Huia Short Stories 10 (8 page)

Dad and George arrive back. There's no dogs and no pig, but I don't care. I just want to go home. We begin the trek back to the van. Bill and Hemi begin to ask questions, but are told to shut up. No one talks.

Aunty meets us and asks where the dogs are and where the pork or venison is. Both men ignore her, although it's a hard thing to do with Aunty. She knows something is wrong, especially when she notices the blood on my uncle's shirt. Looking closely at Dad she sees something on his face, or maybe in his eyes, because she turns, walks into the house and shuts the door. And doesn't speak to us again.

Dad and I go home. It's raining and the shadows of the raindrops wash down the windscreen and when I look across at my father, he's crying.

Kei te Pai Ahau

Petera Hakiwai

Kua roa nei ahau e noho ana ki konei, ki Heretaunga. E rua aku tamariki ātaahua, ko Tama te mātāmua, tekau mā rua tau tōna pakeke, ā ko Hine te mātāmuri, tekau tau tōna pakeke. Ko Hone te pāpā, ka mutu kua tekau mā rima tau māua e noho mārena ana. I tūtaki māua i te Kura o Heretaunga, nā wai rā, ka puāwai te aroha i waenganui i a māua.

Auē, ka kipakipa te manawa i a au e whakaaro ana mō aua rā. Ko Hone te mutunga mai o te purotu. I te whaiwhai haere ngā wahine katoa i a ia, engari tē aro i a au. Nā whai anō i huri ngā whatu o Hone ki a au. I te tīmatanga kāore au i paku rata ki ōna āhuatanga whakahīhī, heoi i te mutunga iho nā tōna manawa tītī ōku pā tūwatawata i hinga. I ērā wā, ko au te mūrau a te tini, te wenerau a te mano. I rongo au i te kino o ngā whatu o ngāi harawene mā, engari kāore he aha ki a au, i te mea kua noho piri māua ko Hone, ka mutu he mārō te here o tō māua hononga.

Ka rere te wā, ka mārena māua, ā ka whānau mai ko ā māua tamariki e rua. Tūrangahakoa te ngākau, kua whakatinanahia ōku moemoea.

Kua aua atu ngā rā o te hākoakoa me te hari. Kua pakeke māua ināianei, ā, he amuamu, he toheriri te mahi i te nuinga o te wā. I ēnei rā o te pāheketanga ohaoha, me uaua ka noho a Hone ki tētahi wāhi mahi mo te wā roa, he iti nō ngā moni o te wāhi mahi rā i pērā ai. Ka hoki mai ngā tamariki i te kura, ka tangi mai ki a māua i te mea he anuanu ō rāua kākāhu me te aha ka kataina e te kura katoa. Ka aroha ahau ki a rāua engari tē taea te aha. Ka huri ōku whakaaro ki tēnei whare iti, iti te moni, iti te whare, heoi, engari anō te ngaringari i te korekore rawa atu nei.

Ka pānui te kaipānui i ēnei kōrero, ka whakaaro ia he pōhara nō mātou i pēnei ai, engari te raru ia he rerekē. Ehara i te mea he raru nui, heoi ko ngā moni ka whakapaua e te raru nei he nui. Pūrangiaho te mātaitia he nui taku aroha mō Hone, engari i ngā tau tata nei kua kitea e au tētahi taha hou ōna ka mutu ko te rerenga kētanga nui o tēnei raru, ko ōna pānga ki ngā tamariki.

I te nui o ngā mahi me ngā uauatanga i te kāinga, ka huri a Hone ki te pounamu waipiro mō te tūpono ka heke iho ngā taumahatanga kei runga i ngā pokowhiwhi. Nā wai i kotahi pātara ka kotahi pouaka. Ko te tīmatanga noa iho tēnei o ngā raru e takoto ana i mua i te aroaro.

