Huia Short Stories 10

by Tihema Baker

  ‘Ao anō he rā, takaruretia ka rere atu ai koe,’ tā Kiwi.

  Ka riro mā Rūrū hai kaitiaki i te pō rāua ko Katipō i te tatau o te whare o te pēpē.

  Oho ake ana te pēpē i te hanga o ngā manu korihi i te ata hāpara. Ka titiro whakarunga te pēpē kua mōhio tonu a Huia he kai anō tana mate, ka mutu, ka rere tonu atu ki a ia ki te whāngai i a ia ki te wētā me te hūhū. Ka whiu te puku o pēpē ka haere i tana haere wāwāhi tahā. Ka pana i tēnā toka i tēnā toka kia kite ai he aha kei raro he aha kei runga he aha kē te aha i tōna taiao nei. Nōna e rapu haere ana ko Tīeke tana kaitiaki e taea ana te kite mārika ngā hau kino e ahu mai ana i matara, i tata mai rānei kātahi ka whakaohiti atu ai ki a Hōkio kei te tihi o te rākau kahikatea mō te tūpono ka whakaekea e te taua, ā, ka riro māna hai whakaoti atu. Ka mutu, ko tā Huia he kimi kai, he whāngai.

  Ka pau te toru rā ka tau mai anō a Tōroa. Ka whakapiri anō te kāhui manu a Tāne ki te whakarongo he aha te whakatau a Moa. Ka takarure a Toroa i ōna parirau kia ngū te hoihoi a ngā manu ka tangi, ‘E hoa mā, ka maanaki mai a Moa i tō tātau tono, hei te Rākaunui te heke mai nei ia ka tae mai ki a tātau, kotahi anahe tana whakahau, me whakatū whare mōna i mua i tana whakaeke mai kia tika te whakauwhi.’

  Kotahi atu anō te Hakuturi a Tāne ki te whakatū whare ki a Moa. Tō atu he rā haramai he pō, parahutihuti ana te mahi a ngā manu, a Ngāi Pēpeke ki te whakaoti pai i te whare i mua i te whakaekenga mai a Moa ki tō rātau kāinga. Mā pango mā whero ka oti te whare te tū ake.

  I te pukumahi o te Hakuturi a Tāne ki te whakatū ake i te whare ka whakahapa tā rātau tiaki i te pēpē, ā, ka ngaro atu ai ia.

  ‘Auē,’ te tangi a Pīpīwharauroa, … ‘Kua puta a pēpē i tana kōhanga, karekau he takiwā e kitea ana ia!’

  Tarawē ana a Huia, otirā rātau katoa! Kātahi ka rū ai te whenua ka tū…, ka rū anō, ka tū……, kātahi ka turakina ai tētahi rākau e tū pātata mai ana ki te oru manu nei. Ka puta mai ko Moa me te pēpē kei tana tuara e tohutohu ana i a ia. Ka kotore whererei ngā manu, ko ngā whatu ānō ko te Rākaunui, otirā kāre anō kia Rākaunui te marama.

  Kātahi ka tīwaha atu a Tōroa, ‘Hei te manukura, kua tōmua koe.’

  Ka takahi a Moa i tana waewae ki te papa kia rū anō ai te whenua! ‘Taringa mai tā Moa, nō koutou e pukumahi ana, ka mahue te tiaki mai i te pēpē nei, maringinui ana koutou kua tae nei ahau hai kaitohutohu mā koutou, tēnā, kai hea kē taku whare? Kua matemoe ahau.’

  Ka tīpatapata te oma atu a Takahē, he hūhū kei ōna ngutu e mau ana, ‘Hei taku manukura, he kai māu.’

  ‘Taihoa,’ tā Moa. ‘Kua moe au…ka oho ake ana ahau me hui tātau.’

  Ka oho ake a Moa ka huihui te kāhui manu ki tō Moa aroaro ka tau ai. Ka tū a Moa me te kī ake, ‘Ko wōku tuākana, tāina kua hinga katoa rātau i te whai a te tangata, ka mutu, ko hau anake hei mōrehu.’

  Ka uiui atu a Huia, ‘Ka aroha kē hoki, heoi anō, ka mate ana koe ko wai rā hai kaiārahi, hai rangatira mō mātau?’

