4

TE MĀNUKANUKA O HOTUROA

When they arrived at the coastal village of Onehunga, fishermen were hauling their waka up onto the shore, emptying their catch of mullet and kahawai into kete and carrying the nets up to their stands. Te Motu a Hiaroa was just visible behind the settlements of Te Pane o Mataaoho pā. Kakati scanned the waterfront for any waka that were preparing to return to the papakāinga nestled below the maunga. Her attention was drawn to a slight woman and a group of tamariki huddled in silence at the water’s edge. They were partly obscured by the many scavenging gulls fighting over the stray fish that had fallen from baskets.

‘Let’s head down to the beach.’ Kakati prodded her cousin, who was resting on her flax cape.

‘Why? I don’t want tūangi for dinner. Where are we going to sleep tonight?’

‘Give us a break! That’s what I’m trying to sort out. Now follow me.’

Kakati greeted the woman. She was reluctant to talk but eventually disclosed that she was returning to her people at Te Pane o Mataaoho, having escaped her violent husband. She feared that he would come for their tamariki, and she was waiting for her uncle to ferry them back to the safety of their kāinga. It wasn’t long before her relative arrived, and with the offer of two extra paddlers, Kakati succeeded in convincing him to let them on board. A striking pink sunset lit up the entrance to the harbour as the waka slid into the channel, and the woman’s uncle broke into song, encouraging his passengers to join in. Fortunately, he never asked why they were intending to visit Te Motu a Hiaroa.

Twilight enveloped the travellers as they glided into their anchorage. They jumped out and dragged the waka alongside others beached on the narrow foreshore that lay between black lava flows.

‘You can bed down in that shed over there.’ The man signalled to it as he escorted the relieved family group along the path to his home. ‘Come and find us for a kai if you wish. There’s a spring behind the shed.’

Thanking their hosts, Kakati hinted they would join them later that evening. Then, the cousins set off in the direction indicated.

‘I’m starving and cold,’ complained Te Kawenga. ‘Why can’t we go there now?’

‘We have to get across to the island.’

‘What! Straight away? You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘Were you not listening? We have to find a hiding place before daybreak,’ Kakati insisted. ‘Now move out of the way.’ She grabbed some sleeping mats and a kete of freshly dried tuatua from the shed. After filling their tahā, she headed back to the shore with Te Kawenga chasing behind.

‘So now you’re planning to steal a waka?’

‘Rather than swim with the pioke? Yes. Anyway, it’s just borrowing for a short time.’

‘Then why didn’t you ask? What you’re doing is wrong,’ Te Kawenga argued.

‘No time for protocol. Just trust me.’

‘I have a really bad feeling about this.’

‘That’s enough. It’s not a big deal,’ Kakati snapped as she strode along the line of waka, looking for the smallest. ‘Perfect. The paddles have been stowed away in the hull. Right, help me drag this one to the water, then jump in.’

They could just make out the island in the dim moonlight. The girls scanned the waters, trying to navigate the channel. Kakati led the karakia, and her cousin was quick to lend her voice to the invocations to Hina, the moon, focussing to ensure she made no mistakes. The strident cries of tōrea punctuated the rhythmic splashing of their paddles as the waka was carried along with the turning tide. Rounding the promontory, they entered Te Tārai a Kaiwhare, the narrow stretch of water separating the motu from the mainland.

‘Matua told me that the channels in the harbour are carved out by the taniwha Kaiwhare as he rolls around,’ said Te Kawenga once the karakia was over.

‘Well, I don’t really want to think about taniwha right now. Hina will confer her blessing upon us,’ Kakati reassured her fretful cousin and momentarily pointed her hoe to the night sky.

‘Blessing! What good will that do? According to the ruahine, we are unleashing the monster!’ replied Te Kawenga.

‘If I recall, it was you who wanted to do this. You’re the one who risks her life eavesdropping at the tūāhu. We need all the blessings we can get. Maybe—’

‘Shh … stop talking,’ Te Kawenga hissed as a waka taua travelling at speed suddenly disappeared behind Te Pū-Rākau, the western headland of the island.

‘That’s the protection I was talking about,’ Kakati whispered. ‘Paddle steadily now. The current is getting stronger, but we are nearing the sandbank.’

‘I hope you know what you’re doing. There are many refuge pā on this motu with lookouts on each of the summits. The sacred altar, Te Taumata o Rakatāura, is heavily guarded on the highest peak.’

‘Can you just shut up! I know this, which is why we will not be going anywhere near it.’

Kakati steered the waka through an opening in the mangroves then lowered herself into the dark shallows, her face grimacing as she sank into the muddy seabed. Once the waka had been dragged high onto the shell bank, the girls crept into the pā harakeke, the flax bushes framing the coastline.

‘Lucky you didn’t stand on a stingray,’ Te Kawenga teased as she squeezed between the rows of flax that had been freshly harvested. Smoke drifted above them – a sure sign they were approaching the family plots that encircled the lower slopes of the island. Emerging from the harakeke, the girls butted up against solid stone walls anchoring tall mānuka fences.

‘The perfect cover,’ muttered Kakati happily. ‘If we stick close to these stone boundaries, we can move around the perimeter unnoticed.’

‘I thought we were supposed to find a lava cave.’

‘Exactly. So keep your eyes peeled for two pōhutukawa.’

‘Te Matapuare also mentioned kāretu grass,’ Te Kawenga blurted out anxiously.

‘Calm down, e kare. I’m looking,’ Kakati sighed as she guided them through the maze of stone walls that ran in straight lines from the fortified pā to the foreshore. From behind the fences, they could hear whānau chatting after their evening meals. The grimacing face of a carved pou whakarae, a kotiate weapon in hand, glared down at them from the palisade. Te Kawenga pulled the last of the kao from her backpack. She had barely started chewing when three blasts of the pūkāea trumpet rang out from the hilltop. The stillness of the night was broken by the pounding of feet heading up paths to the summit.

Kakati grabbed her cousin by the arm and hauled her into the ngaio bushes at the base of Te Taumata o Rakatāura, where they crouched, hidden from the blaze of ngāpara torches rushing past. The hoot of a ruru caught their attention. The bird eyed them, then hopped closer along a mamaku fern frond before flying off in the direction of the sea.

‘Quick. Chase after it,’ Kakati whispered. A short distance through the scrub, two sprawling pōhutukawa stood at attention, their aerial roots gigantic red shields protecting the land.

‘Te Matapuare was right.’

‘So where’s the cave?’

‘Simple. Can’t you smell the kāretu?’

The cousins charged towards the shoreline, the ruru wheeling ahead of them. Parting the spear-shaped leaves of the kāretu clumps, they forced their way through to a small clearing by the water’s edge. Level with the ground, lichen covered boulders framed the descent through a narrow aperture into the shallow cave.

‘This is where we’ll sleep. We’ll be safe tonight.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘The pūkāea has summoned the warriors. The rangatira will talk deep into the night, but when Te Tumu appears at dawn, we’ll be ready,’ Kakati explained in an effort to convince herself as much as her anxious cousin.

‘I’m starving, and all we’ve got is dried shellfish and your leftover kao. So unappetising.’ Their hunger partially satisfied, the girls felt their way carefully down into the darkness of the cave.

‘Loosen your kilt and pull it up over your chest. Blanket yourself with your cape.’

The ruru alighted on the black basalt overhang. Beneath her, the girls curled up together, shivering on the sleeping mats. The kati taramea lay at their feet, filling the damp air with its potent fragrance.