Weeping Waters

by Nicholson, Anne Maria

  A thickly made-up bottle-blonde rises to her feet.

  ‘Now there’s a piece of work,’ Sam mutters to Frances. ‘The deputy mayor, Careena Price. She knows what side her bread’s buttered on. She campaigned on opening up the national park for more development. She got heaps of dough from the firearm and four-wheel-drive lobbyists to get her to the town hall. The gossip is she’s extremely close, if you know what I mean, to a lot of her, er, backers.’

  ‘I think I get your drift,’ Frances whispers.

  Smoothing her short skirt, the woman calls on those at the meeting to demand that the government immediately starts excavation works on the summit. ‘I’m extremely disappointed in this government,’ she says, her voice wavering. ‘They don’t care what we think. We’re the ones that have to live here and I think we have to demand that the threat is removed completely. They’re hell-bent on letting this mudslide, this lahar, just do, just do whatever it likes…’

  Some of the audience titter as the fledgling politician nearly falls off her platform heels.

  ‘You can laugh all you like!’ she screams, jabbing her finger at some of the environmental representatives as she sits down, ‘but we’re not going to take it.’

  Theo moves to the microphone again. The blood is rising up his neck and his tanned face is reddening and sweating.

  ‘I’m sorry this meeting has become so divided. I just want to emphasise that some of the speakers here tonight, in my view, have been recklessly alarmist. Once the early warning system is installed there’ll be no chance of a repeat of Tangiwai. While we of course took into account opposition from Maori, that wasn’t the only reason we have chosen this course. I for one would not want to see bulldozers at the Crater Lake. And of course this would severely jeopardise the World Heritage listing of the park and quite frankly that would benefit nobody.’

  ‘Sit down, egg-head!’ somebody at the back yells.

  Frances, sickened by the disrespect, wants to go to Theo to show her support but makes herself stay where she is. She glances at Sam and is surprised to see he is smiling to himself, seeming to enjoy Theo’s discomfort. Something about his expression reminds her of Carmody. Then she remembers: he’s the man who was in the café with Sam when she drove past with the real-estate agent.

  ‘Madam Chair, can I have the floor?’ Just as she is about to challenge Sam, she hears a new speaker. A tall well-built man with short black hair emerges from one side of the hall and walks to the microphone.

  ‘I would like to tell the meeting about the Maori position,’ he says, looking directly at the audience. ‘My name is Tori Maddison and I’ve been asked to speak on behalf of the local iwi. For centuries we were the sole custodians of different parts of this region of Aotearoa–New Zealand. Ngati Rangi on the southern reaches of the mountain, Ngati Tahu the north-eastern reaches, and extending to the western and eastern boundaries, the ancestral domain of Ngati Tuwharetoa.’

  Tori uses his hands to emphasise his words and Frances is immediately taken by his strength and confidence as an orator.

  ‘We revere these mountains as we revere our ancestors. Like our ancestors, we believe these mountains symbolise nature’s authority over us. They are ageless and beside them, man is puny and insignificant. We have the duty to protect the total environment as all life originated from the same parents, from Rangi of the heavens above and…’

  ‘Sit down, we know what you lot think—all hocus pocus talk and no action,’ says one of Careena Price’s supporters to the cheers of a group around him. ‘What about Tangiwai? Do you just want to let it happen again?’

  ‘Please don’t interrupt the speakers,’ the chairwoman says.

  ‘As I was saying, we must protect the total environment from Rangi of the heavens above and Papa the earth mother below. Ruapehu is a symbol of the power of creation and is of great spiritual importance to us. While we respect the Pakeha view, we state most strongly that we will resist any moves to interfere with the mana of Ruapehu. The Crater Lake is the most sacred place for our people. We oppose any machinery being used up there or any alteration of the natural landscape of the crater rim.’

  When the chairwoman asks Tori if the iwi support extending the early warning system and building a dam to divert lahar waters away from the trout catchment, Frances watches his expression.

