Ao Toa

by Cathie Dunsford

  Iri watches the caterpillar chewing away the ends of her basil leaves. “And you, old fella, you’re doomed to be obliterated too. There’ll be no right-to-lifers holding placards for you.”

  Koa massages Iri’s shoulders, feeling the tension and strain within her body. Suddenly, the screen lights up again. She sees the tip of Kuini’s nose as Cowrie motions towards her, and then the camera points into the cave again. It is lit up like a candy factory and everything seems to be back in motion. If they can only get Cowrie to face in toward the filing cabinet again and see if they can read the labels, then they’d be able to zoom in and have the evidence they need. But a big man stands between her and the files, his back to them. After a while, he turns around and she recognises the face. “Oh, God, no. Let it not be true.” Koa stares at the screen in disbelief as the knife of betrayal rips through her heart.

  “Mere, come and look at this. It’s so true of Cowrie, you will be blown away.” Maata has a set of cards laid out in a shell pattern and the daily meditation card is placed face up to the skies.

  “I like the illustration very much. But what is it about, Maata?”

  “It’s a new kind of Tarot deck that offers inner guidance. Waka got it for me at Rawene Wholefoods, y’know, where the books are at the back of the store looking out to the sea.”

  “Ah, yes. I have seen them there. How sweet of Waka to do that. He must be really fond of you, eh?”

  Maata pretends she does not hear the question and focuses back on the cards. “This is the Turtle Card. And I pulled it today by chance. I asked the deck about future directions for me, for us, for the planet, and this is what came up.”

  “You could ask your own ancestors for such advice and get guidance as well, Maata.”

  “I know – but this is connected to us. It comes from American Indian teachings.”

  “Via some Pakeha fellas, no doubt.”

  “Maybe – but it relates to Waka and me more than some of the old fellas rabbiting on here.”

  Mere sighs. So this is what it has come to. Well, maybe the young get their information from different sources, but it still might be the ancient wisdom. Who am I to dictate to them?

  Mere listens politely as Maata reads to the end of the text. “There is some wisdom in there, Maata. You may need protection working at Flyworks and for Mr Pratt. Take note of what they say. And also their warning for us to maintain our sacred connexion to the earth. Papatuanuku. That’s vital always, but especially at this time.”

  “I think I’d like to be a turtle, like Cowrie,” says Maata, looking out to the sea rolling gently in beyond the herbs and dunes.

  “You have to earn that right, Maata. Or you’ll be, what do these fellas call it, a ‘space cadet’. We’ve got too many of those wandering about the earth already, like Bush and bin Laden. We need to be truly grounded. Both feet firmly on the earth.”

  “Or maybe one foot on the earth and one in the sea, like Turtle Woman, eh?”

  “Laukiamanuikahiki? Ka pae. We could do with her protection right now. I hope you pulling this card is not a sign that Cowrie is in danger. I don’t think I could ever go through that again.”

  “No, she’s protected, Mere. It says so here. And you told me before to have faith in this.”

  “So I did, Maata.” Mere sighs and returns to her email, her head full of turtles and sea creatures. First up is a message from Greenpeace. Mere reads it then prints the message for Maata. She takes it to her.

  “Here, Young Turtle. You can do something constructive for your sister Humpbacks and Minkes.”

  “Thanks. Mere.” Maata takes the sheet of paper and reads:

  The so-called “scientific” whaling fleet is again making preparations to head to the waters around Antarctica to conduct its annual lethal hunt. Greenpeace around the world will be taking part in a global day of action at Japan’s embassies and consulates to call on the Prime Minister of Japan to stop the fleet from departing. In New Zealand we met with a representative in Auckland this morning. You can see photos on our website now.

  We need your help to give this message a strong voice from people all around the world. Please add your voice to this call by visiting: http://www.greenpeace.org.nz/action

  In 2002 the International Whaling Commission will hold its annual meeting in Shimonoseki – the home of the whaling fleet. Greenpeace will be campaigning in many ways to ensure that this meeting is a victory for whales not whalers. An international Global Whales Action Team has been set up to allow you to get ongoing updates on the campaign and receive further action alerts as we need your help on the campaign.

  You can subscribe to the Global Action Team or send a whales e-card to a friend now at: http://www.greenpeace.org.nz/action

  Thanks,

  Malcolm Wren

  Greenpeace Aotearoa / New Zealand

  P.S. There’s also been some significant developments in the GE campaign so we’ll be sending you out an update on that shortly.

  “That’s great – I can email out cards to all those on our GE network and also my friends.”

  “Go for it. I’ve nearly finished on the net today and you can use it while I wander over to the nursery for an update on progress from Iri and Koa.” Mere returns to the screen and Maata to the whaling sheet. She begins writing down the names of all her friends on the net whom she can send e-cards to and recalls she has the addresses of parliamentarians from the GE-Free Coalition site. She will send them cards as well. She’ll sign them all Eco-Turtle. That can be her code from now on. She can’t wait to tell Cowrie she’s now formed a new clan of turtles.

