The Whale Rider (11 page)

‘Is it natural or supernatural?’

‘It is supernatural,’ a second voice said.

Koro Apirana put up his hands to stop the debate.
‘No,’ he said, ‘it is
both
.
It is a reminder of the oneness which the world once had. It is the birth cord joining past
and present, reality and fantasy. It is both. It is
both
,’ he thundered, ‘and if we have forgotten the communion
then we have ceased to be Maori.’

The wind whistled through his words. ‘The whale is a
sign,’ he began again. ‘It has stranded itself here. If we are able to
return it to the sea, then that will be proof that the oneness is still with us. If we are
not able to return it, then this is because we have become weak. If it lives, we live. If it
dies, we die. Not only its salvation but ours is waiting out there.’

Koro Apirana closed his eyes. His voice drifted in the air and
hovered, waiting for a decision.

‘Shall
we
live? Or shall
we die?’

Our answer was an acclamation of pride in our tribe.

Koro Apirana opened his eyes. ‘Okay then, boys.
Let’s go down there and get on with it.’

Porourangi gave the orders. He told the men that they
were to drive every available truck, car, motorbike or tractor down to the bluff overlooking
the sea and flood the beach with their headlights. Some of the boys had spotlights which
they used when hunting opossums; these, also, were brought to the bluff and trained on the
stranded whale. In the light, the whale’s tattoo flared like a silver scroll.

Watching from the dining room, Nanny Flowers saw Koro Apirana walking
around in the rain and got her wild up. She yelled out to one of the boys,
‘
Hoi
, you take his raincoat to that old
paka. Thinks he’s Super Maori, ne.’

‘What are they doing, Nanny?’ Kahu asked.

‘They’re taking all the lights down to the
beach,’ Nanny Flowers answered. ‘The whale must be returned to the
sea.’

Kahu saw the beams from the headlights of two tractors cutting through
the dark. Then she saw her father, Porourangi, and some of the boys running down to the
whale with ropes in their hands.

‘That’s it, boys,’ Koro Apirana yelled.
‘Now who are the brave ones to go out in the water and tie the ropes around the
tail of our ancestor? We have to pull him around so that he’s facing the sea.
Well?’

I saw my mate, Billy, and volunteered on his behalf.

‘Gee thanks, pal,’ Billy said.

‘I’ll take the other rope,’ Porourangi
offered.

‘No,’ Koro Apirana said. ‘I need you
here. Give the rope to your brother, Rawiri.’

Porourangi laughed and threw the rope to me. ‘Hey,
I’m not your brother,’ I said.

He pushed me and Billy out into the sea. The waves were bitingly cold
and I was greatly afraid because the whale was so gigantic. As Billy and I struggled to get
to the tail all I could think of was that if it rolled I would be squashed just like a nana.
The waves lifted us up and down, up and down, up into the dazzle of the lights on the beach
and down into the dark sea. Billy must have been as frightened of the whale as I was because
he would say, ‘Excuse me, koro,’ whenever a wave smashed him into the
side of the whale, or, ‘Oops, sorry koro.’

‘Hurry up! Hurry up!’ Koro Apirana yelled from the
beach, ‘We haven’t much time. Stop mucking around.’

Billy and I finally managed to get to the tail of the whale. The
flukes of the whale were enormous, like huge wings.

‘One of us will have to dive underneath,’ I
suggested to Billy, ‘to get the ropes around.’

‘Be my guest,’ Billy said. He was hanging on for
dear life.

There was nothing for it but to do the job myself. I took three deep
breaths and dived. The water was churning with sand and small pebbles and I panicked when
the whale moved. Just my luck if it did a bundle, I thought. I sought the surface quickly.

‘You’re still alive,’ Billy shouted in
triumph. I passed the two ropes to him. He knotted them firmly and we fought our way back to
the beach. The boys gave a big cheer. I heard Billy boasting about how
he
had done all the hard work.

‘Now what?’ Porourangi asked Koro Apirana.

