The Whale Rider Page 4

But that was nothing compared to the fight that they had when Porourangi rang to say he would like to name the baby Kahu.

‘What’s wrong with Kahu?’ Nanny Flowers asked.

‘I know your tricks,’ Koro Apirana said. ‘You’ve been talking to Porourangi behind my back, egging him on.’

This was true, but Nanny Flowers said, ‘Who, me?’ She fluttered her eyelids at the old man.

‘You think you’re smart,’ Koro Apirana said, ‘but don’t think it’ll work.’

This time when he went out to the sea to sulk he took my dinghy, the one with the motor in it.

‘See if I care,’ Nanny Flowers said. She had been mean enough, earlier in the day, to siphon out half the petrol so that he couldn’t get back. All that afternoon he shouted and waved but she just pretended not to hear. Then Nanny Flowers rowed out to him and said that, really, there was nothing he could do. She had telephoned Porourangi and said that the baby could be named Kahu, after Kahutia Te Rangi.

I could understand, however, why the old man was so against the idea. Not only was Kahutia Te Rangi a man’s name but it was also the name of the ancestor of our village. Koro Apirana felt that naming a girl-child after the founder of our tribe was belittling Kahutia Te Rangi’s prestige. From that time onward, whenever Koro Apirana went past the meeting house, he would look up at the figure of Kahutia Te Rangi on the whale and shake his head sorrowfully. Then he would say to Nanny Flowers, ‘You stepped out of line, dear, you shouldn’t have done it.’ To give credit to her, Nanny Flowers did appear penitent.

I guess the trouble was that Nanny Flowers was always ‘stepping out of line’. Even though she had married into our tribe she always made constant reference to her ancestor, Muriwai, who had come to New Zealand on the Mataatua canoe. When the canoe approached Whakatane, which is a long way from our village, Muriwai’s chieftainly brothers, led by Toroa, went to investigate the land. While they were away, however, the sea began to rise and the current carried the canoe so close to the rocks that Muriwai knew all on board would surely perish. So she chanted special prayers, asking the gods to give her the right and open the way for her to take charge. Then she cried, ‘E-i! Tena, kia whakatane ake au i ahau!’ Now I shall make myself a man. She called out to the crew and ordered them to start paddling quickly, and the canoe was saved in the nick of time.

‘If Muriwai hadn’t done that,’ Nanny used to say, ‘the canoe would have been wrecked.’ Then she would hold up her arms and say, ‘And I am proud that Muriwai’s blood flows in my veins.’

‘But that doesn’t give you the right,’ Koro Apirana said to her one night. He was referring, of course, to her agreeing to the naming of Kahu.

Nanny Flowers went up to him and kissed him on the forehead. ‘E Koro,’ she said softly, ‘I have said prayers about it. What’s done is done.’

Looking back, I suspect that Nanny Flowers’ action only helped to harden Koro Apirana’s heart against his first-born great-grandchild. But Nanny was keeping something back from the old man.

‘It’s not Porourangi who wants to name the girl Kahu,’ she told me. ‘It’s Rehua.’ Then she confided to me that there had been complications in the birth of Kahu and, as a result, the delivery had been by caesarean section. Rehua, weak and frightened after the birth, had wanted to honour her husband by choosing a name from his people, not hers. That way, should she die, at least her first-born child would be linked to her father’s people and land. Rehua was from the same tribe as Nanny Flowers and had that same Muriwai blood, so no wonder she got her way with Porourangi.

Then came a third telephone call from Porourangi. Rehua was still in intensive care and Porourangi had to stay with her, but apparently she wanted Kahu’s afterbirth, including the birth cord, to be put in the earth on the marae in our village. An auntie of ours would bring the birth cord back to Gisborne on the plane the next day.

Koro Apirana was steadfast in his opposition to Kahu.

‘She is of Porourangi’s blood and yours,’ Nanny Flowers said to him. ‘It is her right to have her birth cord here on this ground.’

‘Then you do it,’ Koro Apirana said.

So it was that Nanny Flowers sought my help. The next day was Friday, and she got dressed in her formal black clothes and put a scarf over her grey hair. ‘Rawiri, I want you to take me to the town,’ she said.

I got a bit worried at that because Nanny wasn’t exactly a featherweight, but she seemed so tense. ‘All right,’ I said. So I got my motorbike out of the shed, showed her how to sit on the pillion, put my Headhunters jacket on her to keep her warm, and off we roared. As we were going along Wainui Beach some of the other boys joined us. I thought, ‘I’ll give Nanny Flowers a thrill and do a drag down the main street.’

Well, Nanny just loved it. There she was, being escorted through the Friday crowd like royalty, waving one hand at everybody and holding on tightly with the other. We had to stop at the lights at Peel Street, and the boys and I gunned our motors, just for her. Some of Nanny’s old cronies were crossing; when they saw her through the blue smoke, they almost swallowed their false teeth.

‘Oh my goodness,’ they said. ‘Who is this?’

She smiled supremely. ‘I am the Queen of the Headhunters.’ At that stage I was getting worried about my shock absorbers, but I couldn’t help feeling proud of Nanny. Just as we roared off again she poked out her little finger, as if she was having a cup of tea and said, ‘Ta ta.’

But when she met Auntie at the airport, Nanny Flowers’ mood changed. We were watching from the road when Auntie got off the plane. She started to cry, and then Nanny started to cry also. They must have been cryingfor at least ten minutes before our Auntie passed Kahu’s birth cord to Nanny. Then Auntie escorted Nanny over to us and kissed us all and waved goodbye.

‘Take me back to Whangara a quiet way,’ Nanny asked. ‘I don’t want people in the town to see me crying.’

So it was that Nanny and I and the boys returned to the village, and Nanny was still grieving.

She said to me, ‘Rawiri, you and the boys will have to help me. Your grandfather won’t come. You’re the men who belong to Whangara.’

The night was falling quickly. We followed Nanny as she went back and forth across the space in front of the meeting house. She took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching us. The sea hissed and surged through her words.

‘This is where the birth cord will be placed,’ she said, ‘in sight of Kahutia Te Rangi, after whom Kahu has been named. May he, the great ancestor, always watch over her. And may the sea from whence he came always protect her through life.’

Nanny Flowers began to scoop a hole in the loose soil. As she placed the birth cord in it, she said a prayer. When she finished, it had grown dark.

She said, ‘You boys are the only ones who know where Kahu’s birth cord has been placed. It is your secret and mine. You have become her guardians.’

Nanny led us to a tap to wash our hands and sprinkle ourselves with water. Just as were going through the gate we saw the light go on in Koro Apirana’s room, far away. I heard Nanny whisper in the dark, ‘Never mind, Kahu. You’ll show him when you grow up. You’ll fix the old paka.’

I looked back at the spot where Kahu’s birth cord had been placed. At that moment the moon came out and shone full upon the carved figure of Kahutia Te Rangi on his whale. I saw something flying through the air. It looked like a small spear.

Then, far out to sea, I heard a whale sounding.

Hui e, haumi e, taiki e.

Let it be done.