Huia Short Stories 10

by Tihema Baker

  ‘So what happened to Ralph Gibson?’

  ‘Ralph was killed, that’s what happened. Dead. Gone. That’s all that matters. A good and decent man gone. That’s all you need to know, son. No death in war is a good death, and how we die is between us and our creator, no one else. We should remember the living man, not how he dies. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ he says, because without saying so, Mr Wallace has confirmed what Stumpy said; Ralph Gibson killed himself, and that’s private, not something you talk about because it’s upsetting to think Ralph went all through the war without being killed then in the end killed himself. But he still wants to know why.

  ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘And now I understand why Granddad talks to Ralph.’

  ‘Of course he talks to Ralph. They were the best of friends.’

  ‘And they rode their horses from Hastings to Wellington to join up.’

  ‘That’s right, and, you know, I remember when we were in Egypt those two exchanged a case of whiskey stolen from the officers’ mess for a pair of Arabians. We’d take the transport into town, but they’d ride their horses and tether them outside the bar. And, you know, they always paid a boy to stay with the horses.’

  ‘Good and decent men.’

  ‘Indeed, they were.’

  A Promise Fulfilled

  Erin Thompson-Pou

  If ever there was a day to call on one’s willpower, today would certainly be that day. Pity no one mentioned that when the sun kissed the earth with its morning glow.

  A swim session is in preparation. Only the most promising local athletes have been invited. Oh, and Shelley. A tomboy from the local neighbourhood. Ever rebellious to the rigidity of squads and clubs. But talented. Boy, is she talented!

  Of course this elite session has been set for a 5.45 a.m. start. For some strange reason swim coaches have always scheduled their trainings for such ridiculous times. Apparently it calls for a great start to the day. Shelley’s scowl begs to differ.

  Her good friend Jamie and her mum arrive early to pick her up, to make sure they arrive in good time. Jamie is so excited! She’s been swimming since before she could walk. Unlike Shelley, she’s tall and lanky, shoulders broad, athletic build. And flipper feet. Yup, she’s got those flipper feet. Shelley’s more of a robust kinda machine. Stocky, stout. Strong thighs. Chunky arms. She’s built for grunt.

  But today they’re on equal par. They’ve both been shoulder-tapped for this invite-only swim session. Shelley’s not sure why.

  The coach has arrived early. Around a quarter past five. Not that she needs to. She’s been running these squads for years, knows the drill like the back of her hand. But she likes to get a short swim in before the squad arrives. It’s her only chance in the day to touch the water.

  The coach is a little frumpy these days. Years of epic highs and lows have aged her. Grey hair now protrudes through a botched-up dye job. You can see the swimmer’s frame underneath her wobbles and jiggles, but at a first glance you would never believe that she was once an Olympic athlete.

  She climbs to the top of the starter block, dons her cap and goggles and slides effortlessly into the water. It barely breaks with her dive. As she glides under the water, bubbles rhythmically rising to the surface, she slowly releases her morning sigh and surges upwards and onwards. Her day has begun.

  There’s no one there at this time of the day. Only her, and that’s exactly how the coach likes it. This is her one time to be quiet, be relaxed, be easy. Lap after lap, her movement is like a well-executed waltz. Rhythmic, elegant, amazing. Though years have passed since her Olympic successes, time certainly hasn’t diminished the grace of her glide. If anything, it has enhanced it. Yes, she’s ready for the day.

  One by one, a troupe of eager children arrives at the pool. Sporting the latest swim gear, matching kitbags, the shoes, the goggles, the hairdo, the saunter. They’re all very confident. They’ve certainly already had many years of their parents telling them how amazing they are. ‘You could go all the way. Train hard. Do what your coach tells you. There’s no time to be tired, you could go all the way.’ You hear it enough times, you certainly believe it.

  Shelley rolls out of the car with her towel under her arm and a plastic bag with some clothes in it. Jandals, a hoody and a pair of board shorts over togs her mum picked up at the Sallies for $1.99. A bargain. Shelley’s not feeling so great. These kids look mean.

  ‘Hey Shelz,’ says Jamie. ‘I gotcha a swim cap if you want it? Oh, and some goggles too. Here ya go.’ Handing over her gear.

  ‘Gee, thanks. How do you wear these things?’ Shelley’s more nervous now. What am I doing here, she thinks to herself.

  ‘Don’t worry Shelz, I’ll help you.’ And they fuss over the cap and goggles till Shelley is all sucked up in this latex suction cup.

  Shelley follows closely behind Jamie to the pool. Jamie takes some time to catch up with her mates, all the while keeping an eye out for her good buddy. No one knows how excited Jamie is that her friend has been invited to swim today.

