Lara also watched Kahu slowly and patiently gentle Hiriwa, Koura’s stroppy son. Whenever he was near the colt, he moved calmly and spoke quietly. He spent hours handling the young horse, rubbing his legs, running his fingers through his mane and tail, and stroking his face.
One afternoon, Kahu led Hiriwa into the corral and turned him loose. He took a plastic bag and waved it wildly in the air. It rustled and crackled noisily. Hiriwa squealed in fright and fled to the far side of the corral. Kahu kept shaking the plastic bag as Hiriwa hurtled around the corral in a mad panic.
Gradually, the colt slowed down and turned to look at Kahu. As soon as he faced him, Kahu stopped shaking the bag and whistled over to him. When he bounded off again, Kahu started shaking the bag again. This went on for some time until Hiriwa finally gave up running altogether. To Lara’s amazement, he turned and walked right up to Kahu and nuzzled him.
When Lara asked Kahu what he was doing, he explained that, when frightened, a horse’s first instinct is to run. By continuing to shake the bag, he was allowing Hiriwa time to work through his fear. Hiriwa was learning that, regardless of how scary something might seem, Kahu would never hurt him. Indeed, if he put his trust in him he could make the scary thing go away.
Another time, Kahu put a saddle blanket on the ground next to the colt. Hiriwa immediately snorted and galloped off. Slowly, curiosity got the better of him and he came up for a closer look. Kahu told Lara that American Indians had always used this method to gentle wild mustangs. They left buffalo robes in the fields with the horses until they were accustomed to the look and smell of the strange objects. When the day came for them to go on their backs, they were used to them and not afraid.
Lara might have been happy with her new life in Waiouru if it weren’t for the kids at school. No matter how hard she tried to fit in, they still didn’t accept her. She was grateful she had made friends with Kahu because she knew if it wasn’t for him they’d give her an even harder time. They looked up to him. When they first realised that Kahu and Lara were friends, they had tried to tease him. ‘Hey, Kahu, we didn’t know you were into blonds,’ Tane, his best friend, joked. Kahu stared him straight in the eye and said, ‘Sure I am, Tane. What’s it to you?’ That was the last time anyone had said anything.
Lara had always done well at school in the past. She was used to topping the class and being a favourite with her teachers. It was different here. She struggled with her schoolwork and wasn’t motivated. When she tried to settle down to do her homework, the empty house closed in on her and she couldn’t concentrate. She’d escape to Kahu’s place just to hear voices and laughter.
One long weekend when her mother was working yet again, Lara got bogged down in an art project. She was meant to be writing an essay on the life and work of Charles Goldie, the famous New Zealand painter. She gazed at the portraits of the Maori elders he had painted over 100 years ago and tried to get inspired. She studied the distinctive moko, or tattoo, on the face of one elderly Maori woman. She had seen those same curves and spirals somewhere before. She remembered the carving in Kahu’s room. Perhaps he could help her.
Lara threw her books in a bag, slammed the door behind her, and hopped on her mountain bike. It was a fifteen-minute ride to Kahu’s place on the outskirts of town. She loved the feel of the wind in her face and the rush of speed as she raced along. It reminded her of horse riding without the thrills. When she arrived at Kahu’s, she found him outside with his father tinkering with an old car. His father chucked her a spanner which she caught in midair.
‘We need your help,’ he joked. ‘See if you’ve got the magic touch.’
‘I need Kahu’s help! I’m stuck on an essay for class.’
‘Like he’ll help,’ Kahu’s dad laughed.
When Lara said she was writing an essay on Goldie, Kahu’s father told her that a famous chief of their tribe had been a great friend of Goldie’s. His name had been Te Heuheu Tukino, the main chief of Ngati Tuwharetoa in the late 1800s. ‘Kahu knows a lot about our history,’ he added. ‘Don’t let him pretend he can’t help you.’