  ‘E hoa mā,’ tā Moa… ‘Ehara i te mea me kimi rangatira koutou, ko koutou kē hai rangatira i a koutou anō, ko tēnāi tōna takiwā ake, ko tēnā anō i tōna takiwā ake.’ Kātahi, ka rere mai ko Tītī i te tonga ka tīwaha, ‘He poti nui nāku i kite nōku i Whakatū, he iwi kirihou, he iwi tūkino, ka mutu, ka kite i a rātau i te poti rā e kai ana i tētahi momo wai kino i whakapōrangirangi haere i a rātau, ā, ka tīwē haere whakatarapī nei, ka pāengaenga rātau i a rātau, ko te otinga iho he whawhai i i a rātau anō. Ka mutu, ka rongo nei au i te kōrero a tētahi e mau pōtae ana e kimi haere ana rātau he whenua hou hai nohonga mō rātau. Waihoki ka topea ngā rākau katoa o ō tātau motu kia pai ai tō rātau noho me te mahi i te whenua.’

  Ka tīonioni te rere mai a Pīwaiwaka ka wahawaha, ‘He māmā te kite he pakanga kei te haere.’

  I konā ka topa tonu iho mai ko Kāhu i te Rāwhiti, ‘E hoa mā, kua kitea tēnei iwi kirihou i kōrerotia mai nā e Tītī, i te oneone o Te Māhia, i Nukutaurua. Nā te tohunga nei a Toiroa Ikariki i matakite. Ka tāngia ai e ia mā tōna matimati ki te one, tēnei iwi kirimā e mau pōtae ana he rākau auahi anō hoki kei ō rātau ngutu e kai ana. He kōrero whakatonu āna ki tōna iwi hai ōna rā ka haere mai te iwi rā ka whānako haere ai i ō tātau whenua me ōna taonga katoa, waihoki, ka kite atu au i tētahi momo kiore i te poti nui nei engari he mea tino rerekē ki tā mātau kiore o Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa. He mea kaha ki te kai i ngā momo kai katoa ahakoa mārō taioreore te āhua ahakoa he aha te kai….tēnā māta taiki ā tātau hua kei mate haere ko tātau!’

  ‘E hoa mā,’ tā Moa, ‘Me pī tuatahi atu ai tātau ki te pēpē nei, ko ia kē tō tātau nui…me whakamarumaru ia ki te taiao Māori nei, mā mātau, mā ngā rākau, me te wairua o te ngāhere nei ia e poipoi, kia korekore rawa atu nei ia e mahi pērā i tā te iwi kirihou i kōrero mai nā koe, he mahi tūkino i te taiao, he mahi tūkino i a ia anō.’

  Ka huri ngā tau, ka pakeke haere te tamaiti nei, me te aha, he pakari anō nō te tinana, he pakari anō nō te hinengaro. I ia pō, i ia pō ka hui ai ngā manu ki te taha o tō rātau taina hai ārahi hai akoako, ko Tūī hai kaiako mōna e akoako ai ia ki te kōrero pērā i tā te tangata. Heoi anō, he mōhio hoki nō te tamaiti nei ki ngā reo katoa o tēnā manu, o tēnā manu o te ngāhere me ngā reo e hia mai nei o Ngāi Pēpeke mā. He mōkai a Tūī nā tētahi rangatira tangata nei o Ngāti Pāhauwera nāna nei a Tūī i tuku i te pō kia whātorotoro i ōna parirau, engari he kore mōhio nō te rangatira nei koia tā Tūī he akoako i tētahi tamaiti i rō ngāhere i ngā pō.

  Ahakoa noho ngāhere te tamaiti nei, he tamaiti mōhio anō ia ki ngā mahi a te tangata, me te mōhio hoki ki ngā mahi katoa a ngā manu me te ngahere.

  I tētahi rā ka puta te whakaaro ki a Moa kia whakaingoatia te tamaiti nei. Tēnā, ka whakaritea e te kāhui kia haria atu ia ki te awa kia pai ai tā rātau kawe i tēnei tikanga. Oti ana ngā mahi karakia ki runga i te tamaiti nei ka rōreka ake a Tūī ka mea, ‘Ko Te Wao hai ingoa mōhou!’

  Ka hora ngā kai katoa o te ngahere me te takutai ki a Te Wao hai kai māna i tēnei rā nui whakaharahara. Ahakoa te nui o te rā, ahakoa te hari o Te Wao he mate tonu ōna kia tūtaki ia ki tōna kōkā.

