Ao Toa

by Cathie Dunsford

  Irihapeti is frozen to the ground. She cannot move. Her head is filled with wild scenarios, of Koa finding the wahine, of being trapped inside the tunnel with them. No – they are blocked in. They will be drowned alive. There’s no time to save them now. All because she delayed and waited for Piripi to return home. She’ll be responsible for their deaths. She tucks the phone into her jacket and races out the nursery door, not thinking to leave a note for the others, as she had insisted they do next time an emergency happens. She jumps onto her motorbike and thrusts it into gear with a kick of the pedal. In a cloud of clay, Irihapeti zooms down the rough track and over the rugged farmland on her way to the Pratt farmstead, her heart in her throat.

  On the way, images crowd her head. Memories of wonderful feasts with Cowrie and Kuini, of sharing the rongoa hui with Moana, of how brilliant her life has been since she and Koa fell in love, and how the organic nursery and seed-saving programme really took off after her arrival. Koa has been a saviour and soulmate to her, an angel who flew in from the sky and shared her vision of a healthy planet and what they could do to help others to enjoy this. Her work with the tamariki on the marae has been so empowering, getting them involved in all aspects of the organic growing and the saving of seeds. Educating them to live in a better world. And now all this is at stake because they dared to challenge the status quo, demand a better future for their kids. And because Iri did not act fast enough. She spurs her feet into the side of Artemis, her bike, as if she is a horse and will be swifter for the encouragement. The stars are covered by clouds and Hina hides inside her grey cloak, as if darkened by the giant wingspan of a matuku moana flying through the heavens above.

  Irihapeti arrives at the farmhouse to find it abandoned. She grabs a torch that she sees behind the kitchen door and makes her way toward the Maori burial caves. She remembers going there as a kid and is sure she can find her way. She must. Eventually she arrives. The waters have receded as fast as they came. There is a scene of utter devastation before her. The bodies of men float face down in the water and animals lie dead, stuck in the mud as they tried to escape. Some of the men are trying to administer resuscitation and others are being loaded onto a Flyworks helicopter. She looks for the bodies of her friends. She scans the bush for some sign of them. But nothing.

  Between gasps, Tony Pratt tells her that a freak flood gushed through the caves and destroyed everything. All their files and their experiments are ruined. That according to one of the men, it was like an earthquake. One minute they were leaving the cave in the moonlight, the next thing the moon was obliterated from sight. They heard what sounded like the swoosh of a giant wingspan, as if an airplane was bearing down on them, then a thundering behind. Images of the giant birds crashing into the twin towers filled their fears, tugged at their hearts. Water started rolling down from the hills above, like a storm deluge or a tidal wave. Some of them scrambled to safety and the rest drowned in the flood, which was unlike any deluge he’d ever seen. “It came out of nowhere with a whoosh of wings and just destroyed everything in moments. It disappeared back into the earth as forcefully as it appeared, leaving this bloody great mess behind.”

  It is clear now that the only survivors are those in the copter, and that her dearest friends have died, fighting for a better world – as Cowrie always vowed they’d do, if and when the time came. Bruce is nowhere to be seen. She cannot even ask him if he finally met up with Koa. She is sure Koa went down to the tunnel to make sure Kuini and the others were okay. That’d be so like Koa. And she’s died, just like them, because she wanted to leave behind a stronger, cleaner earth. The only small redemption Iri can find is that Koa would have wanted to go this way, fighting those who poisoned her, poisoned our planet. Iri crawls through debris over the caves to the tunnel behind. The water has thrown the rocks in the entrance out like pebbles in its path. But still no sign of the wahine. She carefully enters the tunnel. The water is still up to her knees. She calls out their names. No replies.

  She makes her way to the point where the tunnel drops down and sees the rope dangling over. It has been ripped by the force of rocks crammed against it and has broken in two. There is no way they could have escaped. They could never get up a vertical drop of about twenty feet without a rope. Iri drops down onto her knees and utters a karanga of grief, letting it pour around her, wind its way into the depths of the caves. She thinks she hears another karanga in reply. She listens. But she knows it cannot be so. Her mind is playing tricks on her. It’s just an echo. They cannot possibly have escaped this devastation. She weeps and weeps, on her knees, the water still up to her waist, in the pit of the tunnel.

  Ko roimata, ko hupe nga kaiutu i nga patu a tenei tangata nui, a Aitua. Only tears can avenge this great personal calamity.

  Roimata

  Roimata

  Roimata.

