Mere replied. ‘But some of the Peka Peka land is ours.’
‘Has it no’ been sold tae the government? Ma Da said it had.’
‘Your Governor Browne thinks he has made the way clear for that to happen, but he has not,’ Mere replied sharply.
Isla didn’t know who Governor Browne was, but Mere’s angry expression dissuaded her from admitting it, and certainly from asking anything more.
They soon approached a large area of flat, cultivated land: Isla recognized potato and kumara plants, but not the other leafy varieties arranged in neat rows across the soil. A separately fenced cultivation contained corn and, Isla thought, wheat. There were a dozen men and women working on the cultivations, and a few small children playing in the dirt nearby. They all stopped to stare as the travelling party neared. Wira shouted something, and one of the women laid down her hoe and hurried off.
‘We will wait,’ Mere said.
Isla saw that the gardens were set in a lush valley bisected by a narrow river whose depths reflected the varying shades of green surrounding it. A stand of bush bordered the far end of the gardens, beyond which the woman had disappeared.
‘She has gone to the kainga to tell them that we have returned,’ Mere said eventually. ‘And that you accompany us. They must prepare.’
Isla wasn’t sure how to interpret Mere’s comments, and experienced a frightening moment of doubt. What did ‘prepare’ mean? To fill the awkward silence that ensued, and to calm her nerves, she said, ‘How long have ye been away?’
‘One full cycle of the moon.’
‘Were ye hunting?’ Niel sounded almost, but not quite, friendly.
‘In a sense,’ Mere replied, but declined to say anything more.
Isla and Niel exchanged an uneasy glance, although neither quite knew why.
‘I’m hungry,’ Jean complained, and sat down in the dirt at the edge of one of the gardens. A small Maori child, wearing a patched shirt that came down to its knees, sidled up to her and reached out to touch her bright copper hair, but ran off shrieking when Jean made an exaggerated growling noise. Laddie’s ears pricked and he trotted over, making the child squeal even louder until someone came to pick it up and soothe it.
‘That wisnae verra nice, Jean,’ Isla admonished.
‘But I’m hungry.’
‘Well, there’s no need tae be unkind.’
‘But she wis dirty, wi’ a snotty nose,’ Jean declared loudly.
‘“He”,’ Mere corrected. ‘The child is a boy. One of my niece’s children.’
Jean looked aghast. ‘But he’s got long hair!’
‘Ae,’ Mere said benignly.
‘What a wee jessie!’
‘Jean!’ Isla warned.
But before Jean could protest, the woman who had gone off reappeared and spoke quickly to Wira. He and the rest of the travelling party, excluding Mere, moved off with the woman and the other gardeners, the children trotting behind them. When they had disappeared into the trees, Mere gave the signal for Isla, Niel, Jamie and Jean to follow her.
‘You will be welcomed onto our marae,’ she explained as they walked, ‘and then we will eat to celebrate your arrival.’ She glanced at Laddie. ‘Can you control your dog? We have dogs at our kainga. They may fight.’
‘Aye,’ Isla replied, hoping that Laddie would behave. ‘But what if your family dinnae want us there?’
‘Oh, they will. Whangai is a common thing among my people.’
‘But we’re no’…’ Isla struggled to put into words what was bothering her. She glanced at Niel, whose hair was as fair as hers, and at Jamie and Jean, two little carrot-tops with freckles dusting their pink noses and pale skin. At home, on Skye, it also had been very common for the raising of children to be shared among families, but there the children had always, without fail,
been Scottish, and always some sort of kin. ‘We’re no’ Maori,’ she said eventually, not bothering to dress up her words. ‘We willnae fit in.’
Mere raised one eyebrow in amusement.
‘Has it no’ been sold tae the government? Ma Da said it had.’
‘Your Governor Browne thinks he has made the way clear for that to happen, but he has not,’ Mere replied sharply.
Isla didn’t know who Governor Browne was, but Mere’s angry expression dissuaded her from admitting it, and certainly from asking anything more.
They soon approached a large area of flat, cultivated land: Isla recognized potato and kumara plants, but not the other leafy varieties arranged in neat rows across the soil. A separately fenced cultivation contained corn and, Isla thought, wheat. There were a dozen men and women working on the cultivations, and a few small children playing in the dirt nearby. They all stopped to stare as the travelling party neared. Wira shouted something, and one of the women laid down her hoe and hurried off.
‘We will wait,’ Mere said.
Isla saw that the gardens were set in a lush valley bisected by a narrow river whose depths reflected the varying shades of green surrounding it. A stand of bush bordered the far end of the gardens, beyond which the woman had disappeared.
‘She has gone to the kainga to tell them that we have returned,’ Mere said eventually. ‘And that you accompany us. They must prepare.’
Isla wasn’t sure how to interpret Mere’s comments, and experienced a frightening moment of doubt. What did ‘prepare’ mean? To fill the awkward silence that ensued, and to calm her nerves, she said, ‘How long have ye been away?’
‘One full cycle of the moon.’
‘Were ye hunting?’ Niel sounded almost, but not quite, friendly.
‘In a sense,’ Mere replied, but declined to say anything more.
Isla and Niel exchanged an uneasy glance, although neither quite knew why.
‘I’m hungry,’ Jean complained, and sat down in the dirt at the edge of one of the gardens. A small Maori child, wearing a patched shirt that came down to its knees, sidled up to her and reached out to touch her bright copper hair, but ran off shrieking when Jean made an exaggerated growling noise. Laddie’s ears pricked and he trotted over, making the child squeal even louder until someone came to pick it up and soothe it.
‘That wisnae verra nice, Jean,’ Isla admonished.
‘But I’m hungry.’
‘Well, there’s no need tae be unkind.’
‘But she wis dirty, wi’ a snotty nose,’ Jean declared loudly.
‘“He”,’ Mere corrected. ‘The child is a boy. One of my niece’s children.’
Jean looked aghast. ‘But he’s got long hair!’
‘Ae,’ Mere said benignly.
‘What a wee jessie!’
‘Jean!’ Isla warned.
But before Jean could protest, the woman who had gone off reappeared and spoke quickly to Wira. He and the rest of the travelling party, excluding Mere, moved off with the woman and the other gardeners, the children trotting behind them. When they had disappeared into the trees, Mere gave the signal for Isla, Niel, Jamie and Jean to follow her.
‘You will be welcomed onto our marae,’ she explained as they walked, ‘and then we will eat to celebrate your arrival.’ She glanced at Laddie. ‘Can you control your dog? We have dogs at our kainga. They may fight.’
‘Aye,’ Isla replied, hoping that Laddie would behave. ‘But what if your family dinnae want us there?’
‘Oh, they will. Whangai is a common thing among my people.’
‘But we’re no’…’ Isla struggled to put into words what was bothering her. She glanced at Niel, whose hair was as fair as hers, and at Jamie and Jean, two little carrot-tops with freckles dusting their pink noses and pale skin. At home, on Skye, it also had been very common for the raising of children to be shared among families, but there the children had always, without fail,
been Scottish, and always some sort of kin. ‘We’re no’ Maori,’ she said eventually, not bothering to dress up her words. ‘We willnae fit in.’
Mere raised one eyebrow in amusement.
Similar Books
