by Phil Smith
‘That’s history, Tamatea,’ said Hemi. ‘Tell me what’s happening. I’ll help you if I can. I might be the only way out you’ve got.’
‘It’s gone way beyond any of that do-gooder stuff, Hemi. There’s warrants out for all of us. We got nothing to lose. The mining company’s started moving onto our side of the valley when they said they weren’t going to, and we’re going to hold our fucken ground. This is our turangawaewae: this is where we stand!’
Tamatea lowered the rifle and pointed far up the valley to where a bulldozer had crossed the stream and was grinding across the hillside towards the grove of giant kauri.
Hemi’s jaw dropped as he remembered the key, remembered the wairua. ‘You will not fail us,’ they chanted.
Lights flashed, dogs barked. Men in black combat uniforms thumped across the bridge and crouched behind the entanglement, training their weapons at the fort.
‘Put your guns down, Tamatea. Don’t try to be heroes. No one needs to die.’
‘It’s over, Hemi,’ he said, turning towards the gate. ‘Go for it now, while you’ve got a chance.’
The amplified voice commanded, ‘Lay down your weapons. Come out with your hands up, now!’
‘Go on, Hemi,’ said Tamatea. ‘Just get the fuck out of here.’
The iron gates boomed shut.
All fell silent apart from the rippling of the river and the hiss of the waterfall.
Hemi turned and walked back the way he’d come.
The tinny voice cut in again. ‘This is your final warning. You have two minutes to come out with your hands up. We will not shoot if you give yourselves up.’
Hemi was almost back at the Land Cruiser when he heard the tear-gas grenades exploding in the gang compound.
The dog-handlers, their German shepherds salivating, were first over the barricade.
‘Let’s get the bastards!’ one of them yelled.
Bullets zinged and thwacked for several minutes until two officers with bolt-cutters crawled up to the gate, hacked the chains off, and kicked the doors open.
The compound was deserted.
Like aliens in gas masks and black helmets, the cops stormed the house, shafts from their torches flashing through the boarded-up rooms.
The building was empty.
‘They’ve buggered off,’ called the sergeant. ‘Looks like the rats have taken to the bush.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Rachel. ‘They’ll be away for a while. Now there’s only the miners and us, and we’re not moving till they’ve all gone.’
‘I hope you’re not counting on me,’ said Hemi, jumping back into the Toyota. ‘The cops aren’t finished yet. They’re still totally adrenalised. Looks like we’re next on the list.’
Snarling dogs and shouting men wielding batons swept down the hillside towards the mill, through the bracken and ragwort and over the fences.
‘Attention protesters!’ crackled the loud-hailer. ‘You are on private land and the mining company has ordered you off. Go now or you will be arrested for trespassing.’
‘All right everybody!’ came a woman’s shrill voice. ‘All of us together, right now, the way we planned, come on.’
Immediately the people broke into song again and began taking off all their clothes, lying face down on the grass.
The police spread out across the paddock.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’m out of here,’ said Hemi. Rachel’s face showed alarm; to Hemi’s surprise she jumped into the vehicle. They lurched back across the river and up the track.
‘You seem to know your way around here,’ she gasped, clutching the grab-handles.
‘This was the road over to the sawmill before they built the bridge,’ said Hemi, changing into second.
The miners and the police gaped in awe as they drove off. No one tried to stop them.
‘I noticed you weren’t too keen on getting your gear off back there,’ Hemi grinned, as they mounted the headland above the bay. ‘They can’t be paying you enough, eh?’
‘I do it for free,’ she said proudly. ‘I have a conscience. Someone has to stand up to the multinational forces that want to destroy our environment.’
‘Bit of a do-gooder, eh?’ he laughed, remembering Tamatea’s phrase. ‘Protector of the little people, defender of the downtrodden and despised? That sort of thing?’
Rachel tossed her head and looked out the side window. ‘There are some things money can’t buy, like the satisfaction of exposing corruption and rectifying injustice.’
‘Making sure the good things stay and the bad things go away?’
‘Well, that’s childishly simplistic, but yes.’
