There is no such thing as Tuwhenga (as far as I know) Have fun reading.
Tuwhenga
The Fable
By Thane Zander
Contents
Chapter Title
1 Hone
“Hooky” Rewaka and his story
2 Dwight
J Kippenberger and his story
3 Mila
Tusitala Wright and her story
4 Shaun
“Madman” Edward and his story
5 Margaret
Blithe-Hopkins and her story
6 Ta’ane
Rednaz, the Quickening
7 Te
Marae o Hine 10th
October 2008
8 A
Sense of Anticipation
9 Te
whakaminenga at Little Waihi
10 Tuwhenga’s
arrival.
11 A
space in time, a time in space.
12. The
Healing
13 The
Folklore, Hooky’s tale
14 The
Folklore, Dwight’s tale
15 The
Folklore, Mila’s tale
16 The
Folklore, Madman’s tale
17 The
Folklore, Meg’s tale.
18 The
Folklore, Tane’s tale
19 Tuwhenga’s
legacy.
Hone “Hooky” Rewaka and his story
It
is the 12th
of July, a winter southerly screaming through all the holes in the
shearing shed south of Porangahau. The shearers are lined up and
very busy, clipping the winter fleece from the Romneys gathered for
such an event. Of course, no matter the weather, the shearing gang
is dressed in black woollen singlets and khaki shorts.
The
rousers, normally wives and girlfriends of the shearers, though some
from out of the area, work too, and are busy sorting and packing the
fleece. Amongst them, a twelve year old boy, working feverishly to
keep up. It’s his first season with the gang, having walked out of
school to save his sanity. He had a clawed hand, the right one, a
defect from birth, and this deformity made it impossible to stand the
ridicule he constantly received. Yes, in 21st
century New Zealand, biases existed, and bullying.
His
name is Hone Rewaka, his mountain is Taupiri, his river, Waikato, his
iwi – Ngati Maniapoto and his waka is Tainui. To his friends, he
was plain old Hooky, after the hand, and he had moved from
Ngauruawahia to be with his uncle and aunty with the shearing gang -
to be a man. His work lasted all day, and he handled it well. He
enjoyed the mana of the gang; the way they all worked with each other
to get the days work done. His dream was to be a shearer, but he knew
his hand would be a stumbling block, especially as most shearers
sheared right handed. But one day he was going to try.
After
the days work, all the gang would muster in the cookhouse and eat the
kai the wahine had cooked that afternoon, usually Pork Bones and Puha
or similar fare. They’d share a beer and tell tales of the days
events, then when completed, all head off to the local pub for
another few beers or so, before retiring early. Of course, Hooky was
part of the gang and went with them, though he was only allowed a
fizzy drink or a glass of water. ‘One day’, he thought to
himself, ‘I’ll be man enough to share their mana’.
Yes,
12th
July 2005, the nights long, the days short. Tonight was a full moon,
if the clouds parted enough to let it shine on the south Hawkes Bay
farms. Enough light perhaps for sheep to wander with some sight.
Enough light perhaps to keep tired minds awake. Hooky went to bed
that night, and his life changed forever.
3.00am
13th
July 2005
He
awoke with a start, sweating profusely, even in the cold of winter.
He looked around, listened, and couldn’t discern what had awoken
him. Then the word came to him, Tuwhenga and a date, the 24th
November 2006. He stretched his mind, trying to think who Tuwhenga
was; it sounded Maori, it sounded important, but it just didn’t
register in his young mind. He got up, slipped his shorts and
gumboots on, and exited the sleeping quarters to see if any of the
whanau was awake. He found Hinemoa Raku, his southern cousin,
sitting on the bench in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette. They
exchanged pleasantries and she offered him the smoke. He declined,
but one day he knew he would smoke, all the gang smoked.
He
asked her if she had ever heard of anyone or anything called
Tuwhenga, to which she searched her mind and drew a blank. She asked
him where he got the name from, and he told her about waking up with
it on his mind. She said ask the kaumatua in the morning, he’d
probably know if anyone did. ‘Yes’, he thought, ‘Uncle Waitere
would know for sure’. He wished his cuzzie well and headed back to
bed. It was then he remembered the date, what relevance did that
have, it was in the future? He removed the gumboots quietly, so as
not to wake any of the gang, including Uncle Waitere, and slipped
under the covers. The soft snoring of tired shearers permeated the
quarters, and he drifted off to their peaceful sound.
Later
that morning Uncle Wetere stated it must be a made up name, he had no
recollection of any such word in the Maori language. He’d asked
his fellow shearers, even rung his mentor and father, Koro Waitere
and he too said it was bogus. Still the name stuck in Hooky’s mind
for a few more days and then was forgotten.
24th
November 2006
He’d
worked hard again today. Driving the farm tractor was a breeze and
his deformed hand was no problems when negotiating the many paddocks
he had to plough. He worked now with his cousin Hemi’s
agricultural equipment service, working in the Manawatu. Most
farmers were due to plant their crops, some already had, and others
were behind the ball after all the rain in October. He sat down on
the step of Hemi’s spacious house in Rongotea, and took his work
boots off, placing them neatly beside the step, under the eaves. He
still thought about those days working for the shearers but after the
dream, he’d had a change of heart about being a shearer, and asked
Hemi if he could come and stay thinking he’d find work in the
region.
He
thought again about the date. It was today, and so far nothing
untoward or strange had happened, except Hemi’s wife Mary said
there had been a small earthquake centered around Turangi at 10am and
was felt by her. He didn’t see any connections with this Tuwhenga,
and promptly dropped his train of thought. He went inside, had tea,
and so tired from the work, went to bed early. He was still a young
man, with plenty of energy, but even driving a tractor all day was
tiring. He slept.
He
saw her, in a pool of water the colour of pounamu, her brown flax
cape and hood showing clearly. She called to him ‘Hone” she said
and she was clear as a bell. And she was beautiful, very beautiful.
Her looks were sharp Maori and her demeanour was that of royalty. He
heard her say “I am Princess Te Huia te Heu Heu, and I lived a long
time ago. I was around the last time Tuwhenga came” and then she
showed him a stick figure, though a little filled out, of an opaque
greenstone colour, glimmering, with no feet, hands, and a plain round
head, but in his mind the figure was just as beautiful as the lady in
the lake.
Then
she showed him the Orb, Tuwhenga, God of the Cosmos, and in a flash
it was gone, the stick figure gone, and the princess gone. Just a
black void filled by nothing. It woke him up. He walked around his
room, shaking his hands, chanting in Maori, and trying to erase the
haunting memory. He never remembered his dreams, even the
nightmares, but the princess was clear and concise, the figure too,
and the Orb. The Orb, an opaque light green, similar to white jade,
but more luminescent. Was that this infamous Tuwhenga, the orb. And
Maori didn’t have a God of the Cosmos, as far as he was aware.
There was Rangi – Sky father, Papatuanuku, Earth Mother, Tangaroa,
God of the Sea, and Tane of the Forests, amongst many, but no God of
the Cosmos. The thought chilled him, Why He?
Dwight J Kippenberger and his story
The
12th
of July, 2005. Dwight Kippenberger was sitting in his Victoria
University lecture room, twiddling a pencil. His mind wasn’t
really on Professor Hunt’s anthropology lecture, nor was it on the
other students. He was thinking of his sisters’ birthday tomorrow,
and how he was going to send her some money. She was older than he,
and had stayed in New York when his father had successfully applied
to work at the US Embassy in Wellington, New Zealand.
He
thought, too, of his favourite places in his old city, where
thespians could comingle with glee and abandon. He also thought of
the lack of wind. Of the few things he really hated about
Wellington, it was the wind. One day a strong northerly, the other a
howling southerly, and maybe respite from both for a day. It made
riding a bicycle very difficult, but he didn’t have enough money
for a car or scooter to be able to best the wind.
He
clicked over the pencil again, mindlessly twirling it in his deft
fingers. His thoughts raced to his manuscript, the children’s
story he was writing for a friend. He’d nearly finished it, and he
was sure the first copy would go to his sister.
Mentally
he fell upon his own mortality (perhaps the lecture was working) and
wondered what he’d be doing on his 18th
birthday in November that year. He was hoping to have all his
studies over by then and be working on another book, this one a Sci
Fi novel. He had the basic plot and story, and was prepared to dig
in over summer and write, before Uni started again in 2009.
The
lecture finished and students began to file out, making a bit of fuss
and ado as they left. He gathered up his books and bag, placing the
former in the latter. He saw Maree Leadbetter just ahead, raced up
to her and touched her elbow to gain her attention. He asked her if
she had anything on Friday and would she like to go the poetry
reading in Courtney Place, at the Golden Epistle, a haunt for
Wellington’s thespians and writers. She nodded yes, and said
she’ll pick him up from the Embassy. Buoyed by that success,
Dwight made his way to the bike shed behind the Refectory building,
unlocked his bike, and pedalled the nearly two miles to his second
home.
He
stopped in to say hi to his mum and dad (both staff there) and
continued on to their living quarters, a spacious house out the back,
with at least five other houses. Permanent staff with families
always lived on site. He made his way to his bedroom and placed his
bag by the dresser (Rimu he believed – information gleaned from
furniture at Uni), then changed his clothes to something a little
warmer. His room was cold, but it was decidedly colder when the
southerly blew, as it did now.
He
moved over to the computer desk, bent over and turned the power on to
his other life. The Compaq Presario was given to him by the Embassy,
as a welcome present for him and the family. They all had one and
were networked on broadband to have internet access. This was
mandatory for all US staff, so they could keep in contact with family
and friends in the States, as well as control the affairs of their
own properties and the likes. Right now, Dwight was going to go
online and try and catch his sister, Amelia before she hit the hay (a
good kiwi term he’d learnt). The Presario rocketed on as it went
through its boot up, and soon he was surfing his current sites of
interest for updates on mainly political sites. It did seem George A
Rush was going to get a second term in office. His sister failed to
show up online on YIM, so he finished checking his sites and then
went off to shower.
He
settled in for the evening, checking sites, arranging emails, and
generally taking care of foreign business matters. Once he’d
finished, he gave himself an hour or two of story writing time. They
ate late in the Kippenberger household and at 9.30 pm, he enjoyed his
last meal for the day. He then retired to bed, happy with another
good day.
3.00am
13th
July 2005
Was
it the sound of gunfire on the TV, or the crackle of fire in the
hearth? Whatever it was, it woke him up. Then he thought he
remembered a dream he was having and the word Two Finger entered his
consciousness. Or was it Tuwhenga. The name was unfamiliar and had
a Maori ring to it. He got up, the computer still on, and entered
the name into Google and came back with two hits, one a part of a
poem from someone called Ta’ane Rednaz, and another from an
unintelligible website that had no English Translation facility. So
there was a Tuwhenga, but what was it and what did it mean? He made
a resolution to ask a Maori tutor at Uni later today, to see if there
was such a name in Maoridom.
He
went back to bed; suddenly realising there was a date on his mind,
the 24th
November 2006. It made no sense, as he wasn’t aware he’d
organised anything that far ahead. Still he wrote it down on his
night-thoughts pad, and went back to sleep.
Later
that day, Dwight sought out Ripene Te Hira, the Maori studies
professor and ran the name by him. He personally didn’t know of
the name or word, and mentioned he’d ask various iwi around the
country he had contacts with. Dwight gave him the website where he
found the poem with the word in it as if that would help. Poets are
prone to making names up and this could have just been coincidence.
It
was a few days later that Ripene found him and stated it was a made
up name and that how he happened upon it must have been pure chance.
That was the last day Dwight would worry about the name, he had uni
work to do and it swallowed his time.
24th
November 2006
University
was going well for Dwight. All his subjects were finished or near
finished and only a couple of exams remained to be done. He had just
arrived home after a very tough day, had made a small meal, eaten it
and showered ready for bed. First, he checked in on his emails,
answered one from Amelia, making his own plans to return home after
exams and spend a couple of months in New York being a thespian (or
as he liked to be called – The New Bohemian). He was itching to
get there, but there was still a week or two before he was underway.
He
shut the computer down, shucked his clothes and climbed into bed. It
was a warm night, and for once there had been no wind driven rain for
a week. A rare Wellington day!
He
was largely untroubled in his sleep, though his mother did pop in and
say goodnight around 9.00pm. Nothing unusual, except maybe he was in
bed early. His mind drifted as he dropped off again, and this time
it reminded him it was the day he was given in his last peculiar
dream. He even remembered the name. Eventually he slept, and slept
well. But at 11.35pm, he was up. And pacing, and chanting and
questioning his sanity. But he couldn’t get the picture of
Princess Te Huia te Heu Heu out of his mind. Nor her message. Nor
could he erase the strange beautiful figure, and most horrifically,
the Orb. He was in awe. He knew they were all related to Noo
Zealand, but he was unsure where he fitted into this dream. It was
almost a calling. He walked out to the kitchen, made himself a cup
of espresso, and sat in the lounge trying to piece together these
dreams.
Mila Tusitala Wright and her story
She
notched the calendar, as she did daily. Today was her youngest
mokopuna birthday, Selili Hine Wright, turning three on the 12th
of July, 2005. She had already baked the birthday cake, iced it with
lemon icing, and decorated it with Barbie doll paraphernalia. She
looked across her cluttered but orderly lounge, the present wrapped
and sitting on the small table by the window.
At
sixty eight, she’d lived a full life, working for twenty five years
at the Toyota plant in Thames, but now retired and living in Pukekohe
in South Auckland. Her husband, Bill, a part Maori of urban Maori
descent, still worked, he being five years younger than her. She
still remembers the day they met, she not long out of her first
marriage, and parked on the side of the road in Papatoetoe, a
puncture in her right rear wheel. He was the first one to stop and
assist, and she had asked him to her place so she could offer a
reward for his kindness. Even today, his kindness is what people
know.
She
watched the clock tick away, counting down the hours before he came
home. He worked at the Wiri Coolstore, as a labourer; still fit
after all these years. She remembers her family trying to stop her
marriage, thinking a Samoan woman should marry a Samoan man. It
ostracised her for a while, but when her whanau realised what sort of
man he was, they accepted him. This thought always brought a smile
to her face, the way they fell over each other.
Thirty
minutes to go. She knew it would be a long night, her tamariki made
sure of that. First would be the child’s celebration, all the
whanau delivering gifts, hugs and kisses, and when the kids were in
bed, the adults would party. Of course the kaumatua would all sit
separately and discuss matters at hand, whilst the youngsters would
hook into the booze and guitar songs, singing well into the night.
But
tonight, Mila needed to be home early. In the morning she was
required to go to the medical centre to see about a growth on her
back. It had been annoying her for months now, and it wasn’t until
Bill had pointed it out one morning that she realised she should get
it seen to. So her and Bill arrived home early, the moon lighting
the ground before them. She noted it was a full moon; kēhua
country.
They
arrived home as the phone rang. Bill hurriedly ran inside, leaving
Mila to lock the car and carry her bags full of Taro inside. She
heard him call out, apparently her mother, who resided in a rest home
just north of them, in Manurewa, wanted her. She shuffled her big
Samoan feet up the steps, the sound of laughter ringing from within.
Bill and Mum always got on well.
She
started to speak to her mother, when she cut in. Speaking to her in
pure Samoan, she told her daughter to be wary of dreams in the next
few days. And that was it; she hung up without saying goodbye.
Sometimes she wondered about her Mother’s sanity.
3.00am
13th
July 2005
She
lay in her bed, looking at the clock. It was just past 3.00am and
she had quietly awoken, and had no idea why. She was a light
sleeper, but even still it took her a while to wake up as if she was
awoken suddenly. But this time she just woke up, and lay there.
Thinking. Thinking about why Tuwhenga (Fa’atiu perhaps) was
suddenly a word she needed to note. She could speak passable Te Reo,
and hadn’t heard the word before. She debated about awakening her
husband, but realised the word would probably not feature on his
vocabulary, as he spoke even less Maori than she. She did get up and
have a look at next year’s calendar, she always kept one a year in
advance, and there was nothing happening on the 24th
November 2006. Yes she thought, Tuwhenga and a date, both utter
mysteries, yet both utterly tangible thoughts. She got back into
bed, kissed her husband lightly, and went back to sleep.
When
she awoke, the lump was gone.
24th
November 2006
The
doctors had given her a clean bill of health that month she had the
messages. Even though he was unsure why the lump had gone, he was
aware there were no other concerns. Tonight she had been all day at
the Otara Market, and she was dead on her feet. She had retired early
to recuperate, and to leave her husband in the lounge so he could
play his guitar and ukulele. She’d drifted off to Bill playing
Kaulana Kawaihae. He wasn’t as good as Brudda Iz, but he certainly
put heart into it.
She
looked out the window. It was a dark night, a little bit humid, and
a warm northerly blowing across the great city. She looked at the
bed again. She remembers going back to her childhood, playing on the
roads around Mount Vaea in Apia, her homeland Samoa. She remembered
her nephew, Lavi Taito, passing her a coconut that was a different
colour, more green than brown.
Then
for some strange reason she was floating in the pool at Aggie Greys
Hotel, a young girl of fourteen, talking to a palagi called Denis.
He had no other name, and every year he arrived in Apia, stayed at
Aggies, and drank Gin, Limes, and Lemonade. But he told her tales
about New Zealand, tales about Australia, and tales about all the
islands. He was a Navy surveyor, and he got around plenty. But
where he was a boon for a young girl, his English, she learnt the
language quickly off him, quicker than she did at school. And his
English was colourful.
Just
as she started to drift again, she saw her. Definitely Maori,
definitely a fine maiden, and definitely she had a name. And a regal
name, Te Huia te Heu Heu, princess of the hot lakes, queen of inner
Aotearoa.
She
looked at the bed again, but it wouldn’t go away. The stick
figure, fleshed out a bit, but a stick figure nonetheless, with no
hands or feet, and a perfectly round head. Just like those adverts
she thought, but this one was a wonderful colour, an opaque light
jade, almost milky pounamu. Then she remembered the Orb, and
Tuwhenga. What was happening she thought? And why me?
Shaun “Madman” Edward and his story
SHIT!! Shaun swore to himself. The calendar
must be wrong, 12th
of July already, and he’d missed so much of the year. His fifteen
year old body, suffering from anorexia, gothic interludes and the
pain of marijuana, shivered in cold delight. He’d just finished
whipping Spazzo on the skateboard at the skate park just out of
Ngamotu. The Taranaki weather had stayed surprisingly fine for the
skate off, two true champions, head to head. And he had nailed him.
Mind you, the spectators knew Madman was the king of the park, all
who had skated or watched and knew his crazy moves.
As he walked home, up the road from Fitzroy,
he texted his girlfriend, Leticia, to meet him a Wimpey’s ice cream
shop. He felt the back of his neck, an almost mindless action, but
felt a chill run through his body. Maybe the paranoia from the last
joint was setting in, maybe he’d injured himself, strained a muscle
or something. Maybe it was the full moon tonight. Yeah he had a
chart on his bedroom wall of all the moon phases for that year. Even
had Matariki material lying around, the Maori New Year data, it
fascinated him.
He was your typical pakeha kiwi. He had done
Te Reo at school, as everyone was supposed to, knew certain myths and
legends, and could, if pushed, hold a conversation. But that’s
where it stopped. In his youthful exuberance, he was a skater and
nothing more. School was a place to catch up with friends, kick back
during classes, and not give too much attention to the actual
curriculum. They’d even offered him counselling to try and reverse
his downward spiral into vagrancy but he was happy to be “just a
kid kicking back”.
He met Leticia and they chilled out on ice
cream and donuts walking back to Madman’s place at a gentle stroll.
