“Thanks, Tony.” Koa waits until he has left the kitchen and then puts the plate in the sink and gets out another one for the scones. Ugh. I’m so glad Moana got out of here, she thinks. And took the boys. He’s not an evil man, just rather stupid. And I’ll bet that’s why the GE boys chose this farm. A place where they could be boss and have a lease they can leave if it does not work out. And poor Tony has no idea they will dump him like a can of diseased worms also.
By the time the boys arrive, Koa has baked and buttered two dozen date scones and placed some hibiscus flowers on the table floating in a bowl. Water for the tea is bubbling on the stove and the kawakawa brew sits next to it. She’s put in a strong mix, hoping it will make Bruce and the boys drowsy and off their guard, just enough to let out a few secrets. As they enter the door, she recognises Bruce immediately. He’s much bigger than when she knew him, that much she realised from the video. But still those same green eyes, albeit dimmer than before. Something of that old sparkle is missing. She’ll find out what it is before the end of the day. Bruce recognises her immediately. “Koa, what on earth are you doing here?”
The others sit down to their scones and Bruce and Koa catch up on their old days at the botanical gardens. After a while, Tony comes over. “Hey, haven’t you got work to do in the front room, Koa? All that ironing. Take Bruce in there and stick him in the rocker while you finish the work. I wanna make sure I’ve got some decent clothes for the TAB dinner at the pub tonight. Ya never know, I might pick myself up a fancy lady.” He laughs.
Koa grimaces. “Come on through, Bruce. You don’t mind if I iron while we catch up, do you?”
“I’d love it.” He glances over at Steve. “I’ll be a bit late back, boss. Just catching up with an old mate.”
“Just be careful what you say,” warns Steve.
“That’s all right. I have no interest in your work, just in finding out about Bruce since we last met. Strictly personal,” she adds.
I’ll bet, thinks Steve, as he watches them exit the kitchen.
Once they are ensconced in the front room and Bruce is settled in his chair, Koa pretends to iron while she carefully asks questions. She finds out all about his life and relationship with his wife, but he barely mentions his work. Finally, she gets him onto it and discovers that he misses the botanical job; he was brought in to do the kauri experiment and then the project diversified. When she asks more, he closes up.
It’s not until she mentions Irihapeti and talks of their love that he opens up and talks about his passion for Karl, and says that is the reason why he is risking all to complete this job now, and for his kids. Koa sees they have something in common that the others do not and asks more questions, all the while feeding him more of the kawakawa tea and manuka honey which he loves so much. Gradually, his guard relaxes and he leans close and whispers into Koa’s ear.
“You know this GE stuff everyone is up in arms about? Well, that’s why we are here. It’s not really Farm Corp, but a research group related to MagicMilk and International Seed Corporation. We’re in with the Big Boys now and it sure pays well, with more to come if we pull it off.”
“Pull off what?” Koa whispers back.
Bruce takes a deep breath and tells her they are experimenting with human embryos, that he knows in his heart and soul it is wrong, but that he just wants to finish the work and then escape with Karl. They intend living in Rarotonga where Karl once taught. When Koa questions him further, she finds out that the research money will already provide for a handsome retirement fund and asks why he wants more if he abhors the work so much. She asks what all their work against toxic poisoning was all about, and whether he really wants to sell his soul to the devil so easily. By the time the kawakawa tea has done its work and Koa hers, Bruce is nearly in tears. These feelings have been eating at him for a long time, but he has pushed them down. Now he is wracked with anxiety and guilt over his abandonment of his once strong principles.
“And what will Karl think of all this when you tell him you were a part of cloning a human being? He sounds like a man with ethics from all you have said. Do you really think he’ll stay with you then?” She sees him crumble. “I wouldn’t.” By this time, Bruce is weak and weepy. He’s been close to this state for weeks but meeting Koa again has stirred up all those old emotions and nostalgia for their work together, their closeness in struggling against their own toxic poisoning.