Ka rere te wā, ka tau te noho a Hone ki tētahi mahi pai ki a ia. Ko tāna nei mahi hou he whakapaipai i ngā rori. Kua pai ake ngā piropiro a Hone i tēnei mahi hou, ā, kua whai hoa hou ia i reira. Kei te pai haere mātou ināianei me te aha he moni kei roto i ngā pūkoro. Kua whai perehana ngā tamariki, kua whai kākahu hou hoki ahau. Kei te whakarite kai mātou mā ōna hoa i te pō nei, kei te toa a Hone i tēnei wā tonu e hoko waipiro ana mā rātou.

Koia nei te rā tuatoru! I pai te pō tuatahi, kāre he paku aha ki a au, engari ināianei kua pau katoa ngā kai i roto i ngā kāpata, ā, kikī ana te pouaka mātao i te waipiro. Kei te kura tonu ngā tamariki i tēnei wā, nō reira kua whai wā ahau ki te kōrero ki a Hone. Me pēhea rā taku tuku kōrero ki a ia? Me kotahi atu ki te kaupapa? Me whāki atu ki a ia ehara ēnei mahi i te tauira pai mō ngā tamariki? Me waiho rānei?

Kei te kaha pātaitia ahau e ōku hoa mō te āhuatanga pango e ponitaka ana i tētahi o aku karu. Ka rūkahu ahau ki a rātou, he whakamā nōku ka panoni ō rātou whakaaro mō Hone. I ngana au ki te kōrero ki a ia engari tē aro i a ia. Ka hōhā haere au, nā ka kotahi atu ahau ki te kohete i ōna nei hoa. Kua tū ngā pihi, ā, i karawhiua rātou e au mo te hemo tonu atu. I āhua tumeke ahau i te wehenga o ōna hoa kaimahi, engari e harikoa ana te ngākau.

Ka tiro atu ahau ki a Hone, ka tere ngaro tērā harikoatanga. I roto i ōna karu te ahikauri e pupū ana, nā te aha i pērā ai? E aua, engari kei te mataku ahau ināianei. Ka ngana ia kia tū, engari nā tōna kaha haurangi ka hinga ia ki te papa. Ka oma ahau ki te awhi i a ia, mea rawa ake ko taku karu te kai a tōna ringa. Ka maringi a toto, ka puta a roimata, engari
kei te pai ahau
. Kei te kaha whakapāha mai ia, engari he aha te aha i te mea kua mahia kētia.

Kei te pai māua ko Hone ināianei. Kei te hoki mai ōna hoa i te pō nei ki te mātakitaki i te kēmu. Kua haere ngā tamariki ki te whare o tō rāua hoa. He āhua mamae tonu te karu, engari i kī taurangi mai a Hone ki a au, ka kore rawa tērā āhuatanga e puta mai anō.

He kēmu nui tēnei te haere ake nei. Kua tae ngā Ō-Pango ki te whainara o te Kapu o Te Ao. Kei te mātakitaki te tini ngeangea i tēnei kemu. Kikī ana tōku whare i te tangata. Kua tae mai ngā hoa mahi katoa o Hone i te mea he pātata tō mātou whare ki ngā karapu o Heretaunga, nō reira mutu ana te kēmu he poto te hīkoi ki reira. I ngā rā o mua, kotahi te pouaka mō ngā tangata e whā, engari ko te āhua nei kua huri te ao, ā, kotahi, e rua rānei ngā pouaka mō ia tangata. He pō roa kei mua i te aroaro.

Kua mutu te hāwhe tuatahi o te kēmu. Kāre ngā Ō-Pango i tino eke i taua hāwhe tuatahi me te aha ka kaha kē atu te inu me te hāparangi a te hunga nei. Kei te inoi ahau ināianei kia eke panuku ai tā tātou tīma me kore noa e pai ake ngā piropiro o te hunga nei. Ka tata te kēmu ki tōna mutunga, ā, kei runga ngā Ō-Pango i tēnei wā. Kua haurangi rawa atu ēnei. Ka ngangaro! Kua toa ngā Ō-Pango.