  ‘We support the early warning system in principle and we’ll sit down and talk about other solutions as they arise.’ She’s relieved to hear his response but notices that each time he makes a statement he glances for reassurance to the group of his friends observing him closely from the aisle. ‘But we will never agree to bombing or bulldozers on the mountain summit. And can I remind you all that one of our ancestors, the great chief Te Heuheu, gifted these mountains to preserve them for the national heritage for generations to come. I quote for you from the Book of Proverbs: “Ki te kahore he whakakitenga, ka kore te iwi e tupato—Where there is no vision, the people perish”.’

  As he leaves the microphone, the audience again divides itself between cheers and abuse.

  ‘He’s a real troublemaker,’ Sam whispers to Frances. ‘Give him a wide berth.’

  Before she can reply she hears her name called out. Although used to delivering lectures on her work, Frances is apprehensive, but when Theo motions her forward and introduces her to the meeting, she knows she can’t back out.

  ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen…’ As she begins her address, one of the hecklers yells out, ‘Sit down, we don’t need any Yanks telling us what to do.’ He is rewarded with some supportive guffaws from his cheer squad but otherwise the audience is paying attention to the newest recruit.

  Feeling her heart thumping, but determined to finish the briefing, Frances continues. ‘I’ve personally seen the effectiveness of acoustic microphones monitoring volcanic activity on a number of mountains. They give the most advanced warning ever of an eruption or a lahar. I’m confident they’ll work very well on Mount Ruapehu and give vital extra time for evacuations. The system won’t prevent these things happening, but it will give us time to warn anyone who might be in danger to evacuate the area safely.’

  ‘I’ve heard there could be only a minute or two’s warning. How can you expect people to evacuate that quickly?’ a voice calls out. ‘Ski like a bat out of hell!’ another yells and the audience starts to laugh.

  ‘In the event of an eruption or a lahar, we have a comprehensive network of people who will be involved in contacting everyone in the region. The new microphones, or geophones, give us extra time. There are loudspeakers all over the ski fields and safe areas to gather on the slopes. For the wider area, it takes a couple of hours for a lahar to travel as far as Tangiwai and I understand that’s enough time for people to react and leave the immediate area.’

  ‘What about the train? We don’t want another Tangiwai disaster.’

  ‘No…I’m sure. No one wants that, least of all me,’ Frances says, trying to control her now quavering voice. ‘The railways have assured us no train would venture onto that line if there’s a lahar. There would be plenty of time to stop any train.’

  ‘Miss Nelson…’

  Frances is startled to see that Tori Maddison has risen to ask her a question and is staring at her intently.

  ‘I would like you to tell us what your opinion is about further intervention at the summit. Do you support bulldozing, bombing or suchlike?’

  ‘Ah…’ Frances hesitates, struggling to find the words, trying to appear composed when her mind is full of doubts. She feels both Theo and Sam staring at her and wishes she could be anywhere but in this hall. ‘No…that is I agree with Mr Rush. That is our united view. No intervention. Better early warning systems and monitoring.’

  She sees Tori sitting back and whispering to one of his Maori friends. As she returns to her seat she tries to avoid eye contact with Sam, whose face is wrinkled with amusement. She ignores him when he mutters to her under his breath, ‘Your first lion attack!’

 
She catches Tori Maddison watching her but he quickly averts his eyes.

  The meeting ends in an impasse and the crowd drifts out into the darkness. Packing his briefing papers, Theo thanks Frances. ‘Sorry to put you through that. You performed well.’

  ‘You looked pretty upset, Theo. Is it always like this?’

  ‘Whenever Carmody is on the block it is. He never worries about twisting a few facts if it suits his purpose. He’s been working behind the scenes to try and railroad the government’s decision not to intervene.’

  She is about to mention seeing him with Sam but Theo is already heading towards the door. ‘I’m sorry if I have to dash off but I’m feeling exhausted after this week and Sue’s getting annoyed by all the long hours I’ve been working. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  A few minutes later, after answering a few questions from a woman who approaches her, Frances leaves the hall.