  The tangata whenua do not see their kotuku flying back to her post in the dark of the night. They have no idea she has been on a mission of mercy, has called upon the powers of Matuku tangotango to help her on her journey. She lands safely back on the marae and folds her wings into her belly.

  The next morning, they wake to the news of the tragedy. Iri is back at Mere’s cottage. They’d stayed up all night in mourning and are planning the tangi now. Mere switches on the television to see if the news has spread to the media yet. The United States is still bombing Afghanistan. They’ve hit civilian homes and even killed some of their own forces when a bomb landed on the wrong buildings. Swollen, tear-stained faces beg them to stop their destruction. The Taliban are retreating, but they know this will never be the end. It will just be a new beginning. An unholy jihad is gathering force in these acts of revenge. Some kids have set fire to their school gym and received over a year in jail for it. A training ground for their future criminal careers. Great, thinks Mere. Physicians and Scientists against Genetic Engineering are speaking out against the government’s decision and warning of the dangers to come. Then a lady comes on, flying about the room as if her cleaning liquid has enabled her to suddenly do all her housework in one minute and left her free to drink chardonnay with her yuppie mates for the rest of the day. “As if,” says Maata. “Rich chicks like that have cleaning slaves.” She still has no idea of the fate of the others. She has been asleep most of the night, and Mere is waiting for the right time to tell her the news. By now, Mere and Iri are in the kitchen, hugging each other for comfort.

  Maata suddenly calls out from the lounge. “Haere mai, haere mai. Cowrie and Kuini are on the telly.” They cannot believe their ears. They rush into the lounge and there is Bruce, the fella with the pony-tail, a microphone thrust to his mouth, talking about the “unfortunate experiment” up in the Hokianga. The media are all over him. Behind stand Cowrie, Kuini and Moana, grinning. Then the scene cuts to pictures of the kunekune creature falling under its own weight, sores pussing out of its body. “Gross. Yuck!” says Maata, still unaware the others had been in any danger and relishing their apparent victory. Finally, Cowrie comes on screen and describes how Bruce and Koa (quick shot to Koa) rescued them minutes before the flood, how they heard the thunder of the water and ran for safety to the house. There they grabbed the van, with Bruce’s files and documents safely inside his locked bag, and tore off to Rawene, calling the media by cellphone on the way. Behind them, Rawene Wholefoods rises out of the water like a vision and a lone matuku moana perches triumphantly on the mooring poles.

  When asked what could have caused the flood, Cowrie says she has no idea, but that the genetic engineering experiments were taking place inside ancient Maori burial caves and that their ancestors would have been furious; that all the tangata whenua knew there was a tapu on the caves and so the scientists were foolish to ever think they could get away with playing God inside such a holy place. One of the Pakeha reporters behind her sniggers, and at the same time the matuku moana flies over and drops her breakfast onto him in a great creamy dollop. The reporter jumps back and the cameraman smiles. He’d had this coming
for a while. Maata laughs. “Did ya see that sea heron. Ha! She showed the fella.” Cowrie explains to the camera that they’d had no time to alert relatives that they were safe because they had to get the news to the media immediately and she sends their love to Te Kotuku marae.

  Irihapeti looks at Mere and laughs with relief. They no longer have to organise a tangi, and their loved ones will return soon. Mind you, they will still have to answer for not calling on the cellphone when they knew they were safe. But for now, Iri and Mere are so relieved that they just embrace each other and dance around the room. Maata joins them, thinking they are just happy that the others got on the breakfast news.

  Outside, as the morning sun beams warmth onto the marae, Te Kotuku flaps her wings in the breeze, pleased to be drying them after such a wet night out. Ta paki o Ruhia. Looks like fine weather ahead. She opens her beak and yawns, then settles back to admire her beautiful marae. Organic trees and plants feast off the replenished soils and wave their arms in the sea breeze. The mamaku stretch their ferny wings toward the horizon and send out baby black fronds to celebrate the birth of a new day. Kukupa feast off the bright scarlet puriri berries. White-throated, paua-coated tui sing of voyages to come, and waiata that go back as far as their ancestors who navigated by cowrie shell charts and stars to find their way across the sparkling Pacific Ocean to these peaceful shores of Aotearoa. Te Kotuku relaxes with pride.

  Ta paki o Ruhia.