Kua puta ngā hoa mahi o Hone, ā, ko māua anake kei te kāinga. Kua haurangi rawa atu anō ia ka mutu ko te āhua nei kua rite ia mō te moe. Tērā pōhēhē tērā! Kei te hiahia ia ki te puta ki te taone. E kī e kī! He manako te kōura i kore ai. Ka tū ahau ki mua i te kūaha kia kaua rā ia e puta kei tīmata tētahi raru. Ka tohe te poro haurangi rā, engari tohe mai ia ki reira tohe mai ai, kāre he paku aha ka pahawa i āna kupu haurangi.

Mutu ana ngā kupu haurangi, ka pūrangiaho a Hone, e mōhio ana ia ka kore ngā kupu patipati, ka kore te mitimiti tou e panoni i ōku whakaaro. Nā ka huri anō ia ki tērā āhuatanga mataku, ka puta mai ko te ahikauri. Ka maumahara au i āna kupu taurangi mai ki a au, nā reira ka tū tonu au ki mua i te kūaha. Karawhiua ana te pātara waipiro e Hone ki te pakitara. Kua tū ngā pewa.

Kua pango tētahi paparinga, kua whati tētahi ringa, engari
kei te pai ahau
. I toa ngā Ō-Pango inapō, nōku te hē, kāre au i whakaae kia puta ia. Kare anō ia kia hoki mai i te taone. Te āhua nei i moe ia i te whare o ōna hoa. Kei te whakapaipai ahau i te whare, ā kō ake nei ka hoki mai ngā tamariki. Me whakapaipai hoki au i tōku kanohi kia kaua rā ngā tamariki e mataku i tō rāua pāpā.

Ko te Pōtapu tēnei, ā, kei te kai mātou i te hāngi. Kei konei te whānau katoa. He pai tēnei pō. Kei te kōrero ngā tamariki mō ngā rā whakatā, i pai tā rāua noho ki te whare a tō rāua hoa. E noho wahangū ana a Hone, he āhua māuiui tōnā āhua.

Kua haere a Hone ki te mahi, kei te kura ngā tamariki, ko au kei te kāinga e whakapaipai ana i te whare. Ka tangi mai te waea. Kua puta tētahi raru i te kura i waenganui i a Tama me tētahi atu. Ka noho pōrahurahu au i te mea ehara a Tama i te tangata kimi raru.

I te pukumahi a Hone nō reira ko ahau anake kei te tari o te tumuaki e tatari ana. Ka kuhu mai te tumuaki me taku Tama. Ka mea mai te tumuaki, i patu a Tama i tētahi kōtiro. Ka tere pukuriri a Tama, ka tīmata ia ki te tohe ki te tumuaki, ‘
I te whakaweti te kōtiro rā i tōku tuahine, nō hea au e noho mai rā ki te mātaki i tōku tuahine e tangi ana pō iho, ao ake!'

Ka tū au ki te kohete i a Tama,
‘Ahakoa he aha te take, me kaua rā koe e patu i tētahi kōtiro!'
Ka tere tonu tana whakahoki mai ki ahau, ‘
Engari ka patu a P
āpā i a koe! Māmā
ehara māua ko Hine i te tamariki kūare, ka rongo māua i ngā kohete me ngā toheriri i waenganui i a kōrua, nā whai anō i ngā ata kua pango ō karu, kua rerekē te kara o ō paparinga
.' Pakaru ana ngā roimata i ngā kamo.

Ka pātaihia au e te tumuaki mēnā he pono ngā kōrero kino e maringi mai nei i te waha o Tama. Ka titiro au ki a Tama, ka titiro au ki te tumuaki. Kei te kipakipa te manawa, me aha rā au? Ka whakaaro ahau mō Hone, ka rūkahu ahau ki te tumuaki. Ka tangi a Tama.

