Intersecting Lives

This is a story about two women whose lives took different paths. When I was in my twenties I had a small catering business in Taranaki.  Through it, I made many friends. One was special. May was a little bit older than me and when she came into the coffee lounge (that’s what they were called back then), she was surrounded by friends laughing and sharing their thoughts about voluntary work they had just done at the museum nearby.

As time passed, I realised the voluntary work was an effort to ensure the artefacts of her iwi (tribe) were preserved. I had no appreciation of how important it was to preserve centuries old history because mine spanned one generation. The rest of it was in England and unknown. I later came to understand we create our futures out of our histories.

I was drawn to May that day because of the laughter. There wasn’t a lot of it in my life.  As they chatted over coffee and a cake, a strange kind of loneliness settled over me. These were true friends who were unafraid to talk about any topic. Perhaps May saw my loneliness because she invited me to join them.

May started dropping in more often and we talked about topics that only trusted friends share.  I belonged to a spiritual community and felt under pressure all the time to be a virtuous, hard working woman in order to earn my place in heaven. Why on earth I was so worried about that at that age, I have no idea! On looking back it seems ridiculous. But that was the way my friends and I were . . . trying to commune with a greater being. This being did not emanate from Christianity.

Despite my greatest efforts, I became aware that I would never measure up. God’s greater purpose was too demanding for me. I started drifting away and spending more time with May who allowed me to be myself. I began going to marae hui (gatherings) at Parihaka.

Gradually, as trust built I came to know the Parihaka story. It had been told to only a few and certainly I would have been one of the first Pakeha to hear it, along with Dick Scott, who later wrote Ask that Mountain. 

Something deep within me was calling. All my life, my father had made it clear he expected me to go to university. After he died, it was as if he stood on my shoulder urging me to ‘get on with it.’

One day, afraid I would lose courage; I packed up everything with my young daughter and moved to Waikato so I could start University. I offered no farewells. At the same time, Dick Scott’s book, Ask that Mountain came out backing up the story I had heard. His book contained newspaper clippings, photographs and first-hand accounts. The poignant image of Te Whiti o Rongomai and Tohu Kakahi being led away by the constabulary through 2,000 still and silent followers will never leave me. What power these men had to keep their followers from retaliating despite their breaking hearts. It was a definition of leadership I never forgot. Soon after, the constabulary razed the village to the ground, damaging taonga (treasures) and destroying crops. This story gave me context to May and her friend’s commitment to preserving taonga at the museum.

The years that followed were full and busy for me as I carved out a career.

Thirty years later.

As a Master of Creative Writing student I returned to Parihaka during a Peace Festival. As I was researching my novel I was meeting someone who would show me around the place once so familiar to me but now full of gaps due to time.

While waiting for him to return from a dinner break a group of laughing women sat beside me. The sound took me back to the days in the Coffee Lounge. Feeling awkward I quietly sat. A woman turned and offered me a piece of pineapple. Not having had a drink for much of the day, I took it gratefully. She turned back to her friends. As I listened, I recognised one of the voices and the giggle.

‘May?’ I tentatively asked.

May turned back. At first she did not recognise me. Then her face lit up and she asked where I had been. Sadness stabbed me. Without realising it, my sudden departure had hurt people I cared about.

May took me down to Te Niho, the wharenui where I first heard the Parihaka story so I could do my research for the novel I planned to write. We shared time and I once more departed, believing I would see May again.

I wrote my novel and it was published as an ebook. I printed a copy, had it bound and sent it to May - a gift to thank her for her guidance.

The book came back. May had passed over, had gone beyond the veil (te arai) late last year. I felt the sadness that comes with terrible loss. I had, in my busy life never found time to keep connected to May, a person who touched my life and changed the way I saw the world forever.