  By the time Mere arrives at the nursery, Koa is huddled in Iri’s arms and both look as if they have been crying. Mere thinks the worst. “How are they? Any news?” She reminds herself to stay calm this time.

  “Yeah, and it’s not good,” replies Iri, her eyes diverted to Koa as if a sign of warning.

  “Why?” asks Mere.

  “There’s been a terrible act of betrayal.”

  This sounds serious, thinks Mere, working hard not to panic. “How come?”

  “Do you feel up to explaining, Koa?”

  Koa nods her head quietly. “You’d better take a seat, Mere. Use my old armchair.”

  Mere walks slowly to the chair, knowing she must this time brace herself for the worst. Iri and Koa are seldom so bleak and serious. Something terrible must have happened in the cave.

  Koa begins slowly telling a story that does not seem to have anything to do with their dilemma. Mere knows better than to interrupt, but she feels a dread gripping her throat. Why are they diverting her attention now, at a time like this?

  “I first met Bruce when we were working in the botanical gardens. He was an angel and it was he who alerted me to the dangers of the toxins we were using then. I had been quite ill from pesticide poisoning but had no real idea how dangerous these chemicals are. He set me on the path to reading Meriel Watts’ The Poisoning of New Zealand and …”

  Mere finds it hard to concentrate as Koa continues, the tension rising to her neck and causing her head to spin.

  “… the results of the herbicide tests showed that the Roundup had caused the haemorrhage in my right eye and it also affected Bruce badly too. That’s why I cannot believe he could be such a traitor. We were lovers a while, and then he moved to Auckland to work for a large firm. I was so rapt for him. He always said he’d save the airfare and fly me up to join him. But I never heard from him again after that, never saw him until …” Koa’s voice trails off.

  Mere realises she is in pain and needs to keep talking, but wonders how this relates to the expedition to the caves. She figures only patience will provide her answer.

  “Until today, on the video. He’s working for the enemy. He’s a part of the team cloning human embryos. I cannot believe I have made love to a person capable of being such a monster.” She bursts into tears and Iri holds her closely.

  “What team? What embryos? What are you talking about
, Koa?” Mere cannot hold back any longer.

  Irihapeti begins telling her about what they have seen so far on screen and the revelation from Kuini in her whispering to Cowrie and Moana. That they have no visual proof as yet.

  “But what about the wahine? Are they safe?”

  “We think so. They arrived at the main cave, although Cowrie was attacked by a weta on the way. We saw it in the corner of the screen as she abseiled down the rock. It took a while to figure out what those huge barbs taking up the entire side of the screen were, and once I realised, I gulped. I knew she’d freak out.”

  “So what happened?”

  “She remained quite calm, though it was clear she was utterly relieved once the weta jumped off her at the end of the journey.”

  “You mean it stayed on all the way down? I don’t believe you!” Mere tries to make light of this to cheer up Koa, but it does not work. By now, she knows they must be okay, at least.

  “Yep. Our turtle slunk into her protective shell and made it back to shore, yet again,” jokes Iri. “And I bet we’ll never hear the end of it when she returns, either!” She picks up on Mere’s attempt to be light-hearted to divert Koa’s attention away from the pain she feels.

  “For sure! So where are they now?” asks Mere.

  “Still in the cave.”

  “Are they safe?”

  “As far as we know. The lights went out for a while and we could just hear a few hushed whispers. They came on again and we got a good look inside the cave – but then this big Bruce fella took up the screen and hid the file names from us. The next thing, he turned around and Koa got a squizzy at his mug. She’s been in shock ever since.”

  Mere considers the words a while and then breaks the welcome silence. “Koa. I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say.” Koa looks up as she speaks. She has a deep respect for Mere and needs her words at this moment. “Uenuku-kopako kai awe whare: Uenuku-Kopako eats the soot from his own house.” If this man is a betrayer, he will reap the rewards of his betrayal, he will eat the soot from his house, live to swallow poisoned food on his land. But this does not mean the light cannot shine within him. Maui was a Light-Bearer. You will find many kinds of light-bearers throughout your lifetime. Some will seem to be true, others false. Sometimes the false ones turn around and commit acts of truth. Sometimes the true ones turn their backs and commit acts of betrayal. Maui himself changes shape to spy on his parents. You could say Cowrie and Kuini and Moana are committing acts of spying right now too. It does not automatically make them or their cause wrong. The true test comes in whether they cut off from their own conscience or stay tuned to it. The true test is in their chosen life path. It is possible to change from acts of betrayal to acts of truth.”

  Koa nods, still listening hard.

  “Remember Sahara’s mother, Elizabeth Green?”

  “Koa was not at Te Kotuku during the Moruroa peace protests,” Iri reminds her.

  “Okay. Then I’ll tell you. She was a good mother to her kids, but then found herself struggling to cope financially. She’d been an anti-nuclear activist but ended up translating for the French Secret Service, and eventually being offered a job as an administrator in their spying unit. The crunch came for her over the French nuclear tests at Moruroa when her daughter, Sahara, whom she’d not seen in years, was videoed during the protest action at Moruroa. Elizabeth realised she could never live with herself if she committed her daughter to prison for standing up for what she believed in, just as she’d taught her to.”

