The Dream Swimmer, page 35
Red-faced with anger, Grandfather turned to me. At that moment I was sharing a joke with one of the shepherds and burst out laughing. Grandfather Ihaka moved toward me, kicking away the wool in his haste. He raised his right fist and hit me in the face. I heard a crack as a tooth broke, and felt the edge cut my upper lip. When I wiped my hand across my mouth, there was blood on it.
‘You, Tamatea,’ Grandfather said. ‘You may with your winning ways have fooled an old lady into loving you, but you will never fool me. One of these days, boy, you and I – ’
My grandfather and I never finished any of our arguments. One of us always made some pronouncement or other and then turned away. I doubt if we had ever listened to each other. All our words were at cross-purposes, our lives so filled with unfinished business. He wheeled away from me. Nodded at Tamati Kota.
When Tamati Kota came up to me, he pressed my hands in his. There was something devotional in his attitude. His face was trembling.
‘This is all I could save for you,’ he said. ‘All.’
Later that night, as we were heading back to the farmhouse, Te Ariki apologised to me on behalf of Ihaka. Tiana looked at him.
‘If Ihaka hadn’t hit Tamatea,’ she said, ‘I would have done it. Tamatea has always got everything he wants. Well, the world isn’t like that.’
Looking back, I realise now that I had not been the only one to believe that I was home for good. Tiana, too, had not expected me to return to Te Aute.
Soon after that, my own relationship with Tiana deteriorated. Oh, there’s no doubt that I had become grown up and arrogant. Like all boys, I wanted out. My mother’s apron strings were tied too tight. The whole world was waiting and it was mine. But there was more than that. Tiana wanted me to remain hers. She was dead against my going back to Te Aute. Even though Riripeti was dead, she saw Grandmother’s design was still being woven around me like a web.
One night at dinner her jealousy came out into the open, and this time Te Ariki was there to witness it.
My father was sitting with my sisters at one end of the table. Tiana and I were at the other. All of a sudden, Tiana banged her fists on the table. The crockery and cutlery jangled. Mongrel Bitch, thinking her mistress Teria was in danger, began to bark and snarl.
‘Where do you think your grandfather’s getting the money from to send you to Te Aute?’ Tiana asked.
‘It wasn’t his in the first place,’ I answered.
‘It doesn’t come out of the air,’ she continued. ‘If it’s not from his own pocket, then it will be from the pockets of the faithful.’
‘If that’s what they want to do with their money, it’s their business, not yours.’
‘You’re already whakahihi enough. You’ll only get worse.’
I got up to leave the table. Tiana got up too and approached me. We began to circle the room. Te Ariki and my sisters looked at each other.
‘What do you want from me, Tiana?’ I asked her. ‘I may be your son, but I’ve got a life and I intend to live it.’
‘I’m sure you will. Trampling all over us in the process, just like your grandmother. You think I don’t know the signs?’
As we circled each other, I realised that I was now taller than Tiana was. Why, I thought, I could snap her in two if I wanted. The thought gave me more confidence.
Meantime, Te Ariki, stunned by the animosity between Tiana and me, put up a hand to her. And I had a sudden thought that perhaps Te Ariki did know about Tiana’s violence towards his children, just as Young Sally had known when our mother was locked up in the kennels by Whiro.
‘Hey –’
‘Keep out of this, Te Ariki,’ Tiana said to him. ‘This is just between me and Tamatea.’
My mother pushed past him and went toward the kitchen. I thought, She’s going for the knife. Quickly, I intercepted her.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ I said. ‘You think I don’t know you well? Forget the knife, Tiana. It doesn’t scare me any more. I’ll do what I want and I’m too big for you to stop me any more. You just try me and you’ll soon find out.’
Tiana tried to push past me. I wouldn’t budge. All of a sudden she gave a hiss, feinted a throw to my left but lashed out with her right. I knew her tricks and was ready.
I caught Tiana’s fist and twisted. She yelled with pain but, righting herself, gave me an uppercut. I blocked.
I was so angry. I put the open palm of my left hand against her face and squeezed. Once upon a time my hand would have covered only half her face. Now it covered all.
‘This is what you liked doing to us, isn’t it, Tiana. Well, I was younger then and couldn’t stop you. I can now. You like it when it’s done to you? Does it feel good?’
