When Words Die

by Jenni Francis

  Chapter 8

  Keri

  “That was strange,” Jess said. “At least she could have said thank you.”

  “Could be she is just shy,” I said. Though I thought she looked more than shy – anxious maybe. A bit like Nicky did even after William was found.

  “Gorgeous red hair,” Jess said. “Not carrotty, like some people, but a beautiful dark red, and those curly ringlets. She’s going to be beautiful when she’s older.”

  “Could be,” Mereana said. “Come on, let’s cut across this paddock to the shops.”

  We clambered over the fence and swished our way through the long grass to the opposite fence line. The fence here was not very secure, showing how many people must have passed over this way. We stepped across, went down a small alleyway and found ourselves between the TAB and the fish and chip shop. The weeds grew straggly through the gaps in the asphalt and many discarded packets and cans were strewn along the alley and the roadway. Jess wrinkled her nose but said nothing.

  We turned left and made our way along a small strip of shops, some of them boarded up and desolate looking, while others were open. Their window displays looked tired and faded.

  At the end of the shops was a patch of scrubby green grass, and a worn track through the middle of it leading towards a line of trees. We went down some steps and came to a lovely wharf area. It was a total contrast to the shopping area.

  “Wow!” I said. “This is amazing.”

  The wharf was well maintained with pale blue railings, and bollards along the side of it. There were hanging plants in baskets and a couple of bench seats. Three boats were tied up at the wharf, and as we sat there, we watched people coming and going with groceries, filling up tanks with water, and bringing bags of rubbish up to the big bins situated alongside.

  “They built this last year,” Mereana said. “It was all volunteer labour and donations of timber and poles and stuff. Right away people started bringing their boats up the river, and then the shops started to get busier over the summer. The town had been really dying before that. Mostly old people living here, but now they may get more young families moving here, like that family we dropped the pie off to.”

  “Where is the beach from here?” I asked.

  “About half an hour walk that way.” Mereana pointed off to her left, towards the east. “It’s a good swimming beach. We’ll go down there soon. It’s where my uncle lives. He’s the one with the horses. We can ride them along the beach if we want.”

  “Is that where your cousins are too?”

  “Some of them. Others live here in town, and some more live back towards Kaitaia. You’ll meet them all tomorrow at the hui. Let’s go and get an iceblock from the dairy, and we can walk along the river then make our way back to Nanny’s house.”

  We walked along the river, sucking on our ice-blocks. It was hot, but under the willows it was cooler and there was a light breeze. As we turned along the path away from the river towards Nanny Anahera’s house, a noise behind us made me turn back. There was a lot of thick bush off to our left but on our right were small sand dunes covered in marram grass. I couldn’t see anything.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, just something behind us. Didn’t you hear it?”

  “No,” they both said.

  I shrugged and followed on after them.

  We were almost to the road when a bloodcurdling scream almost knocked me out of my jandals. My heart jumped, my skin went hot and cold and I think I almost peed myself.

  “Aagh!!” I screamed, at the same time as Mereana and Jess. Three boys about twelve years old jumped out from behind a dense bush.

  “Wiremu!” Mereana yelled. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  She started to chase him up the road, but he was faster, and the three of them shot across the road into a house nearby, cackling.

  “My cousin Wiremu and his mates,” Mereana said. “Always messing around. Keep an eye out for them.”

  Chapter 9

  Chloe

  Lily came back from the beach, Dad came home from work, and Mum dragged herself out of bed. Chloe had spent the afternoon in her room, doing nothing much in particular, under the pretence of tidying it. It was too hard. There were too many decisions to make. Where to put the rubbish, where to put the clothes, how to tidy her books. If someone had come in and said do this, do that, she could have done it, but no one had. So she didn’t. Plus, she didn’t want to think about another failed attempt at talking to someone.

  “Where did this pie come from?” her mother asked.

  “Nanny Anahera,” Chloe said.

  “Did she come by when I was asleep?”

