A TRIP OUTSIDE

Te Ao Hou, June 1961, Page 48

A TRIP OUTSIDE by RIKI ERIHI KI HEI! MAURI ORA! Tena no koutou, e nga hapu karanga maha o te motu. Ko te reo irirangi tenei o Waikune e mihi atu nei ki a koutou. Kua riro nga karanga, me nga haka i tangihia e nga tipuna. Engari kua whakatau matou te taitamariki, ki te kapo mai i nga ahuatanga i whakatakotongia i roto i nga kaupapa a nga tipuna kua wehe atu ki te po. Slowly the curtains drew apart to the sound of spontaneous applause, and from our position in the second line of our haka party, I stole a glance out front to a packed hall of beaming faces, looking towards us. Our leader Dick steps forward, the audience is hushed, only the rustle of his piupiu breaks the silence, then continuing in his rich deep baritone voice that echoes out through the hall: Gone are the stirring cries of the warriors Forgotten the plaintive laments The Pakeha has come Softly the whispering voices steal over our valleys and hills Lamenting that which is no more Hushed they sigh The warriors are here Once more the hakas and chants ring out again Echoing once more across the bush clad slopes Tonight we bid you welcome to Taumarunui Dwelling place of our forbears. Kia Rite Precision-like, our feet come together, hands resting on waists, heads held erect, conscious of the crowd before us. And the bright stage lights that make us all stand out. Haere mai Haere mai Koutou katoa Our voices burst forth in harmony, the click click swish of piupius as they swing to the sway of bodies, then flowingly as each gathers confidence. As the crowd break into prolonged applause, the tense look of first night nerves on the faces of the back-stage workers and Duty Officers disappears and they smile. “Ah. at last the crowd is with us; I'm sure tonight's going to be a smash hit,” I say to myself thankfully. The whole party seems to vibrate up up and down our lines. A feature of modern prisons is that they encourage many prisoners to develop their talents. This lively and amusing story shows a wonderful response on the part of the ‘inmates’; undoubtedly an action song party such as the one described here will help them to face the future with some confidence. Our next item is a bright and gay one and everyone seems to sing with a new burst of radiance. At the conclusion of this number we all dash away to the dressing rooms to change for other acts. Everyone in the Maori Group is now in a happy mood. Gone are the first night jitters and petty ways that somehow always seem to be part of opening nights everywhere. I grin to myself as I look around the dressing room, watching some of the chaps, busily wiping tattoo marks off their faces. A few are taking it easy, smoking and talking excitedly; had an outsider chanced to look in he would have seen a happy group of males, doing exactly what hundreds of other performers do at any other concerts; wandering off alone downstairs listening back-stage to the fits of laughter and gaiety of the amused audience as they warmed to the antics of Bodgie, our comedian. This was sweet music to my ears, for having taken part in many shows elsewhere I have always loved the stage and mixing with the artists and excitement that goes with it. From where I stand behind the thick green curtains, my mind wanders back to events that happened last year. I had the honour of welcoming Sabrina, and of arranging the Maori welcome for Winifred Atwell at When-uapai Airport. A Maori reception for Mattiwilda Dobbs, The Platters, Tommy Sands, and various other visiting overseas artists to this grand land of Aotearoa. Now as I watch the members of our cast file on and off I think of the few minutes just

before the night's show had commenced. Out front, our Superintendent was addressing the crowd; behind the curtains on a completely bare stage stood a group of sixteen Maoris of all colours and shades with Shorty, the one lone Pakeha in our midst, chattering, softly laughing, while one or two were engaged in seeing that their piupius were securely tied. I gazed down the line from where I stood, amused at the expressions on the faces of different ones. Directly in front of me in the first line stood Jack, the son of a well-known local family, a very talented and gifted performer. It takes more than courage to stand before an audience of people, who know that he is a person paying his debt to society. I hope the old saying of “Birds of a feather” comforted him to night. For each and everyone of us in this show were Boobheads (prison inmates). Thoughts raced around in my mind, I suppose this is how animals at the zoo feel, and like the circus clowns, put on a show to hide their own feelings. Are they paying to see us? Or are they here to enjoy our talents? Don't be silly, you fool, it's a bit late to back out and ask these questions now.