  The whistle blows, and all the kids hustle to the seats, sitting in an orderly way. Shelley parks herself at the end of the row, at least a metre away from the rest of the crew. The coach steps forward, eyeballing her latest protégés.

  ‘So,’ she exclaims. ‘So, you think you all can swim, huh?’ As confident as this bunch is, they sure don’t look it right now. The coach has a strong presence – not to mention her reputation for being a hard-arse. Her glare burns right through them all.

  ‘You!’ Coach has her eyes sharpened for the stout-looking thing at the end of the row. The one with the hand-me-down swimmers. ‘You! What are you doing here?’ Her tone of voice commands an answer, but Shelley’s throat has clammed up. Her palms are sweaty, and the hairs on the back of her neck have almost jumped out of her skin. She’s embarrassed.

  ‘Are you deaf, girl? Can you hear me?’

  ‘Um Coach, this is Shelley, she’s …’ Jamie is cut off before she can complete her polite introduction.

  ‘I wasn’t asking you. I wanna hear from this girl here. Why are you here?’ By now the coach has positioned herself directly in front of Shelley. C’mon Shelley, pipe up and answer the question. She reaches deep for an answer.

  ‘I got a letter, Miss.’ Shelley’s eyes are firmly fixed on the smooth calm water of the pool. She won’t dare look the coach in the eye.

  ‘A letter, eh? And what does this letter say? C’mon, now! I wanna know!’ The coach’s gaze is even more fixed. She’s picked her prey for the session.

  ‘My mama said that I got a letter, and to come to this swimming thing. I dunno why I got it, Miss. My mama just said.’ Rocking from side to side now, Shelley wishes she had just rolled over this morning and pretended she didn’t want to come here.

  ‘You dunno why you’re here. Hmm. So you’ve wasted everyone’s time. Great!’ The coach looks around at the rest of the young swimmers. ‘Do any of you know why you’re here?’ The room is dead silent. They’re all too scared to answer for fear of saying the wrong thing.

  ‘Hmm. Well, if you don’t know why you’re here, what did you come here for?’ The coach paces up and down the row. ‘You all think you’re here because you’re the best in your club. You think you’re the best in the region. You think you can be the best in the country. Ha ha ha ha. You think you’ve been hand-picked because you’re special, don’t ya?’ The coach is just warming up now. ‘You think YOU CAN SWIM!’

  There is utter confusion now. Some are wondering what planet this crazy woman is on. Others are challenging her words in their head, saying ‘I can swim, I can swim.’ Shelley just wishes she stayed in bed.

  ‘I’m gonna tell you why you’re here,’ says Coach. ‘No. I’m gonna tell you why SHE’S here.’

  No one ever likes to be singled out in a crowd. And the coach has her focus fixed on Shelley. For all the experience and technique that the other kids bring, Shelley brings something different. She is the sole p
urpose of this invite-only swim squad.

  Nine months prior, Shelley and her mama were heading north to a family festivity. A solo parent, Shelley’s mama had saved for months for everything they needed for the trip. Petrol, food, clothing and a small gift. They were prepared and excited and on their way up north.

  The trip was long. Shelley’s mama wanted to show her girl some sights on the way. They stopped to take in some wonderful views, including the best ice creams ever at an out-of-the-way dairy. Some good ole road journey fun.

  Travelling down a secluded windy road, they came across a horrific accident. A lady had swerved across the road, trying to dodge a cow. Her car had gone head-on into a tree. Who knows how long she had been there? It was getting cold and dark on this lonely road.

  ‘Stay here,’ said Shelley’s mama as she swung the car door open. She rushed to look over the scene and check whether anyone was in the car. ‘Oh my gosh, Shelley! Come here bub, quick!’ Shelley ran over to the crash scene, standing back a little, but curious to see what her mama had found.

  ‘Shelley, this lady is hurt. Really, really bad, darling. We need to help her.’ The woman had suffered some injuries to her face and legs. She looked dazed and uncomfortable. It scared Shelley. She had never seen anything like it.

  ‘Shelley,’ said her mama, ‘look at me, honey.’ Not really paying attention, Shelley drew closer to her mama. They have a close bond. She trusts Mama.

  ‘Shelley, we need to help this lady. I want you to do something for me, but you have to be very brave.’ Her mama looked her in the eye with conviction, trying not to look overawed. ‘OK, Mama,’ Shelley said.

  ‘This lady needs help from the hospital, but I will have to drive up to the top of the hill to ring them. If we don’t ring the ambulance, this lady may get very sick. I want you to stay with her for me, please. I promise I won’t be long. Stay with her and hold her hand. Her name is Chalice.’