Tears of pain were squeezing from Tiana’s eyes. My sisters were crying. Te Ariki was coming to Tiana’s rescue.
With a quick motion I changed my grip. Put two fingers up her nostrils and pinned her to the wall.
‘And this? You like this too? Why don’t you start paddling your feet, Tiana.’
My mother’s eyes opened wide, and they were deep with all the sorrows of the universe. She made a sign. Enough.
That’s when Te Ariki pulled me away. He was about to hammer me but Tiana stopped him.
‘The fault was mine,’ she said, ‘not his. I started it.’
She went to comfort my sisters. Her voice was shredded with sadness.
‘There, there,’ she said.
One week later, I was on my way back to Te Aute. There was so much elation in me. I was so glad to get away, I didn’t hear the fear in the voices of my sisters.
‘Please don’t go, Tama. Please don’t leave us, please.’
‘It’s not for ever. I’ll be back.’
‘But what happens if Mum – ’
‘Dad will be home with you,’ I answered, ‘and Mum won’t do anything when he’s around. And anyway, Aunt Hiraina is living on the farm too, so you’ll be safe.’
‘Are you sure?’
I wasn’t, but I was fourteen years old. I was growing up. I wanted to escape, even if I had to leave my sisters to do it. I sighed, and then invented a little piece of magic. I whistled for Mongrel Bitch and she came, wagging her tail.
‘Look after your little mistresses,’ I instructed.
Mongrel Bitch cocked her head, barked and trotted toward Teria. Satisfied, Teria nodded, ‘Okay.’
The bus driver signalled that I should get aboard. ‘Time to go,’ he said.
At that, my sisters began to wail in fear.
‘Enough,’ I called. I didn’t intend to raise my voice at them. They backed away, their eyes shining.
Then Tiana approached. ‘You think you can get away from me, don’t you, Tamatea. You can’t. If I can’t get at you one way I’ll get at you another. There’s more ways than one to skin a cat.’
‘You harm my sisters,’ I said, ‘and I’m coming after you, Tiana. I swear I’ll come for you.’
What I didn’t realise was that my threats went unheard by Tiana. Riripeti had said to her on her deathbed, ‘No matter what you do, Tiana, Tamatea will always be mine, for after my death, I will be even more loved by him than I have ever been in his life.’ As my mother watched me going away from her, going to Te Aute and thereby still living unto Riripeti’s wishes and design, all she could think of was that I was still Riripeti’s.
I know now that it was this that unleashed my mother’s fury.
9.40 a.m., Tuesday 5 March 1958.
The day of the Hawke’s Bay Secondary School Indoor Basketball Competitions at Wairoa, halfway between Napier and Gisborne, and about two hours by car from each. Twelve teams, including ours from Te Aute College, were in the competition, which was divided into two sections, six teams per section. There were two elimination rounds in each section, and the winners of each section would face one another in the final.
When our bus arrived the carpark was already crammed with vehicles of other competitors and their supporters.
‘Here comes Te Aute!’ the crowd greeted us.
I saw some friends and was about to say hello when, from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a young Maori girl. When I met her glance her eyes flickered with some kind of recognition. She was tall, slim and her hair was pulled back from her face. Coach Wolfgramm hustled us straight into the dressing room.
‘No time to relax, boys,’ he said. ‘You’ve drawn against Lindisfarne. You’re on in ten minutes. Get geared up.’
The dressing room was crowded with other teams, and most of the space was taken. The atmosphere was steamy, spiced with liniment and sweat. I noticed Garrett, one of the players for Waipukurau Boys’ High. He and I had often clashed in the Saturday games in Napier.
‘Hey,’ Garrett called to his mates. ‘The horis are here.’
I was just easing into my jockstrap. I looked at him, turned and scratched my balls, taking my time about it. I looked at his crotch.
‘Still hanging short are you Garrett?’
His cheeks went crimson. ‘You wanna measure up?’
‘Nah, I’d only win,’ I said. ‘And I know you’d want to do more than look.’
Garrett gave a bellow and came for me. His team mates pulled him back.
‘I’ll get you,’ Garrett said.
