by Hager, Mandy
A year ago he would’ve gagged for the chance. Now it wasn’t metaphorical. He swallowed hard.
Dean studied his face. ‘S’okay. I can do it if you want.’
‘I—’
‘See how you feel, eh? It’s no biggie.’ Dean folded his paper and stood up. ‘I gotta do a quick check on one of the farms. I’ll be back by eleven-thirty.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ He hardly noticed Dean leave; jeers and taunts blared in his head.
He opened the newspaper. Scanned through the headlines to block the insults out. War, murder, assault, abuse … everything he read or heard these days brought him straight back to the things he wanted to forget. He tried the puzzle page. Read his weekend stars. ‘Be prepared for surprises. With heart and instincts on the same page you’ll know what you do and don’t want and where your heart stands.’ Utter crap. His mother read hers every day — if it warned of trouble it made her tense. His father said they were a crock of shit, worded so anyone could relate to them. Mum agreed, but said she used it as a tool to help focus her thoughts. Will read his again and smiled. There was no denying the surprise part — one way or the other, today would serve up something new.
He went inside and showered away the layer of salt that crusted him. Pulled on his favourite T-shirt, black with angel wings, and his best black jeans. Tied back his hair. Shaved the wispy growth on his top lip and chin. Not that he needed to. Just nerves.
While he waited for Dean, he emailed his parents and told them about Min — not everything, but enough to let them know. He ached to talk to them in person but their usual Saturday Skype, always scheduled for six-thirty, would have to wait. Tonight he’d promised to relieve Hunter by five. It drove him nuts he couldn’t just call them whenever he felt the urge; impossible with the time difference and their crazy shifts. It was ironic. He’d spent the last few years pushing his parents away — the old fight for independence, blah-de-blah — yet now he wished to god that they were here. Another of life’s little jokes at his expense.
By half past eleven he was nauseous again. What if the whānau sided with Bruce Godsill and told him to piss off? And what about Dean? He probably should give him a heads-up but that risked pulling the plug. Fingers crossed the new rellies took his side.
He went outside to wait. When the car drew up, he made for the passenger door.
Dean tossed a suspiciously salmon-shaped plastic bag over onto the back seat. ‘Koha,’ he said, and winked.
As they drove out of town, towards Te Hora marae, Dean filled him in on who was who. ‘Cathy’s husband’s Mike Huriwai — him and his brothers, George and Arthur, are good sorts. For a long time the marae was screwed — all the kaumātua had pretty much died or burnt out. When Cathy and Mike moved home he stirred things up. He used to work for Māori Development. Got laid off. Since he’s been back he’s been a thorn in Bruce’s side. About eighteen months ago he got the tribe to fight Bruce’s latest expansion plans. They won.’
Will laughed. ‘No love lost, then?’ This was promising. If they were in Bruce’s pocket, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
‘Whatever you might think of Bruce, he’s canny. He sponsors their kapa haka group and gives them fish when they’re catering a big tangi. It causes all sorts of in-fighting — some are sucked in, most aren’t. Behind their backs he gives them shit.’
They turned off the highway. Ahead, a small meeting house stood in a square of perfectly mown lawn, several simple outbuildings clustered near. Pania waited at the gateway, dressed in tidy jeans and a pale blue shirt the colour of her eyes. They were so vivid Will couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the other night. They stood out against the creamy brown of her skin as though lit from behind.
‘Hey, Unc. I’m leading you guys on.’ She glanced at Will and nodded. His stomach rumbled so loudly she grinned. ‘Don’t worry. There’s heaps of food.’
Dean swept her up and spun her around. ‘Jeez, girl, you been eating bricks?’
She slapped his arm. ‘Shut up! You’re just getting old, Superman!’
‘Enough of that! How’s school?’
‘Frustrating.’ She turned to Will and rolled her eyes. ‘You’re lucky you do Correspondence. My school doesn’t even teach the subjects I want to take.’
He was still devising an answer, and wondering how the hell she knew so much about him, when a group of about ten men and women emerged from the wharenui. They huddled under the veranda, below a tekoteko that stared out from the apex of the roof. A gaggle of kids played dodge behind the adults’ backs. Pania straightened, all her focus shifting to the group ahead.
One of the women stepped forward. ‘Haere mai, haere mai, e ngā iwi, haere mai. Mauria mai te aroha ki te marae e …’ Her voice rang out across the void.