Kahu brushed off his father’s comments with a wry grin and took Lara inside. At the long table, Lara laid out the books on Goldie. Kahu flicked through the pages and began to talk. He described the ancient art of ta moko, or Maori tattooing, which the Maori in the portraits were wearing. It was not simply surface-skin tattooing, he said. The moko was deeply chiselled into the skin so the lines and grooves could be clearly seen. Every ta moko told a story and was unique to the wearer. Each line, curve and spiral represented the person’s ancestors and tribal history going back many generations. ‘Maori believe we need to look back at our past in order to understand our future,’ he explained.
As he talked, Lara wondered again about the difference between this boy and the boy she saw in class. At school, Kahu was smart to the teachers, pretended he knew nothing, or simply acted indifferent. She didn’t understand it.
‘What topic are you doing for your art project?’ she asked him as they chatted.
‘I’m not,’ he said dismissively.
‘You’ll fail the course if you don’t submit something.’
‘So what? Old Talbot’s an arrogant jerk.’
‘He’s not that bad. Anyway, it’s not about him. You’re the one who fails if you don’t hand in something.’
Kahu shrugged and changed the subject as he had done endless times in the past. If it wasn’t for the fact that Lara was interested in what he had to say next, she might have kept on about it. Instead, her ears pricked up at his question.
‘Do you want to ride out this weekend to see the wild horses?’ he asked, and then added, ‘We’d have to camp out overnight.’
Lara couldn’t think of anything more exciting. She was about to burst out, ‘Yes!’ when she thought of her mother. She wouldn’t approve of her heading out for the night with a boy she hadn’t even met.
‘I don’t think Mum will let me. She doesn’t even know you, for one.’
‘It’s time we met then,’ Kahu said matter-of-factly.
Lara had her doubts. She looked at Kahu’s dreadlocks and tattooed arms and knew her mother wouldn’t approve. Until then, she had managed to keep her two lives separate. Now, she realised, Kahu and her mother would have to meet.
7
Building bridges
Lara opened the door feeling ridiculously nervous. ‘Hi Kahu, come in!’ she said, trying to sound light and carefree but her voice caught in her throat and came out strangled. She glanced at Kahu’s tanned, tattooed arms and wished for the first time that he looked different. She called out to her mother, ‘Mum, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.’
Kahu entered the hall looking as laid-back as usual until he noticed her mother’s photographs. They covered the walls of the hall. There was no escaping them, thought Lara. Her mother imagined herself to be an amateur nature photographer and liked to show off her work. Lara felt as if she lived in an art gallery.
‘What awesome photos. Who took them?’ Kahu asked as he examined each one in turn. He seemed genuinely interested.
‘Oh, they’re Mum’s. It’s her hobby,’ she said, embarrassed.
‘They’re great. Look how she’s caught that raindrop on the fern.’
Lara had never even looked at the photo. Funny, her mother’s photos had surrounded her all her life and yet she had never really seen them.
‘I’m pleased you like it,’ Lara’s mother said as she came along the hall. ‘It’s one of my favourites, although I remember it was pouring the day I took it. Hi, my name is Alison. I’m Lara’s mum.’
To Lara’s astonishment, her mother didn’t look sideways at Kahu’s dreadlocks or even wince at his tattoos.
‘Hi, I’m Kahu. I’m in Lara’s class at school. These are great photos,’ he said admiringly.
‘As Lara said, they’re just a hobby,’ she said, looking pointedly at her daughter. ‘Are you interested in photography?’
‘Main
ly nature photography. It helps me with ideas for my own stuff,’ Kahu said.
‘What do you do?’ asked her mother, interested.
‘Wood carving—some traditional Maori design and stuff of my own.’
So they were his carvings Lara had seen in the bedroom! He had never told her that he carved. She felt put out he’d never mentioned it to her. And here he was telling her mother, of all people. Her mother was fascinated. They yakked away like a couple of old friends. Before Lara even realised it, they were on to the subject of the wild horses. Kahu told her mother that he gentled some of the horses caught in the Department of Conservation musters.
‘DOC allows about five hundred horses to remain in the wild. The rest are rounded up each year and auctioned off or destroyed. Some of the people who buy them don’t know much about taming wild horses, so they come to me,’ Kahu explained. Lara’s mother asked lots of questions. She was as fascinated as Lara had been when she first discovered New Zealand had wild horses.