  “Some girls brought it.”

  Her mother sighed. “Well, that was nice of her to send it along. We’ll have to thank her tomorrow, at the hui.”

  “What hui?” Chloe asked.

  “The one for the treaty settlement. We’re going to the marae in the morning. The elders are having a meeting, and there will be the usual karakia and pōwhiri and kai. Like when we first came.”

  “No, Mum! Do I have to go? That was horrible! It was so embarrassing!”

  “Yes, love, we do. It’s important to your dad and to our family. We are all going.”

  Chloe scuttled off to her room, sat on her bed and tried not to think about anything. But the memory of that first marae visit was etched on her memory and not in a good way.

  They had only lived in Awanui for a month or so, when the first hui had been held on the marae. She was mortified to find it was to welcome her own family, plus some other new people to the area, and they would be expected to walk with a guide onto the grounds. It was such a blur to her, but she clearly remembered her mum and dad and a couple of other people singing something. Lily was singing along tunelessly. She was young enough not to be concerned. But Chloe stood almost numb with embarrassment while kids her own age, who were on the welcoming side, laughed behind their hands at her discomfort. She had vowed never to go again.

  But parents had a way of making sure you did.

  Chapter 10

  Keri

  After dinner, we stayed sitting around the kitchen table with a big pot of tea and more biscuits. Jess and Mereana did the dishes, and Nanny Anahera pulled out an old photograph album.

  I asked her quietly, “What should we call you? Mrs Wrightson?”

  “You can just call me Nanny. That’s what everyone calls me.”

  “But you are Mereana’s grandmother, aren’t you? Mereana’s dad’s mother?”

  “Well, it’s complicated. Sometimes the firstborn grandchild goes to live with the grandparents. He was brought up in my home. It’s called whāngai. Here you go, here’s a photo of him when he was a little boy. He was very sweet and very gentle. See, here’s some more of him growing up. He loved his nanny!” she said proudly.

  I could see that from the photos. In most of them, he had his arm around Nanny Anahera, and in others he sat beside her and held her hand.

  Nanny sighed. “Then he met Mereana’s mum. And after that he gave away his traditions. Mereana was the firstborn and she should have gone to the next generation but her mum and dad said ‘no’. They moved away and kept her to themselves. I could have taken care of her. and then Mereana’s dad died, and we didn’t see much of Mereana after that. But she’s a good girl. She’s still got some of the traditions. See here? This is when she led her first waiata. She would be good for the whānau if she stayed around here.”

  There were a few photos of Mereana when she was little, and then one taken about a year ago, standing on the marae, and clearly knowing what she was doing. There were other people standing behind her and one of the other girls did not look happy.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  Mereana looked over my shoulder as she dried a large pot.

  “That boy we saw today? Wiremu? It’s his sister Pani. She wasn’t happy when Nanny asked me to begin the wa
iata, but it was only once, to give me some experience, eh, Nanny?”

  “Ae, darlin’. But if you stayed here, you could do it more, and you would be a big asset to us, with your education.”

  “First, I want to go to university, and maybe become a lawyer. Then I could come and really help,” Mereana said. She looked at me with her lips firmly together, and the message was clear. No more talking about this subject.

  Unfortunately, Jess hadn’t seen it. As she wiped down the bench and wrung out the cloth, she said, “I don’t think I could live up here. It seems so remote. I’d need much more stimulation. People, shops, clubs, that kind of thing.”

  Nanny Anahera closed the photograph album firmly and went to put it away.

  “That’s the trouble with young people,” she said. “They want to move away and then they never come back. Then what happens to the whānau, the family? Then it’s gone and only the old people are left.”

  She shuffled off to her room and closed the door behind her.

  “Jess!” I said. “That wasn’t very tactful.”

  “But it’s true!” she said.

