THE FLEDGLING

Te Ao Hou, March 1961, Page 27

THE FLEDGLING by PETER SHARPLES Winner Te Ao Hou Literary Competition, 1960 ILLUSTRATED BY DENNIS KNIGHT TURNER Mahu Herewini said little as she sat waiting in the car beside her younger brothers Kina and Peni. Soon Nana came, then Mrs Herewini and finally her husband, and they all climbed into the Old Ford. Mr Herewini started the motor, and soon the car was roaring down the road. Mahu looked back at the old homestead which she knew she wouldn't see again for a long time. It would be her first trip away from home and her family, and she was sad to leave and frightened at the prospects of the future. Soon she would be in the city, in a new world, the Pakeha world. Mahu was eighteen years old, well built, attractive, and carried the tan of her racial inheritance in her Maori features. She had attained University Entrance at the village High School, and was now off to Auckland to study Anthropology. She had not really wanted to go, but the persuasion of Mr Crane, the headmaster, and her father's wishes had overcome her reluctance. The car pulled up outside the bus depot, and the family climbed out. “I'll take your bags to the bus-driver, Baby,” said her father, for that was the name he had always called her. “You say good-bye to Nana, Mum and the kids”. “Be sure to work hard, dear, and do be a good girl,” said Mrs Herewini. “Don't forget to write often and—Peni! get your muddy hands away from Mahu's dress.” “I'll write every week, Mum, and I'll be a good girl, you needn't worry about that,” said Mahu, tears forming in her eyes. “Good-bye, dear. Be sure and come back to see us soon, my girl,” said Nana, slipping a crumpled five pound note into Mahu's hand. “And I've put the woolly socks which Auntie Tuku knitted for you in your bag, because I know how cold Auckland can be,” continued her mother. “And dear, don't forget to change your underwear often, and oh yes! I forgot your toothpaste, so you'll have to buy another tube as soon as you arrive in Auckland. But do look after yourself, Mahu, you're so young, and be careful of some of those Pakeha men in the city, and don't walk around at night. You're a lady now.” “Come on, quickly now,” called her father from across the street, “the busman is waiting. Kitere Pepe.” She hurried over into the bus, took a seat by the window, and gazed out at her family. This time she could not hold back her tears, and as the bus drove away amid the sad farewells of the Herewini family, Mahu could only raise her hand and nod her head in reply. There were others on the bus bound for the

city too, and with the farewells of her own family, she could hear the shouts and laughter of the others. “Bring back a neat Pakeha wife Tom, but make sure she can cook kai!” “Don't forget your father's saddle Manu, and bring back some lollies for the kids.” “You fellas behave yourselves and don't drink too much of that beer stuff!” Soon the bus was speeding over the hills bound for the city, the new city, the Pakeha city. Mahu watched outside as the countryside shot past her window. She tried to imagine why she was leaving this peaceful Maori settlement for some strange Pakeha world. She saw some men planting kumaras in the hot sun, children playing on their horses, free and happy, and some others swimming naked and unashamed in the river. How heavy was her heart as she said “Haere Ra” to her old life. “Tena Koe, Mahu”. Mahu spun round and saw her old friend Jimmy, from the village, sitting in the seat next to hers. Amidst the grief of parting she had not noticed the dark good-looking boy beside her. “Tena Koe, Hemi,” she replied, surprised but pleased to see someone she knew. “E haere ana koe ki whea?” she asked, hoping he would be going to the city too. “To Auckland, to work,” came the reply, and soon the two friends were talking eagerly about this big city, comparing the opinions they had heard from others. “I am going to work hard!” said Jimmy, with an air of determination, “and gain a position of importance amongst the Pakeha, and show the Maoris that we still have some leaders.” “Kapai tena, Hemi,” Mahu replied. “I too am going to study hard and show the Pakeha what a ‘back-block’ Maori can do.” And so the conversation carried on, and the bus continued and the big city drew nearer and nearer. The bus stopped with a jerk and Mahu woke from her sleep. She had dozed off during the trip, and had dreamed that she was eeling with Peni, and her father. At first she did not know where she was, but when she saw Jimmy beside her she remembered. He whispered softly to her. “Look, Mahu. Look out of the window.” It was almost dark and Auckland had all her lights glowing. Mahu stared in bewilderment, her eyes transfixed on the strange surroundings. Buildings taller than kauri trees, cars and buses all new in appearance, and the people, there were hundreds, some walking, some running and some standing almost everywhere. Frightened, yet deeply excited, she climbed out of the bus.

