the whale,’ he said.
‘You have all seen the sacred sign tattooed on its head. Is the tattoo there by
accident or by design? Why did a whale of its appearance strand itself here and not at
Wainui? Does it belong in the real world or the unreal world?’
‘The real,’ someone called.
‘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
‘You have all seen the sacred sign tattooed on its head. Is the tattoo there by
accident or by design? Why did a whale of its appearance strand itself here and not at
Wainui? Does it belong in the real world or the unreal world?’
‘The real,’ someone called.
‘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
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