Koa shakes her head. “I can’t believe that after all our shared pain and hard work in fighting against DDT and Roundup that you’d end up working for the company that produces the stuff. What on earth has happened to you, Bruce? You’re not the same loving person I once knew.”
Bruce takes her hand and begs her forgiveness. He’s always regretted abandoning Koa for the big money offered to him in Auckland, and now he knows he could lose Karl the same way. And perhaps his kids once they find out. Karl knows he earns big research funds, but he has no idea about the true nature of the business he is in now.
Koa straightens up. “The only way I can or will forgive you, Bruce, is if you have the courage to leave the work. And also to tell the truth publicly about how this industry is obtaining funds for unethical research. Speak the truth, as other scientists have. You’ll be remembered, just as the Physicians and Scientists against Nuclear War and those against GE are now.” She tells him about the brave paper they’d read on line by Peter Wills, the Auckland University physics professor. “He had the guts to speak out publicly and bugger the research funds. You need to do that too, Bruce. Then Karl and your kids can be rightly proud of you. And so will I.”
Bruce listens to Koa, his head in his hands. She knows he is a good man underneath, that he will follow his heart unless he has changed beyond belief. Finally, he raises his head. “You know, Koa, I lost one of my closest friends in the September 11th twin towers disaster. Alan Bevan. He was an environmental lawyer. One of the best. He was on the plane flying toward the White House that went down in Pennsylvania due to the actions of a few brave men. I knew my mate was one of those men. That he’d never have stood by and let that happen. I know in my heart that he sacrificed his life to save those of so many others. I sat glued to the television, didn’t go to work for days afterwards. I felt like such a shit, to have copped out on my ideals, to have compromised like we said we never would. I nearly gave up my job at that point. I could barely function. It was like some kind of mid-life crisis. Then Steve got the MagicMilk grant and offered me more money than I could ever believe existed, just to come here and work, let alone the wealth we’d make if any one of these experiments hit the jackpot. I reasoned it would only be one more year before I could retire, and Karl and I could finally live our dreams. It seemed worth it at the time.” He nearly chokes with anguish. Koa offers him more kawakawa tea.
“What about now, Bruce? You owe it to your friend Alan, to Karl, to your kids, your family, to me, to the planet. The plants we once nurtured. This earth we so love. Remember those days when we stayed up all night just to see the rare tropical orchids flowering, and the care we took to make sure nobody else working there would ever be subjected to toxic poisoning again. Remember the day your first bromeliad flowered and we could not believe the exquisite colours of the purple and red blooms. You said it was like watching a mother give birth to her young. You wanted so much to have kids – and now you have them, you are working to leave them the inheritance of a poisoned world, and one forever altered by genetic mutation which cannot be reversed. They may never have a choice of organic food as we have. They may be controlled by genetic forces that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares. We can never better the beauty of nature. It’s our inheritance. Do you really want to ruin that for your kids?”
Bruce remains quiet for a long time. “If I leave, will you help me get the word out? Do you have networks where we can really have some influence? I don’t want to sacrifice all the hard work and research for nothing. I want to make a difference, like Alan did on that flight. I wan
t to reach a wide range of people if I speak out, and I need to know I have some protection too.”
Koa smiles. She takes Bruce in her arms. He feels soft and warm, just like the old days. “Just you say the word, Bruce. Come down to Te Kotuku marae tonight and we’ll show you our network. Iri has access to a huge range of eco-activist groups on the net. We’ll get the word out there, let it blossom like wildflowers, and then sit back and wait for the mainstream media to pick it up. We could leak it anonymously, and you could save your reputation. So long as you give us all the details. Can you get us copies of the files?”
“Yes. I have copies. It’s top secret, but I am in charge of them.” Bruce hugs Koa warmly, so relieved that he has been finally able to unburden his heavy soul.
Tony walks past the room and nudges open the door. He notices them hugging. Bloody perfect. You haven’t lost your touch, Tony. Next thing you know, they’ll be breeding like maggots. He grins and closes the door, very pleased with himself. He walks back into the kitchen and finishes off the remainder of the date scones while listening to talkback radio, totally unaware there is a quiet revolution taking place in his front room.