A Maori girl about her own age walked quickly towards her. Mahu looked at her clothes and pretty face. She wore those tight black Matador trousers, which Mahu had heard so much about, low heeled pumps, yellow sockettes and a bright lemon sweater. Her hair was pulled around into a ‘horse tail’. “Hello,” she said, “my name is Pani. Are you Mahu Herewini?” “Yes,” was all Mahu managed to say. “Good, then come with me. You are staying at our Hostel. You've never been to the city before, eh? Well you'll like it here, just wait until you meet the rest of the gang. We'll get you some clothes, and then we'll show you what fun is. The kids are just dying to meet you. We always …” So the country girl had come to the city. The Big City, the New City, the Pakeha City. During the first week Mahu made preparations for her University Study. She visited a Library and selected the necessary books suggested by Mr Crane, to aid her in Anthropology. She had refused Pani's offer to “do” the town as they called it, until she was properly settled in. At University Mahu met many strange people. She was amazed at the number of Maoris in Auckland, and pleased that there were several at Varsity. She attended morning lectures, made notes and studied hard at Anthropology. As a result of an interview with the University committee, she was now studying Psychology, and Maori studies in conjunction with Anthropology in preparation for an Arts Degree. In the afternoons she would take her notes home to study at the hostel. Often, sitting at her little desk in her room, Mahu would dream of life back home at the village. She would look at her watch, and imagine what her family would be doing at that moment. Dear memories flooded her mind. Dad would be at the hotel now, drinking beer with Uncle Riki, Nana would be home squatting in the corner of her room mending a net, or plaiting a mat for the front porch; and Peni would be eeling with his new spear, which he made from my old kumara hoe. Peni loved eeling. Kina would be down the street riding his Pakeha friend's horse, or fighting with the Tawhiti kids next door. And Mum? Mum would be home cooking tea and cleaning up before everybody walked in! How Mahu missed her old home. There were twenty girls at the “Manurima Hostel” although she was the only University student. She was sharing a room with Makere Mason, a pretty South Islander, who worked in a Department store in Queen Street. At night the girls were often out. Although several times Pani and Makere tried to take Mahu with them, she had refused on the grounds that she had to study. However, Makere informed her that a Maori concert party was performing in the town hall and asked if she would like to go along with the rest of the gang. Now Maori culture was something dear to Mahu, as she had been the club leader back home, so she could do little but accept the invitation. There were ten in their so called gang, and Mahu made the eleventh. Six of these were boys from the Auckland Preston apprentice agency, who arrived in two cars at the hostel at seven. Mahu wore a dark skirt and the pink jersey her father had brought her, and she combed her hair back in the manner Makere had shown her. After introductions to the boys, she was crammed into one of the cars and they all drove off down town. Only one boy was a Maori, and his name was Bob. Mahu liked Bob because of his easy going good nature, and she spent most of the evening with him. The concert party was good, although Mahu had seen many better, and knew much more about such culture than her friends. After the concert, the gang decided they would go to a party and asked Mahu if she would accompany them. “No, I would rather not, thank you,” came the innocent reply, “I have an exam in the morning.” “Oh come on,” Bob urged, “I'll get you home at a reasonable time.” “But I really shouldn't—” The party was a success. Mahu learned to smoke and drink, and arrived at the hostel happy and full of fun. The next day, after the exam, Mahu Herewini knew that she had failed, even before the results were out. She hadn't been able to think clearly. Why had she gone to that party? “Well,” she told herself, “never again.” From now on she would steer clear of Pani, Makere, nice-looking Bob and their parties. She had to work! Work for her parents, work for Nana, for her brothers. Work so that they would be proud of her; proud to be the family of Mahu Herewini.

But it was hard working while the others went out. She would often hear the boys' laughter as they called for the girls in the evening, then before they all left, they would ask her again to go out. She still smoked, however, for she believed it brought relief from the tension of constant study. Then one day, Bob asked Mahu to the pictures. She had refused, but then he asked if he could stay with her at the Hostel for a while. Since men were not allowed inside the hostel, Mahu suggested a walk. That was the beginning. Bob called again later in the week, and again in the weekend, and soon they were “going steady”. Mahu forced herself all day to decline Bob's offer in the evening, but when the phone rang, it was always “Yes, Bob.” They went to dances, pictures, parties, midnight swims, everywhere. Her night activities grew, and her day studies? Mahu could feel herself losing. She knew she was failing. There seemed no more will-power left. No urge to work, no inspiration. In her letters home she felt she was lying to her people, and living the life of a hypocrite. So what did she do about it? What would anyone else do? It was easy to choose dances and parties before study; and anyway what good would Anthropology do her, and why should she take Maori studies when she could already speak the language fluently? Hardly anybody in Auckland could understand her, anyway. So ended the ambition of the Herewini family. Mahu left Varsity and found a job at the Department Store with Makere. There was no study involved and the work was easy, but more important, she and Bob could date almost every night. Then one day Mahu received a shock. She saw someone whom she had dreaded meeting. Jimmy, the boy from the village. He had changed his dress to the city style and his hair was longer, but apart from that, he was the same. Jimmy caught her eye, and although surprised that she should be working in the store, began walking towards her. Mahu trembled. Jimmy would be ashamed of her. She remembered the bus trip, and their plans to work for a social position and become Maori leaders. She had failed. What would he say to her? She looked fearfully at the smiling face. “Tena Koe, Hemi.” He started hard at her pretty face. She could feel his eyes penetrating her shallow mind. She shrank back. He was ashamed. What would he say? After all her ambitions to become a leading Maori, she was nothing. Then she was sorry. She wished she had been true and honest with her promises and withheld her ambitions like Jimmy did, and mastered the Pakeha world. But hold, he was going to speak. “Hi, Mahu, come to a party tonight.”