She sat scowling for some time, then a smile began to emerge and the tension drained from her face.
She touched his arm lightly. ‘I’m sorry I snapped just then. I’ve been a little twitchy lately. I sure appreciate the lift. I’m actually relieved to be out of there. I’m due in Court tomorrow morning and my hair’s a real mess.’
‘So you’re not a real full-time hard-core greenie, then? What are they called these days — environmentalists?’
‘Conservationists. I’m actually a lawyer in real life.’
‘Oh, really? Who are you with?’
‘Jacobs and Bannister, in Auckland.’
Hemi felt a niggle of recognition, as if there was something he was meant to remember.
They drove past the dairy farms and the rows of poplars and willows, past the six houses, the primary school and the Four Square store with the petrol pump that comprised Kaimiro village, then south towards Tairua.
‘So tell me, Rachel,’ he said. ‘How did the Americans get their hands on the Kaimiro Valley, then?’
‘Simple. They paid the Department of Maori Affairs half a million dollars in so-called iwi development subsidies and research grants, threw in a few education scholarships for young up-and-comers, and got a forty-year lease.’
‘Just like that?’
‘They also funded several overseas fact-finding trips for selected Maori Members of Parliament and their wives. The mining licence was actually quite straightforward; after all, the Government wants to reduce unemployment in areas like these, and mining creates jobs — at least in the short term.’
‘And bugger the environment?’
‘Yes. And that’s only part of the story. The land’s also being claimed by its ancestral Maori owners. One of the local tribes says Kaimiro was confiscated by the Government and sold to miners at the end of the last century.’
Hemi kept his eyes on the road.
‘That’s too bad,’ he said, holding his expression in neutral. ‘Go on.’
‘Apparently the titles and survey records were lost years and years ago. It’s a real can of worms.’
‘What do you know about the tribe? How solid is their argument?’ He held his breath, feeling the stirrings of indignation.
‘The Ngati Hei. They’re based at Opoutere. They owned most of the eastern Coromandel Peninsula at one time, but over the years they lost it through conquest, then by confiscation following the land wars of the 1860s, and finally by various suspicious land dealings with the settlers.’
Hemi exhaled. ‘What chance do they have of getting it back?’
‘Same as a pig at a Polynesian funeral, specially after the lease to the gold miners went through. I’ve never met any of them but I feel damn sorry for them, actually. They’ve still got a few acres, mostly swampland, and their little marae of course, but that’s about it.’
Hemi changed to third behind a cattle truck and they snaked their way up into the mountains, staying back from the green effluent splattering onto the road.
‘You sound like you want to help them.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose I do, although they haven’t got any money.’
‘But aren’t you the defender of the downtrodden?’
‘I always do what I can in situations like these but honestly, these Maori land claims are like pushing p
oo uphill with a pointed stick. And I feel guilty, too, because our firm was involved to an extent in arranging the lease with the mining company.’
Hemi overtook the stock truck and drove over the top of the range.
‘In any case,’ she said, ‘what’s your interest in Kaimiro? What were you doing there, for goodness’ sake?’
Hemi glanced to his left. She had turned in her seat to face him. ‘My company owns the land directly over the hill. There’s more than 8000 acres, most of it freehold, between Tapuwaetahi and Tairua. We’re preparing to plant it in pine trees. That’s what I was doing this afternoon. I was getting the lie of the land, looking at access possibilities, seeing for myself what the miners were up to.’
Rachel was thoughtful for a few moments. She knew she should know who he was and was piqued by her inability to put a name to his face.
‘You realise the Ngati Hei are claiming the Tapuwaetahi blocks as well.’
‘No, I didn’t actually know that. But that’s no problem. I think our interests long-term may not be too far apart.’ Hemi found it hard to maintain the pretence and he felt uncomfortable with the air of formality that had arisen between them.
‘Do you think you might find a solution, then?’ she said.
‘Maybe. I guess I should meet with them some time. I gather your anti-mining crowd would rather see forestry than mining?’