Iri stares at the screen in disbelief. She cringes as she watches the poor animal trying to move but falling under the weight of its own bloated body. It is neither a pig nor a lamb, but a strange and weird mixture of both. It cries like a lost lamb in pain but grunts like a pig in labour. She can hardly believe her eyes. After days of watching a boring laboratory where nothing much seems to happen, it’s as if Orson Welles has suddenly taken over the direction and she is watching something from a bad Hollywood movie. Mind you, they all thought the same when their eyes were glued to the telly as shots kept being repeated of the planes flying into the twin towers, one from the right into the first tower, then one from the left into the next tower, forcing it to crumble like a Sylvester Stallone action adventure. For her, this is as calculated and as chilling. She fears for her friends now that she realises what danger they may be in. What if they get caught trying to escape from the tunnel?
Irihapeti pauses the video while pouring out more manuka tea and stirring in rewarewa honey. The phone rings. It’s an order for more organic spinach, bean and sweet pea seeds. Iri notes it down in the book. “We’d also love more of those purple and cream potatoes – and the urenika. They are beautiful,” the voice says. “Thanks so much for providing us with healthy seeds. Our kids are even getting interested in gardening now. They love it when your courier parcels arrive and can’t wait to get planting. Can you send us the catalogue of your heritage organic fruit trees? We are thinking of starting our own orchard now.” Iri listens intently, noting the requests, but her mind is still on the video. After the call, she returns to the computer and keys in “play”.
She listens as Kuini tells her that they are trapped in the tunnel, that they need help. Iri jumps to her feet. Koa may be in danger too. They are all up at Pratt’s farm and Koa will have no idea that the tunnel has been blocked. She needs to get help fast. She runs out to the carving studio to alert Piripi and Waka.
Night falls and they are still trapped in the tunnel. By now, Moana, Kuini and Cowrie have crawled back to the entrance and are waiting for Iri, Piripi and any others from the marae to rescue them. They hope that their message has been received. They have no way of knowing, other than their faith in Irihapeti.
They tell stories to keep their spirits up and to allay their anxiety. They discuss how strange it is that their sacred kotuku lost her wing in a storm that was not half as strong as the many they’d endured since Cyclone Bola hit the coast with devastation few years back. Moana thinks it is a sign that she is displeased with the current events – the war of revenge being waged by the United States, what they call their war against terrorism; the sacrificing of this inspired land of Aotearoa – land of the awakening dawn – to genetic manipulation when the tangata whenua of the land are united against this desecration. They face an era like the colonial ripping away of their native land but in such a way that they can never be returned again and healed. Kuini says it is like the French taking away Moruroa and Faungata’ufa and then expecting the Maohi people to return and eat from contaminated islands and oceans. They recall the day Te Kotuku was raised onto the top of their wharenui and blessings and karakia were spoken and chanted for the protection of the marae.
“You know, it’s just hit me that we always see Te Kotuku as a protective influence. But what if she were to invoke her Pacific Island powers and take her own form of revenge?”
“Whad’ya mean, Cowrie?”
“When we were protesting at Moruroa, one of the Tahitian wahine told me about their reef heron, also called kotuku, who had powers to take revenge on others when necessary.”
“In what way?”
“Well, there was this fella called Rata who was son of an ariki nui of Tahiti Tokerau. Rata was born in the season of maroro tu – when all the flying fish come leaping near the reef and the herons swing by for a feast. On the night of his birth, Tahiti Tokerau wanted kai moana for her dinner so there would be plenty of milk for her baby. They rowed out over the reef with torches and all the maroro flew like wildfire into the flames and the tangata whenua caught heaps of fish that night.”
“So where does the heron come into it?”
“Wait, Kuini. Have patience.”
“Okay.” Kuini is enjoying the storytelling, despite their circumstances.
