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Te Ao Hou, September 1965, Page 10

than the others. He was her sister's son, while Whai and Peta were the foster children of her brother. They were all likeable boys—good company for her husband, and they were always spoiling her youngsters. But she was getting very tired of the nonsense that went on. For several weekends now, they had come home with all their friends and a large keg of beer. The drinking and singing had gone on right through the night and into Sunday. She and Heta her husband had not wanted to say anything, hoping that the boys would come to their senses sooner or later and would straighten themselves out. Perhaps Miha was ready to do something about it? He was awaiting her opinion now, so without stopping her work she said, ‘You’re not a waster, Miha. You were doing very well until your cousins arrived. It was only then that you went to the pack a bit. But it's up to you, you know. ‘What do you really want to do? What will going back home do? There are good well paid jobs here. The rest is up to you.’ Miha had taken up the tea towel and was drying the dishes. No more was said, and when the dishes were done Hinerau went off to wash the clothes, leaving Miha to himself. He sat and pondered again for a while, then went about cleaning and tidying the house. He even fetched a bucket of water and the scrubbing brush and scrubbed the kitchen. By the time that Hinerau had hung the washing out, he had finished everything and had made a cup of tea. ‘Come and have a cup of tea,’ he called to Hinerau. Hinerau was more than surprised, for it was the first time that Miha had done anything like this. She was very pleased and said, ‘Gee Miha, you’re a champion. The place has never looked like this before, and it's the first time anyone has made me a cup of tea in my own house.' Miha seemed a little embarrassed, but he was pleased too. ‘You should have been really mad with us,’ he said. ‘All we’ve ever done here is eat. sleep, and act the goat. Why haven't you growled at us? As for those wasters who've just gone, I'll kick their pants for them.' Hinerau just smiled and said nothing. That afternoon Miha found Whai and Peta where he knew they would be—the billiard room. On seeing him Peta called out, ‘Hey Miha, come and play. This bloke is thrasbing me.’

