The Number 8 (13 page)

They said goodbye to everyone and dried themselves off before heading inside. They waited until they were safely in their room before saying anything.

“Duuuuude, do you think that his death is related to that case?” Asmir said, excited.

“Not sure, but it’s our first real lead.”

Asmir stood up straight and crossed his arms. “Look at you. You’ve got the terminology down-pat haven’t you?” Asmir joked.

“Terminology, that your word of the day? Eleven letters, that must be some sort of record.”

That wiped the smile right off Asmir’s smug face. He grunted and headed for the bathroom. They only had twenty minutes to get ready for the Maori village. Time to get a move on.

Dante made a point of being the first one on the bus. He was not getting good vibes from most of the group and somehow he needed to change that. Being on time was a start. Asmir, not so much. Everyone was on now, except him. He arrived five minutes late and looked a mess. But he was still not the last to arrive. Mel was and she looked flustered and a little upset.

“Sorry everyone, time to go,” she said sitting down.

There was a collective cheer. It was half sarcastic, half excitement. The village was twenty minutes away and they had some decisions to make.

“I need someone on this bus to volunteer to be our ‘Chief’ for the night. You will get special treatment all night…”

That was all it took for the hands to fly up. Almost everyone had their hands in the air.

“You didn’t let me finish. There are a few things that the Chief should know. Firstly, you have to stand still while they welcome you with the haka. Secondly, remember not to look into their eyes or be disrespectful in any way. They will take it as provocation. Lastly, do not start a fight. I promise you, you will lose. So who is still up for it?”

One by one, the hands dropped until there was no one left.

“So? Anyone?” Mel asked with a smile on her face.

“How about him at the back? The one who keeps making us late?” Carl said looking back at Dante.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks for offering though,” Dante replied.

“We insist,” said Richard Smith AKA Dick.

“Give it a rest, Dickie boy,” Asmir said, jumping to Dante’s defense.

“You know what, I’ll give it a shot. How bad can it be?” Dante said.

“Pretty bad, I reckon,” Dick chimed in.

Asmir got really annoyed by this. “Dick, do you know what a rhetorical question is?”

Asmir got onto his feet, his blood boiling. Dick responded in kind.

“Sit down, boys,” Mel said standing in between them. “There’s not going to be any fighting tonight.”

Reluctantly both guys sank back into their seats, eyes still fixed on each other. Dante didn’t really mind taking one for the team. This was the chance he had been looking for to get back in their good graces.

Mel turned to him. “Dante. Are you OK with that?”

“Yeah, why not. New experience and all that.”

“I think you will be pleasantly surprised, I kind of undersold it,” she said and winked at him. This made him feel uncomfortable, but he knew the intention behind it was playful.

So, as they arrived at the village, they spotted another two buses full of people pulling into the car park. This got the passengers excited. They had only been together a few days but already it had felt like they hadn’t seen an outsider since they had first sat down on those not-so-comfortable seats.

Outside was a scantily-clad Maori man tattooed on about 40% of his body. He stood about 6’3 and, if he wasn’t already intimidating enough, he carried a large spear. Mel looked over to Dante and beckoned him forward. Against all his instincts, he walked towards her.

“You’re our Chief. Lead us out,” she said.

He did as he was told. He walked down the steps taking extra care not to trip in front of this huge man. His face was tattooed which accentuated his sneer tenfold.

“You are the Chief?” he asked in a suitably deep voice.

“Um, I guess so,” Dante stuttered.

“My name is Rongo. Welcome to our village,” he said spreading his gigantic arms wide. “We will welcome you officially, with the other Chiefs. Come, you are the last to arrive.”

It was clear they took this procedure very seriously and Dante respected that deeply, so he followed Rongo to the entrance of the village. He didn’t wait for the rest of his bus. If he had to endure the bad things about being the Chief, he would sure as hell savor the good things.