Occasionally he’d scoot off on his board and race back to her, so
attached to it he was, but she didn’t mind. She loved his
roguishness and his nonconformity, and she was growing to love this
young kid. He smiled at her when he zoomed back, and they joked and
played until they arrived at his house. His Mum would still be at
work, but he had a key, so let himself and Leticia in. Mum didn’t
like her being here alone with him, but she would be gone before Mum
arrived home from work.
After his girlfriend had gone he pondered her
parting words. “Watch out for the Full Moon tonight, you’ll be
spooked”, and she laughed roundly when she said it. He knew she
was into crystals, rocks and candles, and burnt incense so her words
he took as semi prophetic. Tonight, after dinner, he went to bed
early, he was so knackered from the skate off, his body burnt from
the release of energy. He had to revive.
3.00am
13th
July 2005
He didn’t have a clock in his room, so got
out of bed and had a look at the one in the lounge. It was just
after 3.00am and he was awake. He looked outside, the Moon falling
into the western sky. Then it came back to him, the reason he woke
up, he suspected. Tuwhenga, or a similar name. His knowledge of
Maori folklore and whakapapa didn’t mention anyone or thing of that
name, but it was a very Maori name and seemed to have some
importance. He wrote the name down on one of Mum’s notepads by the
phone, and put it in his jeans pocket, to get it checked out later
that day, with either Rangi, or Hauroa. They were skate buddies, both
from Waitara, who’d bus in each day to use the great facilities in
New Plymouth.
Before he went to bed, he checked the calendar
to see if it had any of the following year’s dates. Only January,
he saw, so he copied the date down too, 24th
November 2006. He didn’t know why that was important, but he would
check at school at lunchtime on the school’s computers.
The next day he arrived home late, no luck on
the name, and no luck with the date, so he tore the paper into little
pieces and chucked it in the rubbish bin. He thought he’d never
need either again.
24th
November 2006
He
sat on the step of his Fitzroy flat, facing out to the sea. The wind
was a warm northwester, coming off the sea and brushing lightly onto
the New Plymouth foreshore. He smelt the ocean smell, wet, inviting,
existing. He’d swapped his skateboard last year for an old
surfboard, and right about now he was ready to surf a while. Though
there wasn’t much to be seen. Still it was a good way to slow down
after a hectic day at work.
He
left school in October the previous year, and walked straight into a
job as a junior storeman at the local supermarket, FoodRite. He’d
start at 4.30 in the morning and work through till 2.30 in the
afternoon, long hours but a good first up pay for him. And it gave
him time to surf until around 7.00pm, when he’d eat, mostly baked
bean sandwiches, sometimes, like tonight, Rice Risotto. He surfed
the small waves until about 6.00pm this night, the waves too small,
and got back to the flat, to find his flatmate, Gerry, was home from
his driving job. He cooked for both of them, they ate, and then he
had sat down to play on his Playstation for a few hours before bed.
He
quit the game around 9.30pm and went to bed, the duvet his only
cover. His mum had tried to get him some sheets but he didn’t want
the hassle of washing them each week, so he just slummed it under the
duvet. He had it in the back of the head that something was supposed
to happen that day, but it had been business as usual. He went off to
sleep quickly.
He
sat staring at the clock, numbed. The time was 10.47pm, and the
dream had awakened him. All he could see in his mind was the
Princess Te Huia te Heu Heu and her stark beauty, hidden under the
brown robe and hood. His mind was also rotating images of her, and
the stick figure, a creamy green colour, with a round head, no feet
or hands, and a certain magic about it. The quick glimpse of the Orb
too sent shivers down his spine. He went outside and lit up a joint,
sitting on the step watching the wind play on the sea. The joint
didn’t help rid him of the dream, nor did it distort it. In fact,
in his mind, it intensified it. He hurriedly put out the joint, and
returned inside. He was sure he wouldn’t get back to sleep, but as
he walked to the bedroom, the vision dissipated and by the time he
was under the duvet the only thing that was bugging him was the
joint. He’d meant to give it up, and he would try from now on.
Margaret Blithe-Hopkins and her story
Her
blond hair shone in the mirror in her en suite bathroom. Even at
forty two, Meg considered herself well aged, holding her eighteen
year old looks very nicely. Her blessed husband Slovedan, too, found
her still desirable, which was good for the both of them. She
finished brushing her hair, and wandered into the lounge. A quick
look at the calendar before work, just to reassure her it was still
the 12th
of July, 2005.
Meg
worked as a sales representative at a local travel agency, a short
distance from
her
St Martins, Christchurch home, in Bryndwr. Her day was generally
busy, especially at this time of year. The ski fields all over the
south island were busy with customers, and a lot of foreign tourists
were flooding Christchurch, looking for air travel, hotels, motels,
or even self drive motor homes. The ride to work in her trusty 1967
VW Beetle fought the cold well, though the chill wind off the Port
Hills did at times find it’s way through some obligatory rust hole
and send a chill up her spine, and goose bumps down her legs and
arms.
This
morning, the traffic was extremely busy, and she was held up in a
small jam the closer she got to work, and had time to reflect on her
children, Hannah, 23, Jenny, 21 and Georg, 19. It had been weeks
since she saw the girls, both studying at Otago University for Law
degrees, and she’d seen Georg about a week ago, after he had stayed
for a few days between flats. He worked for the airport as security,
a job that though not paying well, had its benefits. He was now
settled in Upper Riccarton with two flatmates that seemed to be ok,
both working and both steady young men, for now. She wasn’t too
sure if he was smoking marijuana; though he had started smoking roll
your own cigarettes. She wasn’t sure where he’d got that from,
no one in either family smoked, and Georg smoking worried her. But
she also felt he was finding his way, and would decide as he got
older how to live better.
She
arrived at work, checked the desk calendar, yes still 12th
July, and started to wonder why she was referencing the calendar all
the time. It had started two days ago, she thinks, and it seemed to
be increasing in tempo.
The
day was busy, and her mind floated along with the work. Tour parties
were demanding, which was good, and meant plenty of work for her and
her colleagues. As she tidied up to go home, she checked the
calendar again, and knew she was going nuts. Time for a holiday
perhaps, Franz Josef or Wanaka. Probably neither as both would be
busy with skiers and trampers.
She
drove in the infernal late hour traffic, her car just ticking over
with the effort. At least the cold southerly wind would be blowing
the smog away making it easier on everyone to breathe. But at a
cost. The snow on the Port Hills was driving the temperature down
and making it very uncomfortable for most. She did see a homeless
man all rugged up in an army great coat on the roadside begging for
food and shelter. Normally she would stop and offer some money, but
tonight it was just too cold to open the window. The bearded figure
just smiled at her as he moved on to the next car behind.
Her
husband was spending the night with a friend this night, so she
cooked a light risotto meal and settled down to watch Coronation
Street in peace. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor does she
remember waking up at midnight and putting herself into her lavish
four poster bed. She does however remember waking up and looking at
the clock.
3.00am
13th
July 2005
Why
three o’clock, she thought. The sky must have cleared outside, the
moonlight streaming in through the open curtains, lighting her carpet
with its soft touch. She searched her mind, and repeatedly Tuwhenga
leapt to mind. She didn’t remember dreaming or if she did, she
didn’t remember the name, it just popped to mind after she awoke.
She knew it was a Maori name, or possibly one from Rapanui, Tahiti,
or Hawaii, all places she had visited as part of her training for her
job. She knew plenty of tales and lore from all those places, and
though most matched, no two were exactly the same, except Maui and
his exploits. But this Tuwhenga, very important sounding name,
commanding respect she thought, just didn’t feature in her
recollections. For some reason, she thought of the Moai on Easter
Island, or as she knew it, Rapanui.
She
flashed up her laptop, plugged in the broadband cable, and waited
until the browser opened in Google. Just two hits, one from a book
of poetry online and bearing no relevance to the figure she sought,
and the other in a language she couldn’t decipher. But that was
it. Before she closed the computer, she checked the date, 24th
November 2006. It too had no relevance or meaning, so she shut down
the laptop, and went back to sleep. In the morning, she forgot
either ever occurred.
24th
November 2006
She
got off the computer late, around 9.30pm. The last thing she did
before shutting down was check tomorrows date. But for some apparent
reason, today’s date seemed more important. Of course, she
thought, the dream last year. She’d mentally clocked the time till
now but had forgotten on the day, due to the strong Nor westers and
the high temperatures for this time of year. In her Celt heritage,
today was Lleu, the domain of the weather gods. Her Norse ancestry
too suggested Ragnarok, the coming. Why these surfaced now she had
no idea. Even more distressing, the phone call from Jenny on Rapa
Nui, and the repositioning of the Moai. She loved those statues, and
if something foul was amiss, she didn’t want to see them suffer.
But it would also be a tourist bonanza, as would the huge eruption of
Kilauea. Her world had been busy that day, and she hadn’t had a
moment to stock of her own world. Until the moment she got off the
computer.
Slovedan
was already in bed, having to be up early for a golf trip to Timaru
for a few days. She would be on her own, which was an often
occurrence anyway. With no children underfoot, they were at ease to
find their leisure pastimes. His was golf, hers was photography
around the city. She then checked her camera gear, all set and
sitting on the table in the lounge. She had forsaken film for
digital, and was now starting to bear fruit in the pictures she was
taking.
She
got into bed, kissed her husbands sleeping forehead, and snuggled in
close to him. She reminded herself to see her optometrist the next
day, as she had had eye problems the past few weeks. Nothing major
she thought, but best be prepared. She fell asleep with her radio
playing soft classical music.
She
looked around her. The scene seemed wrong, somehow this wasn’t
where she was supposed to be. It was dark, but light enough for the
wall clock to show 11.28. That’s when she realised she was in her
family room, staring at the sliding doors and the dark green world
outside. She sat down horrified. She hadn’t slept walked since
she went through puberty, and yet here she was, sleep walking. A
chill went down her spine, and she took a quick breath. Then it
flashed in her mind, The Lady of the Lake, dressed in a brown robe
and soaking in a dark green pool up to her upper arms. And she knew
her name – Princess Te Huia te Heu Heu. She didn’t know what iwi
she was from, probably predated iwi in a sense, she seemed to be from
the past. And then she remembered the opaque green milky white stick
figure, with the round head, no feet and hands, and a luminescence
that was simply marvellous. The picture of Te Huia flashed in her
mind again, and her hand held an Orb, the same colour as the stick
figure, with a word whispered gently across her mind, -Tuwhenga.
She
walked back to the computer, flicked it on, and immediately on boot
up, did a Google search once again for Tuwhenga. Still only those
two entries. She switched it off, and went back to bed. But she
felt like a cigarette. She hadn’t smoked since she was a teenager,
quitting when carrying the Hannah. She knew Slovedan had the
occasional smoke, and on checking his golf clothes, found a packet of
Lucky Strikes, American smokes, and lit up. The dream dissipated, as
did the smoke exhaled from her lungs. It had felt good. She climbed
into bed and promptly dropped off to sleep.
Ta’ane Rednaz, the Quickening
Ta’ane
didn’t know what it was, nor did he care. He did know that that
he’d been on “the ward” for two weeks now and he’d just had
his third injection of Resperadal Consta, his arse hurt like buggery.
He’d
had plenty of time to reflect on the previous eight months, and he
was amazed at how deep he had gone. He could point out a start
point, and individual dates sprang to mind, but the true journey of a
mind traveller started in 2000 when he was hospitalised and diagnosed
with Bipolar Disorder. But he’d weathered that five year storm,
with two other hospitalisations.
But
visiting his daughters in Auckland on the 26th
of December 2004 was the turning point. It was the same day the
tsunami hit South Asia, after a 9.6 on the Richter scale earthquake
on the seabed. His oldest daughter said to him secretly that Sarah,
his youngest, and also mentally retarded, had sent a God Bomb to warn
the world that she was coming. He’d had a flash then in his mind
of a huge fist punching into the Indian Ocean and starting the
tsunami. That had frightened him, as there were no previous visions
as far as he knew (except perhaps the hallucinations of 2003).
He’d
valued the visit, but his mind was already starting to slip, and by
the 25th
of January 2005, the mania was underway. During February, he was
bedridden, held prisoner by his mind, as such luminaries as Thought
Police, Mind Police, and US Air Force (all elementals) questioned him
for his past mistakes and threatened to end his life if he didn’t
prove himself guilty. But one day in that month he argued the video
being shown from angles that clearly weren’t seen from memory eyes
weren’t his memories. He argued with the conveners of the court,
The Gods of The Nineteen, that if these inquisitors had been present
for each event, why didn’t they intervene for the greater good.
This disposed the Gods of the Nineteen back into space, and he was
left to fight on with his mania, now hypomania.
During
March, he was mentally supported by 10,000 Zen Buddhist monks from
Asia, and the Spirits of 17,563 condemned men and woman around the
world, as he embarked on his next foray into the unreal. But first -
reality. He remembered eating, during this duration, Veal Cutlets or
Meat Patties, from February through to his arrest in June 28th.
No breakfast or launch, just cooked meat on a sandwich. He also
drank large bottles of sugar water (Raw sugar and plain water) to
keep his energy levels up. He also remembered not using the
internet, and went totally under by locking himself in his room.
He
also remembered setting up his Navy Medal and his Koru necklace, one
at head height, and one at heart height, dangling from the light
fitting and practicing throwing God Bombs at them, though without
touching them. He remembered feeling fit, mind, body, and soul. As
well as that, he was pacing the room around the bed, walking in new
players to help meet the threat from the Dark Force (he had no idea
what it was.).
It
was during March that Tuwhenga arrived. He brought a new dimension
to daily life, passing souls, spirits and ghosts from sunken ships,
submarines and drowned people, as well as downed planes, train
wreckages and so on and so forth. The various objects would zoom
into his room in miniature form; latch onto his body (Ships, legs and
arms, Planes Torso, and other head and neck.)
He
was awakened from his reverie by Monica, another lifer on “the
ward” asking for a smoke. He took out his packet from his Hoody
top and deftly rolled a cigarette for her. He asked her if she knew
what day it was, and she answered 12th
July. He said thank you and toddled off outside to enjoy her smoke.
The
day didn’t mean anything to him, but his reverie did, so he
wandered off in his mind again to recall the events up to this date.
He remembered Tuwhenga well, the Cosmic Wind of the Universes (yes
not one universe) and a long lost God in Maori folklore. Tuwhenga
pointed out the Moai on Rapanui, his people’s lookout for his
return. Ta’ane had always known about the Moai and now had an
answer to many questions.
The
most intriguing part of this story took place from April through May,
and until he was booted out from his flat and forced to reside at a
doss house in Palmerston North, The Shady Rest. The Mind Travellers
Lament. This was started when the God’s of Twelve settled on the
twelve houses in the cul de sac he lived in. House one had a mighty
Condor of South American origins (Inca), House two, a Giant American
Eagle, House three a Chariot, House four an Obelisk, House five Gog,
House six Stonehenge, House seven Magog, House eight Warhammer, House
nine a Kalahari Bushman of no name, House Ten, a Lion, House eleven
Quango, the Mountain Gorilla, and House twelve, Hikioioi, The Giant
New Zealand Eagle.
These
Gods were there to protect Ta’ane and to assist him in his journeys
to follow. He remembered that there were large hawks some 12 foot
high listening on every major tree in the neighbourhood and acting as
security, and reassurance for Ta’ane as he went about his business.
What
he remembered is the world took a virtual reality blow when the
tsunami hit, and people were doing strange things. One thing that
happened was that a virtual reality parlour had a game about moving
pieces of the planet around, placing The Great Wall of China on the
mountain ranges of Aotearoa, the Eiffel Tower over My Ruapehu, and
the Brooklyn Bridge over the Auckland Harbour Bridge, just a few of
thousands of examples. It was a world game, and all countries took
part, but the world was becoming unsettled with so much spirit and
soul being used unwisely. Tuwhenga said it had to be stopped so he
could do his work, so Ta’ane trained himself to be a mind Mentat
and to fight the groups playing the game (in their minds) and to
replace all the pieces back on the right objects, to restore order.
This
project took four solid days of no sleep and pacing, both in his room
and outside in the dark, so the neighbours wouldn’t become alarmed.
As a result of this game and its idiosyncrasies, Ta’ane found
another game being played, once again in minds, this one with serious
overtones. He’d been for a walk to the local dairy for his smokes
(food for thought as Tuwhenga called it) and spotted a ramshackle
garage on an unkempt property. In the garage he perceived to be a
very miniature scale solar system containing one hundred and sixty
three planets with a very small scale Earth leading. They had been
parked up there during the game when the virtual reality slip
occurred, the last contestant and driver of the system, a Ronald Bell
from Highbury, had got drunk on Tui Beer and had spotted some hash
and got very paranoid about his situation.
Ta’ane
got home and immediately turned his room into a planetarium, based on
the kind Liet Kynes had in Dune. He covered all holes in the walls
and ceiling with shoe polish that matched the décor, rubbed out all
the marks on his duvet, and readied the stereo for the long flight
ahead. He hid all his shoes, and chose only socks for footwear, ones
that would see the distance of the amount of pacing he had to do. At
around this point he remembers his landlord (and flatmate) giving him
three weeks to move out, which regrettably went over the head of the
busy Ta’ane.
He
then started the pacing building up speed as he went, in an L shape
around his bed and between the Aardvark (his home office wall unit).
He hadn’t been on the internet for months now, and it mattered
little. He knew he was manic, had even looked at the CATT team card
several times with their phone number, but he had work to do first.
For two weeks, he walked, and he lay down. When he walked, he called
in new helpers, all unnamed but there. But then there were the ones
that were named, and at one stage he had had seventy three
visitations or voices in one day, all wishing him well and
encouragement. These included Quango, the Mountain Gorilla,
Geronimo, Sitting Bull (who named Ta’ane One Big Foot Crow Feather)
Quinn the Eskimo, Jack the Ripper, Mickey Finn, Doyle (IRA), Madame
Butterfly, Wu Tang, Wu Chang, Inchatuanga (Incan goddess), Te Kooti,
Te Rauparaha and Atiamuri to name a few.
After
the pacing, he’d lie down flat on his back and meditate, dropping
off to sleep, where the real work happened. The miniature planets
needed to be off planet and in space. Ta’ane knew from his quick
lessons from Tuwhenga that the planets represented on Earth were
ghost shells of the actual planets, and one day when their respective
Suns died they would all be drawn to Planet Earth if they weren’t
put back in space. So the first priority was to get the planets off
Earth. For that to happen, they had to find a space port, as none
were visible around Palmerston North or the lower North Island. But
there was one to be found in Otara, Auckland, the off ramp from the
north.
Ta’ane
started by taking the Driver’s seat on Earth. This is best
represented by an oversized Ta’ane sitting atop the planet, ready
to guide the rest of the large solar system (made up of life form
planets from this known Universe). His quick tuition had stated he’d
need DogStars to drive the convoy with their power, and to form the
convoy into a shape that would sail through (inner) space to its
initial destination. The first thing that came to mind was a train,
as a railway existed just up the road from his place.
The
train, shaped by all the planets with DogStars as wheels, followed
the road up Botanical Drive, through the roundabout at Cloverlea, and
onto the tracks below the flyover. The train then headed north, and
whilst it chugged along, Ta’ane awoke and continued walking, still
processing ghost, spirit and soul requests to be revitalised, as well
as playing driving rock music to keep the energy levels high. The
sugar water helped too.
He
remembered that long journey, a couple of hours, then the train was
in space and chugging away to a new part of space, away from this
universe and growing to full size to make a target for the real
planets when the time for this universe to collapse came. It was
during this journey as navigator and driver that he found out there
were actually forty seven universes, two of which roamed on the
outskirts of realty and were prison Universes for wayward
planets/societies.
12th
July 2005
He
stopped reminiscing then, time for a cigarette. The staff left him
alone, he didn’t disturb anyone, and he certainly wasn’t one to
self harm. He rolled a smoke, got up from his chair (always the Blue
one) and wandered outside.