  “It’s okay, Keri,” Mereana said. “It is true. Most of the young people are leaving the area. There’s no jobs, and no prospects. They have to move to Auckland, or Whangarei. The old people don’t know what to do. That’s why they fight hard to get compensation from the government through the Waitangi Tribunal so they can start new businesses in the area, or help struggling families. It’s just a real sore point with Nanny because my dad was the first to move away, and then lots followed. The old traditions are dying.”

  We stood and looked at each other for a moment. It was almost painful, the way I was feeling. Not a great way to start a week’s holiday, but this was these people’s lives. We were lucky to live where we did, and not have these same worries.

  Chapter 11

  Chloe

  For a few blessed moments on waking up, Chloe felt contented. Another warm day, by the feel, and school holidays. Until she realised it was the day of the hui. Her mood crashed down over her again. In the kitchen she could hear Mum getting breakfast ready, and there was something else too – a lingering cooking smell that Chloe couldn’t quite identify. She slid out of bed and pulled a hoodie on over her pyjamas.

  Lily was bouncing around the table holding a wooden spoon like a microphone and singing a Katy Perry song.

  “ ... and you’re going to hear me Ro-o-a-ar!”

  “Lily, Lily please – I’ve still got a headache and there’s so much to do. Can you sing quietly for a while?”

  “You can’t sing that song quietly. It’s got to be sung loud!”

  Dad wandered into the kitchen in his pyjamas and grabbed Lily, turning her upside down.

  “It’s good practice to sing at different volumes. Try pianissimo. Very soft. But with passion.”

  Dad was the musical one. He had studied piano and singing when he was young, and he still played sometimes at home. Lily climbed down from his arms and stalked off to the lounge where she sang in a strangled whisper.

  “Sorry, love,” her dad said to her mum. “Best I could do. How are you feeling today?”

  “Fragile,” she said. “But better. Just didn’t need that noise.”

  “What are you cooking?” Chloe asked.

  “A casserole, and also some scones. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course, it will be. They’ll be happy with whatever you make,” he declared.

  Mum turned to look at Dad. “I do like it here. I do. But I feel so out of place. Like a fish out of water, not knowing the protocols and how things are done.”

  “It’s only been six months, and we only have another year and a half. Then we can go back to the safety of the city.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Chloe was with her mother on this. At least in a city school she could hide her anxieties in amongst a thousand other people. Here she stuck out like a beacon. The only white-skinned, red-haired and non-talking person in a school of two hundred. Eighteen more months was a lifetime. She nibbled on a piece of toast, her stomach in knots.

  “What time does the hui start?” Chloe asked.

  “About midday. When the visitors arrive. They’re coming up from Auckland on a bus.”

  “Okay, time for me to mow the lawns first then,” Dad said. “Chloe, you going to do the chickens?”

  She nodded, put the rest of her toast in a bin full of scraps, and went to get changed. No way was she going out there in her pjs. It would be just her luck that Wiremu and the others would walk past at the wrong time.

  From over the paddocks Chloe could hear voices, music, shouts of laughter at the marae and the smell of the hāngi cooking. That was one good thing about the hui. Chloe loved hāngi food. Chickens, lamb and pork cooked in the ground in baskets over hot rocks. They were then covered with flax leaves or sacks and then earth heaped on top to keep the heat in. There would be cabbage, kūmara and other vegetables in baskets cooking in there too. The smoky earthy flavours blended together with some traditional herbs made for the best meal in the world.

  She fed the chickens, and checked they had clean water. Half a dozen eggs today. She placed them in the basket and headed back to the house. Dad was mowing the lawns out the front. Over the other side of the road, the three girls she had met yesterday were walking along chatting. One of them saw her and waved. She gave a small wave back. The others turned and waved too, but Chloe knew she was all out of brave actions. One small wave was a huge step forward. She dashed inside the side door and stood quietly until she was sure they had gone.

  Chapter 12

  Keri

  When we came out for breakfast the next morning Nanny Anahera was all smiles. On every available surface was food. Pies, cakes, biscuits, casseroles, rice dishes and trays of savouries.