  “So what did she do?”

  “She handed in her resignation, edited the videos that were supposed to dob the protesters in so that their actions but not their faces were shown, refused to edit out the pathetic attempts of the French agents to capture them, and sent the videos to the media. Once they were shown, the French had blown their cool and everyone knew the Greenpeace story was valid. Through her actions, and those of others, the truth got out.”

  “Wow. That’s inspiring.”

  “Yes – and what you need to remember is that this Bruce could change also. He does not have to take the big money and follow this path of destruction, not unless he has already lost his soul to International Seed Corporation.” Mere hopes her message is getting through.

  Koa looks up at Mere. “You mean I could do something to change his mind, stop the experiments?”

  “Maybe so. You’re in a stronger position to do this than any of us. What do you think your chances are?”

  “I’d need to meet him on neutral territory. I guess I could find out stuff even if I cannot get him to change his mind and join our side, eh?”

  “No harm in trying, Koa. It’d be apt redemption for his betrayal and a way you could also get him to redeem those corporate acts of betrayal in lying globally that these poisons were harmless, just as they are trying to convince us that GE is harmless.”

  Koa feels a surge of energy race through her body, and filter through to every cell inside her. She has not felt this alive since she was first poisoned. Finally, a chance to redeem this terrible attempt to kill her spirit and body. She jumps up and hugs Mere. Iri is stunned at her transformation and inwardly thanks Mere also. For the first time in ages, Koa’s eyes are alight, her soul on fire. Iri can see the joy springing up within her, like a new sprout responding to fresh air and clean water, shooting its head above the earth joyously. Koa is Joy. Joy is Koa. Just with a suggestion, with hope, with a scent of truth in the air and a chance to redeem such evil.

  “How’s Cowrie and the others? Have they got into the cave yet?” Maata’s eyes eagerly wait Mere’s response.

  “Yes. They have reached the cave safely and can see into it from a ledge near the top of the tunnel behind. Iri told me this morning that they got word from Cowrie that they will stay on as they have enough supplies for a week.”

  “But why do that? Why not come home and sleep in a comfortable bed and go back the next day?”

  Mere sighs. “Well, for one thing, our Turtle had a giant cave weta settle on her face on the way in, so I doubt she’d risk that again.”

  “But won’t there be other wetas in the cave?”

  “Surely. But let’s hope she is so focused on their spying that she will not be thinking about those kinds of dangers.”

  “Wish I was there. I’d turn my new turtleshell toward the wetas and the scientists and defy them.”

  Mere smiles. Such faith and hope. Such innocence still. Koa was probably like this before she was poisoned. She sees some of the innocence and beauty of Maata in Koa and often wonders what she was like as a child before the toxins invaded her skin, her psyche. She’s a strong survivor, though. Mere has seen many who have not survived so well after such an experience. The feelings of betrayal last forever. It’s not just one act, but a lifetime of being told lies that mounts up and sends some people off the rails. Their physical health declines and then their mental health. It’s such a travesty. All the more reason to give Koa the chance to act now – for her own survival, and for the survival of the planet as we know it.

  “Have you sent out those emails on whaling to your friends yet, Maata?”

  “Yes. And I also wrote letters about it to Helen Clark and Marian Hobbs and Sandra Lee. They are the key ones, eh, as Prime Minister, Minister of Bio-Security and Minister for the Environment?”

  “Ka pae, Maata.”

  “You’d reckon, with all these feminist politicians in power, that we’d be sweet by now, eh?”

  “What do you mean by sweet, Maata?” Mere has trouble with some of this modern language the kids use.

  “You know. Sweet. Strong, happy, abundant, full of joy. Sweet.”

  “Yes. You’d think that for sure. But they are trying their best, I’m convinced of that.”

  “I’m not. Sandra Lee is tangata whenua. If she can go against those bloody goldmines being expanded and the earth ruined in the South Island, then she can go against GE as strongly. Her party said it was against GE then chang
ed its mind. When I am old enough to vote, buggered if they will get my vote. I’m for the Greens. They are the only ones who have not changed their minds after the election. Besides, I like Nandor Tanzios. Especially his dreadlocks. And he wears suits made from marijuana to parliament. That’s choice!” Maata gives the thumbs up sign for Nandor and his suits, or his dreadlocks – Mere is not quite sure which gets the most attention for Maata.

  “I think the material is hemp. It’s a derivative of marijuana – and from a similar plant – but you can’t smoke it.”

  “Who cares? He’s still cool.” Maata smiles.

  “How are Waka and Piripi progressing with Te Kotuku? Does she have her wing back yet?”

  “Nearly. I saw her yesterday in the carving studio. Her wing is being attached so it can move with the wind instead of just being solid. Waka says it makes her more like a real bird and she will not have to resist a strong storm again. Her wing can flow with the current, as if she is really flying.”

  “What a magnificent idea. I like it. I bet she will too.” Mere imagines how graceful the sacred white heron will look when back in her rightful place, presiding over and protecting her marae again. “And how’s your wee piwakawaka progressing? Do you think she’ll survive?”