  She hears them before she sees them. A short distance from the door in the half-light she sees Sam pointing at Tori Maddison, who is backing away.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ she asks, walking over.

  ‘Nothing for you to get involved with, Frances. I’m just telling this guy here to come into the twenty-first century.’ As Sam turns to leave he offers to drive her home.

  ‘No, I have my own car,’ she says as he storms off.

  Tori is looking at her and suddenly she feels uncomfortable about being associated with Sam’s behaviour.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s Mr Maddison, isn’t it? I’m not sure what I’ve just walked into here.’

  ‘You’re obviously not from around here. Don’t worry, we’re used to those kinds of insults. As you’ve probably guessed, Sam Hawks and I go back a bit. We have a history. He’s come to some of our meetings before and, how can I say, we agree to disagree.’

  ‘Well I’m sympathetic to what you were saying there,’ Frances says, ‘but I know very little about Maori beliefs and I know a lot about the Tangiwai disaster. I can understand why people are afraid. I suppose I’m also a little bit on Sam’s side because no one wants to see a lot of people killed if we can prevent it.’

  ‘Ah, someone else who thinks they have the power to match the mountain.’ His deep brown eyes stare at her with mocking amusement.

  Frances shifts uncomfortably. ‘No, I don’t think that at all. But there may be a middle ground. Do all your people agree with each other?’

  ‘Mostly…’ He hesitates. ‘The ones that think deeply about it, at least. But we don’t agree on everything. For example, the bund, to divert the waters away from Lake Taupo. Some of them don’t want that either. They see that as interference. I’m not sure about that myself.’ Tori sees he has her attention and is enjoying the moment. ‘Maybe I could be persuaded,’ he says.

  ‘Well, I’d like to learn more about your beliefs. Maybe we could swap some of our expertise one day,’ she laughs, easing the tension.

  He chuckles. ‘Maybe, maybe not. I’ll probably see you around.’

  He walks away with what she thinks is a bit of a swagger to join his friends who are waiting quietly for him by the road. He looks embarrassed when he turns back and sees she is still standing there. They pile into his four-wheel-drive, and as the night swallows them Frances feels like she has just had the tiniest glimpse into another world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The trouble is none of them want to work. They just want everything handed to them on a plate, don’t you agree?’ On her way home from work a few days later, Frances is hoping to slip past her other neighbour, Iris, but the pensioner is on the driveway where she is planting bulbs in time for a spring flowering. Once Iris learned Frances was working on the crater problem and involved in consultation with Maori, she saw her as a conduit for her prejudices.

  And she wasn’t the only one: Frances has noticed a division in the town in attitudes towards local Maori. ‘I’m not racist, but…’ was often the opening sentence to a stream of vitriol about land ownership, government grants, fishing royalties and other rights won back after decades of colonial dispossession.

  She is especially anxious to escape her neighbour this evening. She has invited Shona over for drinks with Bill who has just arrived on leave for a few days from the Waiouru Army Camp. Minutes after she is safely inside she hears Bill’s vehicle pull into the driveway and smiles as Iris’ pained expression follows him up to Shona’s place.

  A few minutes later when Frances opens the door she is taken aback to see Tori Maddison standing there next to Bill and Shona, his hands buried in the pockets of his fishing jacket.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind one extra, Frances,’ says Shona. ‘This is Tori, Bill’s cousin. They were just catching up with each other while Bill was in town and I said you wouldn’t mind him joining us.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she says, ushering them in. ‘Actually we’ve already met, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yep, it’s a pretty small town. Hope you’re OK with this, Miss Nelson?’

  ‘Please, call me Frances. Of course, come in.’

  Bill hugs Frances warmly and immediately throws himself into a soft padded armchair, exhausted from a week of training new army recruits. Tori accepts the offer of a beer and sits tentatively on the edge of a chair on the other side of the room.

  ‘You should see the latest lot!’ Bill scoffs. ‘Some of them had dreadlocks, others shaved heads. Most of them can’t run to save themselves. Can’t see them sticking it out.’ Raising his beer to his lips, his bulging arm muscles twitching beneath his fitting shirt, he starts cackling. ‘And the piercings. Pierced this, that and the other bloody thing when they arrive. I made them whip the lot out. One of them even had something called a Prince Albert through his dick.’