“While they were fishing, a vast darkness swallowed up the stars hanging above them. It was the gigantic wingspan of Matuku tangotango, the demon bird, chief of all the devil birds of Puna’s land called Hiti marama. Nobody knew the bird was coming. This Heron-of-Darkness, swallower of the stars and people, swooped down and grabbed Rata’s parents and flew away with them to Puna’s, where he landed and divided up his catch.”
“Some bird, eh?”
“Sure was. Puna got Rata’s mother and planted her in the ground, her head below the earth, and used her feet to hook her food baskets. Then Matuku bit off the head of Rata’s father and swallowed it whole, casting out his body for the Fish Gods to eat. Pahua nui, the monster clam who lies in wait for the canoes, ate some. So did Totoviri, the Giant Swordfish who eats the hands of paddlers. All the monsters in the sea cave got some to eat.”
“Lucky your sea cave adventure was here in Aotearoa and not in Tahiti, eh, Cowrie?”
“Maybe,” grimaces Cowrie, not yet quite over it.
“So what happened to Rata?”
“His grandmother, Kui Kura, looked after him, cut his birth cord from his mother and fattened him up and raised him as her own.”
“Another Mere, eh?”
“Yeah. That takes courage too.”
“Sure does.”
“Anyway, I heard heaps more stories in Tahiti about this kotuku, Matuku tangotango, and lately I’ve been wondering if our own kotuku might invoke some of his powers to protect our land. D’ya reckon it can work this way, Moana?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past our Pacific Gods. When they get furious, they will avenge as sure as Bush and bin Laden are doing now,” Moana replies.
“But didn’t we all agree that utu is not the answer, that we must seek remedies beyond that cycle?” Kuini asks.
“Yes, but there are times when the Gods feel violated. And that’s when they are capable of all kinds of acts. It’s our job as humans to try to evolve to a state where we no longer need to act in this way – but clearly we are not there yet. Current events are showing us this very strongly.”
“But isn’t it also true that there are often times of darkness and terror before we can evolve to a higher plane of existence? Maybe we are enduring this right now? Perhaps this is the lesson we should be taking from these events?” Cowrie offers.
“I’d like to think so,” replies Kuini. “But it depends on our responses. The good thing is that there are huge numbers of people globally thinking more clearly now. Most do not want war and revenge in this way and most
do not want a future of genetic manipulation to hand down to their children. That much we do know.”
“Well, I’d like the Heron-of-Darkness to swallow up these scientists right now. Cause a flood to fill these caves and destroy all their experiments.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Cowrie. We could all drown if that happens,” Moana warns.
Just at this moment there’s a scratching noise at the other side of the entrance, and a male voice. But it is not that of Piripi. Cowrie thinks she recognises one of the voices of the men in the cave. They all do. They look at each other in stunned silence. They have not made a contingency plan in case the men get to them first. They may well need the help of the Dark Heron, Matuku tangotango, in the cruel hours ahead.
Irihapeti cannot find Piripi. Waka says he went into Rawene to teach a carving course and will not be back until late. Iri knows she will have to be patient as they need the van and his strength. All she can do is go back to her computer screen and wait, hoping the wahine will contact her again, that they will be okay. But should she tell Mere and Maata? She agonises over this for a while, drinking far too much kawakawa tea to calm her nerves. She checks the net and writes emails against GE to politicians and pressure groups in an attempt to do something positive while she waits.
There is a tension in the air as she wonders what Koa is up to and if she is safe, whether they will get to the tunnel before the others find the women. Finally, she bites her pride and calls Tony Pratt’s cellphone to see if Koa is still there. She’s far too late returning home, and Irihapeti smells the stench of something wrong. “Yeah, Tony here. Just a minute. Someone’s banging on the door. Hang on a tick.” She hears his footsteps pounding the hard wooden floor of the old kauri villa as he saunters over to the door. “Gidday, Bruce. What the shit are you doing here at this time of night? Yeah … yeah … shit a brick. Just a minute, I’ll get the tractor and gear …” He yells into the cellphone. “You still there? Yeah – there’s been some kind of accident up here in the caves. Bloody freak flood by the sounds of it. I’d better go.” He hangs up. Dead silence.
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