Authors: K Martin Gardner
Their language is not very hard to pick up.
I have been here a week now, and I can talk more freely now with everyone without as much hand waving and finger pointing and jumping around like some fool.
The young ones love that.
They point and laugh and carry on something fierce when I try to ask the simplest things like where the out house is or when the next meal is or what I can do to help out around the place.
The Chief told me to relax, but I can’t sit around and do nothing.
Even he goes hunting with his mates. My woman busies herself with womanly things with her women friends.
They start early in the morning getting the fire in the ground all hot again.
It seems they do the same thing like we did back home with the potbelly stove.
They just keep the coals going, forever and ever.
And there’s always meat of some sort stewin’ away down in them pits, turnin’ nice and soft.
It gets wrapped in the big leaves that grow around here.
Then they cover it up with rocks and it’s just like a proper oven.
The ladies also sit around and make things all day long.
They make the feather robes and caps, the woven mats and baskets, and even some whalebone tools.
But they are absolutely not allowed, and I have seen this enforced quite strongly, to engage in or go anywhere near the wood when it is being carved.
The men believe that the carving is sacred only to them, that even the scent of a woman around the wood while the shavings are present will destroy its magic.
The same holds true for something else that I have come to know here.
There is a very precious looking green stone here that everyone holds in the highest regard.
They use it for weapons, jewelry, and tools.
Some of it is harder to see light through and has swirls in it, while I can see clear through some other stone with nothing but the most brilliant green.
I myself am impressed with this stone, as I have never seen anything like it.
It is unique unto itself even in this remarkable place.
I have seen no other precious stones here, nor even a hint of gold or silver.
Aside from its material value, it seems that the green stone is also held in regard as the highest mystical and spiritual thing by everyone.
Everything that requires a tool can be served with something fashioned in whalebone. The higher members of the tribe, or
iwi
as they call it here, have everything made in greenstone.
That includes fishhooks, knives, necklaces, and battle-axes.
For the Chief, his greenstone treasures seem to be indispensable, as if they are part of his spirit.
He showed me his prize possession:
His
mere
.
It is a big, long, flat blade, about sixteen-inches long and six-inches wide at the broadest point.
It is hard to describe, but it is shaped like a flounder fish or a beaver tail, with a handle at one end.
The rounded jade edge is sharpened with grinding, and I reckon they use it like some kind of weapon in battle.
To see the Chief wave it back and forth in the air makes me think that he must go after people with it; but I can’t imagine it being much use for nothing more than slappin’ people up side the head with.
I mean, it don’t have a point like a sword, and I can’t see it gettin’ stuck into someone or anything like that.
Maybe that’s why this tribe is so peaceful.
All this big loud talk about war and killing and eating people: I just can’t see it.
All these people want to do is eat and be happy all day every day.
I think they just like to keep their enemies scared away.
II
Ten days here and I have learned a lot.
I went out with the Chief and his men, and we speared a pig.
I made the spear myself from a really hard wood here they call
Rimu
.
They say I have the magic and that I will make a good warrior, perhaps even a chief.
I have been training with the men and boys of the pa, learning all the moves and chants.
I have my own mere, which is only whalebone now for practice, and an assortment of fishing gear and jewelry.
They say when I make my first kill that I will no longer be a white man, but they also say that I will be the first white man to become a true Maori.
They really like me, I can tell.
III
After a fortnight with my new woman, I think she loves me.
I believe that I am falling in love with her as well. Kind of like a wife.
I think of my Lalani back home and our unborn child, and I feel rather guilty.
But, I could not refuse the gracious offer of my hosts.
Besides, what man can turn away a beautiful woman when she is offered as a willing bride?
I tried to remain above my feelings for her, as a visitor in a temporary situation that he cannot control; but, her constant attention and affectionate admiration for me have softened my spirit to the point that I cannot resist my feelings for her.
She is so beautiful.
I could not have chosen a more striking woman if the Chief had lined up all the females in the village and let me take all day to pick.
She seemed to be ready for marriage.
She was brought in by the Chief’s women. She did not try to be coy or shift her eyes or appear unkind in any way.
She is remarkable.
Unlike any woman I have seen in the pa, except for the Chief’s wife, she has green eyes.
Green like the stone.
It is shocking, really.
Even though I must be mature and hide my embarrassment, the young women of the pa dress themselves so that their bosom is fully uncovered and visible at all times.