‘We wait,’ said Koro Apirana, ‘for the
incoming tide. The tide will help to float our ancestor and, when he does we’ll
use the tractors to pull him around. We will only have the one chance. Then once
he’s facing the sea we’ll all have to get in the water and try to push
him out.’

‘We could pull him out by boat,’ I suggested.

‘No, too dangerous,’ Koro replied. ‘The
sea is running too high. The other whales are in the way. No, we wait. And we
pray.’

Koro Apirana told Billy and me to get out of our wet
clothes. We hopped on my motorbike and went up to the homestead to change. Naturally, Nanny
Flowers with her hawk eyes saw us and came ambling over to ask what was happening down on
the beach.

‘We’re waiting for the tide,’ I said.

I thought that Nanny Flowers would start to growl and protest about
not being involved. Instead she simply hugged me and said, ‘Tell the old paka to
keep warm. I want him to come back to me in one piece.’

Then Kahu was there, flinging herself into my arms. ‘Paka?
Is Paka all right?’

‘Yes, Kahu,’ I said.

‘There, there,’ Kahu said to Nanny Flowers.
‘They’ll be all right.’

Suddenly the horns of the cars down on the beach began to sound. The
tide was turning. Billy and I rushed to the motorbike and roared back.

By the time we got back to Koro Apirana the boys were already in
action. ‘The sea came up so sudden,’ Porourangi yelled above the waves.
‘Look.’

The whale was already half submerged, spouting in its distress. Three
elderly females had managed to come beside him and were trying to nudge him upright before
he drowned.

‘
Now
,’
Porourangi cried. The two tractors coughed into life. The rope took up between them and the
whale, and quickly became taut.

With a sudden heave and suck of sand the whale gained its equilibrium.
Its eyes opened, and Koro Apirana saw the strength and the wisdom of the ages shining like a
sacred flame. The tattoo of the whale too seemed alive with unholy fire.

‘Sacred whale,’ Koro Apirana said. ‘Yes,
we wish to live. Return to the sea. Return to your kingdom of Tangaroa.’

The tractors began to pull the whale round. By degrees it was lying
parallel to the beach. The boys and I put our shoulders to its gigantic bulk and tried to
ease it further seaward.

It was then that the ropes snapped. Koro Apirana gave a cry of
anguish, burying his face in his hands. Swiftly he turned to me. ‘Rawiri, go tell
your Nanny Flowers it is time for the women to act the men.’

Even before I reached the dining hall Nanny Flowers was striding
through the rain. The women were following behind her.

‘In we go, girls,’ Nanny Flowers said.
‘Kahu, you stay on the beach.’

‘But Nanny.’

‘Stay,’ Nanny Flowers ordered.

The women ran to join us. Porourangi began to chant encouragement.
‘Toia mai,’ he called. ‘Te waka,’ we responded.
‘Ki te moana,’ he cried. ‘Te waka,’ we answered
again. ‘Ki Tangaroa,’ he chanted. ‘Te waka,’ we
replied a third time. And at each response we put our shoulders to the whale, pushing it
further seaward and pointing it at the ocean stars.

Out to sea the herd sang its encouragement. The elderly females
spouted their joy.

A ripple ran along the back of the whale. A spasm. Our hearts leapt
with joy. Suddenly the huge flukes rose to stroke at the sky.

The whale moved.

But our joy soon turned to fear. Even as the whale moved, Koro Apirana
knew we had lost. For instead of moving out to sea the whale turned on us. The tail crashed
into the water causing us to move away, screaming our dread. With a terrifying guttural moan
the whale sought deeper water where we could not reach it.
It is
death
. Then, relentlessly, it turned shoreward again, half-submerging itself
in the water, willing its own death.

The wind was rising. The storm was raging. The sea stormed across the
sky. We watched, forlorn, from the beach.

‘Why?’ Kahu asked Koro Apirana.

‘Our ancestor wants to die.’

‘But why?’