Pania nodded to Dean and all three walked slowly towards the wharenui as she called back. ‘Karanga mai, karanga mai …’ They edged closer, hands clasped, heads lowered in respect.
The two voices duelled back and forth, so primal it made Will tingle. Pania’s was more melodic, more human — nervous, a shakiness in her breath — the other like an ancient birdcall.
At the door to the wharenui they paused to take off shoes then entered its cool dark interior. Tukutuku panels lined the walls while the ribs and spine, timber beams, were carved to tell the story of the people who belonged there. A couple of dozen people ranging in age from babies to very old stood to one side. One, a man somewhere in his forties, stood holding a tokotoko, its wood embellished with carvings and tiny pāua eyes. He had a tattoo, a tā moko, covering his face; gave his skin a greenish sheen. His eyes took in everything. Everyone.
He stepped forward to begin his whaikōrero as soon as the three were seated.
‘Nau mai, haere mai, Ko Tutumapou te maunga, ko Te Hoiere te awa, ko Te Hoiere te waka, ko Kaikaiawaro te taniwha, ko Matua Hautere te tangata. Maranga mai, e te iwi, Pakohe, maranga mai, e te iwi, Ngāti Kuia …’
As Will listened, he caught a name: Mike Huriwai. Pania’s father. His gaze rested on Will as he acknowledged the dead. Welcomed the living. It was a good five minutes before he repeated his mihi in English.
Now he really fixed on Will. ‘Welcome, welcome, e tama. We have been waiting for you to come. You’re one of us, through my wife Cathy. And you, Dean, good to have you here. We haven’t seen you in a while, bro …’ He talked about the history of the wharenui, Will straining to hold his intense gaze. He heard, enjoyed, but took nothing in. Was struggling to remember his mihi.
Finally the whole group sang their welcoming waiata.
‘E toru ngā mea,
ngā mea nunui,
E kīia ana …’
Their voices blended naturally, harmonious and warm.
Now Dean gave Will the nod. He took a deep breath and stood up. Closed his eyes for a moment to rein in his nerves and summon the right words. ‘Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou. Ko Will Jackson ahau, nō Whanganui-a-Tara. Ko Tangitekeo tōku maunga, ko Heretaunga tōku awa, ko Mark Jackson tōku pāpā, ko Sally Jackson tōku whāea.’ His stomach was so tense it spasmed.
He could feel all the eyes on him, friendly, welcoming. Hoped what he was about to say wouldn’t piss them off. ‘I’m really happy to be here and meet you all.’ He felt like he was squirming under a microscope. ‘I have to admit I’ve come for a very special reason. To meet you all, of course, but also to ask for help.’
Beside him Dean cleared his throat. Will hurried on. ‘You’ll have heard about the orca that’s been seen around. I’ve come to ask your help to protect it, while I try to find out where he came from and how to help him get back to his pod.’
There was an undercurrent of murmuring. Beneath, Will heard Dean mutter, ‘Fuck’s sake.’
‘I’ve researched online and we’re his biggest danger — either from someone purposefully hurting him or being hit by a boat. He’s lost — a baby — without a tribe. I wondered if you might adopt him into yours until he finds his own.’
He blew out a breath and lau
nched into the expected waiata of reply. Had to close his eyes again to turn off the overwhelming scrutiny.
‘Whakaaria mai,
Tōu rīpeka ki au,
Tīaho mai,
Rā roto i te pō …’
The wharenui had good acoustics and his voice flew up into the carved rafters, stronger than he’d expected. He couldn’t hear if Dean and Pania were singing along. Had buzzing in his ears. At the end he collapsed back into his chair.
‘Later,’ Dean snarled from the corner of his mouth. He presented the salmon for the koha.
As they stepped up for the hongi, Will found himself kissed and nose-pressed with such genuine warmth he started to relax. The last, a Pākehā woman, wrapped him in her arms.
‘Kia ora, Will. I’m Cathy. I can’t believe it’s you! Last time I saw you, you’d just started school!’ She kissed him on both cheeks. ‘It’s spooky how much you look like Sal!’ She laughed and nudged at Dean. ‘Too bad you missed out on the looks, cuz!’ Around them belly laughter rumbled and the formality of the pōwhiri dissolved.
‘Kai time!’ someone called and they all traipsed into the wharekai.