“Hiya
Ta’ane”. Paula always said hello. He grunted a reply and sat
down on the parapet of the garden and lit up. ‘Food for thought eh
Tuwhenga’ he quipped to himself. Hell the stuff would probably
kill him, but not before the rest of the quickening happens (he
knew). He looked over at the other patients of Ward 21 in Palmerston
North Hospital, each one of them there a gem and a pleasure to know.
The mentally ill have a rapport, even if society shuns their
existence. Yeah sure, some are hard to get on with, especially those
with forms of depression, but by and large everyone survived fine.
It
suddenly dawned on him, tonight was a full moon. He knew the
hypothalamus would be affected again and give him a strained look on
reality. He’d feel it alright, between the top of the neck and the
top of the spinal cortex. He’d be rubbing like made and no amount
of smoking will stop it. He also knew he could slip back again, and
what new messages would he receive. He’d still be Ta’ane, he
knew, but what of Tuwhenga, and the others – ALL the others, enough
to blow ones mind. He stubbed the smoke out and went inside to his
blue chair, to continue the reprise of his trip to date. As usual,
the chair was empty, and he sat down, legs extended out in front to
balance the body as it slunk down into slack mode.
Flight
of Fancy
Yes
that trip, up through the North Island ticking off names as he went,
Utuku, Taihape, Taumaranui, Te Kuiti and Pukekohe, where he guided
the train off the tracks and formed an eighteen wheeler stock truck,
the king of trucks. He drove the whole menagerie up the southern
motorway and skipped lanes and back tracked after going past the
south bound off ramp to Otara, at which point the world became dark,
very dark, and stars shined in the ether. He was in space and
driving a truckload of planets in no clear direction. His survey
training, then, came into being, and he noticed beacons of light that
seemed to lead along a path in a certain direction (red – wrong
way, green – right way) so he navigated the planets along the space
road until the DogStars started to run out of energy, and with none
to pick from, he had to find another power source.
Just
ahead, about one light year away from the track, was a star cluster,
where an exploding star had left a mass of energy. He steered
intuitively towards the cluster and the next thing he was star
jumping at ultra light speed into new universes, each jump preceded
by a green beacon. Someone had been this way before, and he was
going this way now, and it seemed the right thing to do, until at
last, he came to a Virtual Reality universe, where planets, starships
and DogStars moved at will in an organised fashion.
At
that moment during his reverie, he was evicted from his house, and
ended up at The Shady Rest in the centre of Palmerston North, a
boarding house for druggies, ex prison folk, and the mentally ill.
There were sixty people living there in all, and all had a story to
tell. Except Ta’ane. His illness had now taken total hold and he
was in full blown hypermania, shutting himself in during the days,
and walking the streets at night. Barely eating, and not sleeping,
but still capable of taking his medication, he settled into a nomadic
lifestyle. But one night walking the streets, one of the other
residents, a Maori tangata of Rangitaane origins, stepped up to him
and did hongi in the middle of the path. Ta’ane hugged the man,
Malcolm Kauika, and whispered ‘I give Te Rauparaha back to you’
and they stood and stared and each walked off in their own direction.
A
few days later, another Maori tangata, Daniel Hohepa of Tuhoe iwi,
did the same thing, and this time Ta’ane whispered ‘ I give Te
Kooti back to you’. It was about this time Ta’ane, who as it
happens, is a pakeha of five generations and considers himself of
Ngati Kiwi ancestry, stood in the back courtyard with a bright moon,
and did ‘Kamate’, Te Rauparaha’s haka and did ‘Utaina E’,
Kingi Ihaka’s haka which he had learnt at school. Both Daniel and
Malcolm were drawn to the courtyard and all three did each haka three
times over, awakening the residents and causing general mayhem. But
no one dared stop them, even Wayne Pohanga, the night security
watchman, stood by and watched; a tear in his eye.
And
the journey recommenced for Ta’ane, piloting Earth and the planets
through Virtual Reality (VR). At night when he did sleep, he
navigated, until suddenly both his daughters joined him, learnt the
trade and were soon piloting like true professionals. He took time
then to step down, and concentrate on matters on Earth, particularly
in Palmerston North, a veritable time machine, especially in The
Square.
He’d
walked all over the centre of town, looking for smokes, as he spent
what money he had on trying to bust a screwed up VR where Air Eaters
(boy racer cars) and Eighteen Wheelers (Mentat Trucks) were creating
havoc in the centre of the city. Coupled with Time Machines in and
around the Square, the place was in chaos, both during the day, and
during the night. Law and Order was barely being carried out, and he
was going to see if he could rejig the problem. He knew the chaos
wasn’t in his own head.
The
Money he had went into pokie machines, more especially the one
machine in the Hubbard’s Bar on Rangitikei Street, where the Wizard
machine was resident. He’d scored two hundred dollars off it so
far, and was feeding it back in, as he noticed that whilst he played,
the place emptied out, and he was left on his own. The road noise
outside grew quieter too, and he figured it was time to pull out and
walk Tuwhenga’s lane.
In
his mind, he mapped the sidewalk into 12 time zones, each zone owned
by a god. Most people walked haphazardly down the sidewalk, but time
jumpers walked their own lane. His was four, and he’d walk it
religiously, forcing people to walk off his lane as he went. This
happened night and day, and during this period he only encountered
one other time jumper, the sexy lady in black that walked time zone
two all the time. She wore high heels and he could count the cadence
of her walk and it was always pure, and he named her Vanessa May
Coffin, because it sounded right.
But
she was a time jumper, and a threat. He only ever saw her walking
down or up Broadway, but he was sure she walked in the Square, though
he’d never caught her. His mind thought she was representative of
Old Pakeha Square, the two time lords standing on the North East and
South East of the Square. His own Time Lord was Te Marae o Hine. He
despised everything else in that Square except the duck pond. Nature
was welcome. He especially despised all the new time machines the
Council had placed in the Square, to modernise it. Yes there were
problems.
The
Air Eaters and Eighteen Wheelers had suddenly disappeared he noticed,
after the third day of busting VR, and he was out of money again. He
found a smoke or two in the ashtray outside The Break Bar on Kings
Street, and celebrated his achievement.
He
remembered that at that time too there was no need to go into space
again, as his girls had parked up in a new Universe, the Ghost
planets waiting the time when the life planets would be zoning in on
their shadows.
Ward
21
Yes
the memories, and Tuwhenga all to blame. Tonight he knew he was going
to be visited, but he knew neither what for, or why for. He just
knew The Cosmic Wind was coming back to visit. He had a suspicion he
had a new task for him, something he might not be willing to attempt.
So far, the past months had been mostly fun and some not fun, but
necessary and he was hoping, now that he was mentally more stable, he
would not be required to mind slip again. Yes he was pleased with
his accomplishments.
3.00am
13th
July 2005
His
watch shone 3.01. The bed was a bit cool, the sheets in disarray.
He’d been dreaming, but knew not what it was about. All he had on
his mind was New Years Day 2006.
23rd
December 2005
He
sat in his new whare, it had been over a month since he moved in. It
was a one bedroom flat and he loved it to bits. He sat on the
second-hand couch he’d bought, which doubled as a double bed, and
drank his coffee. It was a pensive moment, looking at the photos of
his whanau and friends, and waiting for Malc’s and Howie to arrive.
Malc’s had texted him to say they were on their way. He hoped
they had smokes.
He
stared at the computer; the previous evenings work still weighing on
his mind. How on earth had he become an online psychic? It happened
overnight; he correctly identified several posters on the TradeEm
Messageboard and had said salient things that stunned them. He had
hit close to home. The scarier thing, his open message to the MB
that an earthquake of 5.2 would strike around Hutt Valley early in
the morning and for crying out loud, one hit, though 10 kilometres
from where he said, and at 5.0. He was still shivering.
As
much as he was shivering the day he was released from “the ward”,
and returned to The Shady Rest. The wind was a howling Sou wester,
and it carried icicles in it all the way from the Deep South. That
was August the 8th.
He wasn’t sure then that being released was the right thing to do,
as he still felt a bit manic. But he had to be out of the ward, to
see where life would take him. Not long after rejoining The Rest, he
was asked to do night security. He thought this a fine opportunity
to work, get money, and write poetry again after a nine month hiatus.
He now had his computer back and some furniture and was settled in
for a long stay. First, he had to check the poem about his
adventures, to see if anyone else had visited the site to search for
his alter ego.
The
poem was a load of rubbish, just rambled thoughts and ideas, but he
left it on the internet for all to see should they be searching. He
had done a Google search and found only two mentions of Tuwhenga.
His own, and the unintelligible one. He did note that that his had
had a small number of hits, possibly indicating others were involved,
but he couldn’t be certain.
During
his three month stay at the Rest this time around, he and Malc’s
and a new guy Howie, a good friend of Malc’s, became very good
friends, and nothing was said about Te Rauparaha, or for that matter
any Maori legends, except, just to appease his curiousity, Ta’ane
had asked Malc’s if he knew of Tuwhenga. He didn’t elaborate,
just left the question hanging. Malc’s shook his head, but also
said he hadn’t heard of him but it sounded important. If they only
knew how important!
So
there he sat, watching the fly on the wall opposite, reflecting on
his journey to date. He got up and went to the kitchen to fill the
jug, he had enough coffee to keep them happy, but he also knew they
would bring beer. Then his mind raced ahead to the 31st
December, whether it was worth running away, though he knew Tuwhenga
would find him wherever he went. He’d found him once before
running away, when he lived in Foxton. That time Ta’ane totally
ballsed up the cosmic answer, yes means no, no means yes. And when
asked if he wanted to be a Cosmic Navigator, he’d said Yes. And
Tuwhenga had gone, to be replaced by ghouls and demons and suicide
attempts. He wasn’t going to have that again, no way in hell.
1st
January 2006
He
was parked on Rangitikei Street looking down towards the Square. The
time on the Town Clock said 1.35 and it had to be a.m., the street
lights were on. But that’s not all Ta’ane was doing. Two and a
half hours before, after a record equalling eighteen ghosts busted
the night before, he’d decided not to go to work that night, nor
ever again. He sat looking at the cloudless sky, pinholes of
existence bending his own. The Quickening had started sometime
around 8.00pm earlier in the night, his hypothalamus felt the
swelling of the cerebral cortex, and the hypermania was underway,
again. This was the fifth time he had gone manic, and this might be
the worst one.
He
started the car, drove up Rangitikei Street, down Grey Street, and
into Koromiko Avenue, and lastly Rangiora Avenue, all the while doing
a sedate forty kilometres an hour. He didn’t want to draw
attention to the fact that the left front wheel was damaged earlier
the day before when he was pursued by the Grey Lurker, the nastiest
kēhua at The Rest. He parked the car and made his way to his whare,
Turangawaewae o Tangaroa, named after his days at sea and the fact
that Tangaroa was the Maori God of the Sea and Oceans. He felt
comfortable with the name, even though he was a Caucasian male of
pakeha lineage. He did however know his mountain was Mt Rolleston,
his river was Waimakariri, his iwi was Ngati Kiwi, and his waka was
wounded and needed repair.
But
that was the last conscious thought Ta’ane had as he entered his
home (the doors wide open).
Cosmic
Warrior
He
was walking down the road, his head shaved barring a small mullet at
the back. He now called himself One Big Foot Crow Feather, as he had
been named, spirit chieftain of Palmerston North. However the
policemen waiting for him as he returned called him Ta’ane Rednaz,
and promptly arrested him for vagrancy.
He’d
gone the past three weeks with no memory, no money, no food, no
smokes, except for the huge array of Universal Thug (thought) Bombs
he’d collected in a cosmic fight for sanity. Tuwhenga had kept
count and Ta’ane had amassed 183,563 Thug Bombs to add to his other
strings on his bow. He’d been fighting for something, something he
still wasn’t allowed to know. And the Police weren’t about to
tell him. Hours later, Ta’ane was back on ‘the ward’ and this
time it would be a long stay. Even the injections failed to bring
him down, and he found he was spending his time singing Old Maarii
songs in Bass Baritone, which annoyed the hell out of the staff and
patients.
Malc’s
and Howie occasionally visited, providing smokes and welcome korero.
One phrase Ta’ane could quote well was “whakatau mai” – take
a seat, or sit with me. They asked about the kēhua, both were aware
he had been ghost busting, heck the whole Rest knew he and George
(The Boneman) Kutia were busting reality at the haunted site. The
worst thing during the busting period, he recalled was the ghost of
an eighteen year old boy that died there the year before.
He
informed them he was sure they were gone now, and that his mind was
going too. They said he was fine and left him, with a packet of
smokes and a can of beer.
Flashback
One.
Ta’ane
sat outside his whare on the car seats he’d picked up off the
streets. They made great outdoor furniture. He remembers all of a
sudden feeling a chill in the wind, and thought of Tuwhenga. He’d
learnt in his mind travels that the wind Tawhiri and the sea
Tangaroa, had their normal makeup, air and sea, and that contained in
each was a touch of Tuwhenga. You usually felt Tuwhenga, when on
land or in sea, when a chill suddenly hit you. This was the spirit
wind or current permeating the domains of lesser gods and refreshing
the sea and air, and as a consequence, Papatuanuku. Earthquakes were
by and large Tuwhenga working with Papatuanuku to reinvigorate the
land. Tuwhenga is everywhere, the cosmos is everywhere, and his grip
is everlasting. But that was his spirit; the actual Tuwhenga had yet
to arrive, as he did every two to three thousand earth years. Ta’ane
knew (as Tuwhenga had communicated), that the last visit was in the
8th
century AD, or the two thousand eight hundred Millennium Stat star
time.
Yes,
the more he remembered the more easily it sat upon him that he was a
cosmic warrior, doing his duty for the cosmos. As far as he knew, he
was the only chosen one. And he kept it secret. Now he was starting
to realise that Tuwhenga was coming back early, that a crisis was
unfolding in the Ark of the Covenant.
23rd
March 2006
He
was doped up to the eyeballs, the new medication made him very drowsy
and he was sleeping thirteen hours a day with it. He was being
moved, probably his last resting place, to a respite care facility
outside Feilding. Even though he was not yet forty eight, he felt
ancient.
Maybe
the previous year had aged him like a tall kauri in the Waipoua
forest up north in Nga Puhi country. He’d seen that one and felt
equally as old as the tall monolith. He knew it was Tane Mahuta, one
of the Maori gods, but seeing it in its full magnitude amongst lesser
trees was awesome. He knew the tree survived because it had a god
given right to survive, and that Tawhiri, Tangaroa, and Tuwhenga all
touched his wood, and that he fed Papatuanuku through his massive
roots which in turn were fed by Papa with clear spirit water. Life
went on.
He
had settled into Saint Dominicas with ease, his ability from being a
sailor and fitting into a new ships company following him into
everyday life. He slept mostly, and comingled with other people of
varying states of mental illnesses. The dreams no longer filtered
out, perhaps because of the sleep, the memories all buried in the
past, with nothing to feed his mind. He did occasionally feel the
chill in the wind, but not once did Tuwhenga make an appearance in
his thoughts.
He
started writing poetry again, got himself another computer, started
doing courses at university, to broaden his mind, to help recuperate,
and bide his time. He knew in the future there was a day he’d
have to use all his ability, but when he was unsure of, and even
unsure as to why?
24th
November 2006
Ta’ane
came off the compulsory treatment order. He celebrated with a pint
at the local pub, a Tui Mangatainoka Dark Ale, a very fine drop he
thought. He also celebrated with his first attack of the pokies for
more than a year. Although, this time, it was ten dollars, but enough
to have a little time of virtual reality. With that thought,
Tuwhenga hit his memory cells, and another quick flashback occurred.
But now he was under the influence of the Gambling God, and no two
bit space junkie was gonna ruin his fun.
He
played for nearly an hour, and then he accidentally pressed three
credits per line and immediately struck free spins. After another
thirty minutes, he’d won one hundred and ninety dollars. He pushed
collect, took his money, and walked around the corner to the
Salvation Army store, and bought fifty dollars of clothing, which he
promptly donated back to the store. Yes they were appreciative. The
rest of the money he would bank and send to his daughters bank
accounts so they had money for Christmas.
Later
that day, while sitting on the computer, he decided to look up
Tuwhenga again, to see if others were having the same experiences.
Still only two. He meant to look up that one website with the poem
to see if there was an email address. He’d look later. Then it
struck him. Yes he looked, he was wide awake, but he’d seen
someone with stark beauty in a deep green pool with a brown cape and
hood on. Her name was Princess Te Huia te Heu Heu, and she was a
guardian (maybe Hinemoa’s sister from another life), he knew. He
had a feeling this was taken in the past, and that the pool wasn’t
in Aotearoa. He knew he felt this to be true. Then he was staring
at a luminescent light green stick figure with a round head and no
feet or hands. He also knew this wasn’t on this planet, that
somehow it had everything to do with Tuwhenga. Then he got a date,
11th
October 2008; damn, he thought, and his fiftieth birthday. Then as
quick as they had come, they were gone, and he felt the medication
taking effect again. It was time for a nana nap.
Te Marae o Hine 10th
October 2008
Meg’s
thoughts.
She’d
just arrived up from Christchurch, the trusty V Dub eating the miles
and still chugging along. She’d parked it in the middle of the
Square, thinking what a silly place for a car park. She had had a
look around, the clock tower the centrepiece of a very busy centre of
town. It was midday, and people were out for a welcome lunch,
enjoying the sun and lack of wind. The air was still a little cool,
the legacy of a cold southerly the night before, which had left a
lingering chill.
She
looked around, saw the large trees acting as a perimeter fence but
failing to stop intruders, saw the statues or plinths no doubt used
to denote the founding fathers including one to Te Peeti Te Awe Awe,
the Rangitane chief who arranged the sale of the land and the likes.
Then she saw the building jutting into the square, and thought how
positively ugly it was. She asked a passerby what the building was,
and was told that it was the City Council chambers and was a source
of derision and disdain since it was built many years ago.
She
saw, then, the three poupou on the side of the building, along with
two others standing over ten feet tall, and knew she had found what
she needed to see. She walked briskly, but with measured steps,
drawing ever closer to the courtyard. She passed the War Memorial,
walked over the grassed bank, and entered the main courtyard of the
special area. She saw now all poupou were finely carved and although
she didn’t understand their relevance or meaning, she did know that
this place was indeed tapu.
She
walked past all the boulder sculptures, eventually reaching the
western end, and saw the sign in bold brass on the wall of the
embankment – Te Marae o Hine, the Courtyard of the Daughter of
Peace. Despite the traffic noise and the sound of commerce, this
place was indeed peaceful. Her mind quickly imaged Te Huia, but there
was no relevance, except to say they probably shared the same
whakapapa. She walked back again, marvelling at the sculptures.
Each had a plaque on it and she read the names given the boulders and
the sculptor of each. They, in her practiced eye, were spectacular,
as were the poupou. This whole little corner of civilisation simply
drooled essence. She noticed then that there were five other people
walking around, looking, stopping, reading, moving on. One was an
elderly Pacific Island woman, dressed very smartly, and walking with
some pain.
The
others were all male, of varying age, one young boy, another lad who
could only be a surfer, mottled blond dreadlocks with alight green
tinge (her mind slipped to the stick figure – ‘why now?’ she
thought), a tall lanky male also about the same age as the surfer,
but with a crew cut and tidier clothes, (a very neat Maoritanga T
Shirt too she thought). The last figure was busily copying down the
names from the boulders plinths, moving studiously as he did so. He
walked with a very slight limp, and mumbled to himself as if there
were no one there. She sat down on the north-eastern most plinth,
opened her sandwiches, and ate heartily. She felt this would be a
prerequisite for the rest of her journey.
