Just Good Friends (31 page)

She laughed. “I am that, I’m afraid. But let’s change the
subject. Tell me about your—your iwi, right? Your tribe. Were your ancestors
from this area too?”

“Yeh. This whole area is the Waikato district. After the
river we’re driving beside now. You’ve heard of that.”

“I have. That much I know.”

“And that’s my hapu as well. My subtribe. The Waikato. But
the iwi is a larger group. The Waikato are part of the Tainui iwi. Which comes from
the Tainui waka, part of the Great Fleet.”

“The group of canoes that came to New Zealand in the
beginning.”

He nodded again. “That’s the story. That the eight great
travelling waka came from Hawaiiki, the homeland, six hundred years ago, and landed
in the Bay of Plenty. Then they spread out, each waka sailing to a separate
area to settle. The Tainui ended up on the west coast. Sailed up the Waikato.
And over time, the different hapu, the subtribes, developed out of that larger
iwi. The Waikato were the group that settled inland here, close to the river.”

“But there’s more than the iwi and the hapu,” Kate said. “The
word I always see in the paper is whanau. They’re always talking about
somebody’s whanau being at the hospital, or somebody being farewelled by his
whanau at a funeral. It’s got me confused. It’s your family, I know, but it
seems like it goes beyond that.”

“It’s your extended family. Which extends a long way, all
the way out to second, third cousins. Anyone connected to us. It doesn’t have
to be a blood tie. A Maori can have hundreds of cousins, all part of our whanau,
and all important to us. We know who they are, because we grow up knowing our
whakapapa, our genealogy, at least to some extent.”

“I’m beginning to see why being an only child is so foreign
to you,” she said. “I have to tell you, just that group back there was pretty
overwhelming to me. I can’t even imagine what you’re talking about.”

He laughed. “You should see us at the marae, then. The
meeting house. All the kids running around, the aunties and uncles. One thing a
Maori never has is a shortage of family. Family and the land, that’s what
matters most.”

“‘
Whatungarongaro te tanga toi tu whenua,’”
he
quoted.
“‘As man disappears from sight, the land remains.’ Not in the
Pakeha sense, that we own it. But that we live in it, are part of it. That it’s
part of us. That’s why every iwi has a spiritual connection to a specific mountain
and body of water.”

“And let me guess. Your body of water is the Waikato.”

“You’re listening,” he said approvingly. “That’s right.”

“Waikato-taniwha-rau.
He piko, he taniwha.
He piko, he taniwha.

Waikato of a hundred taniwha.
At every bend a taniwha.”

“The taniwha are powerful spirits. Monsters, sometimes. But
you can use the word for a chief, too. The taniwha of the Waikato are supposed
to be powerful chiefs, guardians of the tribe. The river is part of our mana,
our spiritual power. Because when you’re Tangata Whenua
—
a person of
the land, Maori, your connection to the land is as important as your ancestry,
your connection to your people. We don’t see ourselves as standing alone in the
world, or separate from it, the way Pakeha do. Each of us is—you could say a
strand in the web. As well as our bond to the land, we’re bound to those who
have gone before, our ancestors. To our whanau, all our family ties here as
well. And we know that those who come after us will be bound to us in the same
way.”

“And that still matters even now, those traditional values?”
she asked. “I have to say, that surprises me. That it seems so central to your
life.”

“It’s pretty deep-seated, that you’re Maori. Even if we
aren’t fluent in te reo,
we know the songs and legends, the proverbs. And
because family’s so important, we grow up surrounded by those values and
beliefs, and they become part of us.” 

“Part of New Zealand too, some of them at least,” Kate
observed. “That’s not exactly the record indigenous people have had in other
countries. I wonder why that is.”

“Because we didn’t lose, that’s why. Different story. The
founding document of New Zealand isn’t a constitution. It’s the Treaty of
Waitangi. A treaty between equals, not the Maori chiefs submitting to the
Crown.”

“I’ve heard of the Treaty, of course,” she said. “And that
it was still enforced. But I didn’t realize that part of it.”