10.00 a.m. A Section, First Round. Te Aute versus Lindisfarne
There was always something about running into a sports stadium that gave me the greatest adrenalin rush. Some six hundred students, boys and girls, older parents and supporters stood to welcome us.
Coach Wolfgramm was calling the play. Our bench comprised ten players. Our five main players were Hemi, Ephraim, Tipene, Sam the Man and me, the captain.
‘Listen, guys,’ Coach Wolfgramm said. ‘Remember what I told you on the bus. This is only the first game, so don’t go out there and shoot your bolt. Play to win, yes, but only do as much as you need to win.’
We nodded. I was skittish, wanting to get in there. The coach knew that once I got the bit between my teeth all I wanted to do was fight free. He gave me a look of warning. I nodded.
I saw the girl again. She was wearing the St Joseph’s blazer. Her look was keen, penetrating. When she saw that I had noticed her, she leaned back so that her face was in shadows.
The clock started.
‘Come on, Lindisfarne!’ the crowd shouted.
11.30 a.m. A Section, Round Two. Te Aute versus Taradale High
The game against Lindisfarne was hard, but we managed to win 65 to 48. However, Hemi had twisted his ankle as he went for a layup and Sam the Man had cracked his nose in a nasty fall. Both were in our starting lineup and I could see Coach Wolfgramm’s mind trying to get around the problem. Taradale High was one of the best teams in the competition.
‘Okay,’ Coach Wolfgramm decided. ‘Sam, I’m taking you off for this game but I may put you back if we get into the finals. Reedy, you take his place. And –’
The other boys on the bench were looking at Coach Wolfgramm: pick me, pick me, coach.
‘Jackson, you’re on in Hemi’s position.’
Coach Wolfgramm turned to me. ‘Tamatea, pull back, son. Don’t overrun your energy. You’re like a bloody stallion out there. Let off steam, but don’t lose your control. If you lose it, everybody loses it.’
The clock started again. We began with the jump-off. The sweat sprayed from me as I slammed the ball across to Ephraim.
‘Go. Te Aute, go.’
Before Taradale knew it, Ephraim had dribbled the ball through their defence, shot it to Jackson on the two-point line and he’d made the basket.
‘Hey, Rookie,’ I yelled. ‘Trying to make us look bad?’
He grinned. We settled down. I took a glance at where the girl had been sitting. She wasn’t there. Instead, she had changed seats and was further down the stadium. Again, when she saw that I had seen her, she leaned back into the shadows.
Playing games, are we?
We won, 60 to 56. A bit close, but it was a win. Our faces were running with sweat. Everybody was congratulating Jackson, who had done a really good job.
‘Okay,’ Coach Wolfgramm said. ‘You’re through to the finals. Let’s have lunch. Don’t eat and drink too much. As for you, Tamatea, no sex during the break.’
The other guys laughed. I was again looking for the girl, but she was playing hard to find.
Over lunch in the cafeteria I bumped into Garrett from Waipukurau Boys’ High. ‘So the final’s between us, huh?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s just between you,’ he jabbed a finger in my chest, ‘and me.’
I smiled, good humoured. ‘Look forward to it, Garrett.’
2.00 p.m. Final: Winner of A Section versus winner of B Section: Te Aute College versus Waipukurau Boys’ High
The stadium was jampacked for the final game. Waipukurau had won the competition last year and was expected to win again. When their team ran on to the court the stadium erupted. ‘Come on, the Whites!’
When we entered, we had our cheer section too. ‘Come on, the Blacks!’
I saw the girl again. She was sitting close to one of the baskets. This time when I looked at her she returned the gaze.
The referee called for my attention. He was aware of the enmity between me and Garrett and said, ‘Okay, boys, let’s give the audience a nice, clean, fast game. And you, Garrett and Mahana, stick to the rules, play the game and not each other, otherwise – ’
He drew an imaginary line across his neck.
Garrett and I looked at each other and nodded. But we had no intention of complying with the referee’s request. As soon as we went into the jump-off, Garrett was on me. I won the jump, but as I was coming down he elbowed me and I fell.
‘Come on, Waipukurau!’
‘Go, Te Aute!’