  They all roar with laughter as Shona presses for more information. ‘And what is a Prince Albert?’

  ‘Well,’ Bill says, gathering them in as he puts on a conspiratorial voice, ‘you’ve seen those rings they put through bulls’ noses. It’s like that. Poked through the end of the penis with a chain attached to it to pull the male member to the left or the right. Named after the original prince who, I’ve heard on good authority, liked to dress left.’

  ‘Always thought those royals were kinky,’ Shona says as she sidles up to Bill and grabs him around the hips. ‘And what about you, Sergeant, where do you like to let your little fella go?’

  Bill spins her around laughing. ‘I like to let the big fella go where he wants to. And don’t you know it!’

  Frances catches Tori’s eye as the couple kiss each other passionately. He can see her blushing and rescues her by asking if she’d like him to pour them another drink.

  Bill asks for another beer, then downs a second pint of cold Waikato Bitter in one long swallow. ‘Needed that, haven’t had a beer for a week.’

  Not to be deterred, Shona persists with her tease. ‘I’ve had a bit of a drought for a week too,’ she says, provocatively licking her top lip. She sits on his lap and pulls at a greenstone pendant around his neck. Within minutes, the pair make an excuse to leave and soon Frances and Tori can hear shrieks of laughter through the walls. Frances is furious with her neighbour but helpless to do anything about it.

  Struggling for something to say, she puts on a CD and the music drowns out the rising sounds of passion next door.

  ‘Hope you’re hungry?’ she asks. ‘I’ve bought food. Looks like we’ll have to eat this on our own.’ When he nods, she starts to unwrap packages she has picked up from the delicatessen: cocktail onions, fresh pâté and crackers. She adds kalamata olives, sticks of carrots and celery and urges him to eat.

  ‘Good kai,’ he remarks, popping an olive into his mouth and plastering some of the pâté onto the cracker.

  ‘Good what?’

  ‘Kai, food,’ he smiles at her. ‘Good word for you to learn, especially when you’re hungry.’ He eats the cracker quickly and has another. ‘What is it?’ he asks.

  ‘Duck pâté. What do you think?’

  ‘Well,
I’ve shot a few ducks in my day and eaten a few but none of them tasted like this. Not bad.’

  She shows him a bottle of wine, labelled Mission Sauvignon Blanc. ‘Would you like to try some? The man in the wine shop told me this is made in some old monastery in the North Island. Do you think that’s true?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll try some,’ he says and sips from the glass. ‘Could be true,’ he says. ‘Though I don’t know if there are many monks left.’ He sips some more then pauses and starts to laugh as they hear a loud thump through the wall. ‘Mind you, I’m feeling a bit like one myself at the moment.’

  Frances laughs and for a moment envies Shona her casual attitude to sex.

  Although she knows so little about him, Frances feels oddly at ease with Tori. ‘You’re at an advantage,’ she tells him. ‘You know what I do but I don’t know anything about you—just your ancestors,’ she adds with a grin.

  ‘I’m a fishing guide. Pure and simple.’

  ‘I suppose I could have guessed you’d be a man of the land—or at least the water.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t always that way. I guess I’ve come full circle. I used to fish for fun but now it’s a business as well.’

  ‘What did you do beforehand?’

  ‘For years I lived in Auckland, in the city, away from here. I always seemed to be working hard. Too hard.’ He punches his other palm as he relives the days of hard manual labour. ‘Construction and road jobs. It was like a prison and I thought, I don’t want to get to fifty and still be working like this. So when I came back here I thought about a fishing business. But although I knew about the fishing I didn’t have a clue about running a business. So I took some courses and here I am.’

  ‘You look pretty relaxed. It must be a good life.’

  ‘It’s so much of my life. I used to live to work. Now I can work to live. If I don’t feel like working I don’t have to. But when I do there’s always people who want me to take them out fishing.’