“Maori are pretty hard to defeat. We got loads of practice,
didn’t we, all the tribes fighting each other over hundreds of years. We’ve
always been good at going to war. Not to mention that everyone spoke the same
language. That was massive, that the tribes could communicate and work
together. And you know, even after the Treaty in 1840, there was still
resistance, right here. The Waikato campaign of the Land Wars, the Maori
fighting against land confiscation. The last bit of the railroad to be put in
was through here, because there wasn’t a final peace—or any Pakeha allowed to
settle here, either—until the 1860s.”

 “But anyway. That’s why te reo is one of the two official
languages of Aotearoa, and why Maoritanga is as integrated as it is into the
culture. Because we didn’t lose, back then. And we’ve kept ourselves from
losing ever since. There are still issues, of course. Maori are still poorer
overall, less educated, don’t live as long. And all the social issues that go
along with that. But we’re not on the margins either.”   

“Isn’t it a problem, though,” she asked him hesitantly, “when
you have that kind of cultural connection, to date someone who isn’t Maori? Everyone
was so welcoming to me today. Are they actually upset, though, and not showing
it? Your mother, especially. At least I’m not blonde. But not exactly Maori
either.”

“You’ve got a Maori heart, though. A warrior’s heart. And like
I said, kinship ties aren’t just blood. I’m not pure Maori either, and neither
are my mum and dad. Around two-thirds of Maori kids born these days are mixed,
in fact. There’s been so much intermarriage over the years. Not just with
Pakeha, but with the Islanders as well. I have some Samoan in me, on my mum’s
side. Which is good. Made me bigger. And a good quarter or more Pakeha. Reason
I don’t have a Maori surname.”

“Why is that? All the intermarriage? Seems unusual, for such
a proud culture.”

“Why d’you think? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re
good-looking.”

She laughed. “You’ve got me there. No argument.”

“And speaking of being good-looking,” he went on. “There’s a
banquet and awards ceremony next Saturday for the NZRFU. Want to go with me,
let me show everyone what a gorgeous girlfriend I have?”

“What’s the . . . the whatever you said?”

“En Zed Rugby Football Union. The awards for the season.
It’s a major. And I’d like to take you with me.”

She was already shaking her head. “It’ll be in the papers,
then, right? With pictures, I’ll bet. Sorry. I’d like to go, but I can’t.”

“Whyever not? Thought we weren’t keeping this a secret
anymore. And you can’t be worried about how you’ll look. If you wear that dress
you wore last night, I promise, you’ll be beautiful.”

“Thanks. But I can’t take the risk of my name—not to mention
my picture—showing up in the paper. I’ve worked too hard to stay hidden to risk
that now.”

“What, you’re worried Paul will see it? How likely is that,
at this point? And anyway, I’m here, aren’t I. Even if he sees a photo and
flies all the way over here, unlikely as that seems, he’s not going to attack
you with me around.”

“Yes, but you won’t be around, will you? You can’t protect me
if you’re in Argentina. You aren’t with me all the time anyway, even when
you’re here. And he’s a stalker, Koti. That means he watches and waits for his
opportunity. And it also means he’s obsessed. I’ve been gone more than six
months now. A long time. And a couple months ago, remember, he was still
looking for me. I’m not going to draw a big red arrow on a map and show him
where to find me.”

“Right,” he sighed. “I’ll go by myself. It’ll be boring,
though. If you change your mind, let me know.”

She looked across at him with a puzzled frown. “You wouldn’t
really want me to put myself at risk, would you? Just so you’re not bored at
some banquet?”

“Nah,” he grumbled. “Course I wouldn’t. If you really think
there’s still a risk, of course you should stay home. But I don’t want some
secret girlfriend that I can’t take out.”

“You don’t want me?” she asked, startled. “If I can’t go out
with you?”

“Didn’t say that,” he sighed. “Sorry. It’s hard for me to
believe there’s still any danger, though. Not after all this time. I think you
might be overreacting, don’t you?”

“You sound like everybody else. I thought you understood better
than that. The average stalker does this for almost two years, Koti. This guy
isn’t normal, and you can’t judge him by normal standards. He wanted to kill
me, and he still does. I know it. I can feel it. And I want to stay alive. Even
if you have to go to dinner by yourself.”