  Ka haere, ka haere, ā, kua tāne a Te Wao, waihoki ko tana hiahia kia tūtaki ia ki tōna kōkā, ka mutu, kua mau tonu i a Te Wao te taonga nā tōna kōkā i waiho ki tōna kakī i ērā tau maha ki muri.

  I taua pō ka warea a Te Wao e te moe, ā, ka puta te moemoeā ki a ia, e mate haere ana tōna kōkā. Ao ake he rā ka hui tahi a Te Wao ki a Huia ka meatia e Te Wao tana moemoeā me tana hiahia kua roa nei e huna ana ki roto i tana whatumanawa.

  Ko te whakahoki a Huia, ‘Kua mōhio pai au ki tō hiahia, ā, kua mōhio hoki ahau ka tono mai koe ki a au i tēnei take ahakoa kāore au e hiahia oko… Kai taku pekepoho kua eke pea te wā kia kimi haere ai koe i tō kōkā, kia tau tō mauri….waihoki, mea pono te moemoeā kimihia.’ Ka auē rāua tahi ka tangi.

  Ko te rā whai muri mai ka haere a Te Wao ki te rapu haere i tōna kōkā, ā, ko Moa hei hoa haere mōna.

  Mutu ana ngā karakia ka haere te tokorua i tā rāua haere, ki te kimi i te kōkā o Te Wao. Inā hoki kei roto pū i te ngahere tō rātau kāinga ko te whakaaro ka whai atu rāua i te rere o te awa kia tae rānō ki te moana, ā, ka piki whakateraki mā te tahatai.

  Tae atu ana rāua ki te ngutu awa kua hiakai rāua, tēnā ka noho rāua ki te kai, ka whakangā. Ka pau tētahi wā ka haere anō i tā rāua ara ki te rapu i te kōkā nei.

  Tuatahi ka tae atu rāua ki te maunga kore neke ki Hikurangi me ōna takiwā katoa, otirā auare ake. Ka haere tonu mā te tahatai, ka tae ake ki Raukokore engari ko taua āhua anō he kitenga kore. Ka noho, ka noho, ā, ka tae atu rāua ki ngā tōpito katoa me ngā whārua o ngā motu katoa o Aotearoa engari tē kite nei i te kōkā o Te Wao. Ka ngēngē haere te tokorua nei i te roa hoki e rapu haere ana, ā, ka whakatau kia hoki ki te puihi ki ngā tuākana, tāina noho anō ai me te whakaaro o Te Wao e kore rawa ia e tūtaki atu ki tana kōkā haere ake nei haere ake nei.

  Tēnā, ka whaka
tau kia hoki rāua, ā, ko tō rāua huarahi hoki ki te kāinga mā te Urewera, ka whakawhiti atu ki Waikaremoana, ā, ka takahi i te ara ki Pūtere ka whāia ai te huarahi ki Raupunga, ki tō rāua takiwā noho. Tā rāua takahi i te huarahi i Waikaremoana ki Pūtere ka kite atu i te auahi i te rangi e anga mai i te ngahere me te kī ake a Te Wao ki tana mōkai, ‘He matekai nōku ka tonoa ki te tangata nei kia manaaki mai tāua i āna kai.’

  Ka ‘āe’ mai a Moa ka whai atu i te auahi. Tō rāua taenga atu ki te ahi, he kuia noho moke i roto i tōna whare e tangi ana tana waiata, ‘Taku rākau’ engari i kore te kuia i tae ake ki te mutunga o tana waiata, kua hinga ia ki te papa ka mate.

  Kotahi atu a Te Wao ki te kuia nei engari kua tō kē ngā rā ki a ia. Ka titiro whakarunga a Te Wao ki te hanga o te rākau e haumarumaru ana i te whare, ka mutu, he hua whero e puāwai mai ana i te rākau nei engari ko te takurua kē te wāhanga o te tau. Ka taka te kapa ki a Te Wao he rākau tītoki te rākau nei kātahi ka tino pūrangiaho mai ia ko tana kōkā kē tēnei kātahi tonu ka mate.

  Ka tarawē te tangi mai a Te Wao ki tana mōkai ka kī ake ia, ‘Kei taku mōkai, ko koe ka haere ko au ka noho nei hei kaitiaki i tēnei takiwā o taku kōkā.’