Ko māua ko Hone anake e noho ana i tō māua kāinga ināianei. Kua whakatauhia rawatia e te karauna me noho ā māua tamariki i te taha o tōku pāpā. Ia rā, ia rā, ka tangi hotuhotu ahau mo āku tamariki, engari
kei te pai ahau
.

E hoa mā, ko te matū o te kōrero nei e hāngai ana ki ētahi āhuatanga e kaha whakararu nei i a tāua te Māori. Ko te inu waipiro ka tahi. E kii ana tētahi kōrero, ‘haurangi, pōrangi, wairangi, wheturangi'. Ehara i te mea me kāti te inu, ko te raru kē ia ko te nui o ngā inu ka whakapaua e ētahi. Ka rua ko te patu wahine. E wahine mā, āe he mea nui te aroha, engari whakarerea te tāne patu wahine, kāre he oranga i reira. Ka toru ko ngā tamariki. I te mutunga iho, ko ngā tamariki te papa o ngā raru e rua kei runga iho. Ki te haere tonu tā mātou hoe i ēnei waka kikī ana i ngā raru, ka heke iho ēnei āhuatanga ki ngā tamariki, reanga atu, reanga atu. Ki te pērā, kua hē katoa ngā rā o te Māori. I ngā rā o mohoa nei, inā kē te nui o ngā rauemi kei waho rā hei tāmi i ēnei raru ka mutu i te nuinga o te wā kāre he utu. Me nanaiore atu tātou ki ērā rauemi hei whakatika i ngā raru nei ka mutu me akiaki hoki tātou i te hunga kua raru hoki i ēnei raru mō te tūpono ka kite rātou i te māramatanga.

Red It and Wept

Eru Hart

It is November 9th. The day after the Right rose and the Wrong became the Labour Party.

I'd set my VCR to record John Campbell's Decision '08 coverage.

He and a panel of clucking noise-makers are pre-empting history as best their expertise allows. They each have a field – political science, media studies and history – and they are each ploughing that field, on air, at consultancy rates. John Campbell is the irreverent ringleader. He calls one capitalist commentator a ‘shit-stirrer', and then apologises to the audience for lowering the tone so early in the evening. He's good at his job, but he doesn't realise that he grimaces each time an electorate vote comes in that favours National.

By 9 p.m. I just could not keep my eyes open.

My sleep the night before election Saturday had been interrupted by the new neighbour, who happens to be mental. Wild-eyed Norm has poor impulse control. That night he couldn't control the impulse to start his Subaru Legacy at 1 a.m. and rev it up for all and sundry to hear. This impromptu speedway demonstration lasted a good fifteen minutes, before he tore off away down the road. I couldn't get back to sleep until 3. My body dragged itself around all day through various stages of exhaustion. Not that I had anything to do, or anywhere to go, but depressed as I am I think it's important to stay upright if you possibly can. I went to bed for six months once.

I wanted to stay up late; I wanted to watch my girl Helen wipe the smug look off John Key's rich, white face, but my eyes would not stay open.

The polls could not possibly be right.

‘Let's cross live now to Tristram Clayton, who is stationed outside Ms Clark's house, a few hundred yards from Eden Park. Isn't that right, Tristram?'

Tristram is half shivering in the lowering temperature and light of late spring dusk.

‘Yes. Hello, John. There's been a flurry of activity outside the prime minister's house. Moments ago an Indian man carrying a large box arrived at The P.M.'s door. Police were very interested in the contents of that box.' John and the panel laugh softly. ‘It turned out to be full of home-made samosas, baked by the man's wife, a long-time friend of the Clarks.'

‘Mmm. Yes. The Indian community,' says John, stuck in the studio and possibly hungry.

‘Next, a Samoan lady arrived with what I can only assume was fresh fruit salads.'

‘Mmm. Yes. The Pacific Island community.' John is definitely hungry. I think that John's contract includes bonuses for Inclusive Language, Liberal Use of Kiwi Idiom and Services to Cultural Tolerance.