Lara was chuffed when Kahu said to her mother, ‘Lara has been learning to ride on one of my Kaimanawas. She’s a natural.’
‘I wondered what Lara had been up to on these long summer evenings,’ her mother replied archly.
Well, you never bothered to ask, Lara muttered to herself.
Kahu mentioned he was heading off on a trek soon to view some of the wild horses. He said, almost as an afterthought, ‘I was wondering if Lara could join me. She loves the horses and I’d like the company.’
Lara was convinced her mother would have a fit. Instead, she only asked, ‘Will it be safe? After all, Lara has only been riding for a short time.’
Kahu reassured her that Lara could ride one of his trusted old horses and they’d take it quietly. They’d only trek out for a day and a night, which should be enough to catch up with some of the wild bands.
Lara was dumbstruck when her mother agreed. ‘It will be a great experience for her. I never thought of Lara as the outdoorsy type,’ she said, smiling knowingly at Lara.
Kahu and Lara planned the trek for the following weekend. They had a lot to do to prepare for the ride. First, Kahu introduced Lara to her new mount, Robbie. He was an old Clydesdale cross, a big, placid horse with kind eyes. ‘He doesn’t go much beyond a plod and he’s safe and sure around the wild horses,’ he said. He was riding Koura, the Kaimanawa mare.
Kahu had the camping gear they needed as he spent many weekends out trekking in the Tongariro National Park and its surrounds. The park was the first national park ever set up in New Zealand. Te Heuheu Tukino, the main chief of Kahu’s tribe, Ngati Tuwharetoa, gifted it to the people of New Zealand in 1887. The park included the sacred peaks of the volcanic mountains, Tongariro, Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu, as well as the vast area known as the Rangipo Desert. The desert wasn’t a true desert—it was named for its desert-like appearance of barren lava flows and windswept plains.
Since 1997, the Department of Conservation had forced the wild horses to live to the southeast of Tongariro National Park near Waiouru in an area controlled by the army. Any horses that strayed off army land were either captured or destroyed. Kahu had to ask his father to get permission from the army for them to ride and camp out on the land.
Although it was late summer, Kahu warned Lara to pack warm clothes as well as wet-weather gear. He said the weather could change from brilliant sunshine to rain, hail and snow in minutes. Early on the Saturday morning they packed up their gear, loaded the horses onto the float, and Kahu’s father drove them out to the Desert Road to the starting point of their trek.
After almost a day of steady riding, Lara and Kahu eventually reached the Argo Valley where many of the wild bands were forced to live. Long ago, thick forest had covered these plains and valleys. Years of volcanic eruptions and fires had destroyed the trees and turned the area into a sweeping wasteland.
Lara looked across the tussock plains and scattered beech forest up to the jagged, eroded peaks of the mountains. The wind whistled over the exposed plains. Robbie lowered his head against it and picked his way across the rough terrain. She wondered how the wild horses survived in such a harsh place. When she asked Kahu, he said what he had told her once before. ‘They’re tough and smart. Their ancestors have lived in the wild for years and their intelligence and hardiness has been passed down.’
‘Why can’t DOC leave the remaining herds alone and free to roam?’ Lara asked. ‘How much damage can they do in such a bleak place?’
‘DOC reckons they’re destroying rare native plants. I can’t see how they can do any more damage than the army. To our tribe, the horses are kaitiaki—spiritual guardians that watch over the land. They’re as special as the plants that live here.’
By early evening, they still hadn’t spotted any wild horses. Occasionally they caught glimpses of horses on the skyline. When they neared, the images disappeared like a haunting mirage. Lara’s legs and backside were killing her after hours in the saddle. She wasn’t going to let on to Kahu though. She and Robbie plodded along behind the prancing Koura and the inexhaustible Kahu. At last, Kahu suggested they stop and set up camp for the night.
They hobbled the horses and turned them loose to graze. Kahu showed her how to put up the pup tents and together they cooked a campfire meal of sausages and beans. The wind died down and the night was crisp and still. As they sat beside the cosy fire, Lara finally worked up the courage to ask him the question that had been bugging her. ‘Kahu, why didn’t you tell me you carved?’ she began.