  Tears started to well in Shelley’s eyes. She didn’t want to stay with this strange lady, in a strange car, in a strange place. She couldn’t even tell what the woman looked like. Her face was covered in blood. But she trusted Mama, and agreed to stay.

  Shelley’s mama made sure they were safe, and raced off in the car. Cell phone coverage was at least five minutes away.

  It was quiet, although the woman’s breathing seemed loud. She was struggling with some pain in her leg, and grunted every now and then. She drew some strength to talk.

  ‘What’s your name, young lady?’.

  ‘Shelley.’

  ‘And where are you from?’

  ‘A small place. Called Cavern.’

  ‘Oooh. I know that place. I grew up there too.’ Chalice shuffled a little to try and get comfortable.

  Shelley examined the car, and how it carefully moulded to the tree that brought it to a halt. ‘What happened, lady?’ The question that had burned in her since they had arrived at the scene.

  ‘Oh dear. I wasn’t careful, that’s what. I took my eye off the road.’ Chalice’s discomfort seemed to irk her even more. But she was thankful for some company, and didn’t want to scare this young child any more than she already was.

  ‘Where were you going?’

  ‘To a place called Kaupapa,’ said Chalice. ‘I teach people to swim, you see.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Shelley. ‘Sounds like fun.’

  They sat in silence for a short while. Chalice’s strength was wavering. Talking seemed like a huge task.

  ‘My mama says I can swim. I can be whoever I wanna be. I love swimming,’ Shelley declared. ‘I watch the kids at the pool all the time. They look like dolphins playing in the water. Pretty.’

  Chalice grinned. She understood. ‘You don’t swim as well?’

  ‘No,’ said Shelley. ‘No, I don’t swim. Not with those kids. My mama and I, we don’t have a lot. A little bit of money. We saved up for this trip to go see my family. They live in Kaupapa too. But I can swim!’ Shelley is excited about the topic. The water is the one thing that sets her spirit alight. ‘I dive in the water, and watch the bubbles rise to the top. It’s so pretty.’

  Chalice listened intently. This kid had a wealth of dreams.

  ‘My mama says, one day she will save up for me to go to lessons. Then I can look like those dolphins playing in the water. I love my mama.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ said Chalice. ‘I’m sure you do.’

  The ambulance arrived, Shelley’s mama following closely behind. She ran to her mama’s embrace and watched closely as the paramedics took Chalice from her vehicle to the ambulance.

  Chalice signalled for Shelley. ‘Shelley, I think I will be able to help you. You will swim like the dolphins. I promise.’ With a comforting smile, Chalice was whisked away. Shelley and her mama continued their journey.

  Shelley’s mind races back.

  Sitting there, at the edge of her seat. Shelley remembers that day. ‘Chalice?’ She looks up at the coach. A detailed crease lines the side of her head where she’d once suffered a head injury.

  ‘To swim like the dolphins. This is why you are all here. This is what you will learn today.’ The coach breaks a slight smile and winks at Shelley. She’s finally able to fulfil a promise.

  Shelley’s heart warms, and she firmly studies the face of this confident woman who she met months past in a beat-up car on the side of the road.

  Among the dolphins, Shelley unleashes her fins. Focusing on the coach’s every word, she glides and soars, watching bubbles rise to the surface.

  He Tai Ope

  Karuna Thurlow

  Ko te aroha anō he wai e pupū ake ana

  He awa e māpuna mai ana i roto i te whatumanawa

  Ko tōna mātāpuna he hōhonu ā ina ia ka rere anō

  He tai timu, he tai pari, he tai ope, he tai roa, he tai nui

  —Te Wharehuia Milroy

  ‘E hika! Tō hia kore kē i whakamā!’ Koirā tāhaku i roko ai mai kō atu i te taiepa nei. Ko te reo tērā a tōhoku tuahine, e tiori haere ana. Kai tūhaha ana au, ka rere mai tētehi hū, tata tukia tōhoku pane. Arā anō te auē a te Piki rā.

  ‘Me tō mōhio tonu kai reira a Takaroa piriwhare – tē āta huna i tā kōrua mahi!’ Whākanakana nei ōhoku kamo i tēnā; te āhua nei ko tāhana tāne tāhana te whakaparahako atu rā. He kutu pī noa ō te tāne, tē roko i a āu he kupu ake āhana.

  ‘Tō tenetene, e hoa!’ Pakaru mai ana aua kupu, kātahi ka puta mai a Piki i te waharoa kai mua nei i a āu, rua mita pea te tawhiti nei. Pītoritori te wai i ōhona kamo, tē paku ririki ki ōna pāpārika. Whērā tōhona āhua mai rānō. Kātahi a ia ka huri, tere tou nei te whanatu atu rā.