Height for height Waipukurau had the advantage. They’d also been playing Senior grade in the local competitions and one of their point guards, a guy called Terry Pedersen, was an American exchange student from Moorhouse, Atlanta. By the end of the first quarter, Pedersen had taken Waipukurau to a 26 to 14 lead.
At the turnaround, Coach Wolfgramm was concerned. He wanted to put Sam the Man back in, but felt it was still too early. Jackson was playing the game of his life, and Coach Wolfgramm gave him an approving pat on the back.
‘Tighten up the defence,’ he instructed. ‘Push Garrett to the outside. For God’s sake watch the American. Keep him out of the key. Once he gets in there, he can’t be stopped.’
Garrett and I went for the jump-up again. This time it was my turn to get at him. He spun the ball away to Callahan, one of his forwards. As the play moved downfield I put my left knee into his stomach and he folded. Of course he made a great play of being injured. The crowd booed, the referee looked back and blew his whistle. He came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder.
‘Two more of those, Sonny Jim, and you’re out of the game.’
Despite the warning, Garrett and I kept up our running battle. When the referee wasn’t looking, we had a quick bout with our fists. The game may have moved down the court, but all eyes in the stadium were on us as we battled it out. This time Garrett took the foul.
Both our coaches signalled Time Out.
I could see Garrett’s ear being chewed off by his coach. He was pointing at the American, Pedersen, and I got the feeling that the coach was angry that Garrett was spending too much time battling me and not enough time getting Pedersen the ball.
I wasn’t being let off lightly by Coach Wolfgramm either.
‘No more byplay, Tamatea, otherwise you’re on the bench.’
‘Garrett started it.’
‘And I’m finishing it,’ Coach Wolfgramm said. ‘If you want to take him out, do it on your own time and after the game. You’re losing your focus. Bring it back to the game.’
The second quarter ended with Te Aute still down at 44 to 36. But in the last quarter we closed the gap: the score narrowed 68 to 60. And the audience was just loving it. When I looked at the Maori girl she gave me a smile of encouragement.
Meantime, I had taken Coach Wolfgramm’s instructions to heart. Garrett, however, was still on my case, taking every opportunity to put in a rabbit punch, a couple of fingers jabbed at my groin, a poke of an elbow while passing. It was all I could do to keep my cool, and Coach Wolfgramm shook his head in warning.
‘Had enough have you, Hori?’ Garrett asked.
‘You’ll keep,’ I answered.
Then Garrett messed with me on an approach to the basket. The referee awarded him his second foul. One more and he was out of the game. Garrett was abusive. His coach tried to restore order.
Coach Wolfgramm was chuckling to himself. ‘Keep the reins tight, Tamatea,’ he said. ‘Waipukurau’s play is going to blazes, and their coach knows it. Garrett is never where he’s supposed to be. The American is still a danger. He’s still getting through. Force him into longer shots. Tie him up. Now go.’
2.59 p.m. No. 1 Basketball Court
By the last thirty seconds we’d made up points and the crowd was going crazy. At 70 to 68 we were down by only two. That’s when the coach decided to bring Sam the Man back into the game.
‘Time out,’ Coach Wolfgramm called.
I led the team over to him. The crowd was roaring so much we could hardly hear his instructions. My heart was thudding so hard, the blood racing in my head, that I had to shake it to clear it.
‘Three-point play, boys,’ Coach Wolfgramm instructed. ‘Ephraim, I want you to run the clock down to ten seconds. Sam, you run the baseline and pick up Tama’s defence. That will set Tama for the three-point shot. Ephraim, fake the pass to Sam but, instead, pass to Tama.’ Coach Wolfgramm was sweating. He was trying to stay calm. ‘Take your time, Tamatea. Just shoot the basket. That’ll give us the lead.’
I nodded. ‘Okay.’
Well, ten seconds doesn’t sound a long time, but when you’re out there under the lights and the crowd are off their heads, ten seconds can seem like ten hours. It’s only once it’s all over you wonder why it went so fast. Especially if you have lost.
The referee blew his whistle for the game to recommence.
Ephraim began to run the clock down. At six seconds left, he made his move. The Waipukurau team, however, had anticipated our strategy, because Ephraim had to force the pass to me, and Sam the Man couldn’t pick off my defence. I didn’t have a clear shot. The ball hit the rim of the basket and bounced off.