“Here are the other Chiefs,” Rongo said pointing to a pale, sickly-looking Englishman and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Australian girl. Both greeted him with a nervous smile very similar to the one that adorned his face at that moment. “You can get to know each other inside, but first, we must welcome you. The three of you will stand together while our greatest warrior Pio welcomes you with a traditional Maori dance. If he deems you worthy to dine with us, he will let you in.”

“And if not?” The pale guy asked before Dante could.

“Then you will leave our village,” Rongo said, his voice deeper than ever. “The first thing you need to know is that you should not look Pio in the eyes. This can often be perceived as disrespect. Next, never ever laugh during his performance, once again it is seen as disrespectful. Thirdly, once he has finished his performance, he will place an offering on the floor in front of you. One of you will pick it up and the ritual will be complete. You will be welcomed in.”

“Which one of us picks up the offering?” This time it was the Australian girl who asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“Whoever Pio leaves the offering in front of. It could be any one of you, so be ready. Now follow me.”

They did as instructed. Rongo led them to a circular courtyard with wooden awnings on each side and large rocky steps directly in front of them. They waited in the center of the courtyard as members of their buses made their way in. Asmir and the rest of Dante’s bus kept to his left whilst the others went right. Once everyone was in, the hushed whispers died down and then an uneasy silence fell over the courtyard.

Rongo had disappeared. Dante could not see anyone else from the village anywhere nearby. Then, the music started. A low bass drum played out four bars of the same beat. Then a snare. Then maracas. Then came the singing, throaty but so naturally tuneful. The sound bounced around the courtyard hypnotizing the onlookers. Then, as if by magic, the source of the percussion appeared from the left and settled on the bottom row of steps in front of them. Big men, similar builds to Rongo and with equally as many tattoos. The male part of the harmony entered, shooting the Chiefs wary looks and flashing the whites of their eyes. Finally, from the right came the women, each one singing a unique part, that when harmonized formed something so beautiful that Dante was just staring, his mouth agape. Then, out of the shadows came Pio.

Chapter 25

Much like the others he was wearing cloth over his private parts and not much else. Over his shoulders there was a shawl made of woven straw and, just like Rongo, he was holding a large spear. He was nowhere near the size of Rongo physically but had much the same presence. He strode in, his eyes fixed upon the three Chiefs. He clearly hadn’t heard the rule about eye contact because, every time Dante looked up, Pio was staring right back at him. One side of his face was delicately covered with tribal tattoos, the other side had nothing. Pio came to a stop right in front of them. He turned slowly. By this point the music had stopped and once again he was stood face to face, eye to eye with them. Dante was doing his best not to stare but also not to look afraid. He never let his eyes catch Pio’s for more than two seconds. It wasn’t just the Chiefs that had been stunned into silence. The entire audience was staring on, not a whisper between them.

Then, as if choreographed to perfection Pio jumped high in the air and landed in a wide squat with his arms crossed in front of him. His left hand held the spear and the thumb on his right hand was touching his neck. The music started again, louder this time, more furious. Pio began to perform a version of the haka, not one Dante had seen before. He guessed that the one the All Blacks performed before a rugby match was a war dance and this one was more to do with welcoming guests. But when a guy is flashing the whites of his eyes and flicking his tongue at his guests, all the while moving his thumb menacingly across his throat, it doesn’t feel very welcoming at all.

Pio acrobatically threw himself around the circular courtyard, speeding up and then slowing his movements at will. The crowd was in a trance watching this performance. It was majestic, yet primal. A combination that is rarely found in the modern world. A ritual that may have been performed for centuries or longer. Dante felt uniquely blessed to be here. Even more so when Pio finished and laid the leaf of a fern at his feet. This meant that he had been chosen to accept the offering. Just to confirm, he looked over to Rongo, who nodded at him to proceed. Dante stepped forward and slowly picked up the fern leaf. He glanced at Pio and half bowed. It was instinctive, he hadn’t been told to. But he was pleasantly surprised when Pio nodded back. The ritual was complete.

Rongo strode into the center of the courtyard. “Welcome to our village!”

A loud roar went up and then some howls from the guys.