Mike Huriwai blessed the food — a spread of bread, salads, corn on the cob, chicken and home-cured ham — then everyone dug in. Will worked his way around the table, avoiding Dean. He was loading his plate with ham when Mike slapped him on the back.
‘Quite a voice you’ve got there. We could use you in the kapa haka group.’
‘Maybe.’ Mustn’t get sidetracked. ‘I’m sorry I blurted that stuff out back there, but I’m really keen to get some help. I’ve done a fair bit of research and I think what we need is a team of people who—’
From behind him Dean broke in. ‘Are you out of your freaking mind? Harley’s already watching out for you. Anyone who interferes will be slapped with a bloody great fine.’
‘It’s not the point,’ Will said. ‘There are experts who’ll know where he came from—’
‘And there’ll be experts who’ll chuck you in jail when you can’t pay your fines.’
‘Taihoa.’ Mike held up a restraining hand. ‘Deano, rev back, man. Nanny Merepeka reckons that little whale’s something to do with Kingi. And, anyway, Will’s right — you know it’s doomed if Godsill gets his mitts on it.’
‘Christ, Mike. It chewed through one of the farm fences — emptied the whole damn thing.’
‘Ka pai! Good job!’ A dreadlocked woman in paint-splattered jeans and T-shirt pushed her way forward. ‘It’s disgusting the way those poor fish are kept.’ She turned to Dean. ‘And don’t give me the old but-it’s-good-for-the-community argument. They’re poisoning the seabed with their toxic shit.’ She grinned at Will. ‘Kia ora. I’m your mother’s second cousin, Viv Reihana.’ She held out a square hand and shook Will’s, crushing his fingers. ‘Primo lungs you’ve got on you, kid.’
‘Thanks.’ All the attention was starting to freak him out. It was the first time since he’d moved here that he’d had to cope with so many unknown people at one time. First time, in fact, since the audition.
‘Viv’s got contacts in Greenpeace,’ Mike said. ‘She’s probably the best person to liaise with for now. And I’ll raise it at our tribal meeting — though we don’t meet till next month. But I’m fairly sure everyone will want to help …’ He grinned at Dean. ‘… If only to stick it to Bruce!’
Dean shook his head. ‘You know bloody well how many people owe their livelihoods to Bruce. Don’t screw that up just because you don’t like his politics.’
‘Just because?’ Viv snorted. ‘Jesus, e hoa, when did you get to be such a right-wing arse-licker?’
Anger boiled behind Dean’s eyes. ‘When I figured out I had to pay the bills, e hoa. Remember, I don’t qualify for your handouts.’
‘Enough!’ Cathy stepped in between them. She hooked her arm around Will. ‘Leave these old buggers to fight amongst themselves, eh? Come and meet Nanny Merepeka. She wants to talk to you.’ She steered Will over to a hunched old woman with a face like a sultana. Pania sat next to her. ‘Nanny M, here’s Will.’
‘Ah, Wiremu, haere mai! Haere mai!’ She took his hand between her own. Patted him with swollen fingers. ‘I feel your wairua, moko. I saw you and our little māhuri tōtara in a dream. Haere mai!’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Will balanced his plate of food on his lap. Had yet to eat a thing. ‘You dreamed about the orca?’
‘Āe, moko, I did indeed. I saw you riding it, like Paikea. You seen that film?’
Will nodded. Whale Rider. Though, more likely, she saw him on the TV news and had forgotten where she’d seen it.
‘You and him are like this, e tama.’ She tried to cross her arthritic fingers. Failed. ‘Two as one.’ To Pania she said: ‘You’ll help him, eh?’
Pania glanced at Will, dipping her head when their eyes met.
‘Ka pai. Ka pai.’ Nanny M fished out a handkerchief and dabbed her dripping nose. ‘Now, a cup of tea please, e tama. And one of them nice fancy cakes too, eh?’
Will left his plate on his chair and fetched her a cup of tea. He put two lamingtons on a plate and took them to her. Was finally settling in to eat when Viv dragged over a chair.
‘I’ll try to make contact with Greenpeace’s whale team and get the ball rolling, eh? What’s your plan?’
Will stuffed down a thick slice of ham and his stomach rumbled its appreciation. ‘Well, in other cases, people found that if they spent time keeping the orca company, it didn’t disturb the local businesses. When they get lonely they go looking for fun — like a toddler — so I figure if I keep him out of trouble — he’s up at Gleneden now — it gives me time to see if any orca experts recognise his markings. There are people who record them now. With any luck they can figure out his family and get him back to them.’