Dwight’s
thoughts
He’d
caught the Overlander Express at Wellington Railway Station at
8.30am. The ride up the coast had been a revelation, which soon
opened up to the burgeoning horticulture and agriculture of the
Horowhenua, and the seamless boundary into the Manawatu. He’d
arrived in Palmerston North after a couple of hours, left the train,
which would continue up the island to Auckland, and decided that
since it was a nice day, he’d walk into the centre of town. He
didn’t have any idea why he had to go there, but was somehow drawn
into doing it.
The
old Maori man at the station had pointed him towards Rangitikei
Avenue, the main north route into the small city. He’d had an idea
to check out the city on the internet before departing and was
surprised at how robust and modern it was. It also surprised him to
find out it had one of the largest student populations in this
country he was now calling Aotearoa.
He’d
walked down the avenue, dotted with car sales yards and small
businesses, until he saw the clock tower. He’d read that the
original cross on the tower had toppled in 2006 and that the whole
tower had been refurbished and the cross replaced with a white
translucent edifice. At night, so the article said, the cross could
be seen illuminated in four directions, though not overly evident,
unless one looked. It was resurrected to appease the Christian
faithful, but many in the city didn’t want it. He marvelled at how
deep seated Christians could be.
He
walked past Featherston Street, which stretched far into both the
east and west, out of site at his level. Then Grey Street, past
Queen and King Street and Cuba Street, and made it to the Square at
nearly 11.00am. He felt hungry, so walked around the Square looking
for somewhere to eat. He saw McDonalds’ Golden Arches over on the
southeast side of the Square, and decided to support the American
economy and eat in. He’d had two big Mac’s, some Fries, and a
Coke, and sat and looked at life going past. He knew he shouldn’t
enter the Square until he was ready, and he’d not been ready.
He
looked around the Square though, saw the tall buildings framing this
little patch of green, saw the trees forming a perimeter fence
guarding all entrances and exits to the park. He noticed the foot
bridge over the pond and the myriad of ducks wandering around. He
noted, too, the concrete building on the west side that protruded
into the parklands, the monstrosity it appeared to be. He thought
then too, about the carpark. How strange it seemed that in a place
with plenty of parking and a relative lack of cars, that a piece of a
jewel would be a carpark. He knew this land was gifted by Te Peeti
Te Awe Awe, and his statue stood on the south east corner, looking
east to the Manawatu Gorge, the way that Rangitane had come from to
the Manawatu. How would he feel now that pakeha decision makers
would bend ruination on such a fine area? He knew of places in his
own homeland that were suffering under the same problem, that the
past should not be revered, totally.
He’d
lingered long enough, and made his way out of the eatery, crossed the
road opposite the site of the old PDC, and headed towards the Marae
he knew existed there. Actually, he thought, the whole Square was a
marae, but most modern city dwellers neither cared nor worried about
it. As long as they could shop they were happy. He passed a homeless
man, called back to him and gave him a ten dollar note. The man,
Mike Newman, juggled in the Square for money enough to buy a packet
of smokes, and he was largely successful.
Dwight
approached the Marae from the southeast, past the clock tower and
into “the” Te Marae o Hine. He didn’t look at anything yet,
kept his eyes down and just paced the length of the place, and then
back again. He felt a chill run up his bare neck, only stopped from
reaching lower by the Maoritanga T Shirt he wore, gifted by Henry
Tewhero, a student in his class at Victoria. He rubbed his neck,
thought about Tuwhenga, then turned back facing the marae and looked
up, seeing the poupou on the ugly building (reminded him of the
Enterprise on Star Trek) There were three, each about four foot long,
and no doubt each telling a tale. He then turned left and saw the
two poupou that stood over twelve feet high, and depicting the
ancestry or whakapapa of the local iwi. He then looked down, and saw
what he thought he had come for. A quick look around the courtyard
confirmed that there were indeed ten boulders on plinth’s (or Ahu
he joked to himself) He saw the sign at the other end, Te Marae o
Hine, and he was sure that the sign only referred in the place he was
in now. The original concept of the whole Square being a Marae had
been bastardised by petty politicians, and he shed a tear.
He
made his way around each boulder, noting the name, the description
and the form. He had no clear favourite, just very pleased to be
able to share the mana of the creations and recreations (volcano
creates, man recreates). It was at this point he noticed that those
lingering the most accounted for five souls. A lady of early forties
and well dressed, and in her prime and very sexy too he thought,
another lady, much older, maybe late sixties, and a Polynesian (he
couldn’t differentiate between Samoan, Tongan, Nuiean etc) but in
her own way too, she was beautiful. She walked in pain though, he
noted. Then there was the young Maori boy, standing and staring at
the poupou on the south of the site, trying to come to grips with his
Maoritanga no doubt. He noted the boys’ right hand as it pulled
down the woollen shirt at the back, the coat tails hanging out of a
pair of dark track pants with a tiki design down the side.
The
surfer was way out of place, yet he seemed to belong. He moved with
a limp too, though compared to the Polynesian lady, his was more
pronounced, probably arthritis he thought. The dreadlocks were
coloured blond and lime green, and he thought then of Te Huia and the
stick figure. Yes all the people in this courtyard were beautiful in
their own inimitable way.
Except
the old guy. Well he wasn’t exactly old, what hair he had was
grey, and his beard was grey at the bottom and red on top. He
sported what almost looked like a Mohawk with hair down his back, the
side of the head shaved bald and starting at a point above the nose
and tapering away. He moved slowly, and his limp was barely
discernible, but it was there. He had the feeling this sad old
creature had experienced many things, and was maybe going to
experience many more. He walked up to the guy and said ‘good
afternoon’, to which the old fella replied, “Kia ora”
Dwight
had lingered for another forty minutes, with the others assembled,
then sat down and wrote about his experience.
Madman’s
thoughts.
He’d
taken the long route from New Plymouth to Palmy, going across the
country to Taumaranui, down and across to Taupo, then southeast to
Napier over the Ranges, and a very quick trip from Napier to
Dannevirke (he was sure the driver was psycho). He hitched again
from Dannevirke, this time he’d had to walk quite a few miles
before an elderly man picked him up. He knew the dreads set him
apart, but the old guy was quite kind and gave him the time of day.
He’d even asked Madman what he was going to do in Palmerston North
to which he replied he didn’t know, just knew he had to be there.
Ralph,
the driver, drove him right down Main Street East and stopped outside
the Court House to set down Shaun, who thanked him for the ride, and
said farewell. He then looked around. The Court House looked
imposing though it did appear to be under reconstruction. He saw
several people enter and leave as he watched, some in suits, some in
street clothes. It wasn’t hard to decipher which ones were the
lawyers. He had a little chortle and looked back behind him. The
bus stop was populated, but near empty, and no busses were to be
seen. He saw the carpark building across the road, which appeared
full. He swung back around to the west and saw The Square. Palmy
was famous for its Square, a greenbelt in the middle of the city. He
walked off down the road, past the Lotto and Post shop, and crossed
the road on the pedestrian crossing. There seemed to be moderate
traffic flow today, and with that thought he looked at the clock.
The
time was just coming up to midday. He was hungry, and bought a Kebab
from the caravan parked in the Square. He had swallowed the whole
thing in five minutes, and then moved off towards the other side of
the park. He could see the building jutting into the sacred ground
but he forgave them as he’d seen the poupou. Three in number,
marking Te Marae o Hine. He had a recollection that the whole Square
was Te Marae o Hine, in honour of a local Maori Chief who’d helped
the pakeha back in the 19th
century. As he passed the carpark, and looked back to a statue in
the southeast corner, he’d wondered what that Chief would have
thought now about the intrusion of insanity.
He’d
passed the clock tower, another unnecessary intrusion, and entered
the area where two more poupou stood guarding the south zone, and ten
spit ball sculptures carved out of Taranaki Volcanic rock (He’d
seen the article in the local Taranaki paper). He had noted with
care, the fine job done by the sculptors, and he’d wondered if he
put his hand to it, he too could do this. For now, he thought, the
Rheumatoid Arthritis was confined to the knees.
He
had been so lost in his reverie he’d almost failed to notice that
there were other people standing, looking, touching, and he’d not
once registered they were all doing the same thing.
A
young Maori boy, cleanly dressed and with a smile on his face, a
Samoan woman, who seemed to do everything with a measured pace, a
Pakeha woman with blond hair and glasses, a tall lanky kid his own
age, dressed in what he’d thought were American clothes, and last
but not least, the old guy, well he wasn’t old, he just looked old,
seemed old. But the striking thing was his hair, a V shaped cut from
front to back down to an almost mullet. He wore a tracksuit, even
though it wasn’t particularly cold. But he hadn’t like the
others, touched the sculptures. He’d stare intently at them, but
he wouldn’t touch. It had seemed to Shaun that the others were
aware of the mana of the sculptors who crafted such art.
Mila’s
thoughts
The
Nissan had travelled well. She’d left home the day before and had
stayed in Te Papaoiea, in the suburb of Awapuni with her sister,
Aveolela
Finau. She’d awoken late, the drive having had it’s effects, had
breakfast with her sister. She had then gone for a drive out to the
Race Course, Te Peeti Te Awe Awe’s pa site, then had visited Massey
University, after many years of absence. She’d sat several English
papers as an extramural and visited twice for contact courses, but
had never had the time to walk around and soak up the atmosphere.
This time she parked the car, and spent a couple of hours walking
around soaking up the bush, the buildings, the hubbub of activity.
She made it back to the car in time for her next errand. She’d
promised herself a tour of The Square, or Te Marae o Hine as they had
renamed it.
She’d
read on the internet that the local council, with community
backing, had made large scale changes to the Square to try and curb
crime, and to generally modernise the place. And she had wanted to
see for herself what a modern city does to keep its people happy.
She
parked her car outside a place called the Empty Vessel; a place, she
gathered, was a watering hole. She placed two dollars in the parking
meter, thinking she would be less than an hour, and walked past
Subway, the smell enticing, across the pedestrian crossing at the
Walk Now signal, and into the Square. She had come in from the
South, off Fitzherbert Avenue, and she had looked behind her down the
tree lined street. This was a pretty city, she thought, but the
Marae was anything but pretty.
Ahead
of her she had seen the carpark intruding right in to the War
Memorial and Clock Tower, an unholy sight. Over to her right was the
statue commemorating the founding fathers, and a bit less to the
right, in the north
east corner, stood Te Awe Awe.
He was almost hidden from view by the Information Centre kiosk. She
noted the changes to the Clock Tower, the old cross gone replaced by
a white monolith. She could barely make out a cross in the midday
sun, and had been moved to think at night it must be impressive, if
lit.
She’d
been so busy looking the other way, that she had missed the duck pond
to the left of her. The bridge over it appeared to be new, as did a
lot of the construction. As she had neared the Clock Tower, she saw
a path that veered off to the northwest, and then she saw the
boulders, the poupou and the people. She entered the court,
whispered a small karakia to herself in Maori, and walked right
through, with no one acknowledging her. She turned and faced north,
the low wall on that side of the courtyard with the writing on it “Te
Marae o Hine – Courtyard of the Daughter of Peace.”
She’d
turned back southeast from whence she had come, and boulder by
boulder, she looked and felt and sense the aura of the sculptor and
his or her handiwork. She had had a little laugh after the third
boulder when she thought of the Moai and their Ahu. This little
place was a piece of Rapa Nui. She felt all the sculptures, and then
stood next to a young Maori boy looking at the two tall poupou. His
gaze had been intense, as if he was reading each nuance of the
carvings. She herself followed the intricate lines, the curves, the
faces, the bodies, all whakapapa no doubt of the Rangitaane.
She
had then noticed with care those that seemed to be lingering in the
courtyard. All seemed to be there for a purpose, and all were
lingering. She felt like going to each and introducing herself, the
Samoan thing to do, but something had held her back. The thought of
that word again curtailed her thoughts – Tuwhenga. She instead had
looked closely at the five people that stood around, moved around, or
simply shifted. The old guy got her first, his demeanour somewhat
unnerving. He walked with a very subtle limp and dressed in a black
tracksuit with some Maori motif down the legs and arms. When he
turned, he had the large word Maori in red letters on his back. He
certainly wasn’t Maori, with his pale skin and white beard and
greying hair, which was long at the back.
She
had then shifted her attention to the fine palagi woman standing near
the boulder with the mother significance. Yes she had been a mother,
her hips still wide from the exertion, but in all other respects she
was a fine upstanding lady. Her blond hair seemed natural and in
excellent condition. That woman cared for herself very well. She
had thought of herself at that age, and she too had been quite a
looker.
The
characters she had found intriguing were the two lads that seemed to
be of the same age. One very tall, the other stocky. The tall one
seemed to be wearing foreign clothing; she’d only seen the likes
worn by those Samoan’s with family and friends in American Samoa or
LA, so she had guessed this lad was American, or had been to America
recently. The stocky one with the light green tinge in his bottle
blond hair seemed to walk with difficulty. He’d shown no sign of
pain when he walked, but she had guessed it wasn’t far away
The
last one was the young Maori boy standing next to her. She’d seen
the clawed right hand when walking past him, and guessed his lot in
life was pretty rough. He seemed to have well muscled arms for
someone so young, and his hair was short and well trimmed. She had
guessed he looked after himself very well.
Then
she had left, she had needed a shower to help ease the pain. The
long drive had taken it out of her, and she needed rest before the
remainder of the journey.
Hooky’s
thoughts
The
day had been like any others. Nothing but work, driving a tractor at
7.30 in the morning, sowing seeds on Hamilton’s place, nearly
seventy acres, a small job. But he’d cried off work at 10am,
telling his boss he had an appointment he’d forgotten about, in
Palmy. He then hitched a ride from Rongotea into Cloverlea. He had
walked down Highbury Avenue to Botanical Road and into town via Main
Street West. He’d stopped at The Mad Butchers and had bought a
packet of Saveloys, he loved them uncooked, as a few people did, and
ate them as he had walked. He had known where he was going, just
didn’t know why.
He
decided to detour to the Library and see the Elephant Sculpture.
He’d heard a lot about it, but never had seen it. What he found
was pure enjoyment. Parked outside the main entrance to the library,
the sculpture stood at least three metres tall, and its varying
composition, he had thought, was well contrived. He had liked it.
He had also known there were other statutes around, but time was
short and he had to be where he needed to go.
He
had walked into the Square from the Library side, the northwest
corner, and made his way across the only untouched piece of green in
the park. He knew that the other green areas were mixed with
concrete and other paraphernalia. He hated the carpark. He’d felt
like doing a haka in the Council Chambers to challenge the council to
get rid of it. Yeah, he had thought, a fifteen year old Maori boy
would make a difference.
He
had thought about the statue of the local iwi chieftain, Te Peeti Te
Awe Awe as he had walked, his feet thudding on the damp ground. He
had been aware, thanks to his cousin Tama, a local Rangitaane
expert, that the whole Square was the courtyard of the daughter of
peace, Te Marae o Hine, and that pakeha had violated it’s sanctity.
He was also aware that many pakeha were incensed about two things in
that place. The carpark, and the encroachment of the Council
buildings, into the Marae.
Suddenly
the clock had chimed, taking away his thoughts. His step had
increased, as he neared the courtyard proper, the one the current
city fathers deemed enough for a marae. He approached from the north
past the clock, and into the arcade, made up of more sculptures, the
two sets of poupou, and a strange mixture of people all looking at
the things he had noted. He had only had one wish, and that was to
decipher the poupou standing guard on the south side of the marae.
He had stood there, and a woman had joined him. She seemed to be a
pacific islander, her face giving her away. She looked young, but he
guessed she was Kuia.
He
had returned to his deliberations, and found his young mind stretched
by the totem. He made a point to see the local Kaumatua when time
permitted. The Rangitaane culture was as interesting as his own,
though he had been away from his for quite some time now and missed
talking with the kaumatua and their teachings of whakapapa.
He
had moved off then, after the woman had gone, and sat on one of the
plinths, in fact the one right next to the great cement monolith
jutting into the marae. He had seen the two young guys, they’d
been there since he had arrived and he guessed both were on a mission
too. One looked to be a yank, the other a surfie. The fine looking
lady, probably the same age as his own mother, was also there he had
felt, to fulfil a need. They were all pakeha. The old guy, well he
had thought, not that old, was the conundrum. He looked pakeha, but
everything else about him spoke Maori. His clothes, his style of
walking, and the warrior hairdo, even the beautiful “Kia ora” as
he had passed. He knew when he next met such a man, he’d do Hongi.
Ta’anes
thoughts
He’d
slept in the alley behind the Arts Building. He’d been there
before, when he walked out of the Rest and hit the streets. He’d
been vagrant for a whole week then, eating out of bins, smoking
discarded butts, and drinking drinks kids failed to finish and left
lying around. He had been ever grateful to those that did good
deeds. He’d even busked his magic trick with his key chain that
earned enough for a packet of durries, if he was lucky. That was when
the Police had carted him off to Ward 21.
But
he had gone back to the alley. He needed to be aware of what was
happening. If anyone had been looking for him too bad. He had slept
well on the concrete, he always did sleep well anywhere. He had
gotten up before dawn and wandered into the Gull Service Station and
bought a pie and coke for breakfast. He had a job to do, and needed
light to do it. He had then wandered over to the Marae, and for the
next five hours, had written poetry about the totem (he hadn’t
known the Maori word) and the sculptures. He had known instinctively
that around midday, the real reason for him being there would
manifest itself.
Around
11.30am, he’d gone and got a Kebab, then gone to the Lotto shop to
get some tobacco. He needed to smoke, and he remembered that the
past three days he’d smoked a whole packet of tobacco (he only
smoked roll-your-owns), expecting the date to roll around. He had
known from his dream that his birthday was the real prize, but the
day before was as important. He’d lit up a smoke and wandered back
to the Marae. He loved being in the Marae, but he hated, nay,
loathed, the rest of the Square. All of it was offensive, even the
grassed northwest section didn’t bode well.
As
the Clock had tolled Midday, he had made his way back to the Marae.
He had stood at the western end, watching people, a favourite
pastime. Usually at midday he had noted on previous visits, there
were a lot of office workers walking through the Marae. Today, no
one had been passing through, just another five people walking,
sitting, standing, touching, thinking. He recognised all of them.
No he’d thought, I don’t know them, but I do know I’m not alone
in this adventure. He’d guessed everyone else had been eyeing up
all the others, and he’d have been right he knew. He hadn’t
formed opinions about the five, but he was keen to say hello to the
young boy. He was like a key in this he had thought.
Then
he did Utaina in his head, holding back the actions:
Utaina
mai ngā waka
Ngā waka o te motu
Tōia mai rā ki uta
Ki te takoranga.
A hiki 'nuku, hiki e
Hiki rangi, runga e
Tēnā, tēnā rā
koutou katoa.
Ngā waka o te motu
Tōia mai rā ki uta
Ki te takoranga.
A hiki 'nuku, hiki e
Hiki rangi, runga e
Tēnā, tēnā rā
koutou katoa.
U
ta-i!
'Ta-hi!
U ta-i!
'Ta-hi!
Utaina mai ngā iwi
0 te motu
Ki runga Tauranga e tau.
'Ta-hi!
U ta-i!
'Ta-hi!
Utaina mai ngā iwi
0 te motu
Ki runga Tauranga e tau.
A
hiki 'nuku e!
A hiki rangi e!
A hiki rangi e!
A hiki 'nuku e!
A! ha! ha!
Ka hikitia i tā nga iwi
Ka hapainga tāna waka
Aue! Aue! Aue! Ha!
Aue! Aue! Aue! Ha! Hei!
A hiki rangi e!
A hiki rangi e!
A hiki 'nuku e!
A! ha! ha!