  Kōtahi atu au ki te waharoa rā, ka kuhu ki tō rāua kāika. Tērā a Koni e tū atu rā rā. Puku ana te rae, pekea ōhona rika, me he pohū tāria nei te uruka mai o te kāpura kai te pito o te taura. Me aha kē oti? Ko tāhaku nei, he mihi atu.

  ‘E te tua. Tēnā koe.’ Ka unuhia tōhoku whareama, ka tāroi atu te rika marino. Ka harirū māua.

  ‘Kia ora koe.’

  ‘Pēhea?’

  ‘Heoti anō.’

  ‘Kai kōnei āhaku irāmutu?’

  ‘E kao. Kai te karuhi o tōhoku hākoro mō te wiki mutuka nei. Kuhu mai e hoa, ko koropupū te wai.’

  Takitaro mārie, ka noho māua ki te kāuta, he ō moho e hora ana ki te raumaka, he kapu kāwhe ki te rika. Ko tau anō tōhona mauri, tāhaku i kite ai. E tohe ana au ki a āu anō, me aha ānāianei. Neke atu i te kahuru tau rāua ko tōhoku tuahine e piri ana, ā, kātahi anō kia tupu he kakari whēnei nā kai waekapū i a rāua, rātou ko āhaku nei irāmutu.

  Ā kati, i ruka i te aroha ki a rātou kā mokopuna rā, me kōrero au, ka tika.

  ‘E Koni, tēnā, whakamārama mai he aha rā kōrua i tohe ai?’ Tiro kau atu ana au ki a ia. Ka mapu ia, ka miria tōhona rae.

  ‘Wii... Nōhoku te hē, e hoa. Nāhaku anō tāhaku raru i kimi.’

  ‘Tino pēhea nei?’ I taua wā tou, ko toko mai he whakaaro ōhoku, ehara i te mea pai ki a au.

&
nbsp; ‘I taka au ki te hē. I paku mahimahi nei māua ko tētahi atu.’

  ‘Hika!’ I kōnā, ka pūkauri mai te riri kai roto i a au. ‘Tō poroheahea hoki!’

  ‘Tō ihu!’ Tūtū nei māua, kainamu nei ki te meke. Ka paku whai whakaaro au. Ekari anō te tūpore i te whakapātaritari. I te koreka ōhoku i manako kia hē kē atu te raru, ka whakatakamanawa au, ā, ka noho. Kīhai i taro, ka noho hoki a ia. Mārakerake te kitea, ehara i te haka tērā kōwhirika ōhona. E roko tou ana au ki te hūkeikei e kau mai ana ki roto, ekari mā tēnā ka aha.

  ‘Taku hē,’ tāhaku e mea atu nei.

  ‘Ko riri katoa a Piki. Koianei te wā tuatahi ko kitea tēnei āhua nōhona.’ Kāore āhaku kupu. Ka noho wahakū noa māua, ka inu. Āwhiowhio nei ōhoku whakaaro, ekari he pai ake pea te pupuri mō te wā nei. Hai aha hoki te pahupahu. Taro kau iho, ko mahiti te kāwhe, ā, ka mea atu au,

  ‘Ko haere au. Māhaku pea e kimi i a Piki.’

  ‘Āe rā. Hai kōnei.’

  Ka waiho au i kā whakaaro e pā ana ki te tokorua rā, kia tā te manawa, kia tāoki, kia mahuru anō ai tōhoku hirikapo. Ka hoko kai, ka waihape atu ki te kaika. Kai reira kē a Piki. Ka aumihi atu au, kātahi ka huri noa ki te tunu kai. I muri tata iho, ka tahuri ia ki te āwhina mai. Ka tapahia, ka whakaranumia, ka tunua ētehi kai, kātahi māua ka noho ki te paparahua kai ai. Kāore he paku kupu ōhona. Ka mutu, nāhaku kē te kōrero i tīmata, me tāhaku hokehokeā i tērā!

  ‘Tuahine. Nei ko māua ko Tarika hai hoa mōhou. Whakapuakina mai ōu aha rānei, mā tāua nei e rūnaka, e kōrero.’

  ‘I kōrero kōrua?’ Ko te āhua o tōhona reo, anō nei ko harakukutia tōhona korokoro. Auē te aroha mōhona me te pāmamae tārake ana te kitea.

  ‘Āe, paku nei.’

  ‘Nā, kai te mōhio koe. Ko piri atu a ia ki tētahi atu wahine. Nāhana anō māua nei i māwehe.’