‘Haere mai, kia karia ano ko koe.’ Ka rere atu a Miha ki te tiki kiu mana. Ka timata ratau ki te purei ‘snooker’. Nawai ra, kua ki atu ia, ‘Pohehe au e haere ana korua ki te rapu mahi i te “wharf”.' ‘Mo apopo ka haere maua.’ ‘Kati hei aha. He mahi tonu ta korua.’ ‘Na wai i ki.’ ‘I haere au ki te korero ki to tatau pahi. He tangata pai tera. Kahore tatau i panaia.’ ‘Nel Nahau pea i rupahu atu i te mate pea tatau, he aha ranei?’ ‘Naku i korero atu to tatau raruraru, te mea e kaha rawa te haurangi.’ ‘E hoa, kare te Pakeha e pirangi ki te haurangi.’ ‘Pena ano taku whakaaro. Engari he rereke tenei tangata. I kata ke a ia, kua ki mai, katahi ano tetahi o ana kaimahi ka korero tika ki a ia. Na reira pea, na te mea ranei he hunga kaha tatau ki te mahi.’ Ka kata ratau, no te mea he pai tonu ki a ratau ta ratau mahi, e kore e tino pirangi ki te haere ano ki tetahi atu. Kua mama nga whakaaro inaianei, ka hoki ano ratau ki ta ratau ‘snooker’. Kare he painga o Miha raua ko Peta. Tangetange ana i a Whai. Ka ki a Peta, ‘Kei te mate kai au. E Miha mahau tatau e haute, me haere tatau ki te kai, ki te papara-kauta ranei.’ Kua whakahoki atu a Miha, ‘Kare au mo te hoko kai ma korua, e hoko kai ana au mo te kainga. Na tatau hoki me o tatau hoa haurangi i kai nga kai. Na reira e tika ana ma tatau e whakaki nga kapata.’ ‘Kua pau ke ra a maua moni!’ ‘Hei aha. Maku e hoko inaianei, ma korua e whakahoki mai ta korua taha moni ki a au. Haere mai, kai kati nga toa.’ Kua pouri haere inaianei. Katahi ano te hunga nei ka makere atu i te pahi e haere atu ana ki te kainga. Kiki tonu o ratau ringa i te taonga. ‘E Whai, kia pai to haere, kia makere i a koe nga heki na.’ ‘Turituri e ta. Pehea koe. Kei te tautau haere ke o totiti, Akuni ka riro i te kuri na.’ Kei te kata ano ratau. Ka whakahua a Peta, ‘Mohio korua, he hunga tino koretake tatau. Katahi ano tatau ka whakaaro mo Hinerau raua ko Heta. Te pai o nga tokorua nei ki a tatau. Kaua koe e wareware, e Whai, ki te hoatu he moni mo to noho.’ ‘Me koe hoki e ta.’ ‘Ae.’ ‘Me mutu hoki te tango kaho pia.’ ‘I’m making mincemeat of him,' grinned Whai. ‘Come on, let me thrash you too.’ Miha reached for a cue and they lined up the balls for a game of snooker. They concentrated on the game for a while, then Miha said casually, ‘I though you blokes were going to get a job at the wharf.’ ‘Tomorrow will do,’ said Peta. ‘Well forget about it,’ said Miha, ‘you’ve still got your old jobs.' ‘Who said?’ Peta and Whai were surprised. ‘I went to see the boss. He's a pretty good bloke. Anyway he didn't sack us.' ‘You don’t say. Did you lie that we were sick or something?' ‘No,’ laughed Miha, ‘I told him we had been on a binge.’ ‘Gwan, but the Pakeha doesn’t put up with a pack of drunks.' ‘That's what I thought. But this bloke is different. He laughed when I told him why we didn't turn up, and said it was the first time one of his employees had told him the truth. Maybe that's why, or maybe it's because we're all such hard workers.' They laughed and felt pleased, for each one of them enjoyed their work and did not really want to change. Feeling very relieved, they returned to their game. Miha and Peta had no hope against Whai's skill. He thrashed them both thoroughly. ‘Gee I’m hungry,' said Peta as they walked out on to the street. ‘You shout, Miha. What about a feed or a few beers?’ ‘I’m not buying you wasters anything. I'm going to buy some food for the house. We and our mates ate everything in the house, so it's only right that we should fill the cupboards again.' ‘But we’ve got no money,' complained Whai. ‘So what,’ exclaimed Miha, ‘I’ll buy the stuff. You can pay me your share of the expenses later. Let's hurry before the shops close.' It was almost dark when the three climbed off the bus and walked on home. They walked awkwardly, loaded down with all the parcels they were carrying. ‘Hey Whai, take it easy,’ said Peta. ‘You might drop those eggs and break them.’ ‘Shut up man. What about yourself. Your sausages are hanging out. That dog might have a go at them.’ They laughed and felt the closeness of easy companionship.

‘Ae. Engari pea he “flagon” mo etahi po.' ‘Ka pai tena ki a Heta.’ ‘Ka pai ano hoki ki a tatau. Hei whakamaku i nga korokoro.’ E kata tonu ana ratau kua tae atu ki te kainga. Puare mai ana te tatau, puta mai ana te katakata o nga tamariki, me te kakara puha, titi, me te paraoa rewena. Ka mohio ano ratau ki te painga o te kainga Maori. A Christchurch hotel has been fined £5 for refusing to supply liquor to a Maori woman because of her race. This is the first such conviction under legislation passed two years ago. The Arnett family of the Bluff have three sons pursuing successful careers as overseas journalists, John, the oldest, works for the Vancouver Sun, Peter is a foreign correspondent in Saigon for American Associated Press, and David is with Reuter in Fleet Street. One issue of the Vancouver Sun recently had frontpage stories by both John and Peter Arnett. ‘You know what?’ said Peta. ‘We’re a pack of real no-hopers. It's the first time that we have given Hinerau and Heta a thought, and they've been pretty good to us. Don't you forget to give them something for your board, Whai!' ‘That goes for you too.’ ‘Sure.’ ‘And I reckon we should cut out those kegs.’ ‘Yeah, but a flagon will go well some nights.’ ‘Heta will like that.’ ‘So will we. Something to wet the whistle.’ They were still laughing when they reached home. And when the door opened they were met with the sound of children laughing, and the tickling mouth-watering smell of mutton-birds, puha, and freshly baked bread. They felt again the warmth of the Maori home. Wanted to buy: nos. 2 and 8 of ‘Te Ao Hou’ at £1 each, Write to J.W.P. c/o the Editor, ‘Te Ao Hou’, Box 2390, Wellington.