Cicada

Te Ao Hou, November 1973, Page 5

Cicada by Witi Ihimaera It was Saturday morning and Kararaina had nothing to do. She'd made her bed, helped do the dishes, gone down to the shop to get Pare a packet of smokes, and was now sitting at the window watching the traffic stream up and down the road. At the back of the flat, she could hear Pare doing the washing, the washing machine going ‘shuck shuck shuck’ and Pare swearing occasionally because she hated washing clothes. Henare had gone to the T.A.B. It was only Kararaina and Pare who were home. Pare was Kararaina's eldest sister, and Kararaina had come to stay with her and her husband Henare because Mum and Dad had gone shearing in the South Island. She'd been with them now, over a week. Already, she was feeling homesick. She'd been excited at first, coming to Wellington on the plane, and the air hostess had given her a lolly to suck. It had still been the holidays, and Pare had taken her to the zoo, into Wellington to look at the shops, and even to the late pictures at the Ascot. But the pictures had been scary — about a man who changed into a wolf, and about another man who bit people in the neck — and Kararaina had cried all the way home. Henare had teased her too, until Pare had told him to stop. Then school had started and the excitement of being in a big city had worn off. Both Henare and Pare were working now too, and although they tried to make Kararaina feel at home, the flat was too quiet to be a home. Kararaina missed the bickering and shouting of home back at Te Karaka. She also missed her brother, Rangi, who was a year younger than she was. He was seven; she was eight. When she had nothing to do, she could always play with Rangi. She had nothing to do now; but Rangi was a long way away. She gazed longingly out the window and wished that Rangi was with her. Then from somewhere, she heard children laughing. Eagerly, Kararaina craned her head and saw three little girls race out of the house opposite her onto the pavement. One of them bent on the ground and began making squares with a piece of chalk. Another had a tennis ball, and was bouncing it up and down. “Hurry up! Hurry up!” the third girl yelled. Kararaina knew that girl, but not very well. Her name was Denise something-or-other, and she was at Newtown School too. She watched them eagerly and wondered whether they would let her join them if she went down. She didn't think they would, because on her first day at school she'd asked if she could play Four Square with them, but they'd told her to go away. Still, there were only three of them down there. Maybe they would let her join them this time. Should she go down now? No, she would wait. She didn't want to be hurt again. This time, she'd make sure first. “Kara! Kara!” She heard Pare calling to her. “Yes?” she yelled back. “Come here a minute, ay?” Pare asked. “Okay,” she answered. She leapt down from the window and ran down the corridor to the bathroom where Pare was rinsing out the clothes. “Be a good mate and help hang the clothes out, ay?” Pare asked. “All right,” Kararaina answered. “And this afternoon, you can go to the

2 o'clock pictures,” Pare continued. “Are you coming too?” “No. I'm too tired. I'm going to have a little moe. But you'll be okay.” Kararaina was silent. It wasn't much fun going to the pictures by herself. She'd been once before, but she only felt lonelier sitting in the middle of all those other kids who seemed to know each other. She'd had an ice cream at halftime, and a bag of minties too, but she'd still been lonely, and had wished that Rangi had been with her. “Grab the other end of the basket,” Pare said. “Jingosh! It's heavy, ay! That blinking Henare, he sure dirties his clothes quick!” Kararaina giggled, and Pare thought to herself: Poor kid! She tries to be happy, but she can't hide it … Together, they carried the washing down the stairs from their top storey flat and round the back where the wash-line was. Kararaina enjoyed doing things with her married sister. Back at home in Te Karaka, before Pare had got married. Kararaina often used to climb in bed with her because Pare was so warm. And Pare used to tell her all about her boyfriends. Then Henare had come along and Pare used to chuck off at him and tell everybody that he was her greatest mistake. Kararaina had looked forward to staying in Wellington with her sister, but they'd had very few moments together. Pare worked now, at Denhard's Bakery. At seven each morning, she would wake Kararaina up and tell her to get ready for school. Henare would already have gone; he worked for the City Council, so the two sisters would have a quick breakfast together. Pare started work at eight, so Kararaina had to leave the flat when Pare left to catch her bus. Sometimes, Kararaina would wait at the bus stop too. She always felt lonely when Pare had kissed her goodbye, as school didn't start till 9 o'clock and that meant she was by herself for a whole hour. She didn't have any friends. On the first mornings, Kararaina used to stay at the bust stop, perched high on a brick wall, watching the people passing by. Every time she saw somebody coming, she would beam a brilliant smile and say— “Hullo, mister man!” or “Hullo, lady!” — depending on who the people were. But the people she greeted mostly ignored her. Few ever smiled in return. One of them had growled her for being cheeky. Now, she hardly ever sat on the brick wall. Lately, during the long morning hour, Kararaina had taken to wandering along the road looking at the shops. If Pare had given her some money, she would buy a packet of chewing gum and chew it very slowly so that it would last all the way to school. If it didn't last, she'd eat one of her lunch sandwiches. But she didn't like doing that — one sandwich less made the lunchtime longer. Then, after school, she'd dawdle on her way home knowing that the door would be locked. Henare wouldn't be home, and Pare didn't get home till after five. And they'd come home to find Kararaina waiting for them on the doorstep. She'd be happy then, but they'd be too tired to be happy with her. But Kararaina didn't mind: as long as they were just there, she was content. “All finished now,” Pare sighed. She turned the wash basked upside down and sat on it. “Light me a smoke, Kara,” she said. She put a cigarette in her mouth and gave the matches to her little sister. Kararaina lit one and put it up to the cigarette. Pare closed her eyes and drew on it. “Aaaah!” she said, and the smoke sighed too as she breathed out. “What you going to do now?” Kararaina asked. “Just sit on my bum for a while and take it easy,” Pare answered. “Are you tired?” Kararaina asked. “Shall I make us a cup of tea?” Pare shook her head. Then she looked at her little sister, so eager, so happy and yet so lonely. And she remembered how she'd heard Kararaina crying softly in her bedroom. “Kara!” she'd called. “Are you all right?” “Yes …” “You're not crying are you?” “No …” “Stop telling lies! Are you scared of the