  “Nanny, did you make all this?” I asked. It was overwhelming.

  “Some of it, dear. The other ladies and I make it, and I keep it in my freezer, so the mokopuna won’t steal it out from under their aunties’ noses. Only me here. Those mokopuna can be right little devils.”

  “What’s mokopuna?” Jess asked.

  “You’ve been away too long,” I teased her. “It’s grandchildren.”

  “That’s right,” said Nanny. “Descendants of the elders. Mereana is my mokopuna. Now, hurry and have some breakfast, and then I want you to take some of these along to the marae.”

  We had Weetbix and toast, with milky sweet tea. I could see Jess was unimpressed with the tea. It wasn’t how I had it either, but when in Rome . . . or up north. It was hot and wet and that was okay by me.

  We loaded up baskets and bags and headed off along the road. It was a warm day, just right for a swim. I saw Mereana wave to the girl we’d given the pie to yesterday. She gave a little wave back, but when Jess and I waved, she scuttled inside.

  “I think you’ve got a BFF over there,” I told her. “She waved to you, but not us.”

  “She seems really shy,” Mereana said. “I might try and talk to her later.”

  As we arrived at the gate to the marae, I stopped.

  “Wait up!” I said. “Isn’t there a protocol about going on a marae? Shouldn’t we be waiting for someone to welcome us on?”

  Mereana giggled. “No, that’s only if the hui has started. You’re with me, and we’re making a delivery. But I’ll check and see if you will be with the visitors or the welcoming party. Be nice if you could be welcomed on, to get a feel for it.”

  There were people everywhere. Sweeping, tidying, placing out chairs, heading around the back, and coming around the front. Over to one side a boy was playing the guitar, and as they worked, others were singing to the music. Kids were playing all around the place, shouting and laughing as they went. We went around to the back of the wharekai to the kitchen where the food preparation was going on. An older lady looked up and gave a big smile.

  “Eh, Mereana. You’re here! Come and give Auntie a big hug.” She opened
her arms wide. Mereana put down her bag of pies and was swept into a huge hug. They stood together for a moment, enjoying the closeness, then Mereana turned to us.

  “Keri, Jess, this is my Auntie Trina. She’s the mother of my cousins, Pani and Wiremu. Auntie, this is Keri and Jess. It’s their first time on a marae.”

  “Kia ora, girls. Welcome. Don’t you worry about anything. We’ll show you what to do, and we’ll put you to work out here in the kitchen. That way you can get to know everyone and feel like you’re part of it. Now you give me a hug too, and then we’re all good!”

  There was the tiniest suggestion of an eye roll from Jess, which I hoped only I noticed. My stress levels were rising. It was always going to be a challenge, putting my two friends together, but coming to a place where Jess was uncomfortable might not have been the best idea. I hid a small sigh and turned to Auntie Trina for a hug. She was big and strong and gave the best hug I’ve had from anyone.

  We were introduced to everyone else in the kitchen, and then given the job of making sandwiches. There must have been ten loaves of bread to butter and fill. We really hadn’t come prepared but we got on with it anyway. I buttered, Jess filled, and Mereana cut them and put them on the trays, covered with a damp tea towel.

  During the morning a girl a bit older than us came in. She gave Auntie Trina a hug, swiped a piece of cake from a tray and laughed as Auntie Trina flicked her tea towel at her.

  “Missed me, Mum,” she called as she skipped back out the door.

  Mereana turned when she heard the voice.

  “Pani,” she said succinctly. We nodded.

  Around ten thirty Auntie Trina suggested we might like to go home and get changed for the hui. We escaped as fast as we could and headed back to Nanny Anahera’s house.

  By now cars and trucks and vans were lining the sides of the road, and there were many more people than there had been previously. We made our way through the throng, waving to the girl we’d seen before. She gave a little smile and ducked her head. She looked like she was with her family. - a younger girl who looked like her, and a mum and dad. Mereana went over to them.