Trixie Te Arama Menzies was born in Wellington in 1936 and lives in Auckland with her husband, Barry Menzies. She is of Tainui and Scottish descent. She has three adult children, five surviving grandchildren, four great-grandchildren and several mokopuna atawhai. She has taught at secondary schools, at the University of Auckland and been a kaiāwhina at kōhanga reo. Her four poetry collections are Uenuku (Waiata Koa, 1986), Papakainga (Waiata Koa, 1988), Rerenga (Waiata Koa, 1992) and In the Presence of My Foes (Waiata Koa, 2000). Together with Ramai Te Miha Hayward, the late Arapera Hineira Kaa Blank, Toi Te Rito Maihi and others, Trixie is a founding member of Waiata Koa, a Māori women’s artists and writers collective that was formed at the time of the Karanga exhibition in 1986.
heading
home, we stopped
at Ōrewa, stayed in a motel
For once the kids weren’t fighting
Maybe because we weren’t –
In the morning we made coffee, looked outside
The tide was on the turn, just coming in
The water whispered as it gently broke
The sea was smoothed back to a golden line
The kids were down there playing on damp sand
He said, It’s good, taking your family away,
Of course, it costs a bit of dough –
But his tone said that for once he didn’t mind.
For once that time we seemed to get it right.
The young girl is running running she will not stop
Her lips are curled back, her eyes wide and staring,
and her hair is tangled
She clutches her empty kit, sobbing and gasping
For her spilt pipis, fallen when she took flight
It was a hot blue day when she set out to gather them
With her ripening cousins, complete with togs and
transistor
Giggling and gossiping. Smoking a little, illicitly
Their fire put out, the tide leaving the shore
They waded out to where the shells were plentiful
But she thought there might be more over the track
Jolly uncle turned up and went too, helping her over
That beach was deserted and uncle, seizing the
moment
Showed his affection, engulfing her in his arms
Touched her under her clothes, gave her hard word,
hard muscle
And his rough skin and stale hangover breath
He offers ten dollars, she is afraid of her mother
She heads for the river, her golden thighs flashing
like flax blades
A rosy blush rising in her young skin like the dawn
He is after her, she is not going to embarrass him
His strong strides bring him closer until at the creek
She trips and falls, still clutching her kit with one pipi
Caught in the side, the last food of her girlhood
He is on her, he will prove once and for all who is
master
He takes her into a cave under the earth
Slimy and sinful, starless night enters her being
The colours go out, she belongs to him now, she is
death
Far behind them her mother is searching the beach
for her daughter
Not wanting to face her suspicions she gropes for her matches
Lights her cigarette, and drags hard on her
desperation
So many busy tongues, they are like an ocean
washing me this way and that, like a piece of seaweed –
Do your worst! I deny nothing
Whatever you can think up to say about me
I admit in advance –
I do not intend to argue
I am tossed about, clinging to bits of wreckage from
my canoe
Hoping to rebuild it out of the broken ends
Would you think it justice if I drown?
Do not come to my rescue, the steering paddle has
rotted
I would rather take my chance in the sea than be
pierced by rot –
Rather, see to the paddle!
I will climb aboard the approaching ship that offers
protection –
Meantime I remember my powerful ancestors and
keep swimming