ka kite broooo
Kakite Bro by Willie Davis
A moment of silence. Heads bowed and tears quietly spill to the floor. Hupe strings and runs and is wiped away.
‘Aue!’ screams your heart.
‘Aue!’ scream your memories.
But all that can be heard is the shaking of your body as you sob quietly. I battle inside. I scream.
‘I want to wail.’
‘Not here, Tama.’
‘I want to sing. It’s my way, it’s the way Maori have always done it.’
‘Not here, boy.’
‘Why Dad?’
‘We’re different, boy. They have their own way – we have ours.’
‘But, Dad.’
‘Shhh, boy.’
‘Thank you, school.’ The speakers explode and words smash the silence. You open eyes and people breathe again.
‘The funeral will be held tomorrow, all those who wish to attend the service make sure you see your form teachers.’
‘Stand, school.’
We do, and the teachers file out.
‘School dismissed.’
The school hall empties and I sit and think.
‘Hey, Tama.’ yells Pete. ‘Wipe your nose, you big sook.’
I stare and yell: ‘Piss off, Pete’
‘Come on, Tama, I was only joking.’
‘Not in the mood to laugh, bro.’
‘Sorry, Tama.’
‘Yeah, whatever…’
‘Just leave you alone again, okay.’
‘Yeah, good idea!’ I snap, and off he slinks.
An empty school hall and me. Rows of chairs, rows of photos all of students of the past.
‘I guess they’ll have to put your photo up there, too, bro.’
Darryl Parker – Winger in the 1st XV 1993. I remember and cry some more.
‘You’d better not take off before I get to say goodbye.’
No Darryl. No reply. Not even a grunt.
‘I’ll drop in later. I promise. You always were a quiet bugger.
‘Tama.’ echoes Mr Watson’s voice in the hall. ‘What are you doing here? Who are you talking to?’
‘Nothing, sir. No one, sir.’
‘Pull your socks up, tuck in that shirt and wipe your nose, boy.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Now get to class. You’re not going to use your friend’s death as an excuse to skip class now, are you?’
‘I wasn’t , sir.’
‘And, boy, try and keep control. You know, like what you Maoris say … how does it go … keey …
A moment of silence. Heads bowed and tears quietly spill to the floor. Hupe strings and runs and is wiped away.
‘Aue!’ screams your heart.
‘Aue!’ scream your memories.
But all that can be heard is the shaking of your body as you sob quietly. I battle inside. I scream.
‘I want to wail.’
‘Not here, Tama.’
‘I want to sing. It’s my way, it’s the way Maori have always done it.’
‘Not here, boy.’
‘Why Dad?’
‘We’re different, boy. They have their own way – we have ours.’
‘But, Dad.’
‘Shhh, boy.’
‘Thank you, school.’ The speakers explode and words smash the silence. You open eyes and people breathe again.
‘The funeral will be held tomorrow, all those who wish to attend the service make sure you see your form teachers.’
‘Stand, school.’
We do, and the teachers file out.
‘School dismissed.’
The school hall empties and I sit and think.
‘Hey, Tama.’ yells Pete. ‘Wipe your nose, you big sook.’
I stare and yell: ‘Piss off, Pete’
‘Come on, Tama, I was only joking.’
‘Not in the mood to laugh, bro.’
‘Sorry, Tama.’
‘Yeah, whatever…’
‘Just leave you alone again, okay.’
‘Yeah, good idea!’ I snap, and off he slinks.
An empty school hall and me. Rows of chairs, rows of photos all of students of the past.
‘I guess they’ll have to put your photo up there, too, bro.’
Darryl Parker – Winger in the 1st XV 1993. I remember and cry some more.
‘You’d better not take off before I get to say goodbye.’
No Darryl. No reply. Not even a grunt.
‘I’ll drop in later. I promise. You always were a quiet bugger.
‘Tama.’ echoes Mr Watson’s voice in the hall. ‘What are you doing here? Who are you talking to?’
‘Nothing, sir. No one, sir.’
‘Pull your socks up, tuck in that shirt and wipe your nose, boy.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Now get to class. You’re not going to use your friend’s death as an excuse to skip class now, are you?’
‘I wasn’t , sir.’
‘And, boy, try and keep control. You know, like what you Maoris say … how does it go … keey …