Viv nodded, her dreads shifting like tentacles. ‘Sounds sensible. I’ll get onto it. Can you take some photos of his markings and get them back to me soon as? That’d really help.’
‘Sure.’ Damn. He should’ve thought of that. ‘I’m going to camp out there as much as possible. But when he’s left alone he follows me, so what I really need is someone else to do some shifts when I’m not there. And maybe someone to deliver food. Oh, and Hunter Godsill’s going to help.’
Viv’s eyebrows rose. ‘Good for him. Though I’d be careful what you say. He’s still Bruce’s son.’
Pania laughed. ‘No need to worry about that. He hates Bruce even more than we do.’
‘True.’ Viv took a bite of bread, talking through it as she continued. ‘But just be aware Bruce has his hooks in that poor kid and he’s unlikely to let go.’ She glanced past Will, her face lighting up. ‘Taihoa, there’s George! I really need to catch up with him.’ She stood up, brushing crumbs from her lap. ‘Later then. I’ll be in touch. Keep up the good work!’
Will turned to Pania, leaning in so no one else could hear. ‘He’s got a black eye, Hunter has. Is it okay to let him help or will it dump him in the shit?’
‘Trouble, probably. But he’s pretty stubborn. Lonely too. It’d be meaner to block him out.’ She pressed her finger into a pile of coconut crumbs then licked it clean. ‘I could be your delivery driver if you like. I can use Dad’s runabout. He won’t mind.’
‘You sure?’
‘I’ll do it after school. And Mum’ll probably help with food.’
At that moment Cathy appeared at his side. ‘Sorry, Will, I want to introduce you to the others.’
He had no choice but go with her, the next hour a confusion of names and faces. But everyone seemed friendly, despite the fact he was as wooden as Pinocchio. Just before two everyone began to drift away and Dean gave Will the nod. He said his goodbyes, catching Pania as she cleared dishes. They organised to meet at Gleneden the following afternoon.
Dean remained silent until they’d left the grounds and started driving back to town. ‘What the hell kind of stunt was that?’
‘I’m sorry. But I knew you’d stop me.�
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‘Damn right. Don’t you realise what an impossible position this puts me in?’
‘I’m really sorry, okay, but I can’t desert him.’ His pulse was throbbing in his throat. He was consumed by prickly heat.
‘For god’s sake, Will. For six bloody weeks you see no one and when you do you set the cat among the pigeons. If Bruce finds out, who do you think he’s going to take it out on?’
‘Tell him you’ve kicked me out. I’m going to camp up at Gleneden anyway.’
‘Harley’ll be there before you can say Fisheries Protocol.’ He turned away but then swung back. ‘Don’t think I’m going to bail you out. I don’t have that kind of cash — and your poor bloody parents certainly don’t.’
‘What am I doing so wrong, exactly? Isn’t it his job to protect Min too?’
‘Yeah, but your idea of protection goes against the rule book. You’ve lived your whole life in the city, mate. You don’t understand the politics of this at all.’
‘Don’t I? Here’s how it looks to me: there’s a little lost orca who’s desperate for some contact and if I don’t help him no one will. Bruce might think he owns this town but he doesn’t own me.’ How could one man hold so much power? And why would people let him?
‘Fine fighting words, but you have no idea.’ Dean thumped the steering wheel. ‘No bloody idea.’ He rounded on Will. ‘Can’t you see what you’re doing? This isn’t about the orca. You’re projecting your own shit onto it.’
The comment hurt like a fist in the guts. ‘That’s ridiculous. I—’
‘You’ve been shat on, I get that. And I understand you feel abandoned. But you have to learn to deal with it or it’ll screw the rest of your life. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.’
Heat consumed Will’s face. Could Dean be right? That this wasn’t really about Min at all? It did make a cringey kind of sense. Except, hold on … it’d been Will who rescued the kittens from the sack at the river that time; Will who’d talked his mother into only buying free-range, organic chicken, eggs and pork; and what about the time he found that poor munted sea gull and took it to the SPCA? He was a rescuer from way back: geckos, bumble bees, trapped mice; his concern for Min wasn’t just a figment of his own neurosis — though, he had to concede that probably didn’t help — it was the obvious extension of who he’d always been.