Ka hikitia i tā nga iwi
Ka hapainga tāna waka
Aue! Aue! Aue! Ha!
Aue! Aue! Aue! Ha! Hei!
A
ha ha!
Aue, aue, aue, ha!
Aue, aue, aue! Ha! Hei!
Aue, aue, aue, ha!
Aue, aue, aue! Ha! Hei!
He’d
been amazed at the result, on the Hei, the young Maori boy had come
his way, and he had whispered a “Kia ora” at him as he passed.
He
had thought then he’d seen enough for now and walked back to his
wounded waka parked at the back of the Arts Building. He’d driven
home thinking about the next few hours ahead of him.
A Sense of Anticipation
Rapa
Nui
Jenny
Moorcroft loved Easter Island. She’d spent the past five weeks
working with the islands Moai custodian, Angel Carlos Hernandez, or
Dez as he preferred. She’d taken thousands of photos, drawn up
maps, and spent the last week on a resurvey of Rano Raraku, the
quarry for the giant figures, and still they had trouble discerning
finished Moai and unfinished. They’d argued about certain aspects
of the carving and finally agreed a whole complete Moai only be
included in the census.
Today
was the 9th
October UTC 2008, and she was taking the day off to recharge her
batteries, and to take a stroll around and marvel at her workplace.
She’d been full on recently and lost focus on exactly how important
these objects were, and how devastating for the generations that
built them and then disappeared, be it tribal, be it foreign
interference. The clock ticked over 9am, and she packed away her
breakfast things. She weighed up whether to walk (an all day event,)
or take the Hilux. In the end she settled on the Toyota and drove
off to the revered sites.
At
first she failed to see anything unusual, but soon her curiosity was
peeked, and she started to look at the Moai with a different
perspective. Something wasn’t right, something was very wrong.
And she couldn’t put her mind to it, nothing unusual registered,
until she drove past Moai 234 and 235, both of whom should have been
flat on their back, yet here they were standing in the barren field
looking over to their relatives standing sentinel by the foreshore on
their Ahu. She was stunned, and then it hit her even harder, they
were all facing in a new direction. Not just 234 and 235, but all
the Moai on their plinths, all facing she guessed, West South West.
She hurriedly drove to Rano Raraku and found some Moai had “walked”
out of the quarry.
She
radioed the news to Dez, and asked him to check to see that the
villagers and locals hadn’t been out playing a trick. Pretty soon
the whole island was standing looking at any Moai they could. One
islander, Rewi Atu Cordez, who considered himself an expert on the
Moai and was also a medicine man of sorts, simply said “he comes”.
When questioned on what he had said by Dez, he simply shut his mouth
and walked away, the locals following.
It
took all day for Dez and Jenny to do a resurvey, and all Moai that
had been toppled, were standing again, and all facing the same way.
Hawaii.
Hale
o Keawe Heiau, Mahealani Pahinui stands looking at the carved
statues. She had noticed that morning that they were different
somehow, but now it was plainly evident they were different. The
teardrops from the eyes just shouldn’t be there. She wondered if
Brudda Iz had known this affliction, after all he was a god to his
people. And these ancestors were gods too. She asked Polo, the
caretaker, and he just shrugged his shoulders and said something bad
maybe, was going to happen, though tears could be joy too. No he’d
never seen it before, nor heard of it. The shaking of the ground
took both of them by surprise, a small earthquake.
Up
on Kilauea Jeff Simpson, US Geological Society felt the quake too.
He’d noticed straightaway he needed to be off the mountain as lava
activity suddenly increased and the heat started to permeate a great
distance out from the mouth of the large volcano. He sure as heck
wasn’t going to make the 9th
October UTC, his thirty first birthday, his last. He left the gear
where it lay, and sprinted full bore down the mountain.
Tahiti
The
fish had all gone, Ariki Temara, knew. He’d been fishing the
lagoon for thirty five years and had always had a bountiful harvest
with which to feed the whanau. But now he would return barren. He’d
known it only once when the lagoon failed, and that was after a
cyclone that poured fresh water into it. But he also knew the
folklore, fish will disappear heralding the return of the of the Sky
One. He saw the ripples on the water, looked around and saw no boat,
nor any wind to make the ripples. He looked skyward and the light
clouds drifted aimlessly northwest.
Another
omen, he thought. He checked his Olympia watch, and noted it was the
9th
October UTC, and in that great year 2008. He’d turned fifty and
was glad of the encroaching retirement where he could concentrate on
being a teacher for the young (if he wasn’t already so.). He saw
the ripples again and noted they came from the west south west. At
least they weren’t coming from Muroroa. That demon had yet to
raise its ugly head, though some blamed it for the distorted fish
stocks soon after the explosions stopped.
Yuendumu,
Central Australia
Bullai
Bullai (meaning the North Wind) usually dispensed native medicines.
He’d been trained by his father, who was trained by his father
before him, way back by at least fifteen generations. His family
were always healers, and his name came from the wind that healed in
Central Australia. But today, the 10th
October 2008 on the Western calendar, he had to drive to Uluru. He’d
sensed a change, and needed to go to the Rock to see what was
happening. He decided to drive the old Holden Kingswood, the V8
Chevy chewed too much juice. And his funds were decidedly skimp for
the moment.
After
negotiating the highway to the rare site, he parked the Holden up,
opened all the windows, and started to go into a trance. The first
thing he noted was the fresh breeze from the south east. His mind
envisaged Adelaide, maybe even Aotearoa, and he opened his eyes
suddenly realising that the rock was a dirty brown. The Orb!! He’d
heard about it during dreamtime sessions and now he was sure the
Great One was due back again. He knew he had to keep this quiet, it
might install panic in the wrong ears. Aotearoa he thought, that was
interesting. There was an old Maori gentleman living at Yuendumu,
been there for years, maybe he should run this by him.
St
Thomas, US Virgin Islands
Carol
Quettel washed the dishes. It had been a small party, herself, her
husband Rick, and son and daughter – Michael and Susan. But it was
an important party. Rick had stopped fishing for good, and the
family fishing boat had been sold. Rick was 74, and found it was
time to give away the business.
They
(Rick, Carol and Susan) all lived in the family home on the outskirts
of Saint Thomas. The family’s descendants stretch from Danish, to
Norwegian, to Creole Indian. They’d been on the island for two
hundred years. Their heritage was rich, but since the introduction
of US rule, things had changed markedly. The place had become a
haven for tourist ships plying their trade in the Caribbean. Most of
the commerce geared around this industry, Michael a computer sales
expert tending to machines in the Island, and Susan a Vets assistant
taken care of the islands animals (all introduced).
But
at night Susan spoke to New Zealand, her online boyfriend Ta’ane.
But she hadn’t heard from him in months, no doubt in hospital
again. She checked her calendar, 9th
October UTC, and he hadn’t even been online for her to wish him a
happy birthday. She chewed her nails when these things happened,
wondering if he’d self harmed again. That had scared her; in 2003
he went way west (as the cowboys would say.) They (she and Ta’ane)
had had an affinity, both having served in each countries Navy.
The
Earthquake hit at 9.15pm, just a little rumbler. It unsettled Susan,
as it unsettled most of the islanders, not used to such events. She
had a hunch the quake had something to do with Ta’ane, she knew not
why. It was the first thing that popped into her mind.
World
Volcano Watch 9th
October 2008
The
US Geological Society monitored the daily mission of Papatuanuku in
her monumental battle to keep the world in flux. Earthquakes and
Volcanoes are monitored on a regular basis and mapped on websites
they run. However, on the this day, they became inundated with
reports of volcanic activity the world over. Something on Earth, or
in the cosmos, was causing a large number of volcanoes to become
active again, some after a long lay off.
The
following volcanoes began erupting:
Ngauruahoe Lava New
Zealand
Ruapehu
Ash New Zealand
Whakaari
(White Is) Steam New Zealand
Rumble
3 Lava New Zealand
Raoul
Island Mud The Kermedecs
Niuafo'ou Ash Tonga
Kavachi Lava Solomons
Rabaul Ash Papua
New Guinea
Manam Lava Papua
New Guinea
Semuru Ash Indonesia
Merapi
Agung Lava Indonesia
Ciremai Lava Indonesia
Popocatepetl Lava México
Volcán Coronado Ash México
Mount Erebus Ash Antarctica
Mount Saint Hellens Ash USA
Mauna
Loa Lava USA
Kilauea Lava USA
Heimaey Ash Iceland
Etna Lava Italy
Copahue Ash Chile
Llaima Lava Chile
By
all accounts, each region was hit by a small earthquake, announcing
volcanic activity, as the reports came in, no property damage, and
the volcanoes were barely erupting, no major concerns there. They
had sent a notification to all countries to continue to monitor the
situation, and also emailed all observatories and NASA to monitor
space to see if any untoward was happening. Then they waited.
Te whakaminenga at Little Waihi
The
VW
Meg
had looked at the map. It was 5.30pm and she was ready to continue
the journey. Her recollections during the afternoon had taken a lot
of time and her mind was now clear, having seen what she thought were
“The Others”. She couldn’t recall seeing any of them in her
dreams, but the fact that she had seen them and felt a rapport meant
a lot to her.
But
first the map, and Little Waihi again. She’d looked at it on the
internet, a little lakefront township on the western side of Lake
Taupo. She wanted to reassure herself she had the right place and
was travelling the right way. She estimated the VW would take four
hours to get there, all going well. So far in her travels, she’d
averaged around 90 kph, and she felt all going good, she’d make it
before midnight, a time she felt important. Even if she got there
earlier, she could bide her time.
She
left her motel on Fitzherbert Avenue, and drove north up the avenue,
skirting the Square, the scene of today’s unusual meeting, and
drove north up Rangitikei Street. She noted the empty car sales
yards and thought there must be a recession on, or at least one to
come.
The
VW cruised at 50kph over the railway lines, and picked up speed as
the 100kph sign appeared. She depressed the throttle pedal and
slowly the speed crawled up to 90kph. But before she got a mile out
of town, she noticed the number of hitchhikers, and suddenly realised
that two of them, the Yank and the Surfer, were from the Marae. She
had a feeling the next one she saw she’d pick up, and sure enough,
just past the Kairanga/Bunnythorpe cross road, the young Maori boy
stood with thumb out. He had a big pack with him but she stopped and
picked him up.
He
placed the pack on the back seat next to her suitcase, and climbed in
the front passenger seat. “Kia ora” he quipped in his youthful
falsetto, and she replied “hi” back. She thought he was a fine
looking young man, and thought about the day she was that age she
would have swooned for a fine young man like him. She started
driving off, not asking him where he was going. As if reading her
mind, he asked if she could drop him off at Turangi, saying he had to
go north from there to a place called Little Waihi. She replied
knowingly she would take him all the way as that was where she was
going. They drove off into the night, the sun starting to set as
they did so.
The
Nissan
Mila
loaded her small suitcase into the boot of her trusty car. She’d
bought it off an ex-navy man on the North Shore in Auckland, a real
bargain. She’d had it nine years and it had never missed a beat.
And it travelled well, having taken her and her clan to Kapa Haka and
Polynesian festivals all over the country.
She
knew Little Waihi, having stopped in once to see the birthplace of
Bishop Takuira Max Mariu, one her icons from the Thames days when
they travelled Saturdays to Hamilton to hear him sermonise. Mila was
also aware he was buried on the marae at Little Waihi, so this trip
would be a bonus for her.
She
bid farewell to her sister, who kept pestering her about her reason
for travelling, just to say she was catching up on things before they
caught up with her. In a way she was right, she’d known for ages
that things were not well with her, and she suspected she might have
breast cancer, but she was too scared to go see her palagi doctor.
She
drove up Racecourse Road, turned in Pioneer Highway, and headed east
until she came to Botanical Drive, where she turned north and
continued on until she turned right into Tremaine Avenue, the longest
street in the city. She drove past the railway station, turned left
into Rangitikei Line and exited the city. Not even a mile up the
road she saw two young lads, the ones she had seen at the marae.
She
stopped and offered them both a lift. They only had light backpacks
and she put them in the boot. The tall one, with an American accent,
said many times “thank you” and hopped in the front. The surfer
dude hopped in the back, and once again, no one said where they were
going, they knew each other now and assumed they were going in the
right direction.
She
was past the old guy before she knew it, and couldn’t stop to pick
him up, but she had enough onboard.
The
twenty eight wheeler
He’d seen the VW, and it was familiar, but seeing his old Nissan
burnt an image in his mind that was excruciating. He knew all the
number plates he’d ever had, a sad irony in that, and when PP3773
flashed by in its white livery, he was stunned. He’d seen some of
the people at The Square in it, and figured they were on their way to
Te whakaminenga.
It
was nearing dark, and he needed a ride badly. He didn’t have a
pack or bag and was quite obviously a derelict personage. He heard
the bright blue juggernaut long before he saw it. He could hear the
gears building up speed as it drove out of Palmy. He guessed it was
hauling heavy, and would be a long time slowing if it decided to stop
for him. And right he was, the gears chopping down as the truck came
to a halt about one hundred metres past him. He hobbled-ran as fast
as he could to the cab, stepped up on the steps, opened the door, and
hopped in
“Kia
ora” said Wayne Hemopo, and they shook hands. Wayne was a very big
man, in his forties he guessed, heck maybe even fiftyish. He was a
chatty driver, and soon the miles ate away as they talked about
rugby, politics, religion, sex, and everything else under the sun.
Darkness had enveloped them for some time, and Ta’ane asked Wayne
about Little Waihi. Wayne knew where it was but hadn’t been down
there.
They
drove through Waiouru without stopping, the foot well down on the
pedal. Ta’ane had seen the VW and the Nissan at the Oasis Truck
Stop, no doubt refuelling and toilet comfort stops. He was ahead of
them now; he knew both cars couldn’t overtake a truck at full
throttle. On the Desert Road there was silence. He sensed rather
than saw Ruapehu’s ash eruption, but Ngauruahoe’s lava was plain
to see. He didn’t raise the issue w with Wayne.
Ta’ane
was pondering the birthday present he was about to receive, and hoped
his family weren’t looking for him. He thought he knew what
Tuwhenga looked like, from the days when he was manoeuvring the
planets, he was sure there was a huge eel shape protecting the
entourage. But he wasn’t sure if the Man would appear in that
form. He knew the orb part of it, and thought probably, but still he
wondered.
Wayne
let him out at Turangi, as he was continuing on to Tauranga. Ta’ane
then walked up the Tokaanu Road, State Highway 41, hoping for another
ride. He had about an hour he guessed to be at his destination, well
before midnight.
A
short trip past steaming cliffs
He
saw the Nissan again, under a street light, and this time it slowed
down and stopped for him. He went around the back, climbed in the
rear right seat, and said his welcomes to every one. The VW passed
them before they got underway, and soon it was evident to all that
they were to become part of something very different. How they had
all kept their secret for so long amazed them all, as they sat being
retrospective and quiet.
Ta’ane
didn’t even mention the car facts. In fact his eyes were like the
others; wandering around the spaciousness of the Nissan, weighing up
each other, except of course Mila, who was busy driving. Ta’ane
was impressed with the gathering of humanity. He guessed as best he
could, the origins of the players, but he wouldn’t know if he was
right until they all introduced each other.
Shaun
looked out the window as they began their climb out of Tokaanu. He’d
never been this way, and the darkness hid the landscape. He guessed
it to be heavily timbered and steep, which he was soon to see as the
car’s headlights swung over the terrain around sharp corners. Then
he saw the steam.
Dwight
was doing the same, and he too saw the steam. He asked in general if
this was volcanic country, which he bit back as soon as he asked,
remembering his own study into the central plateau. However the old
man did grunt a yes, so that confirmed it.
Ta’ane
couldn’t see the steam fumaroles, as they were on the wrong side of
the car, but if the boys were seeing them in the dark, then activity
in this area was of a high nature. Normally the steam dissipated
soon after exiting the fumarole, such was its weakness. Then he
remembered the volcanoes part in his tale, and a small shudder went
down his body.
Mila
drove with extreme care. Despite that though, she had caught up with
the VW, which was being driven carefully on the dark winding road.
She enjoyed having people in her waka, and was quite happy listening
to the shallow breathing. The oldest man in her car obviously
smoked, giving little coughs every now and then, but she was sure the
rest were fine non smokers. The scenery on the side of the road had
given way to darkness, the lights now on dip. Still she saw the
steam being emitted at a very strong rate, and she was sure it had
something to do with The Gathering. A fact that she thought all the
people who were gathering at Little Waihi didn’t surpass her that
what was going to transpire would be with the six in these two waka.
Megs
drove with extreme care. She’d driven this road once before and
had remembered how tight the corners were and how steep the climb up
from the lake was. She also knew about the steaming cliffs, and to
her horror they were steaming like she’d never seen them before.
She was aware this too was slip country, so she drove a little slower
than normal, just in case she had to avoid one. Hooky had been
silent most of the trip north, only speaking when he saw things he
wasn’t aware of. He saw the two volcanoes erupting, Ruapehu with a
light ash eruption, and Ngauruahoe with lava shining in the night.
They were small eruptions he guessed, but maybe a sign he thought.
He wondered what the old kaumatua were thinking of a double eruption.
He’d also heard on the radio (yes the VW was modern) that Whakaari
was erupting steam too, in the Bay of Plenty. White Island was the
most active volcano in Aotearoa, he knew from his school work, and
his whanau knew about it too. Some of them gathered kaimoana from
the sea around that area.
She
saw the other car come up behind her, and it followed her to the top
near the look out. They both pulled into the parking bay at the
lookout, and everyone stepped out of their cars and had a look at
Lake Taupo. It was dark, yet they could make out the outline of the
large lake. There was a very light creamy green tinge to the surface
of the water, and all thought about Tuwhenga and the stick figures.
The time was closing on a quarter to midnight, and all were aware
they had just over one hour to be at Little Waihi. So they lingered.
Shaun
wondered if this was the last time he’d see his favoured New
Zealand. Dwight just wondered if a good ole Jewish boy could handle
what was coming. Hooky just looked at his right hand, and wondered.
Mila did karakia for them all, and for herself. She wasn’t one for
big adventures, but her travelling to far flung places in New Zealand
had prepared her for this. Ta’ane just wanted the dreams to stop.
Megs was more than happy to share this adventure. She knew in the
bottom of her heart this was not an adventure she’d recommend to
others, the impracticality of it all.
Little
Waihi
Right
on midnight, they all hopped back into their respective waka, and
continued the drive to Little Waihi. They turned off the road at the
AA Road Sign and travelled down a steep road to the little village on
the lake front. The whole village was dominated by the wharenui and
the marae. This was a spiritual place, they all guessed, and one to
be treated with reverence. Mila and Megs parked the cars in the
designated carpark, and they all climbed out and walked around to
look at the lake from lake level. The soft green sheen still
permeated, and they were sure now they were the only ones seeing it
as such.
They
wouldn’t enter the marae without being invited, and so far there
had been no sign of life. This was probably just as well, as what
was about to happen to them shouldn’t be seen by unexpected eyes.
Ta’ane moved back towards the marae, and stood and tried to
decipher the poupou on the meeting house. He knew this was Ngati
Tuwharetoa territory, as most of the central plateau was. He had
thought from his limited knowledge they were the guardians of the
volcanoes, which included Lake Taupo, the largest volcano in
Aotearoa.
He
couldn’t read them, and nor could young Hooky, who had joined him.
He too knew about Tuwharetoa, and that they were revered in Maoridom
for their duty. He also tried to decipher the poupou, and failed.
But it did give him resolve to one day understand them. His right
hand was itching, something that had never happened before, and he
scratched it with his nimble and dextrous left hand. The itching
wouldn’t go away.