“Sorry,” he said again. “You’re right, it’s hard to imagine.
Wanted you with me, that’s all. Wanted to show you off.”

“I’d like to have seen you too,” she assured him. “You’ll
just have to come over afterwards and show me how gorgeous you look all dressed
up. Plus for that booty call.”

He laughed reluctantly. “There is that. Reckon I’ll make it
an early night. Dress code, though. No sheep pajamas.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll surprise you, how’s that?”

“Anticipation,” he agreed. “My favorite thing.”

Koti shifted restlessly on the bench. He’d known he wouldn’t
be starting the game, of course. But he’d hoped for more than fifteen minutes
of playing time against the Wallabies in this first test match. This wasn’t the
kind of progress he’d thought he was making. The kind he needed to make, if he
were going to justify staying here.

He thought back with dissatisfaction to the conversation
he’d had with his agent a few days earlier.

“I’ve heard from Leicester and Northampton, both asking
about you for next season,” Bruce had told him. “As well as Perpignan, that I
mentioned earlier. A French team would likely offer you more, but any of those
teams would pay well. Are you interested?”

“Don’t think so,” Koti answered. “I’m well suited here just
now. But don’t tell them no yet, either,” he decided. “I need to see how I go,
these next weeks.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Bruce cautioned. “Your form’s been
good lately, especially your performance in the final. The further out we get
from that, the less negotiating power it gives us.”

“I know that,” Koti told him irritably. “But I need time to
think it over.” 

Now, watching the All Blacks put the finishing touches on a
convincing win over the Wallabies, he wondered again. Was he wasting his time
here? So he had his game jersey. How much was that worth, if he were going to
play this little? Wouldn’t he be looking at it, next year or ten years from
now, and thinking, 15 minutes on the paddock, 65 on the bench?

He hadn’t been happy in England before. But the money was
good. And being here, if he weren’t selected next season—how was that going to
feel? He’d made it onto the squad. But was it enough to make up for what he was
giving up?

It was true, he had ties here. Ties he’d miss if he left. Would
a few years away really matter so much, though, in the long run? Maybe he was
being stupid, turning his back on this opportunity. He could look into it more,
at least. That didn’t mean he had to do anything about it.

“Find out what they’re offering,” he told Bruce on Monday. “We
should know, at any rate. I haven’t made any decisions yet. But I’m thinking
about it.”

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked him that evening. “You’re not
usually this quiet. You haven’t even given me a hard time about overcooking the
kumara.”

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Tired, maybe. Jet lag.”

“Jet lag,” she said flatly. “Right. It’s a three-hour
flight, Koti. And I’ve never seen you like this. So come on. Tell me. It’s the
playing time thing, isn’t it. Being on the bench.”

“Yeh,” he admitted. “Can’t seem to get a look in.”

“That’s not really true, though, is it? You did play. It
seemed to me you did a good job, too. What does the coach say?”

Koti shrugged. “Still on the squad, for this next game in
Jo-burg. And also still not starting. Much of a muchness, isn’t it.” He opened
his mouth to tell her about his conversation with Bruce. Then shut it again.

“What?” Kate asked. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

How could he talk this over with her? She wouldn’t
understand how frustrating he was finding his lack of progress. Wouldn’t
understand how he could think about leaving again. And she’d want to know what
it meant for the two of them. His mind shied away from the thought. Time enough
to think about that. He didn’t even know that he was leaving yet. No point
upsetting her with something that might never happen. He’d leave it, for now.

“Kate. I’m glad I caught you before you left for work,”
Hannah told her the next Wednesday. “Because I’ve had a great idea. Do you want
to come to Wellington with me on Friday night? It’s going to be my first-ever
trip with Jack. After South Africa last week, and with Buenos Aires coming up
so soon, I figured I’d get brave and take him. This is the one trip I’m sure we
could do. Even if he cries the whole time, it’s only an hour. If you came, we
could hang out together on Saturday before the game, and I could show you the
city. What do you think? Doesn’t it sound fun?”

“It does,” Kate said cautiously. “But I’m not sure it’d be a
good idea for me to go. There’s something weird going on.”

“Weird how?” Hannah asked with concern. “With Koti, do you
mean?”