dismay, caught Aleki and Tahu at the meat counter switching the price tags on expensive cuts of steak and lamb with those on the cheaper cuts. They brought the expensive cuts to the cart and their innocent aunt, who glanced at the prices. ‘Gosh, these are great prices,’ she congratulated them. Daniel moved to censure the boys, hesitated, and left it. When Tahu glanced at him, Daniel shook his head, once, decisively.
17
The tide was in, the wind had fled, and the sun was setting in a blazing declaration of escape. Coming back from Waioha, Laura, Daniel and the boys recognised Aaron, Ropata, Paul and some of the warriors surfing in on the large waves. They turned into their camp and found it empty – they assumed everyone was out in the water.
Unloading the van quickly, they changed into their swimming gear. Aleki and Tahu bounded out of the tent, over the low dunes and across the beach. With abandoned squealing, they dived headlong into the waves. While he waited for Laura, Daniel watched his father duck under a breaking wave, surface and, laughing, tread water beside Mere and Kepa and Keith. He yearned to be out there, in the moving mass of water that tied the whole Pacific together, but he wanted to be in it with Laura. As soon as she appeared in her crimson bathing suit, he started racing away from her towards the sea. She chased him, deliberately stepping into his footprints, as if she wanted to fit into all that he was, merging, merging, and then merging with the ocean, which, when she was a child in New Plymouth, had kept her sane and alive and hoping.
Dinner was scheduled for 6.30 p.m., so Laura, Daniel and their two helpers left the water before the others and dressed, then Daniel hurried off with Aleki to make the barbecue.
Laura and Tahu were in the kitchen preparing the salads when Mere joined them. Laura was amused but growing more annoyed with Tahu, who insisted he knew all about making salads, claiming his mother was the expert at it.
‘Hi, Auntie, Laura reckons we should use French dressing in the green salad,’ Tahu tried to solicit Mere’s agreement.
‘What do you think, mate?’ Mere asked.
‘My mum always uses mayonaise – and I like mayonaise,’ he reasoned.
‘Don’t ya want to try something new, mate?’ Mere suggested. Laura watched Tahu closely, enjoying his struggle not to offend Mere but still to have his way. ‘Okay, let’s put it this way, Tahu, does your mum like trying out new things?’ Laura had to smother her mirth as her stubborn helper scrunched himself up inside and, lowering his head, refused to be cornered. ‘Hey, boy, you’re jus’ like me: bloody pig-headed, right!’ Mere socked it to him.
‘Naw, I’m not, Auntie, ask Auntie Laura here.’ His eyes were ablaze with truth. ‘Was I pig-headed at our shopping today, Auntie?’
Laura kept a straight face and said, ‘Certainly not.’
‘See, Auntie,’ he declared. Laura turned her face from him, knowing that Mere now had him cornered.
‘So you want to try new things, eh?’ Mere gazed down at him.
‘Okay then, but the potato salad is still going to have mayonnaise in it, right?’ He made the deal. Laura and Mere laughed, and he seemed surprised.
From then on he went out of his way not to be pig-headed, and did everything they wanted. And when he took the salads out to their dinner table in the tent, Laura admitted to Mere how she was learning, for the first time, about teenagers. ‘Aleki and Tahu are wonderful,’ she murmured.
‘Girl, they’re good kids, but they’re not as innocent as you believe,’ Mere cautioned. ‘They’re all potentially the other face of their Uncle Aaron.’
‘I don’t care, Mere. I never had brothers and sisters,’ Laura said.
The air smelled of barbecued meat. The dark settled over the settlement, the beach, the ocean and their tent as Lemu said grace in Samoan, his commanding voice attracting the fascinated attention of the darkness.
They started eating, Laura and Mere telling everyone they should thank Tahu for making the salads. They applauded. Daniel told them Aleki, master of the art of barbecuing, had cooked the meat. More applause.
As they ate, Laura and Daniel felt so natural sitting beside each other, as if they’d been doing that for a long time. Every time Daniel glanced at his father, who was sitting opposite them beside Mere, his father smiled at him, and he believed his father fully approved his being with Laura. Hungry, their appetites invigorated by the outdoors, they demolished their meal, quickly.
Kepa supervised the warriors, without Tahu and Aleki, as they washed and dried the dishes. They complained when Keith reminded them that lights out in the tent was at 8 p.m. Keith was exhausted, so he went to bed then too. Aaron, Ropata and Kepa expressed the same intention. Lemu and the women and the two girls shifted into the house, and Lemu said goodnight and went off upstairs to bed. Mere and Laura shifted out to the front veranda, and Paul and Daniel soon followed the others into the tent.
As Laura and Mere sat back in the beach chairs, gazing up into the heavens, the sea-smelling dark slipped into everything, bringing with
it the healing silence of high tide, and, one by one, putting out the lights of the houses along the shore. Laura’s eyes unexpectedly acquired an increasing heaviness, and she sighed and said, ‘Mere, I could stay here forever.’
‘So could I,’ Mere’s regretful voice eased out of the dark. ‘Away from all the responsibilities I’ve been saddled with.’
‘But you’re not free of them, even here.’
‘That’s right. I mean just being here in this place right now and in this darkness.’
‘There’s a way out,’ Laura ruminated aloud. She could hear Mere waiting. ‘You could shift out of Auckland …’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘I thought you just said you’d had enough of the responsibilities?’
‘I love my family; I love the Tribe,’ Mere declared.
‘Even if it means giving up permanent relationships with men?’ She waited, heart in stasis.
‘I have permanent male relationships already, Laura.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Okay, like with Kepa?’
‘Yes.’ Laura’s abrupt yes was a declaration of fear. But she had to wait. Mere breathed heavily in the deepening darkness, through which they could barely see the thin glow of the horizon.
‘Kepa will be it if he – if he …’ And she couldn’t say it.
‘You’re not being fair to him or to yourself,’ Laura said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean.’