  Ahakoa kāre a Moa i whakaae iho, me pehea kē hoki ia. Tēnā ka noho a Te Wao ki tēnei takiwā o te motu hei kaitiaki i konei. Ko ngā kōrero whakamutunga a Te Wao ki tana mōkai – ‘hei te tau tītoki.’

  Joy Ride

  Toni Pivac

  ‘Oi, Hemi!’ The little boy whispered loudly, grubby hands cupped around his mouth. He stood at the corner of the house, leaning out to get his brother’s attention. Hemi looked around at the younger boy, scowling at the interruption.

  ‘Yeah, what?’ he asked, indifferently. He was busy.

  ‘Ea! Come here,’ said Whata, gesturing to Hemi.

  ‘Nah, ow, you come here,’ replied Hemi, turning away from him. Back to his cousins.

  ‘Aw,’ said Whata, frowning. He stomped over, kicking an empty bottle on the way.

  ‘Hemi, ow,’ he said, punching him on the shoulder. ‘Uncle’s packing up the ute. Think he’s going round the corner to drop off Aunty’s cakes. Let’s hop on the back and go for a ride!’ He was trying his best to hide his excitement. It wasn’t working.

  ‘Yeah, nah. I’m staying here, little bro,’ Hemi said. ‘And don’t get on that ute, Mum’ll be pissed,’ he added as an afterthought. He ruffled his little brother’s hair until it stuck out like a kina. Whata frowned again and pushed Hemi’s arm away. ‘Go find Lot Lot and Jayden, they were gonna hunt down Nan’s fry bread,’ Hemi suggested.

  ‘Nah, I’m not even hungry,’ Whata said, looking down at his feet and drawing a line in the dust with the toe of his Nike. He thought the ground looked thirsty.

  ‘Well, all good then, but don’t get on that ute, K?’ said Hemi. ‘Hey, Steph, what’s that song you were singing before, eh?’ he called to the cousin leaning against the shed.

  Whata huffed and sulked away, sitting heavily on the grass under the peach tree. The lawn needed a mow. No one ever mowed it any more, he thought, pulling at the blades that were tickling the exposed skin at his ankles. He hadn’t been able to find any socks this morning and his pants didn’t come all the way down. He yanked at some daisies that were speckling the grass, plucking them out at the base. He made a bunch and tied them together with a clover’s stem. Maybe Mum’d like them, he thought. Mum liked flowers lately; there were always heaps of them in their house now. And visitors – but Whata didn’t really pay them much attention. None of them ever wanted to play with him. He guessed they were all just too old and boring.

  Speaking of which, Whata was bored. All of his cousins were either way older than him, or were girls. And girls didn’t like adventures. Or cars. Not like him. Whata liked adventures and cars. And adventures in cars. Maybe even adventures on cars. His mind curled back around to his plan of climbing on to Uncle Dave’s ute. No one seemed to notice that he was even here. He doubted anyone would notice him gone. And man would it be funny to see the look on everyone’s faces when he popped up out of the back when Uncle pulled back into the driveway! He stood up, casually, shoving the bunch of flowers into his pockets, along with his hands. He shuffled his feet, trying to look innocent. Not that anyone was looking. He walked around the side of the house and was suddenly and effectively out of sight. He looked around a couple of times for good measure and then clambered on board.

  The back of the ute was dirty. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Whata didn’t care though; dirt didn’t matter. It could always be washed away. He lay down on his back, looking up at the sky. It was blue. A really nice blue. Kind of brighter than the normal blue of the sky. He thought it’d be a good colour to paint his bedroom.

  Time ticked slowly away.

  It was getting hot on the back of the ute, even though it was late in the afternoon. The cicadas were getting really noisy too, and it sounded like there was one hiding in the back of the ute with him, but he couldn’t see it. He could hear voices in the house and round the back, but he couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. Bloody cicada was too loud.

  ‘Yeah, catch yous up later, eh?’ called Uncle, shouting around the back of the house as he came out the front door. Whata jerked, kicking the side of the trailer. He held his breath, waiting for his Uncle to come and investigate and discover him, which would ruin the plan. But he didn’t come.