For someone who is not used to it, the sight can be quite distracting. But, I must confess that my Kumari has the finest pair in the village, and my eyes have no problem whatsoever remaining faithful to her in that area, either face or figure.
She spares no effort in pleasuring me, but I do not feel that she is my loyal servant.
We truly seem to be developing a spiritual bond, deeper somehow than what I shared with Lalani back home.
Getting betrothed to her was like a ritual to formalize a fact between childhood sweethearts.
It seems now that she was always just a good friend, and the only girl around who I could even look at.
We were always close, but there were always those gaps that we couldn’t reach across, like her trusting and understanding me when I left. Because I didn’t have a choice, I overlooked those differences in light of holding on to what I had.
Now, I have many new choices in front of me when she is not.
I think for now I will let Lalani, and her memory, rest somewhere in my soul until I can pay her some attention.
I have Kumari, and she is becoming my world.
I awake at dawn and her hands are already upon me, exploring my body like a new land.
We make love like sharks make blood in the water, and we are always late for breakfast.
At night, she breaks away early from her work mates, and she is waiting for me when I get in from hunting.
She looks after every particular of my looks. She asks me what I think about everything that she wears.
The women have begun her
ta moko
, the pretty little tattoo under her chin.
She wants to know if I am going to start my face soon.
I tell her I don’t know, and she respects me when I change the subject.
IV
Kumari, the Chief, his wife, and I took the village’s war canoe out on the bay for a little tour today to mark the passing of my first moon here.
Well, us and a hundred men in full wardress.
It was an exercise of sorts. That’s what the Chief told me; but I think he had told his wife it was going to be a pleasure cruise, judging from the quarrel they were having.
It was a beautiful day:
Clear, sunny, and warm, with very little breeze.
It’s one of the reasons we went out, being that the visibility showed no sign of any war vessels around.
Our boat is about one-hundred-feet long, carved from a single
Kauri
tree.
The Chief says that he can go pretty far in it, he just doesn’t want to.
Besides, he says, he would never want to go as far as the white man goes.
The Maori boats can’t take that much water.
The whites are here, he says, because they have killed all of the whales that they were originally given.
The Maori only kill one occasionally for what they need, he says.
He also says that he likes how the white man has put a top over the boats to keep the water out, but he doesn’t want to do that.
He thinks that is how the evil spirits hide to get over here.
His war canoe is a small one, the Chief says.
The one that Robulla comes in will be much larger and will carry several-hundred men.
Ruaoneone says he doesn’t know where Robulla finds such large Kauri trees.
He seems a little jealous to me on that point.
He says that he does not know for sure when Robulla will come, but that he is ready.
I hope the old bastard never comes.
I just want to live here in peace and make love with Kumari forever.
Chapter 13
June 24th, 1828.
Tory Channel, just off the coast of Pukatea village:
Ah, The Elizabeth, my darling.
Good to see you again.
You float so gracefully, so properly, when you come to dance in my waters.
But you and I both know that you are my whore, and that you have come to do my bidding once again:
For a price!
Right my precious?
And what will your price be this time?
Eh, my little bobbing British brothel bitch?
Never mind, you will give me what I want in the end, just like last time.
It will start just the same.
You will see me coming in this big boat that seems so odd to you.
Your captain will throw out some fake greeting and ready your men on deck as he shits his pants.
This time he will know my name, though.
At a distance, he will recognize me, and order his men to stand down.
Fool.
I could have you all for lunch without breaking a sweat.
It’s a good thing that you don’t know, I can’t afford to do that.
Can’t afford having your flax-white asses telling everyone back home how savage we are.
No, because then you would stop coming.
And stop bringing your guns.
My guns.
Here they come.
Roll out the barrel!
Yes, that’s it.
Try to appease me with your tobacco and your junk.
Very nice.
Is that how you conquer all your other lands?
Very impressive.
Oh yes, lots of whale meat and bones.
Haven’t seen those before!
Idiots.
Yes, I’ll play your game, but not for much longer.
Your captain can see that I am growing impatient.
He wants to protect his interests here.
His business venture.
Yes, captain.
I can help.
I will keep those other bad, mean, nasty Maori at bay, so to speak.
With what, you say?
No, no, I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, see this year’s model of muskets?
Oh, Captain, you make me blush.
They’re so big.
You can’t see me mocking your dumb white ass behind my battle-hewn, tattooed face, can you?
All right, name your price, captain.
Make it good though; I really don’t feel like getting bloody today.