‘There is no place for it here in this world. The people who
once commanded it are no longer here.’ He paused. ‘When it dies, we die.
I die.’

‘
No
, Paka. And if it
lives?’

‘Then we live also.’

Nanny Flowers cradled the old man. She started to lead him away and up
to the homestead. The sky forked with lightning. The tribe watched in silence, waiting for
the whale to die. The elderly females cushioned it gently in its last resting place. Far out
to sea the rest of the herd began the mournful song of farewell for their leader.

seventeen

Nobody saw her slip away and enter the water. Nobody knew at all until
she was halfway through the waves. Then the headlights and spotlights from the cars along
the beach picked up her white dress and that little head bobbing up and down in the waves.
As soon as I saw her, I knew it was Kahu.

‘Hey!’ I yelled. I pointed through the driving
rain. Other spotlights began to catch her. In that white dress and white ribboned pigtails
she was like a small puppy, trying to keep its head up. A wave would crash over her but
somehow she would appear on the other side, gasping wide-eyed, and doing what looked like a
cross between a dog-paddle and a breaststroke.

Instantly I ran through the waves. People said I acted like a maniac.
I plunged into the sea.

If the whale
lives
,
we live
. These were the only words
Kahu could think of.

The water was freezing, but not to worry. The waves were huge, but she
could do this. The rain was like spears, but she could do this.

Every now and then she had to take a deep breath because sometimes the
waves were like dumpers, slamming her down to the sandy bottom, but somehow she bobbed right
back up like a cork. Now, the trouble was that the lights from the beach were dazzling her
eyes, making it hard to see where she was going. Her neck was hurting with the constant
looking up, but
there
,
there
, was the whale with the tattoo. She dog-paddled purposefully towards it. A
wave smashed into her and she swallowed more sea water. She began to cough and tread water.
Then she set her face with determination. As she approached the whale, she suddenly
remembered what she should do.

‘That damn kid,’ I swore as I
leapt into the surf. For one thing I was no hero and for another I was frightened by the
heavy seas. Bathtubs were really the closest I ever liked to get to water and at least in a
bath the water was hot. This wasn’t. It was cold enough to freeze a person. I
knew, because I’d only just before been in it.

But I had to admire the kid. She’d always been pretty
fearless. Now, here she was, swimming towards the whale. I wondered what on earth she
expected to do.

I saw Porourangi running after Koro Apirana and Nanny Flowers to bring
them back. Then the strangest thing happened. I heard Kahu’s high treble voice
shouting something to the sea. She was singing to the whale. Telling it to acknowledge her
coming.

‘Karanga mai, karanga mai, karanga
mai.’ She raised her head and began to call to the whale.

The wind snatched at her words and flung them with the foam to smash
in the wind.

Kahu tried again. ‘Oh sacred ancestor,’ she
called. ‘I am coming to you. I am Kahu. Ko Kahutia Te Rangi ahau.’

The headlights and spotlights were dazzling upon the whale. It may
have been the sudden light, or a cross-current, but the eye of the whale seemed to flicker.
Then the whale appeared to be looking at the young girl swimming.

‘Kahu!’ I could hear Nanny Flowers screaming in
the wind.

My boots were dragging me down. I had to stop and reach under to take
them off. I lost valuable time, but better that than drown. The boots fell away into the
broiling currents.

I looked up. I tried to see where Kahu was. The waves lifted me up and
down.

‘Kahu, no,’ I cried.

She had reached the whale and was hanging onto its jaw.
‘Greetings, ancient one,’ Kahu said as she clung onto the
whale’s jaw. ‘Greetings.’ She patted the whale and looking
into its eye, said, ‘I have come to you.’

The swell lifted her up and propelled her away from the head of the
whale. She choked with the water and tried to dog-paddle back to the whale’s eye.

‘Help me,’ she cried. ‘Ko Kahutia Te
Rangi au. Ko Paikea.’

The whale shuddered at the words.