Ta’ane
felt his feet swelling in his Adidas running shoes, something he
hadn’t felt since he’d jumped off that bridge. He remembered
then he was wearing his favourite boat shoes, Forrest Hill’s they
were, and they had done him good service in the Navy and at home, as
casual wear. But his feet had swollen when they were smashed, and
they had to cut the shoes off. He still had them, a poignant
reminder of the dangers of dabbling in the supernatural. Yet, here
he was again, about to jump off that bridge. The feet testified to
that.
Mila
felt her breasts swell. She thought she was hallucinating, and
hidden from the view of the others, felt her breasts. They were
tight in her bra, and uncomfortable. She shrugged her shoulder and
laughed nervously, but she wasn’t afraid. She thought of Doris
Day’s song then, Que sera sera, whistling it to herself and moved
over towards where the others were gathered by the marae entrance.
Dwight
felt a lump in his groin. It was swelling, and it was a little bit
uncomfortable. He thought he was getting an erection, but had no
idea why. He turned away from the others and rubbed the offending
area, and feeling that all was normal. Still the pressure persisted
and he put it to the back of his mind, he had things to do, he
thought.
Shaun
stood facing the lake. He’d felt the pain in his ankles when he’d
got out of the Nissan. He thought it might have been pins and
needles, his legs in tight in the rear seat. But this was like his
knees pain, sharp and nasty, yet he had the feeling there wasn’t
any actual pain. Just a foretaste.
Megs
cried. Unabashedly. Her glasses were fogging up with the heat of
the tears, yet she had had several moments of pitch blackness. She
guessed it was a sign her sight would go fully, but she couldn’t.
Not yet, she had to drive home. She was about to txt her husband,
and then remembered the time, besides the dark patches were speeding
up now and she felt she didn’t have long to wait for either dark,
or creamy green.
What
Toomai Ripia saw.
He
stood in his whare located at the side of the meeting house at Little
Waihi, looking at the strange figures. He’d heard the two cars
arrive and park out front, but at this time of night they might be
undesirables from Turangi, and he no longer had the energy to tackle
vagabonds. There were six; he counted, though he couldn’t make out
if they were female or male. He reached for the phone, ready to call
the police should they start vandalising the place. He was spooked
enough already, the steaming cliffs above the road was active, and
his whanau at Waiouru had reported both Ruapehu and Ngauruahoe were
erupting, though not major eruptions. He guessed the little Sister
Taranaki might go too. Then his cousin Mihi had rung to say Whakaari
was erupting steam.
He
felt the chill in Tawhiri that evening, and knew something was afoot.
The northwest wind never had a chill. He checked all his data and
as far as he was aware, everything at this time of year was alright.
He was however given to superstitions, and his wahine were starting
to spin old wives tails. The Moai report from Rapa Nui was
disturbing. How do totem move by themselves. A mystery for the
scientists in the making there for sure.
He
looked out the window again, the figures now all milling in the front
of the marae, almost like they were waiting to be welcomed. He’d
wait another three minutes, and if they still stood there, he’d be
honourbound to welcome them. Then all of a sudden the Moon lit the
landscape! Only thing is, he knew, there was no moon. It lasted
about 10 seconds and then disappeared, behind the cloud he thought.
He looked back at the strangers, and they had gone too, their waka no
longer there. That’s odd he thought, he hadn’t heard the engines
start up, especially that VW. Oh well, he thought, not my concern
now, and at 12.15am, went back to his bed for a good long moi.
Tuwhenga’s arrival.
Rapa
Nui
Jenny
did a resurvey. She had a hunch something was amiss. And to her
astonishment, the statues had returned to their normal position. She
a quick look at 234 and 235 and the others that had got upright, and
“walked” and they were now back in their original livery. She
shook her head in amazement.
Hawaii.
Hale
o Keawe Heiau, Mahealani looks at the totems. Their eyes were now
dry, and the sudden increase in volcanic activity had ceased.
Everything was returning to normal. Maybe it had all been a bad
dream.
Tahiti
He
saw them jumping out of the water. Ariki was amazed at the sight,
and welcomed it. His family would be fed. Still something had
happened and he should know what it was, but for the life of him, he
came up empty of ideas.
Yuendumu,
Central Australia
Bullai
felt the change. It was like a ten second burst of mad gravity
interference, but it was minor. He suspected the magnetism had
changed too, in that fleeting glimpse. He sensed rather than saw,
the object over New Zealand and after the gravity changed back to
normal, he returned home and settled in for the night. Tomorrow he’d
watch the TV news.
St
Thomas, US Virgin Islands
Susan
sensed he was gone. Sure, he hadn’t talked to her for ages, but
she had known he was busy. This time she had a Creole feeling he
just wasn’t here anymore. No, not dead, just – Gone!
World
Volcano Watch 11th
October 2008 UTC
The
activity ceased as quick as it had started. The scientists were at
odds to explain what the event was, but they surmised it was cosmic
rather than Earth orientated.
Suspended
Animation
They’d
all been standing outside the Marae at Little Waihi, when the flash
of creamy white light hit them and lifted them I a micro millisecond
into suspended animation over Lake Taupo. They could sense they were
in an Orb of some substantial size, but none could discern the actual
size, and their best guesses would have failed them. Only Ta’ane
guessed that what they were in was in fact many times bigger than
Earth and that for reasons only known to Tuwhenga, they were smaller.
The light emitted from the orb was an incandescent pale green, and
it acted like a night vision goggle in that it lit up the whole
country beneath them.
Shaun
could see all the townships and camping grounds, Megs saw State
Highways 1 and 41 wending their ways north east and north west, and
the remainder of State Highway one heading due south. She could see
the cars and trucks, at this time of night, passing beneath. Dwight
looked at the volcanoes, Tongariro, Ngauruahoe, and Ruapehu, and was
amazed to see that all volcanic activity had stopped. He guessed
their short eruption period was now a welcome to Tuwhenga (a sort of
a welcome home). Mila was looking at the lake, and she was amazed,
as thousand of Trout were being sucked up into the Orb. She looked
under her and saw the fish swimming in nothing on a lower level. It
was then she noticed her Nissan and the other lady’s VW parked on a
lower level. So they were now officially missing.
Hooky
just looked at all the Pa and Marae that made up Tuwharetoa domain.
And he had a vision opened to him, his own whanau Pa at Taupiri
mainly, and around the Waikato and King Country. Megs looked south,
the way she had come, and she could see the South Island, the waka o
Maui, and she knew she’d be home one day.
Only
Ta’ane looked up. He’d seen this before, and he mouthed to
Tuwhenga “Thread the Needle” to which, through the cloud, a
vision of Cirrus Major was shown to him. A green pounamu finger
pointed to various stars in the constellation, but Ta’ane just said
again, “thread the needle”. Going for the middle was fraught
with danger, possible black hole, but the former navigator’s
intuition said the centre of the constellation was the desired way.
Of course, Tuwhenga knew this, knew the way, and had been doing it
for billions of Earth years, in fact since Earth was a new planet
ready for colonisation.
But
for now that was between Ta’ane and Tuwhenga. The rest of the
cadre were still looking gobsmacked at what they could se, and it was
starting to dawn on them that they were standing on thin air. Though
none panicked, all were aware off where they were and were starting
to marvel at the green orb. In their visions, it had been a light
creamy green colour, but now inside the thing, they realised it was
dark pounamu, yet there was no solidity to it. They just discerned
the colour and love what they saw. That’s when all heard the voice
in their head a low rumbling “thank you”. That was also the
point that their native tongue was used. They heard the deep Maarii
(he let them know), the English translation, and their native tongue.
Megs heard the Maarii voice, and her native Norwegian (only
different – Vikings he said), and Shaun heard it in Celt. Hooky
was listening to Maori and Ta’ane was listening to only one voice,
his own.
“Welcome
to your future” said the disembodied voice ”and I hope you enjoy
all of what you are about to receive. You’ll have noticed we have
all your bags and automobiles” whereby all looked beneath, hovering
well above the swimming trout. They also noticed the ground was
slowly dissipating beneath them and soon they were going through the
clouds, only the clouds were also going through them. Then Tawhiri
bade welcome to Tuwhenga and wished him well.
Soon
they hovered over the clouds, then Tuwhenga turned them to face the
West and what each saw next made their skins crawl, with the
exception of Ta’ane, who had seen them before. Standing in the
middle of the Tasman Sea were three figures, all over five hundred
miles tall, as the commentary continued. The one eyed figure was
introduced as Cyclops, of Greek mythology, and the lady and man in
tartans were Magog and Gog, beasts of Celt mythology. All three were
workers for the planet, as most mythological figures were, but
Cyclops was special. He alone was Tuwhenga’s eye through the
cosmos, to keep an eye out (short pun) for the safety of Earth, and
its conditioning. It was Ta’ane, through calling Cyclops back in
2005 during the quickening, to send for help. According to Ta’ane
the planet was straining at the bits and in dire need of assistance.
He’d
also been informed by all the old spirits that had come to him, Earth
Spirits, that man was destroying the Ark of the Covenant. And
Tuwhenga had listened.
“I’m
here eight hundred years before I was due” he said and he indicated
to all that his cycle for replenishing visits was two thousand years
or thereabouts. Then with the blink of an eye, the stranded figures
were now looking over New Zealand at night, the lights of all the
cities and towns lighting up their own atmospheres. But what was
memorable, the whole country was bathed in a creamy green light, all
the gathering could make out forest and trees, lakes and rivers,
harbours and bays, everything. And if they lingered on any specific
place, they could zoom it in. ‘This was better than Google and
YouTube combined,’ thought Megs. Tuwhenga laughed. Oh he could
read thoughts – of course.
They
saw Gog and Magog position themselves at either end of the country,
and suddenly they held brooms, commensurate to their massive size.
Cyclops took out a toothpick, and wedged his eyelid open, then stood
stock still.
Tuwhenga
entered their conscience again.
“I
am now going to hand over the reins to Ta’ane, your saviour. What
he is about to show you only few know, and none in this lifetime bar
Ta’ane. No writings were ever made and for good reason. We travel
in secret, so peace and harmony exist, as we can be coerced by
specifics. I give you Ta’anes Dream.’
Ta’ane
unravels.
The
Maakarii appeared from nowhere and took their place behind the six
humans. They telepathed their respective human that they were here to
serve them, but first they, the Maakarii, must take the shape of an
easy chair, for the showing about to happen. Their human
counterparts were made aware these creatures were what they had seen
in a previous vision, and were ‘men’ from the birthing planet
Maarii, in the Wanaga system. They indicated they could do anything
their host asked them, so all then created seats and asked their
humans to sit down, which they all did. They introduced themselves
as Waranga, Wiranga, Weranga, Woranga, and Wuranga. Ta’ane’s
simply called himself Ki, the Doorman. He was the one all saw in the
vision, and was literally the Ki to the Door, the door being
hyperspace.
Ki,
started to morph and pretty soon Ta’ane saw his queen sized bed
from a previous life, and more importantly the one he’d used for
his astral travels in Moray Place in early 2005. He suddenly knew
this would be an enjoyable period of time and he would be ready to
share his mana.
They
all sensed that Tuwhenga had been silent, and with that thought,
Tuwhenga suddenly urged them all to watch the big screen in front of
them. They all discerned a shimmering opaque green curtain,
stretching from their seat level, to the ceiling high above (if there
was a ceiling?). They were reassured, in every way, this experience
would be terrestrial and they would always feel bonded to Earth (as
Tuwhenga enlightened them - Arkiri – the Truth in Maarii)
Ta’ane
climbed on his bed and noted the four pillows were still there. Also
there was his mantra, the note he had made at the insistence of
Tuwhenga, when his travail had started:
I
Want My Life
I
Want My Wife
I
Want My Children
I
Want My House
I
Want My Money
I
Want My Sanity
Tuwhenga
said that the mantra had served Ta’ane well, and that on the 2nd
April 2005, he went Aladdin Sane, in that he went mad twice and
nullified his mental illness. Even though he was terrestrially still
mentally ill on outer appearances, his mind would never slip out of
gear again, and that his memory would become his sword.
And
so it began. Ta’ane dropped off into a manic trance and his memory
was opened for all to see. And what they saw amazed them, even
Tuwhenga and the Maakarii were equally impressed, the most a mere
mortal has ever depicted. Even Socrates and Jesus weren’t this
good. Tuwhenga reminded them that everything they were about to see
was past, present, and future all rolled into one, and it was up to
themselves to determine which was what, but he reassured them, they’d
been selected due to their open mindedness and impartiality, true
Maarii if he had ever seen them.
Megs,
Shaun, Mila, Hooky, and Dwight were all amazed, and they hadn’t
even got to the start of the show. They all suddenly became aware
each could telepath thoughts, and they were all of a sudden a whole
conscience, defying race, creed or colour. Something Earth had been
trying to achieve for millennia. They all looked at the same time of
the sleeping Ta’ane, noting his four pillows, the two he slept on,
him and his wife, and one pillow each side of him, his two tamariki.
Then the show began.
They
were now looking from Cyclops eye at Aotearoa, the lights at night
shining from cities and towns, the light shimmer across rivers and
lakes as Tawhiri dusted the ground with spirit water sent from
Tangaroa. They could see creatures (Inangaraki) come alive out of
the depths of the oceans, from the Marianas, Kermedec, and Tongan
trenches, to name a few. Tangaroa was seen riding all the creatures
as they found Islands, countries and continents to swim around at
horrific speed. Their action whipped up spirit water and Tangaroa
with a flick of his taniwha tail, would beat the spirit water in
tsunamis across all the lands, doubly aided by his brother Tawhiri,
and equally caught and passed underground to Papatuanuku by Tane and
his whanau. Suddenly the lands shone, as the early morning action
unfolded. By the morning, a fresh outlook on life would appear for
civilisation. For now, most slept, and even if awake and working,
were none the wiser to what had happened.
Magog
and Gog started sweeping their respective islands, working the spirit
water into the land, assisting Tawhiri and Tangaroa. They were both
seen to be walking resolutely in a boustrophedon manner, up and down
the islands. The mind travellers were then shown snippets of the
same thing happening the world over. A major replenishment was
taking place. As a complete conscience, they all saw the trout, and
realised that they too would be a part of the replenishment phase of
Arkiri.
The
scene suddenly changed. There were no cities or towns, and Aotearoa
was covered from head to tail in trees, the coast was dotted with
small fires. They realised then, they were going back in time and
what they saw now were the original Maori cooking and eating, and
harvesting Kumara, and searching for kaimoana. Rangi and Tangaroa
and Papatuanuku’s bountiful supply was keenly honoured and
worshipped. Then they saw the Great Migration, exactly 764AD, from
Tahiti and Rarotonga/Aitutaki. They saw the six canoes sailing under
a balmy sky, the wind driving them to their future home. They too
saw the Moriori on Maui’s waka, and knew the tale would never end.
Then
the islands went dark, just trees, birds and reptiles, but this
wasn’t recent, this was at the time of the Taupo eruption. Then
they saw it, the huge mountain where now sits Lake Taupo, with a tall
conifer growing out the top, and atop the conifer, a six eyed
Phoenix. The subsequent eruption blow over all Tane’s whanau in
Aotearoa, and covered Rangi for decades to follow. The Phoenix, a
spirit called Duplicitor, was jettisoned into space, as was the
spirit conifer Kahikatea. Her seeds were rattled off her as she
fled, covering the whole of the North Island.
Then
they were going further back, watching Dinosaurs roaming the land in
small numbers, then that was gone, no animal life, just trees, and
then a time of volcanoes, three of which had a spirit conifer on top
standing fifty miles high over Aotearoa. Atop each tree, a spirit
Eagle stood, on Rangitoto stood Hikioiai, on Mount Tangimoana, a
spirit volcano over the place of the same name, stood Hikioiua, and
on the top of a tree growing out of Akaroa Harbour was Hikioieo. All
three, they were told, were the spirit guardians of the planet, as
were the trees. All originated from Maakuri, the second home planet
for Tuwhenga and the Maakarii.
They
were then informed of a break, to soak in the scene, and to refresh
themselves. Each ordered their own style of drink and it was produced
in front of them. They were told that these had been gleaned in
anticipation, that Tuwhenga and the Maakarii neither ate nor drank.
Ta’ane was seen to be softly snoring, his record continuing, and
with that collective thought, the screen came to life with the Earth
devoid of water and ice, a desert planet floating in space. They
then saw a huge Eel fly through space and place Tangaroa and Tawhiri
on the planet.
What
followed was the story of life. They made the seas and oceans, and
they made the ice. They also called through a seedling called Tane
Mahuta, the seed of all life on land. Out of the ground now that
water could provide mobility, came the amoeba, Inangahaka, the story
of life. Tuwhenga interjected that all the names they hear are
Maarii names, that the Maori were in fact former Maarii citizens and
had transported down during the time of Mohammed, landing at a place
called Lake Titikaka, a Maarii space port.
At
this stage, as if prompted, Ta’anes thoughts shifted focus from
Aotearoa to what he called the “other escape waka”. He explained
that several places around Papatuanuku had been set up during the
creation to act as escape pods from Earth should it be needed –
“The Arks” was a term he used seriously. They were then shown
places and names they could understand. Firstly Japan (Nihon) waka
of the Yellow Ones; Madagascar, the waka of the Black Ones; Great
Britain, the waka of the Pale Ones; Norway and Sweden, the waka of
the Blond Ones; Greenland, the First Peoples, and Cyprus the waka of
the Keepers of Knowledge: and lastly Aotearoa, the Brown Ones. They
were shown how the spirit populace of all waka would row the spirit
waka with its associated storage trailers, into the ether.
The
screen changed and they were all flying at fifty thousand feet, and
they could see out both left and right, as if in a Bird. The
Maakarii congratulated them and they were then shown from the side, a
Great Eagle, a spirit Eagle no less, and the name Hikioioi was
whispered, Ta’anes own spirit eagle. The bird looked huge; yet
again their vision was drawn elsewhere. The eagle was seen flying
next to a Jumbo Jet 747, dwarfed by the bird’s wingspan. They
could see it was an Air New Zealand plane, homeward bound from Los
Angeles. They were made aware that Hikioioi’s glide was stirring
spirit winds and blowing through the plane, giving some of the
passengers a chill. They all (the passengers) looked out the left
side windows and saw a light pale creamy green glow in the sky, but
didn’t feel alarmed. As soon as they saw it, it was gone.
Then
Hikioioi and Ta’ane conspired to tell the next tale, taking the
occupants of their seats back into history. They flew over what
would become the USA, and the first people were living off the land.
Cochise broke in and thanked Ta’ane for the hope he gave, and then
dissipated as the buffalo were seen to roam in great herds. They
flew over Canada and the Northern Ice Lands, then down over Europe
and this time it was the time of the dinosaurs and Hehaw – awa, a
pterodactyl and the spirit king of all dinosaur birds and reptiles,
welcomed them to his domain, showing the asteroid that would be the
death of them all. Then back again where spirit trees roamed the
land, and spirit volcanoes and soul volcanoes were fighting to merge,
and lastly over Mount Kilimanjaro, Mentat Volcano of the Older
Ancient Ones. It was he that provided the seed to Papatuanuku to
give birth to new volcanoes, and the union was usually pre-empted by
Papatuanuku shaking the dust off trees.
And
then they were in space, Hikioioi now far behind, and they watched
the birth of the planets. The Sun was a female sun, requiring input
to create output. And the DogStars, space wanderers, and male, were
sucked into a young Sun and exited without power or life, as a
planet, and sent out into the solar system. Mother Sun had given
birth to twelve planets, the biggest Jupiter. That had been a
warrior DogStar, and Jupiter was ever after the sentinel for her
system. But the most important planet of all was the little Arkiri,
the Maarii name for Earth. Hidden in her bowels, was the seed for
growth and development. But it would lay long dormant as she
attempted to fire Akiri’s inner core, to start the birthing process
of the volcanoes.