dark? Come on, come and sleep with us.” And Kararaina had come running into the bedroom and nestled softly between her and Henare. Pare took another draw on her cigarette. She noticed that one of the sheets she'd washed was still a bit dirty. Too bad! Then she motioned to Kararaina to come closer to her. “Are you all right now?” she whispered, stroking Kararaina's hair. “No more tangi? No more cry?” Kararaina nodded. “You like it here? You like it here with me and Henare?” Kararaina was silent. Then she sighed, and a large tear began to form. “I miss Rangi …” “But you fullas are always squabbling all the time!” Pare laughed. “I miss Rangi …” Kararaina repeated. And she began to cry softly. “Huh? I thought you'd finished with the cry!” Pare whispered. “Never mind. Never mind …” And the sisters hugged each other tightly. “Won't be long now, then you can go home,” Pare soothed. “Mum and Dad couldn't take you down South with them. You had to go to school. Don't you like school here?” Kararaina shook her head. “It's a funny school,” she whispered. “The other kids are funny to me.” “But you've only been there for a few days,” Pare said. “You have to get used to them, and they have to get used to you. After a while, you'll get on with them and then you'll be happy.” “I miss Rangi …” Kararaina said again. Pare sighed. For a long moment, the two sisters were silent. Then Pare stood up. “No rest for the wicked,” she laughed. “I better put some lunch on for us, ay.” “Can I help?” Kararaina asked. “I can manage,” Pare answered. Then she reached into her apron pocked and brought out her purse. “Tell you what! You go and buy an ice cream. By the time you get back, the kai will be ready. Okay?” “Okay,” Kararaina answered. She took the money and wandered out the gate. And she saw the three girls playing on the pavement. For a while, she watched them. Then one of the girls looked back at her. “What are you staring at?” she yelled. Kararaina looked away, embarrassed. She walked away from them toward the shop. There, she bought herself an Eskimo Pie and slowly began licking it. Then she dawdled back along the road to the flat. The girls were still playing, so she sat down on the kerb. After a while, she got up the courage to approach them. “You're playing Four Square, ay?” she said. “What does it look like!” one of the girls snapped. He companions giggled. “There's only three of you playing,” Kararaina said. “So?” “Nothing … I just thought …” But the girls pretended not to notice her. “Do you want a lick of my ice cream?” Kararaina asked them after a while. “Oooh!” one of the girls said, screwing up her face. “You might have germs.” “I have not!” Kararaina answered. “You do too!” the same girl said, scornfully. “All you Samoans have germs.” “I'm not a Samoan either!” Kararaina told them. “I'm a Maori.” “Same thing,” one of the girls sniffed. Kararaina walked away from them. In her ears she could hear them laughing at her, saying, “Thinks we want to play with her! Thinks we want to lick at her ice cream!” And she felt tears coming to her eyes. She went through the gate, then turned. “I didn't want to play with you fullas anyway!” she yelled. Then she rushed upstairs. “Is that you, Kara?” Pare yelled. “Yes,” she answered, trying not to cry too much. “Lunch won't be long.” “All right!” Kararaina answered. She ran quickly into her room and shut the door. And there, in the small room, she let her tears fall, while the sounds of the children playing outside reached up to taunt her. After a while, she quietened. She crept

up to the window and looked out. Those kids, they were having such a good time … Then she heard a buzzing sound, and saw a cicada alight on the window sill. Its wings blurred and reflected the light like a rainbow. Breathlessly she watched it, afraid that it would fly away. But the wings folded and the cicada began to chirrup. For a while she listened to it, and she began to remember her home at Te Karaka, Mum and Dad, and Rangi … And she reached out and enclosed the cicada in her cupped hands, and lifted it to her ear. For a moment it was silent. Then it began to chirrup again. She listened to it for a long time, and then she opened her hands. But the cicada did not try to fly away. “You're a long way from home, kihikihi,” she whispered to the cicada, calling it by its Maori name. “You're a long, long way from anywhere …” She lifted it toward the open window. “Fly away, kihikihi, fly far away,” she whispered. “Fly home…. This place is too lonely for you …” And she blew softly on the cicada until its wings unfolded and blurred, and she felt herself lifting away with it as it flew up into the sky.