‘Well, yes, of course, although pine trees can be a damned curse,’ she said, tilting her head and frowning. ‘Their windblown seed allows them to occupy large areas of regenerating native bush, and conifers acidify the soil.’
‘Okay, well how about we get together some time and have a yarn.’ Hemi felt his confidence shrinking. He wished he had been up-front when he met her. He found himself saying, ‘We might be surprised by how things turn out.’
‘Sounds like you’re trying to hit on me.’ She was smirking.
‘Think what you like, Rachel. The fact is I’m going to need some help with research, and there’s going to be quite a bit of conveyancing and compliance work once we get the surveys done and the consent applications under way.’ Hemi realised he was gabbling with nervousness.
Rachel looked at him sideways.
‘What exactly are you up to?’ she said. ‘I mean, do I know you? You seem familiar somehow.’
Hemi smiled. ‘You had a school friend called Te Maika. You came to Kaimiro once in the ’60s.’
‘Yes, I did. That was her brother, Tamatea, who was doing all the shooting. It looked as if you knew him.’
‘Do you remember the diving contest at the taniwha’s pool?’
Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘I should have known!’ she said, raising her hands to her mouth. ‘You’re Hemi Ratana! The boy who climbs trees!’
17
A new alliance
Kohu Reweti’s house had seen better days.
The rusted corrugated-iron roof was adorned in morning glory that cascaded like a cataract over the front and side verandas and clothed the two rainwater tanks in cobalt blue. It was hard to tell where Nature ended and the house began.
The leathery blades of harakeke slithered along the sides of the Land Cruiser as Hemi drove up the avenue between a row of ancient phoenix palms.
‘Tena koe!’ said the old man as Hemi mounted the steps. ‘Haere mai! E pehea ana koe?’
‘Ka nui te ora,’ said Hemi, and the two shook hands and pressed noses in the traditional greeting.
‘Full of life, eh! So you’re Hemi! You found us all right then, out here in the never-nevers?’
‘No worries,’ said Hemi, handing two of his four bulging flax kits to Reweti. ‘I brought you some koha.’
They went inside and heaved the baskets onto the dining-room table. The host pulled out various objects wrapped in newspaper: six cooked crayfish, six smoked kahawai, a big bag of fresh mussels, two loaves of rewena and four big bottles of Fanta.
‘You might find a couple of crates in the back of my truck,’ Hemi said to no one in particular. Instantly three young men appeared from the shadows and bolted for the front door.
‘Ka pai, Hemi!’ said Kohu, opening the biggest kahawai like a book and contemplating the contents. ‘I reckon we better just have a little taste of these right now, eh? Make certain they taste as good as they look. We’ll give thanks first, eh.’
Everyone in the room stopped where they stood and bowed their heads.
‘Oh God, we give you thanks for all the kai spread before us,’ said Kohu, ‘and we thank you for bringing our brother Hemi Ratana here to visit us. May we all grow together in love and understanding as we seek your will.’
And all the people said, ‘Amen.’
In one smooth motion, the kaumatua peeled out the backbone and plucked a juicy flank from the fish. ‘Ah, yes, ka pai.’
Then, with two deft whisks of a fish slice he flipped the caps off two beer bottles and slid one over the table to Hemi. The men raised the beers simultaneously towards each other, announced, ‘Kia ora!’ and drank.
Attracted by the sound and smell of the seafood, other members of the extended family materialised and, after a polite waiting interval of roughly five seconds, they started cracking open the jagged crimson shells and munching the crayfish meat, pulling strips of golden flesh from the kahawai and slicing thick chunks from the loaves.
After several minutes of eating and drinking, Kohu Reweti wiped his mouth and spoke. ‘So, Hemi, you’re from up Thames way, eh. What do you do up there?’
‘I work at Larkin’s sawmill,’ he said. ‘I run his trucks.’
‘You drive a bloody flash car for a truck driver, boy. You fellers must be doing all right, eh.’
‘I’m not married, you see,’ Hemi said, grinning around the room. ‘I’ve got no kids.’
They roared with laughter.
The eating and drinking resumed in earnest.