‘You never asked,’ he said.
‘You never speak about anything like that. And at school you act so differently. Why don’t you show Mr Talbot your carvings? They’d blow him away.’
‘I don’t have to prove anything to him,’ Kahu said impatiently.
‘You’re always such a smartarse in class. Like you want the teachers to think you’re thick or something?’
‘And you’re always such a goody-goody. Why can’t you lighten up, Lara?’ he said angrily.
‘You’re just afraid you wouldn’t look cool with your mates if you actually tried in class,’ she bit back angrily in return. ‘You’re afraid of succeeding.’
Kahu threw his plate on the ground and walked to his tent. He pulled open the flap and said he was going to bed. ‘Make sure you put out the fire,’ he ordered, still sounding angry. Lara sat on her own beneath the canopy of stars and wondered if perhaps she had gone too far. But he had hurt her, too, when he’d said she was a goody-goody. She wasn’t like that! She wanted to do well, that was all.
Lara gazed up at the night sky, feeling incredibly small and lonely. The blackness was infinite, broken only by the smudge of the Milky Way and the stars which blinked like souls lost at sea. A pale-faced moon cast eerie shadows over the dark land. She shivered and pulled her jacket tightly across her chest. It was ominously quiet and still. Suddenly, the ground beneath her began to shake. A deep rumbling sound came from the very centre of the earth. The noise grew louder and the ground swayed violently. She leapt up and tried to run to Kahu’s tent. He struggled out of his tent and stumbled towards her. The earth stopped shaking and all was still again.
‘What was that?’ Lara screamed.
‘An earthquake. We have lots of them here. It’s just the mountains shaking off their sleep,’ Kahu said reassuringly.
Lara had never experienced an earthquake before. It was mind-blowing and she was shaking with fear herself. ‘Will it come again?’ she asked nervously.
‘There may be a few aftershocks but there’s nothing to worry about. You don’t need to be frightened,’ Kahu said.
‘No, it’s not that,’ Lara said quickly. ‘I’ve never been in an earthquake, that’s all. It is a bit scary, I guess,’ she said more honestly.
‘You can sleep in my tent if you want,’ Kahu said. ‘We’ve got to check on the horses first though. They’ll be freaked.’ He grabbed a torch. ‘Come on, they’re hobbled so they won’t have gone far.’
They found
the two horses pressed together in the shelter of some beech trees. They were both quivering and sweat covered Koura’s body. Kahu spoke quietly to her and rubbed her damp neck. She slowly relaxed as she listened to his gentle voice. Lara talked as calmly as she could to Robbie. Once they settled the horses, Kahu checked their hobbles and they walked back to camp.
‘Grab your sleeping bag and bring it to my tent,’ Kahu said as the ground began to rock and sway again. The aftershock was nowhere near as bad as before, though it still frightened her. She took hold of his arm until the rocking subsided. She wasn’t embarrassed any more about being scared. Kahu stood as solid as a rock until the shaking stopped, then went over to her tent and grabbed her sleeping bag. He laid it next to his own in the tent. Lara took off her shoes and climbed into her sleeping bag. Kahu stripped off his jeans and top in the dark and clambered into his own bag.
They both lay in the pitch-black listening to the deathly silence. Kahu began to talk, softly and reassuringly, like he did to the horses. ‘We have a legend about these mountains. A long time ago, seven great mountains lived together beside Lake Taupo. One day, the mountains fought a terrible battle over beautiful Mount Pihanga. They erupted angrily in fire and smoke and the earth trembled beneath their feet like it has tonight.’
‘Who won?’ Lara asked, feeling cosy and safe now in her warm sleeping bag alongside Kahu.
‘Mount Tongariro. He was the wisest and bravest of them all. After the battle, Pihanga stood beside him. The younger mountains, Ruapehu and Ngauruhoe, stood respectfully behind. The three defeated mountains were forced to flee. Tauhara made it to the far end of Lake Taupo. Putauaki sloped off to the north, and Taranaki fled westward to the sea, cutting the deep channel of the Whanganui River in his haste. This is where they stand today.’
Restless Spirit Page 3