  Whata heard him move past and climb into the cab, slamming the door behind him and starting up the engine with a rumble. The cicada finally shut up, and Whata could hear his uncle flicking through the radio stations. He must have found something he liked, because the surfing stopped and Whata heard the ute crunch into gear. With a jolt, they moved off, and Whata watched the weathered old oak bend overhead as they turned onto the road.

  It took maybe three minutes to get to Aunty’s place. She only lived around the corner, in a little yellow house. One time, Hemi and Whata had had a running race to Aunty’s house – it was that close. Hemi had won, but only just, and only because he was all grown up and Whata was still only eight. Hemi’s legs looked like his dad’s legs. Big and strong and muscly. And that’s what made him go so fast. Whata’s legs were still spindly sticks, and he thought they looked like daddy-long-legs legs, too skinny to be any good. He wondered when they would have another race, because he’d been practising at school and was sure he was way faster now. He could beat all of the girls, and most of the boys. But Hemi didn’t like playing with him so much these days; he was always so busy. Mum was busy too. How long did it take to move into a new house, anyway? They still had boxes sitting in the garage and they’d been here for a month.

  Whata lay back, pondering, looking up into the cloudless sky. Yellows and oranges leached out from the sun, warming him. The ute growled underneath him, making his feet vibrate. It tickled, and he scrubbed them quickly back and forth to ease the sensation. They went over a speed bump and Whata’s head bounced up and then down again, hard, making him groan and rub the tender spot on the back of his head. Any second now and they’d slow down and turn. He couldn’t hear the indicator though. It always clicked really loudly and far too quickly, but at the moment it stayed silent. Uncle wasn’t slowing down, either. In fact, Whata thought to himself, it felt like he was going faster. He gently pulled himself up and peered over the rim of the trailer. Aunty’s house was fading into the distance. Oh crap.

  Whata lay back down, his heart thumping fast, like a baby bird’s. He could hear it in his ears, and it felt like it was going to pop out of his chest. Oh man, I’m in trouble, he thought to himself. Hemi was right: Mum will be pissed. He could hear more traffic now, and his panic heightened. Looking up over his right shoulder, Whata could see upside-down traffic lights, lit up a glaring red. Click, click, click, click, click. The too-fast indicators were racing. He ventured another look up over the edge, and saw the motorway. Uncle Dave was heading onto the motorway. Maybe he should bang on the window, let Uncle know that he was back he
re. But then he’d be in big trouble. Uncle would give him a thump on the arse for sure. And an earful. And that would be nothing on what Mum would do.

  The ute grumbled, surging forward, making Whata roll onto his side and slam into the dusty wall. It was too late now. He’d just have to stay still and handle the jandal. He could hear the ute labouring faster and faster. He’d seen the ads on TV, so he crossed his fingers that Uncle Dave wouldn’t speed and they wouldn’t crash and he wouldn’t go flying out of the back and onto the road. There were no seat belts back here. Maybe it was time to close his eyes. He squeezed them tight until all he could see was darkness. And then he closed them tighter until he could see squiggly patterns roll across the blackness. Whata was scared. He wished Hemi had come with him. Or at least looked for him when he disappeared in the first place, during the long time it had taken Uncle Dave to get to the car. His brother wasn’t gonna be very happy with him either; he’d probably think Whata was a stupid little kid. He hoped Hemi wouldn’t tell his dad about it.

  Rolling on, with the whine of the wind in his ears, Whata took a peek with one eye. Then the other popped wide too. Street lights were flickering by, lining the way like soldiers.

  Just like Whata’s dad. Whata’s dad was a soldier. A soldier in the army. That’s why he was always gone. He had to go away to a country that was famous for its bickies. What type of bickies were they again? Whata was always forgetting. Oh yeah, afghans. His dad fought bad guys in the place where afghan bickies were invented. Whata hoped that when his dad next came back from afghan country, he’d bring back some real, authentic afghan bickies for him. He’d asked his mum if she thought he might be able to. She’d looked a little confused, Whata thought, and told him she’d get him one from Brighton’s Bakery on the corner the next day.

  Beneath him, Uncle Dave switched lanes. The indicator whirred again, like an angry wasp stuck in a jar, and the tyres did the double whump-whump, whump-whump as they drove over the little road bumps. Whata curled his legs up. It was beginning to get cooler. He wished he had his hoody on. The one that Dad had given him, with the yellow zip down the front, would be perfect. It had big pockets that he could keep his hands warm in.