‘And finally, only moments ago I witnessed a stunning sight. Four or five of the prime minister's nieces, all in stunning red dresses, paraded down the middle of the road with some of the prime minister's sisters, on their way to see their Ms Clark. I have to say John, they made quite an entrance.'

John contains a cheeky grin. He accidentally displays a rather different kind of hunger.

‘Is that right, Tristram? I wish I was there.' He looks across at Linda Clark somewhat disappointedly. She shoots him one of her withering looks.

I wanted to watch the rest of this unfold. I wanted to watch the numbers dribble in like water from a dripping tap. I wanted to, but Norm and his inconsiderate impulse control issues sent me to bed early. My body was relaxing into sleep, while my mind was giving up trying to prick it awake. I set my VCR to record.

I wake at 5.30 a.m. It is still and dark. I can hear no revolution in the street. There has been no violence, as far as I can tell from my bed. I can hear no shouting of ‘Down with the Greedy Capitalists', nor ‘Down with the Lazy Socialists'. In short, I am in political limbo. I have the urge to enjoy this in-betweenedness. As far as I know, there is no prime minister. As far as I know, New Zealand has decided it's had enough of this nonsense – this government by representation – and has decided to pretty much do what it wants. And no more. There is a serene political ignorance. What
I
think is suddenly the great silent majority. I am without reference. But it can't last forever.

I cannot control the impulse to check the VCR. Motherfucker. It has not worked. No new coverage. Just when I thought I had perfected the art of setting the timer, I am proven wrong. Just as the DVD player reaches near 100 percent market penetration and I thought I had finally mastered the VCR, technology trumps me again.

It is now nearly 6 a.m. I will have to settle for the radio. It is like I am in technology freefall.

I hear the five beeps that announce that Radio New Zealand is ready to deliver the citizens their news.

‘Radio New Zealand news at 6 o'clock. Good morning; I'm Stuart Keith. The incoming prime minister and National Party leader, John Key, says the country has voted for a better life for all New Zealanders.'

What.

The.

Fuck.

It just gets worse. Helen Clark has resigned, which is lemon juice to my wound. The world as I know it has collapsed. Into the vacuum has stormed the Right, and what I imagine will be a period of infrastructure sell-offs, rampant capitalist expansion and public protests against the Outsiders. The Great Silent Majority has spoken, and they are sick of being marginalised. It is time to redraw the margins. The white middle class have objected. I am suddenly paranoid; everyone I know has been lying to me; no one admitted that they were voting National, yet it has won with a clear majority. I am disillusionment. I have got to call Mum.

‘Mum. Labour's out!'

‘Oh? Oh.'

‘Helen Clark's resigned!'

‘Oh OK.'

Mum is not catching my apocalyptic vibe. I can hear her TV on in the background, and for the love of God it is a repeat episode of
Mucking In
. Yet another very special person is receiving a very special garden makeover by a community who needed Jim Mora and Mitre 10 to get their arses organised.

‘Mum, we've got a new prime minister: that cheeky prick John Key!'

‘Oh. Poor Aunty Helen.'

Finally, some humanity.

I pause to give Mum another chance to get alarmed. She is all tangents though.

‘I went out last night with Aunty Gabby. When I got home your sister was watching the election. I thought something was up.'

Something is up, Mum. Racism, intolerance and the likelihood of having to work for your benefit. I have black imaginings of having to cut scrub for my sickness benefit before the week is out.

‘Mum, aren't you worried?'

Come on, Mum.

‘Well. I still know who the prime minister of the Universe is.' Her point is that it is the Lord.

He didn't get my vote.

I've heard the story before, but to blast off Mum's apathy I ask a loaded question.

‘Didn't you meet Helen Clark once?'

That's got her attention.

‘Oh yes. She came into work once. She had beautiful skin. Just beautiful. Like a porcelain doll. Like powder.'

I am satisfied with that.

I'll have to be.

Dedicated to Helen Clark. Friend of queers, beneficiaries, public servants, the Poor and the Odd.

We salute you, Aunty.