At
this stage, the scene change, medieval Arkiri, the years 1108 to
1123AD. The land is in flux, the people are in despair, the animals
and the trees and the reptiles, and all organisms are fighting for
survival. Volcanoes are rogue and spewing lava and ash willy nilly.
It’s a time of the pagan Gods, and to this effect, someone had
called Gog and Magog, to sweep and revitalise the lands, But Thor
and his trusty Warhammer had also been called, perhaps from space, to
fight Ragnorok, the Asteroid wars. He, with the help of Cyclops
powerful eye, fought off the attack of the rogue space junk for
fifteen years, his mighty Axe never failing as it rent asunder each
huge rock with consummate ease. The Vikings were aware this was
going on, as they saw the lights in the northern sky as meteors, or
Warhammer’s debris, safely fertilising the oceans.
Then
there was dark, the visions of Magog and Go sweeping every piece of
land on Arkiri lost in the vacant lot of dark pounamu. The snoring
on the bed became louder, not unbearable, but noticeably louder. For
the first time in five years, Ta’ane slept without dreams. Though
one vision did pop up on the screen briefly, Te Huia te Heu Heu. All
were pleased.
Tuwhenga’s
Tail
Sons
for the Return Home
Their
minds were teleported outside of Tuwhenga, and from many light years
away. They saw an eel, stretching from beyond the Sun, to just
outside Saturn’s rings. It was huge. It was then that they
realised that the globe or orb was indeed the giant eel’s eye and
brain, then it was all transported on some monstrous cosmic wind.
They saw the tail flicking through the Sun, no doubt building energy
for the next phase of the journey. Of them all, Hooky was the most
astounded. This was the biggest taniwha he’d ever heard of, and
Tuwhenga reassured him there were bigger, and that yes, in essence,
he was a Taniwha, but of the highest order. The Maarii word for
Tuwhenga was Te Whe Nga a Roa, and the Arkiri version was plain
taniwha, as there was no mythology about the cosmos as such. Which,
he explained was odd, as the Maarii had become the Maori and they’d
forgotten their origins, through cross cultural diversity and the
poor diet they endured in their first meeting with the Indians of
Lake Titikaka could have helped.
Tuwhenga
then showed Hooky the road to the future, so he could understand his
heritage. He showed him the Maarii mating with the First Peoples of
Papatuanuku (who themselves had arrived by sky waka at Greenland and
had migrated this far south), and that several hundred Maari had then
transited down the coast to where Santiago would one day stand. They
had then felled tall trees and taught themselves how to make ocean
going waka, based on their meagre efforts on Lake Titikaka, all the
while remembering they were not sea people, but had been space
people. Their first trips took them nowhere until they could learn
to study the stars and the sea, and the life of the sea. Tangaroa
had laughed at their feeble attempts, but soon helped guide them to
Raapa Nuie, or Easter Island as it became, Rapa Nui in today’s
tongue. They stayed there for a time, but the soil didn’t aid the
growing of crops, including the preferred Kumera (brought from
Maakarii).
They
built long canoes from few trees that dotted the island, left 1/3 of
their people behind, and sailed west, pushed by the trade winds, and
eventually found Tahiti (Hawaiki). The rest is recorded history, but
what wasn’t known was that on Tahiti they learnt to carve the lore,
and they sent a canoe back with a High Chief to Rapa Nui, to erect
the watchers, The Sons for the Return Home, also known as the Moai.
By the time the European discovered Rapa Nui, most of the inhabitants
had died off, the return journey never completed as the wood from the
sea waka was used to help “walk” the Moai into place on their
Ahu.
Thread
the Needle
Each
member of the entourage was then shown their own tribal ancestry,
while Tuwhenga heated his tale, ready for threading the needle. He
knew the way back to Maarii, but was surprised that Ta’ane still
remembered. Human memory was fickle, but this one’s memory was
superb. He finished the ancestry telling, tales each person would
remember for their lore, and for the amazement of their own whanau.
Ta’ane still slept, but needed to be awake for then next part of
the journey so Ki was instructed to make a chair shape and provide
refreshment, which happened as the instruction was given. Ta’ane
awoke, rubbed his baggy eyes, and went to stand up, when a drink (his
favourite Creaming Soda) was placed in his hands.
All
were now aware they were in the eye of the eel, and the whole
Tuwhenga was now ready to jump space. He reassured them they would
not get space sick, as he replicated Earths gravity and magnetism in
his eye, and also reassured them they’d miss a lot of what was
about to happen, too fast for the human eye, he said.
With
one final swish of the tail through the Sun, Tuwhenga swam. Soon
they were through the eye of the needle, a Black Hole, and jumping
space at an alarming rate. They each had their own vision of what
they saw, but mostly they were seeing solar systems and galaxy’s
disappearing behind them at a rate Tuwhenga estimated to be five
hundred mega parsals per second, in Maarii terms. Earth simply
didn’t have a similar speed gauge. They’d jumped two universes,
Black Holing their way across the unknown world, until in what seemed
like five minutes, they were in the Au Te Tiki system, home galaxy of
Maarii and the other life giving planets. Tuwhenga was busy pointing
out each planet to each relevant member of the group, but all were
focused on Maarii, and the soon to be meeting with the lady of their
dream.
As
a whole, they all stood up and stretched their legs, ready for what
Tuwhenga had for them. They noticed the trout were still swimming in
their deep green pool that wasn’t a pool, and the two cars were
still parked side by side as they had been at Little Waihi. What
they had not seen, and not until directed, was a small planet the
size of a Zorb. It was covered in a green gas, and was soon seen to
be manoeuvred by the Maakarii onto a cruiser and taken to a planet
called Saurian for cross pollination, to eventually become a God
Star, a veritable Warrior Planet roaming the systems at will, putting
down insurrections and the likes. Their minds were being treated to
unbelievable goings on
A space in time, a time in space.
Ta’ane
had not looked ahead, as the others were. He felt he needed to see
where he would have to return, as he felt Tuwhenga would not be a
part of the return plan, for him anyway. He couldn’t discern any
beacons so mind mapped the stars as they flew by at horrific speed.
He became aware of an old friend from the quickening days, Quango,
beating his chest calling out a hearty Gorilla welcome. Then it
occurred to him Quango had always been there, since Aladdin Sane.
And not just Quango, a myriad of Time Lords and War Lords.
Wu
Chung and Wu Tang both bade their welcomes as they flashed past a
spinning galaxy, and he saw their homeland, and perhaps his final
destination. His mind slipped back to the Quickening again, seeing
both Chinese War Lords dancing their dragons (taniwha) up both the
Yellow and Yangtze rivers, fertilising the land and the minds of The
Yellow Ones, who’d originally entered Ariki through the Gobi
Desert. He was aware Wu Tang was both a Time Lord and War Lord, and
was another like Tuwhenga, except not as powerful or as big. And
besides, he thought, Tuwhenga was a peaceful useful taniwha.
So
here he was, flashing past the place he needed to be, conversing with
the beings that spoke through him at any hour of the day. He laughed
then, as they had been the only things to keep his mind in mirth.
Sure, his mental illness had meant he heard voices, but these voices
were different. When they spoke, his lips moved and his voice box
vocalised the language. And not just one dialect, there were many,
and the instant English translation was always filled with mirth. He
knew he could be the first Arkiri Man to accept a chair on their
councils, as many shared both roles. He, however, knew he had to
wait out his time. In the dreams he’d seen he’d returned to his
home planet, but he hadn’t been sure how. Now he had a better
understanding. Yes, it would still be Tuwhenga; he had an
obligation. But he’d also be in some form of space cruiser. At
that point he burst into laughter, shaking the reverie of his fellow
space cadets, the realisation then that he had dreamed of a United
Space Ship, the USS Fairland, stuck to the roof of Earth, unable to
enter Earth’s atmosphere. The future had met the now in one
horrific piece of driving planets in VR. Then he remembered it was a
ghost ship, and stuck to a ghost planet. The future was yet to
happen.
He
started vocalising in Deep Maori to himself, and realised Atiamuri,
the Teacher Time Lord, was speaking to him, and he knew he was also
speaking in his native tongue, Maarii. Ta’ane heard all three
translations, translating to English as he went. He spoke back in
Maarii and wished him well and postulated he would see him soon.
Hooky too, heard the conversation, and knew Atiamuri as a place in
the south Waikato, Ngati a Muri country, and had a vague recollection
it was either the name of one of the Arawa chiefs “turning back”
or a rough assimilation of the tribal name. But what he gleaned from
Ta’ane was a powerful Time Lord of the Maarii descent, and one of
the key figures in the journey of the Maarii and other tribes to
Ariki. He was aware that Atiamuri was to play a greater part in
their journey, but not yet.
Both
Ta’ane and Hooky grunted a short farewell “tennar cartoa koutou”
and continued with their own journeys. Ta’ane could see the image
of Te Huia in his mind again, as they all did, and suddenly Maakarii
appeared in their space vision, a planet three times the size of
Earth, and covered in many land masses interspersed with pounamu
green pools, each with a water maiden in it. They were aware this
planet was a birthing planet, and in the blink of an eye, all the
trout were spread amongst the pools evenly, and then returned just as
quick. They seemed to be larger, and swam faster. Tuwhenga
intimated they were all pregnant with new life forms to help support
human life, that when released unto Tangaroa’s care, they would
assimilate with other fish of the deep oceans and rapidly replenish
fish stocks, for human consumption.
The
cars were next, landing on a patch of land, where separate taniwha,
would attack each vehicle and strip and rebuild them both. Mila was
concerned, as was Megs, but they had a feeling their cars were never
to be the same. In fact they were made to understand that the
changes would affect all cars, to stop the emissions of poisonous
gases into the atmosphere. They were also repainted with a coat of
light creamy lime green. Both number plates were changed; Megs was
Ariki 1 and Mila’s was Ariki 2. Both ladies were impressed with
the changes and the cars returned to the next level down (or were it
they thought?)
Dwight
couldn’t stand it anymore. This all was an insult to his religion,
everything happening was a bad dream. Tuwhenga was aware and offered
him a solution by showing him the arrival of Kaitā Ihu, The Big
Noses, in the space port of Sea of Galilee, and spreading out
throughout the Middle East and east Asia, up into China and Mongolia
and assimilating with the Yellow Ones, only to return as the Mongol
Hordes.
He
showed him also, the Island of Cypress, the escape waka of the
Mediterranean peoples, and Dwight found an inner peace. He’d been
disturbed by the news about The Nazarene, but realised everything had
a time and place.
Shaun
was in utter awe. Since the start of Ta’anes story, and then the
space journey, he’d thought he was on a drug induced high. The
imagery and real time aspects had utterly floored him. Yeah, he had
seen the interjections Tuwhenga had put in Ta’anes story, his Norse
background, his First Peoples ancestry, his realisation that Lake
Erie was the space port for their heritage, and Greenland was not
only the escape waka for his peoples, but also all the animals of the
northern continent. The Central escape waka was Cuba, and the
southern American continent’s escape pod, for the people Lake
Titikaka, for the animals, the Amazon River.
Te
Huia te Heu Heu
Tuwhenga
called their attention, and they were then teleported down to a piece
of land about five miles wide. The land was a dusty ochre colour,
with reeds growing out of it. The reeds, they discerned, were used
to make capes for all the princesses, as there were many on Maarii.
They walked a short distance through the reeds, on a path the
Maakarii made to tend the maidens. Pretty soon, they all sensed,
rather than saw, the lady of the Pounamu Lake. Ta’ane hung back,
letting Hooky dictate the pace, as this lady was his ancestor. They
all came upon the pool but no one was there so each stood with their
own thoughts, with no interference from Gods or Taniwha, or anything.
It was like being on Earth waiting to see your favourite star, the
anticipation aching.
Then
slowly, she appeared, her hooded cape covering her face and body, yet
her movement’s plain to see. She swam eel like, yet they knew she
was a whole person, just different. They could see her face now, and
the beauty discerned in the dreams became a stark reality. She was
smiling, and as she spread her arms, she telepathically welcomed them
all to Maarii, and importantly, to her part of the planet, Ranga
Nuie, the life entry portal. Her arms spread wide, and her smile
winning them over, she motioned (and spoke in Maarii, which they all
now understood) them to stand next to the wai tapu, the lake of her
people and creatures. They were all then motioned to look into the
still surface, and like Tuwhenga, there was no depth or structure to
the liquid, if indeed it was liquid. Ta’ane stood back. He had an
idea what was going to be said next, and to his dismay, Te Huia
vocalised for them all to enter, and be cured.
Mila
was in love. This Polynesian princess was her as a child, beautiful,
well shaped, and calming. In fact now, she, MILA, was only older and
things drooped where things used to stand. She heard the request, to
enter the waters. She felt then, the pain in her breasts, and the
ache in her liver. The Princess intimated that should she enter the
water, she’d be reborn. Yes her life would extend and she’d die
a mere mortal, but more time with family and friends, and time to
write her memoirs.
Dwight
felt the ache in his groin again, but this time wasn’t embarrassed
by it. He’d always known he was impotent, and had issues with the
size his manhood, putting him off girls, knowing them more as
friends. here and now, he was being offered an opportunity to have
it all restored to normalcy. He looked at the smiling Te Huia and
marvelled at her beauty. He tried to guess her age, as all of them
were. The smile she bore echoed the laugh from Tuwhenga, and the
Maakarii. He was the first to step into the liquid, more rock than
water. He found himself shoulder deep, and looking down, he could
see nothing but the reflection of his head. He felt like he was in
fact very big and very tall, his feet still on solid ground.
Shaun
felt awkward standing watching both Mila and Dwight entering the
water. His joints all over his body had flared up, and the pain in
his ankles and knees were excruciating. He found himself falling in
love with Te Huia; her features chiselled beauty, her demeanour very
regal. He heard her say Tu Tangata, and knew now that she was the
birthing mother of the Maori tribes, and Polynesian off shoots. He
remembered Lake Titikaka in the Telling, and suddenly understood that
this lady had been around for centuries, probably millennia. He was
soon following Mila and Dwight, the pain in his joints dissipating
the deeper he went.
Megs
was shivering, not from cold, as there was none, but because her
vision was going very rapidly. Even through the new glasses she
couldn’t see Te Huia, but she had been sharing the minds of the
others and knew how gorgeously wonderful she looked. She took off
her glasses, and noted how blurry things were. This journey had
taken a lot out of her, and now she had started to worry about ever
recording her journey. She shuffled forward into the quagmire of
doubt, her heart trying it’s best to trust this action, and this
journey.
Hone,
as he now deemed himself, stood just in front of Ta’ane, and
suddenly wondered why the old man was called such. Then he
remembered the Shady Rest tale, and the haka. He’d been given that
name as a token of thank you from his two Maori colleagues. He noted
that Ta’ane shuffled from foot to foot, never standing still for
too long. It was a similar action he himself did with his right
hand, moving it behind and in front involuntarily as if to hide the
deformity. He’d also been privy to the goings on with those in the
water, and knew that miracles were about to happen.
He’d
been associated with his claw since birth, and could handle himself
very well without the use of both hands. Sure he couldn’t grip,
couldn’t type, and couldn’t do two handed tasks with ease, but
was he prepared to forgo a miracle for pride? He knew he would write
about his travels, and having two hands would be a bonus. He then
shuffled forward, towards the entry point into the water, and
lingered, the last doubts erasing from his mind as he saw the smiles
on the faces of his fellow travellers as the water started taking
effect.
‘He’d
tried to kill him once’ thought Ta’ane, ‘Tuwhenga had’. Ok,
he thought, it wasn’t Tuwhenga that had tried to kill him back in
Foxton; it was his own inability to cope with reality and unreality,
not to mention spirituality. He now knew why they had all been
picked. He thought of the others and saw how much they had to offer
to their own societies, if made whole again. But what of his
dilemma? He was over fifty now, had a mental illness under control,
worked, studied, and wrote poetry. He knew his life with his
daughters was a minimalistic thing, he’d wished it was more, but
Foxton stuffed that up.
He
noticed Hone enter the lake, and secretly smiled. That boy was so
much like himself that age, tough, and ready for anything. Every
moment of life was an adventure. He felt his feet being moved
towards the lake. He knew his feet, ankles and lower right leg were
bungled repair jobs from his Leap of Faith (thank you God) and needed
to be righted, and he thought then he’d be able to wear his
favourite boat shoes again. He sensed the awe in the water now, as
eyes repaired, cancer was eaten, manhood and libido restored,
arthritis demolished, and a hand returned to its owner. He was now
at the edge, and he looked at Te Huia. Her smile seemed forced, as
if she was carrying a huge burden. Then, and only then, did he
realise she was taking on Akiri’s wasted burden, ache, pain,
deformity and death. He knew then she would spread it around to all
the Princesses of Maarii, and across the other birthing planets of
the system. He stepped back. He knew the bones will mend in the
water, but he didn’t want his mind to mend. He’d be bored
without it, and with that he bowed to the princess, and stepped back
even further from the edge, to let the others survive and revive.
“ka
Ra” spoke the voice that floated, “ the sun welcomes you all.”
With that, she stepped from the lake, and her supine form settled
lightly on the ground. She had no feet as such, more like dolphin
fins that moved with exquisite ease and poise. She reached Ta’ane,
who flinched, and held her hands out to his head, motioning to rub
his temples. He leaned forward a little and she spoke again.
“Your
mind will always be the same, what won’t be the same is your
memory. We Maarii are used to people with good memories, but someone
that can call the Old Ones, The Ancient Old Ones, and the Ones Before
Time is an enigma in our dealings and we need to explore the makeup
of your brain to see where things have developed. We’re pretty
sure it’s because you went Aladdin Sane but we have to be certain.
And yes, Aladdin was insane once and double ended his mortality by
going mad whilst mad, and thus sane. But he didn’t call the one I
have mentioned, no planetary system has done that, and we need to
know where it came from.”
With
that, Te Huia passed her hands across Ta’anes temples and up over
the top of the head, scanning memory, mapping abnormalities. With a
flick of her cape, she returned to the lake, and held hands out in a
supplication manner. The arrival of the Maakarii was unannounced,
but seven stood on the lake shore around, processing direct from the
hands of the lady. All seven piped up in Maarii – liano oa, which
Ta’ane managed to translated as Lithium and Fluoride. It confirmed
his original studies on the internet after the Leap of Faith, and his
ability to choose not to use fluoride products ever again, though
this decision was somewhat circumvented by the happenings in 2005 and
2006.
The Healing
The
Maarii moon, Tona, rose in the northern skies, illuminating the land
below with a pale iridescent glow. Te Huia seemed to turn from her
classic bronze hue, to a more golden hue, and all the travellers were
shown the other birthing mothers all changing colour. They could
see, as they numbered off in military fashion, every race, creed and
colour that inhabited their Earth, and then some. There were
thousands and all gave life to a huge number of systems – Ta’ane
numbered one hundred and sixty three, after the ghost planets, all
life planets.
It
was then he remembered The Grey Lurker, the interstellar life form
that tried to destroy that which had been done. He was blind to the
originator planets of this system, but he wasn’t blind to the rest
of the systems. Ta’ane remembered in his dream that the Lurker was
a vicious system eater, stars, planets, and space junk, anything to
fuel his destructive intent. He, Ta’ane, then recalled the reason
Virtual Reality was so important, it was devised long after the
Lurker was captured by Tuwhenga and two other Cosmic Winds,
Tuawrenga, and Gutenspigel, and locked down in Prison Universe 2.
But he either was about to escape, or had indeed done so.
Ta’ane
then turned his attention back to Te Huia. He thought then she’d
make a fine wife, but realised on this planet, she was already a
wife, self replicating at that. Her golden glow was excruciatingly
beautiful. He then almost rued her assistance.