  GLOSSARY

  ae

  yes

  aki aki

  red-billed seagull

  ariki nui

  chiefs

  aroha

  love

  arohanui

  much love

  atea

  space

  babaco

  fruit

  bro

  brother

  cuzzy

  cousin

  e hoa

  eh, friend

  feijoa

  green fruit of the guava family, originally from South America

  gumboot tea

  everyday black tea

  haere mai

  welcome

  hangi

  underground oven for steaming food

  hapu

  sub-tribe

  hikoi

  march

  Hine Raukatauri

  Maori Goddess of Music

  hoki

  fish

  hongi

  greeting by pressing forehead and nose together

  huatau

  beauty

  ika

  fish

  iwi

  tribe

  ka pae

  it’s good

  kahawai

  fish

  kahikatea

  white pine

  kai

  food

  kai moana

  seafood

  Kai-kea (Hawai'ian)

  name of a goddess; literally, light sea

  Kai-uli (Hawai'ian)

  name of a goddess; literally, dark sea

  kanuka

  large manuka or tea-tree

  karakia

  prayer

  karanga

  call

  kauri

  tree

  Kawakawa

  name of a town and also of a plant

  kereru

  native wood pigeon

  kete

  woven flax basket

  kia kaha

  stay strong

  kia ora

  greeting; also affirmation – that’s fine

  kiokio

  edible fern; tall cabbage tree

  koata

  joy

  koauau

  traditional bone flute

  kohanga reo

  early childhood school for total immersion in Maori language; literally, language nest

  kokako

  bird

  korero

  talk, speech

  koru

  fern

  kotuku

  white heron; Te Kotuku, name of marae

  kowhai

  tree with yellow, bell-shaped flowers

  kuia

  wise women of the tribe, older women

  kukupa

  North Island term for kereru or wood pigeon

  kumara

  a root similar to a yam

  kumarahou

  plant

  kunekune

  native pig

  kura kaupapa

  secondary Maori schools.

  Laukiamanuikahiki (Hawai’ian)

  Turtle Woman

  lavalava

  cloth worn around body

  lei

  flower garland

  mahalo

  thanks

  mahoe

  tree

  mako

  shark

  mamaku

  black tree fern

  mana

  pride

  manuka

  tea tree

  Manukau

  harbour and town near Auckland

  marae

  meeting place

  matuku moana

  sea heron

  Maui

  Maori God

  maumau

  fish

  mohala (Hawai'ian)

  gently unfolding creativity

  mokopuna

  grandchildren

  morepork

  owl

  Muriranga-whenua

  mythical woman who lent her jawbone to Maui

  Nga Puhi

  Northland tribe

  nikau

  palm tree

  pa

  site of village

  pakauroharoha

  feather fern

  Pakeha

  white person

  Papatuanuku

  Earth

  paua

  bright blue and green shellfish

  Pele (Hawai'ian)

  Goddess of the Volcano

  pingao

  grass growing in sand dunes

  piwakawaka

  fantail bird

  pohutukawa

  native tree that blossoms red in summer

  Poneke

  Wellington

  ponga

  tree fern

  powhiri

  greeting

  puha, puwha

  edible weed

  pumoana

  shell used for musical instrument

  puriri

  large native tree

  putorino

  flute

  raupo

  plant used for weaving

  rengarenga

  lily

  rewana

  Maori bread

  rewarewa

  native tree

  rimu

  native tree of the pine family

  rongoa

  medicine

  rongoa hui,

  meeting over Maori medicinal plants

  rongoa Maori hui spoots

  shellfish found in Orkney

  tai hoa

  wait up

  Tainui waka

  waka or canoe belonging to Tainui tribe

  takapu

  gannet

  Tamaki Makaurau

  Auckland

  tamariki

  children

  Tane

  Maori God

  Tane Mahuta

  God of the Kauri Forest

  Tangaroa

  God of the Sea

  tangata whenua

  people of the land, used for Maori in Aotearoa

  tangi

  funeral

  taniwha

  mythical beast; water monster

  taonga

  sacred gift, treasure

  tapu

  sacred

  taro

  edible root, like potato or kumara

  tataramoa

  brambles known as “bush lawyer”

  tauiwi

  foreigner

  tautoko

  support
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  Te Puna Kokiri

  Ministry of Maori Affairs

  te whenua

  the land

  tena koe

  greeting

  tena koutou katoa

  greeting to all people (more than two)

  tino rangatiratanga

  Maori sovereignty

  toetoe

  long grass like pampas grass

  toheroa

  large prized shellfish

  tohunga

  medicine person or wise person of the tribe

  torea