Rongo continued, “Your Chiefs will accompany myself and Pio into the village, then you may enter and explore our village. In ten minutes time, we will gather at the fire pit so that I may show you how we prepare this evening’s feast.”

Another cheer rang out around the courtyard. Dante, the skinny guy and the blonde Australian followed Rongo and Pio into the village, where both became much less intimidating and were only too happy to answer any questions. The three Chiefs were given a personal tour of the village. They met the women of the village and Dante made sure to compliment their beautiful voices. Everyone knew that the village was all for show and that these people did not actually live here, but it did not take away from the magic of the place. They had collections of old Maori heritage such as cooking implements, clothing and sculptures that could have been in any museum in the world such was the craftsmanship. It made little difference to him that one of the guys had a suntan from clearly wearing a shirt or that there were waiters in the restaurant who were fully clothed. It was an experience of a lifetime. It didn’t hurt either that he was being treated like a king.

As planned the three busloads gathered around the fire pit where a giant hole had been freshly dug. To one side was a large metal pot smoking furiously.

“Inside this pot we have chicken marinated with spices and some vegetables. But what is inside is not what is special about this meal, it is the way we cook it that gives it that smoked taste that we all love so much,” Rongo said gesticulating to his fellow Maoris who nodded in kind.

Two of them prepared the pot by putting a cloth over the lid and lowering it into the hole. Next, they threw soil on top of the pot until there was almost no smoke billowing up from below. Finally they put another two cloths over the soil until the smoke was not visible any longer.

“In about thirty minutes we will enjoy that,” he said pointing at the now covered hole. “But first we will go inside and enjoy a performance by our choir.”

He beckoned to Dante and the other Chiefs to follow him. They did as asked. Inside was a small stage and on it were a row of smiling women with instruments. They were quickly joined by a row of men also holding percussion instruments.

“The three of you will join me in the front row. You are our honored guests,” Rongo said.

They thanked him profusely and sat down to enjoy the show. It only lasted five minutes but it was wonderful. Following the show some of the younger members of the village decided to teach the Chiefs and a few of the others how to do the haka. Dante was already halfway there. He had watched the haka probably a hundred times in his life, so he knew the basics. But he didn’t know much of its the history and as the young guys taught them, they explained some of it. There were several different types of tribal dance and they were being taught the traditional war dance. Dante got it pretty quickly, Asmir, however was failing miserably. He was not well co-ordinated and it was on show for all to see.

The lesson didn’t last long because the food was ready. Rongo recruited some of the other passengers to dig up the chicken while the Chiefs sat at a high table with some of the village elders, Rongo and Pio. Dante looked and felt completely out of place. He was fully clothed and did not have one single tattoo on his face. But the elders did not make them feel like outsiders at all. They treated them like, for that night, they were part of the family.

“I have never tasted chicken like this,” Dante said, holding his stomach.

“The potatoes are my favorite,” said the skinny guy.

“It’s the way we cook it. Covering the pot, so that not one single bit of smoke gets out, is what creates that taste you’re all enjoying,” Pio explained.

“It’s the combination of the hot stones under the food and the wet sacks we put over the soil that creates the flavor,” Rongo added.

“Is there a word for this style of cooking?” the Australian girl asked.

“Hangi,” they both said together.

“Is this about as traditional as it gets?” Dante asked, so interested by this colorful culture.

“Yeah, this and some fish maybe. Anything you can hunt or scavenge,” Pio smiled, clearly proud of his knowledge.

They continued to laugh, share stories and some of the elders even told them some of the great legends of the Maori people. The stories of Maui the demi-god who lived in Hawaiki, the great love story of Hinemoa and Tutanekai and, the most fascinating to Dante, the story of creation from the Maori perspective. All deeply spiritual stories that Dante made sure to remember. But the night was coming to an end and it was clear that a lot of the passengers were tired. Dante could have listened to them speak for hours, but it was not up to him. It was up to Mel.

“OK guys, I think you will all agree that tonight has been a phenomenal success, so I would just like to raise a glass to the kind people of this village that took us in for a night and made us feel right at home!”