He
watched the others make their way out of the Pounamu Lake. His first
thoughts were ‘lucky people’, but he overrode that by walking up
to each and clasping their hand. They all smiled, numbed by what
they had received. Hone was last out of the water, and Ta’ane
saved a special handshake for him, the Maori or “street” shake,
first a normal handshake, then hooking thumbs, then clasping fingers,
and finally gripping forearms.
Hone’s
mind slip
He
knew when it was time. She’d turned golden bronze, and he felt the
hand loosen, the fingers bend and straighten, the nerves tingling as
blood flowed into it. He secretly, beneath the lake surface, tapped
each finger on his thigh, the movement strained, but utterly real. He
made a karakia to Tane Mahuta, his god, and also one in English to
The One God. He even thanked the Lord Jesus for giving him hope.
But his biggest thank you was for the man that had brought them all
there. He knew when he exited the lake, he’d wait for the others
to pass him, and then give him a huge hug. Heck, he’d even hongi
the pakeha madman.
His
mind was still processing the unbelievable, when he remembered to pay
deep homage to Tuwhenga. It took as long as the thought, a reply in
Maori and Maarii only – ka pai. He was satisfied with that, and
climbed the bank, as the others had said their thanks to Ta’ane and
had passed him by, milling around a table that had been placed there
with food and drinks, after all they were mere humans. He then
approached Ta’ane, and the old man reached out with his right hand
and demanded by the gesture, they shake hands. And the old bastard
did the Street Shake, all four positions, and then dragged Hone into
a huge bear hug. That’s when he cried, and the whole experience
hit him. Any other fifteen year old would have broken down, but this
kid was made tough. And tough men cry.
Mila’s
mind slip
She
looked hard at Te Huia. She’d noticed the colour of her skin now,
and she sensed rather than saw her body changing too. Then she
realised the lady was giving birth, something that happened when Tona
circled overhead in the heavens. Yes, she thought, self replicating.
But what? She’d been in the lake not long, but soon realised that
her aches and pains were dissipating, and the cancer seemed to be
eaten out of her, rather than being changed from within. She saw
what Te Huia had done to Ta’ane (sweet name she thought) and felt
her own cleansing and was having trouble accepting the issue. What
would her God say?
She
thought then that at no time during this adventure had she made
karakia to God, nor asked his permission to venture thus. The more
she thought about it the less she started to believe in him, this
happening, so far, bearing greater weight. Then Tuwhenga piped in,
reassuring her, yes pray to God, he does exist. This in her mind
utterly blew her away, and she started to say a prayer for them all,
and one for Te Huia. She smiled at that thought.
When
she felt one hundred percent with herself, and her recovery, she
noticed the others heading for the shore. She too made her way to
the land, and as she past Ta’ane she swore she heard him say talofa
lava in a sweet quietened voice. She’d sensed he knew she had
cancer, but couldn’t place why. One day, she knew, they would
korero.
Dwight’s
mind slip
He
was embarrassed, afterall here he was in the presence of a
startlingly beautiful maiden, and here he was having his sexual life
returned to normal. He could see no one could look under water, (if
it was water, he thought) and was still embarrassed to go through
with what was happening. Te Huia flashed him the picture of an Olive
One, all dressed up for nothing but love. His mind played tricks
then, he hadn’t been sure of himself in the past, now he felt for
the first time in control. He decidedly turned down Te Huias
bequest, instead, keeping an eye out for his friend Maree Leadbetter,
in Wellington. Now he felt the most confident in his whole life. For
the first time since Little Waihi, he looked at his watch. It was
2.30am NZDT and they had been out in space for over two hours. He
was sure it had actually been longer, but he also knew that Ta’ane
had more for them to soak in, and that Tuwhenga’s own tale would
follow.
He
felt, rather than saw, the others moving out of the lake. He
followed Shaun, who seemed to be walking with consummate ease. Shaun
staggered as he walked past Ta’ane, a joke that was greeted by both
with laughter. He himself smiled at the old man and wondered what
was going to happen for the rest of the trip. His mind was already
overburdened with knowledge and the strange happenings that had gone
on. He saw the table, with fresh fruit and drinks on it (their own
choice of beverage) and made his way over. A diet coke stood next to
a banana and he ate and drank heartedly.
Megs
mind slip
She
realised she couldn’t see. She could make out the outline of the
princess or birthing mother, but she couldn’t see her clearly. She
took her glasses off, and realised that they were misted up, probably
from the tears she was emitting. She rubbed her eyes, trying to still
the tears, trying to come to terms with what was happening. She
could feel little sparks of energy in the back of her eyes, and
leading up the optic nerve. With each passing second, the sight got
better, and after what seemed like ages, she opened her eyes after
seeing a red light in the back of her eyelids, and found she was
staring at Te Huia in utter amazement. Boy, could she see, the blue
moon, the brown reeds, the others in the lake, now getting out. She
followed Dwight out, and in so doing, passed the hunched figure of
Ta’ane. He smiled at her, his tobacco stained teeth showing a
generous smile.
She
sensed that all were aware of each other’s frailties and failings,
the collective conscience would have made it easy. None talked about
their new standing in life, but all could see each other in a new
light.
Shaun’s
mind slip
When
he’d waded into the lake, and felt the pain, he’d wanted to join
the old man on the bank, instead of going through reformation. But
since being in the water, he’d felt what seemed like fish swimming
between and around his legs. And the more they swam, the better he
felt. But the real pain, in his mind, wouldn’t go. He knew this
might be a permanent fix, but there would always be in the back of
his mind, the big What If? He moved around, probably as directed, and
kept his arms under the surface, they too being nibbled and sharp
jolts of energy pulsing through his skin and into the joints.
Tuwhenga told him “have Faith” and the process continued until he
felt he was standing much taller, and with ease at that.
He
looked down, but only saw the Blue Green reflection in the lake. He
espied Te Huia then, smiling, and realised that all the hurt they had
brought to this planet was being disseminated around the birthing
planets to help provide a cure to impurities for all systems. He
also realised that when the last human had seen Tuwhenga, the planet
was still in the dark ages. Except for the Muslim converts! He had
wondered about Mecca.
He
made his way out of the lake, smiled as he passed Ta’ane, and
received a pat on the back. There was no pain in the gesture, and he
made his way to the L&P can on the table, with a Moro Bar next to
it.
Ta’anes
Deliberations.
He
knew he would be cured. All the while as the others bathed, he stood
motionless weighing up his future. His continuing deliberations with
the Time Lords and War Lords had ceased when he’d arrived on
Maarii, and now he sorely needed their guidance and humour. But
Tuwhenga and Te Huia both stated he was on his own with the decision,
though Brunhilde, a Blonde Ones maiden, said if he sat in her pool,
she’d only cure the Bipolar and Schizophrenia, the feet were the
domain of Te Huia’s pool. He declined all offers, as he felt he had
more work ahead of him and his impurities would stand to enhance his
thinking.
He
turned and joined the others at the table, a Moro Bar and a can of
Creaming Soda awaited him. The others were in buoyant moods and the
collective conscience let everyone know how happy the group were.
Yes they acknowledged they had all cheated reality, but they all,
every one of them, knew there was work ahead. Ta’ane thanked them
then for having the guts to go on this journey, as did Tuwhenga, who
made it exquisitely possible. Te Huia smiled in her pool, busy
processing the ills of Earth, and passing the results on to all the
maidens for further experimentalisation. Ta’ane and Tuwhenga only
were privy to the process.
Ta’ane
then heard Tuwhenga and the Maakarii conversing about the time
factor, and then they all let their human cargo know it was time to
go, as Tuwhenga had a deadline for them. This was greeted with
dismay and shock; so far no mention of time had been mentioned,
except Dwight looking at his watch. They finished their
refreshments, and each walked back to Te Huia and offered her their
greatest thanks. Some suggested she was a God, to which Te Huia
flashed a picture of The Nazarene. And left it at that.
Soon
they all found themselves in the Orb again, and this time when
Tuwhenga asked Ta’ane which direction, and he was uncertain. He
scratched his mind and tried to visualise the Time Lords and the
Warlords. He could only see three, Quango - Time Lord, Wu Tang -
Time Lord, and Wu Chang – War Lord and Time Lord. He knew they had
passed their system on the way to Maarii, but he had no idea where
exactly. He tried reaching through space to find them and chat with
them, but to no avail.
Tuwhenga
then interceded, saying they would repeat the journey in reverse and
when he felt comfortable with his target location, he’d come to a
stop and vector. He then informed them all that the Time Lords and
War Lords looked after their own and that they neither travelled nor
communicated with the outside world – as such. They were known for
threading space with mind waves, in an action to regulate time to
star solar systems, and the war lords were in fact peace policeman,
often interceding in systems affairs by telepathy, making a mere
mortal of any life form a super being for the right cause – peace
in space. He also explained if the Grey Lurker ever found their
system, space would collapse.
At
the mention of the Grey Lurker, Ta’ane beat his chest like a
Highland Gorilla, and soon a signal was received by both Ta’ane and
Tuwhenga. The Maakarii made chairs for them all, but Ta’ane
refused as he needed a table to lean on, to map the systems as they
went past, and to be better prepared to zone in on the system again.
He had a sudden flash in his mind, the sight of a very large
coin-shaped star spinning on it’s axis in sublime random manner,
and on each side, the beings he sought. Tuwhenga zoned on the
signal, and they found themselves rocketing through space, hitting
black holes to jump universes, and after five jumps, came to a sudden
stop, the beacon now strong.
Ta’ane
then slipped into Time Lord mode and started pacing the floor (or
whatever it was he stood on). He saw the cars then and realised new
technology was in store for their owners, true Air Eaters. And the
beacon zoned, Wu Tang talking through him in Mandarin, the language
totally foreign to all onboard except Tuwhenga, the Maakarii and
Ta’ane, who’s version was translated as he spoke it to English.
Wu
Tang then welcomed them all to the Coyne System and joked, “no
money required”, to which they all laughed. But they would need
their wits about them, especially Ta’ane as he had no idea what
they looked like, and more importantly, what they behaved like. But
Ta’ane, from his previous encounters, was acutely aware that he’d
be leaving RestarQual One with sore cheeks and a hearty belly laugh.
Tuwhenga, in a flash of his might tale, manoeuvred at a coin like
star, emitting grey light into a very small system, made up of three
planets, if these were indeed planets, more like coins in space,
though many million times bigger. On each coyne planet, on one side,
the Time Lords, on the other, War Lords, and around the rim, the
venerated ones, both Time Lord and Warlord.
He
heard the laughter when he telepathed his own thoughts, and knew this
time would also be as hard as the Birthing Lake. Already they were
telepathing him, and the votes were coming in, election time in
RestarQual One, and the first vote was for Ta’ane to be Time Lord,
and the second vote would be War Lord. Ta’ane was being made aware
his fellow human beings were also being made honorary Lords of the
Realm, space cadets of the highest order, but all that towered into
significance as they all realised that the old man was being made
both a Time Lord and a War Lord, and invited to a block on the side
of Coyne 1, to join Wu Tang and the other three hundred and sixty six
duplicators.
His
decision was being made for him; he could take it or leave it, and
still be counted as a full life member. They were aware he had his
daughters to think of, his poetry to continue (Lords don’t do
Poetry – Time or War). The vote was a unanimous welcome, to which
he declined reverently and with great mirth, laughing at the fact he
said no. But he did accept a tour of Coyne 1, and asked the others
in his party to beam down on the Orb, to the planets surface. What
faced them reminded them all of the mighty Kaaba in Mecca, a planet
dotted with huge stone blocks, on which all sides were a pair of lips
and a pair of ears, one above the other.
These
were aligned such that they could telepathically converse across not
only systems but universes. These beings were the watch dog of all
the universes, galaxies and solar systems, and not only kept time and
stars in concert, but also helped avoid violence throughout the whole
existence of Life. Except on Earth. Earth was supposedly a zoo
planet, but in since the time of Mohammed, things had changed and no
one in space was the wiser. War had proliferated, fighting was a
familiar affair and worse, and the population, despite religious
efforts, had swollen.
They
all stopped at a very deep grey Time Lord, and Ta’ane recognised
the ancient Earth Mountain Gorilla, Quango. They hailed each other
with laughter and chest beating (if lips could beat a non-existent
chest) but they were shown a picture of Quango saving Earth 2 (Akirii
ai) from a huge piece of space junk, with help from other time wands
and a figure that looked like a rampaging Viking in space (imaged to
the group as Odin). All the Time and War Lords had done special
service to their systems and each offered a place in time.
Next
to Quango, an image like a Kalahari Bushmen, known both on Earth and
other planets as the keepers of the plains and animals, and this one
sat silent, clicking away, which all understood as they mimicked his
clicks. “ Welcome to Hell” was all he said, but the laughter this
set off across the three planets was greeted with mirth from the
group. Quango then beat his lips and a resounding boom went around
the near vicinity, “yes welcome to Hell, which means here, Heck,
Everyone Likes Laughing, and with that all the lords rattled near
space with their booming laughter. Even Tuwhenga and the Maakarii
were to be heard chortling.
Ta’anes
Bequest
He
looked at the remainder of the group and noted how happy they were.
He was then singularly transported (his Ki taking shape as a small
mobile life support system) to Wu Tang, were he had a special thank
you to give in person. He stood in front of a pale green square
Obelisk, both lipped and eared on all faces, and bowed down to the
great Lord of Time and War. He especially thanked him telepathically
for putting the monks in contact with him, that that action
galvanised him toward becoming Aladdin Sane. He also thanked him
deeply for Madame Butterfly, who through her grace, he learnt to save
the children, by role playing magic tricks in front of them and
making them smile.
Wu
Tang then spoke in Deep Mandarin, through Ta’anes own lips and they
broke into instant laughter. Yes he was honoured to be with them,
and they did know there was no way Ta’ane wouldn’t return to
Earth, and yes after he died, dependant on what The One God decided,
he might end up on the Rim with the other duplicators; they’d be
honoured to have him with them. In return, Ta’ane was shown the
Mentats he himself had used to help bring order back to a rampant
system, the real spirit Kalahari Bushman on Earth, Mount Kilimanjaro,
the spirit Mentat volcano, the Lion with no mane and no name,
Chomolungma the spirit Mentat Mountain (known widely on Earth as
Mount Everest), and then two special Mentats, a 2001 Britten V1000
Motorcycle, and a 2005 F1 McLaren sportscar, both New Zealand
inspired machines at the top of their field.
Ta’ane
made a mention to thank them for their memories as his was scratchy,
but he started to discuss the future of the systems and was fearful
the Grey Lurker was still around and that as they were aware, he’d
dreamed it, and so far everything he had dreamed was turning real.
The Lords all then went silent, and Tuwhenga was then heard to say
he’ll check with the other cosmic winds (space police if you like)
and check his status in the prison system.
Within
a short space of time, when everyone in the Coyne system, even human,
listened out for a message. Tuwhenga then reported Odin was checking
the systems as he spoke, and that as far as he could see, the cell
galaxy the Lurker was imprisoned on was secure, though another shake
of an eels tail would confirm continued capture. Tuwhenga and the
Lords all smiled, the result, nothing to fear. Plans were in place
as they spoke to set up even more monitoring systems to warn of any
breakout.
Ta’ane
had a feeling he’d pass away long before the Lurker roamed again,
but also knew he was one of the monitoring devices, as he’d seen
the Lurker in his visions, and not many in space had, although some
of the older residents in Coyne could recall his presence millennia
ago. Ta’ane then bade his farewell to Wu Tang, and rejoined his
companions at Quango’s realm, ready for the remainder of the trip.
He said farewell to all and felt Ki disassemble himself and ready for
the return to the Orb.
Dwight’s
Nightmare
He
stood next to a Gorilla. He knew he was a gorilla, he told him so.
In fact he felt himself beating his lips in a booming way as he and
Quango chatted. In fact Quango was chatting with everyone, except
Ta’ane, who had disappeared. But to Dwight this was bordering on
madness. Was he sharing someone else’s nightmare. Then Quango
asked about his heritage, and what planet did he think his people had
come from? This floored Dwight a bit, but then he was reminded that
Genesis started and before Cain and Able were out of nappies, Babylon
was already alive and venerated.
Now
Dwight knew he was in a nightmare. To think that differing tribes,
as foretold in Ta’anes journey, were from various systems made him
uncomfortable all of a sudden. He knew his heritage and couldn’t
argue the possibility, especially in light of what happened to him on
Maarii. He was then shown a star cruiser landing on the entry portal
for his people, on the Sea of Galilee and settling into life as a
people of the Middle East, from which all modern religions emanate.
This appeased Dwight’s doubts, and he suddenly felt why he knew all
races were special and none should be at war.
Mila’s
Moon Thoughts
She
stood watching the lips move and the ears flap. There was comedy in
the action, and all around her were laughing, as well as herself,
despite her thoughts. Quango, as she was shown, was a great
creature, as were all the Time and War lords. She was perplexed why
someone as nondescript Ta’ane should have such friends. Yes she
knew the tale, but still he was a pitiable human of no great
standing. Heck, the group now knew he was a hero, but no society
would admit as such, except the Lords of Time and War.
She
was shown something none of the others would see. During the phase
when Ta’ane was resurrecting the spirit structures , The Great Wall
of China amongst many, to their right place of standing, he was
showing her that also helping right the right was a figure in New
York, Tina Tuna, and one in the United Kingdom, R Graeme Waters, and
both were Sky Pilots in the world spirit scene. She was also shown
Kilimanjaro guiding spirit forces to help rectify the situation that
had been created by a maddened world of spirits, the effect lasting
and not good for human affairs.
She
was also shown Mount Erebus, a live volcano in Antarctica, writing
the annals of Ta’ane in the ice glaciers of the Iced Continent.
She thought to herself this was mad, but from her experiences to
date, she had been impressed with where she has been, and in how this
revered figure, Ta’ane has affected all their lives. She looked at
her slimline Timex for the first time in ages, and noted it was
3.16am Earth Time, and it felt to her they’d been in space for
longer.
Megs
Chews Tobacco
Her
head ached with the sound of the booming laughter. She was happy,
the happiest she had been in ages. She was being shown an F1
McLaren, and she knew this to be the culmination of a great mans
effort. She’d thought that maybe he was a Time Lord, but there
had been no reply from him if he was, instead most of the Lords or
Time and War had indicated that he (McLaren) was probably well taken
care of in spirit in a realm of technology advancements,
This
appeased Megs, but her serious zone was timing in, and she needed to
know what was she going to end up doing. They all, as One, boomed
they don’t know the future, we just make it happen if we have to.
She felt better about that, but needed to be reassured. Her Maakarii
formed a survival pod around her, and took her to another Coyne
planet where the salient figure of Ghi Quok San, Time Lord and keeper
of the Realm of Timelessness. She looked at her watch then, and
realised time was going back for her, but only 30 minutes, and she
realised they had been on Coyne 1 for that same amount of time. She
also suddenly felt alone, and found it hard to visualise the other
travellers. Out of nowhere, a plug of chewing tobacco appears and
she’s motioned to chew it. She shuddered, being a rampant non
smoker, but felt she would gain from the action.
Megs
placed the tobacco in her reticent mouth, but suddenly came alive the
second the distasteful stuff touched her saliva. She felt elevated,
and suddenly was motioned to lean against the lips wall on the
obelisk. She felt her heart race, and felt a flush appear. Ghi was
turning her into a raving nymphette and in a space of a few seconds;
she was left to stand, having spat the tobacco out. She knew, in the
depths of her mind, this gift would be lasting.
The Folklore, Hooky’s tale
The Folklore, Dwight’s tale
The Folklore, Mila’s tale
The Folklore, Madman’s tale
The Folklore, Meg’s tale.
The Folklore, Tane’s tale
Tuwhenga’s legacy.
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