‘So what brings you to Opoutere, then? You said something about Kaimiro on the phone,’ said Kohu, scooping a plump mussel from its shell with his fingers.
‘It’s all gone sideways,’ said Hemi. ‘It’s chaotic. No one knows what’s going on. I’m doing some field work for my company. We’ve got a property around Tapuwaetahi.’
‘You mentioned you were at Kaimiro the other day. Trouble with the police, or something, eh?’
‘That’s right. Friday. Got shot at. The mining company started moving their machinery across to the other side of the valley earlier in the week. Well, this got everyone stirred up. The Black Dogs, as you probably know, took over the old homestead quite a few years ago. They’ve turned it into a fortress. They survived gunfire and tear-gas, then took off into the bush.’ It all sounded so simple when he said it like that and Hemi sensed his emotional attachment to Kaimiro had begun to weaken.
‘They said in the paper that most of the buggers’ve been rounded up,’ said Kohu.
‘I think you can take that with a grain of salt, Kohu. Anyway, the mining company were driving bulldozers across the river in violation of the conditions. Tamatea and the boys decided they’d had enough and started taking shots at them.’
‘Ah yes, I remember that place,’ sighed Kohu, seemingly indifferent to the crisis. ‘There was an old sawmill — is that still down there by the river? I used to go and stay with your grandfather and them when I was a young bloke. That was before the bridge was built. We used to have to drive the car through the river. In fact, you’re Sonny Reweti’s boy, aren’t you? You’re that young kid that was always climbing trees, eh? They reckon it was a miracle you never disappeared up in the bush like the old man.’
‘Tell me about my grandfather,’ said Hemi, looking up from his plate. He was stirred by excitement but maintained his impassive demeanour.
‘Well now,’ said Kohu, clearing his throat. ‘Uru was an interesting character if ever there was one. Your grandfather and me, we used to make home brew. We had all the gear set up in the workshop down at the mill. Uru’s missus used to go crook at him when he got on
the booze so we had to be real secret. In fact there’s probably a few crates of good ale hidden away under the flooring to this very day. Probably gone off by now though, I’d say.’
‘We better go and have a look right away, eh Kohu!’ said Barney, his younger brother, combing his fingers through his curly red hair and pretending to make for the door.
Laughter erupted.
‘You didn’t hide it very well, mate,’ said Hemi. ‘I found it all when I was eleven. It was a bloody good brew, too.’
They laughed again, louder and longer this time, then turned their gazes back to Hemi.
‘So anyway, on with the story. The Black Dogs opened fire on the miners. Hit one of their vehicles, put a hole in one bloke’s helmet. Then they barricaded the bridge and started shooting at anything that moved.’
‘That’s no good!’ said Kohu. ‘I knew there’d be trouble there after your father died. That was a terrible thing, that. Your mother too. They were coming home from the rugby, weren’t they? Now that whole place at Kaimiro has gone to the dogs.’
‘That’s for real,’ said Barney, contemplating the label on his beer bottle. ‘And in more bloody ways than one.’
Hemi felt the weight of grief rest upon him at the reminder of his parents’ terrible passing but continued. ‘The Armed Offenders Squad arrived and launched a commando assault. It was like a war movie. But in ten minutes the gang had vanished into the bush. The supplejack’s real thick up there and it was getting dark by that stage. Even the dogs weren’t interested.’
‘What about the anti-mining gathering, the greenies?’ said Barney.
‘There were two or three dozen of them; been camped there for a week trying to disrupt the miners and at the same time avoid getting shot. They attracted heaps of publicity. TV news every night.’
‘We haven’t got TV,’ said Kohu, ‘but I know there’s a lot of people realise how destructive mining really is. It’s a noxious bloody industry. Wrecks huge areas of countryside, poisons the waterways with all those heavy metals.’
‘Anyway,’ said Hemi, ‘the cops were running around like fleas on a dog by this stage. They realised they’d never catch the Black Dogs in the dark so they turned on the protesters. Twelve arrested, I think. Quite a scuffle. Turned nasty. Several injuries. Dog bites, appropriately enough!’