By chance, Kahu felt the whale’s forward fin. Her fingers
tightened quickly around it. She held on for dear life.

And the whale felt a surge of gladness which, as it mounted, became
ripples of ecstasy, ever increasing. He began to communicate his joy to all parts of his
body.

Out beyond the breakwater the herd suddenly became alert. With hope
rising, they began to sing their encouragement to their leader.

‘Kahu, no,’ I cried again. I
panicked and I lost sight of her, and I thought that she had been swept into the
whale’s huge mouth. I was almost sick thinking about it, but then I remembered
that Jonah had lived on in the belly of his whale. So, if necessary, I would just have to go
down
this
whale’s throat and pull Kahu
right out. No whale was going to swallow our Kahu and get away with it.

The swell lifted me up again. With relief I saw that Kahu was okay.
She was hanging onto the whale’s forward fin. For a moment I thought my
imagination was playing tricks. Earlier, the whale had been lying on its left side. But now
it was righting itself, rolling so that it was lying on its stomach.

Then I felt afraid that in the rolling Kahu would get squashed. No,
she was still hanging onto the fin. I was really frightened though, because in the rolling
Kahu had been lifted clear of the water and was now dangling on the side of the whale, like
a small white ribbon.

The elderly female whales skirled their happiness through the sea.
They listened as the pulsing strength of their leader manifested itself in stronger and
stronger whalesong. They crooned tenderness back to him and then throbbed a communication to
the younger males to assist their leader. The males arranged themselves in arrow formation
to spear through the raging surf.

‘Greetings, sacred whale,’ Kahu whispered. She was
cold and exhausted. She pressed her cheek to the whale’s side and kissed it. The
skin felt like very smooth, slippery rubber.

Without really thinking about it, Kahu began to stroke the whale just
behind the fin.
It is my lord, the whale rider
. She felt
a tremor in the whale and a rippling under the skin. Suddenly she saw that indentations like
footholds and handholds were appearing before her. She tested the footholds and they were
firm. Although the wind was blowing fiercely she stepped away from the sheltering fin and
began to climb. As she did so, she caught a sudden glimpse of her Koro Apirana and Nanny
Flowers clustered with the others on the faraway beach.

I was too late. I saw Kahu climbing the side of the
whale. A great wave bore me away from her. I yelled out to her, a despairing cry.

Kahu could climb no further.
It is my lord, Kahutia Te Rangi
. She saw the rippling skin of the whale
forming a saddle with fleshy stirrups for her feet and pommels to grasp. She wiped her eyes
and smoothed down her hair as she settled herself astride the whale. She heard a cry, like a
moan in the wind.

I saw black shapes barrelling through the breakers.
Just my luck, I thought. If I don’t drown I’ll get eaten.

Then I saw that the shapes were smaller whales of the herd, coming to
assist their leader.

The searchlights were playing on Kahu astride the whale. She looked so
small, so defenceless.

Quietly, Kahu began to weep. She wept because she was
frightened. She wept because Paka would die if the whale died. She wept because she was
lonely. She wept because she loved her baby sister and her father and Ana. She wept because
Nanny Flowers wouldn’t have anyone to help her in the vegetable garden. She wept
because Koro Apirana didn’t love her. And she also wept because she
didn’t know what dying was like.

Then, screwing up her courage, she started to kick the whale as if it
was a horse.

‘Let us go now,’ she shrilled.

The whale began to rise in the water.

‘Let us return to the sea,’ she cried.

Slowly, the whale began to turn to the open sea.
Yes, my lord
. As it did so, the younger whales came to push
their leader into deeper water.

‘Let the people live,’ she ordered.

Together, the ancient whale and its escort began to swim into the deep
ocean.

She was going, our Kahu. She was going into the deep
ocean. I could hear her small piping voice in the darkness as she left us.

She was going with the whales into the sea and the rain. She was a
small figure in a white dress, kicking at the whale as if it was a horse, her braids
swinging in the rain. Then she was gone and we were left behind.