Soon after Tane arrived at the University David saw how quickly the new lecturer became unpopular in the Department. Perhaps it is easier to befriend an outsider, and in his egotism David may have thought of himself as a benefactor.
Tane for his part was glad to have a colleague on the staff who did not cold-shoulder him. Whatever the cause, and motives are never entirely altruistic, these two lonely people became friends as well as flatmates.
That was how David got to know Tane’s story.
His brother’s death at the age of sixteen had had a profound effect on Tane. Hone’s illness and death had haunted him as he grew up. But the older Tane grew, the more he had wanted to ask questions. The mountains which Hone had visited on his last trip had held a secret which he felt he owed it to his brother to investigate. The conviction had grown in his mind that he would be a scientist, and geology seemed the logical choice. But his upbringing in Maoritanga still lay at the heart of his thinking.
To David there were depths in Tane, strange contradictions which he could not fathom and which he had neither time nor inclination to explore. This was a potential source of weakness in the friendship. David basically accepted things as they were, following uncritically his father’s conservative values. He tolerated – or perhaps endured – Tane’s ideas, but never understood them.
Tane misinterpreted David’s toleration as acceptance.
When Tane had resigned three years ago, it was not surprising that there were some in the Department who were personally relieved.
Yet there were unusual circumstances about his departure from the University. Tane had not just resigned – he had completely disappeared.
Since Tane had left, David had not tried to find another flatmate. Instead he had tried to fill up the gap in his life by total absorption in his work. His research increasingly took over his life. Once or twice it had crossed his mind that Tane would not have approved of his present project, but he was no longer around to ask questions. David had always been close to his father and looked upon him as a role model, though he was nearer in nature to his gentler mother. After she had died of cancer, and even more after Tane disappeared, he drew closer to his father. John Corbishley, who by then had his own real estate business, encouraged him, especially in his research, and helped out with funds where necessary. He even cherished the hope that one day his son, who was an only child and seemed to have business ability, might leave his University position and take over the business he was working hard to build up.
The radio announcement had brought it all back. He glanced at his appointment book. Was it just a coincidence? January 12th. It was this day, three years before, that the incident had occurred.
That November Tane had planned a major trip. Although he did not usually give any indication of where he was going, David knew that because of his brother’s death the Raukumara Ranges behind Te Kaha were of absorbing interest. He had come into the sitting room quietly early one night and found his friend sprawled on the floor on top of what appeared to be a series of NZ inch to the mile Topographic maps. David estimated six sheets and, seeing the shape of the East Cape and the far eastern Bay of Plenty coast, he knew that it was indeed the Raukumara Ranges. But Tane did not notice David at first for he was peering intently at a point near the middle of the maps. Suddenly he tapped with his finger excitedly. “There it is,” he said almost to himself.
“What is?” said David.
But Tane seemed displeased at his interruption, quickly folded up the maps and left the room.
On January 12, Tane returned from his trip. David sensed that he was more than usually unsettled but, again knowing his friend, did not question him on his trip. He surmised, however, that it had been in the Raukumaras. After David had prepared the dinner, they sat down together. Tane did not eat but sat abstractedly gazing out the window, moody and morose. Suddenly, he banged his fist on the table, and looked at David with those fiery eyes under the tousled mass of dark, curly hair.
“Why did he go there? He was mad. He should have listened to the elders.”
“Are you talking about your brother?”
“He broke the tapu, don’t you see. That’s why there was a curse on him. But he didn’t know what he was doing.”
“But surely that’s only a superstition.”
“Superstition!” The word was screamed at him. “Is that what you call it? Do you not know that the land itself can suffer? You Pakeha don’t understand. You think you can do with it whatever you bloody well like.”
“Oh yes,” said David. He had chosen and cooked the steak medium rare to his satisfaction; he cut it meticulously with his steak knife and ate it slowly, savouring each tidy, tasty portion.
Tane was on his feet now and had started to wave his arms as he sometimes did when he was excited. He made up for his short stature by his swift movements and his dark, animated features. His voice also was rising. “You Pakeha governments and your bloody filthy-rich corporations are just like children playing with toys. You just want to prove that you are men by the number of your fellow human beings you can blow to pieces at one time.”
“I can’t quite follow you.”
“Can’t you see that it is you and I that are really to blame?”
“I don’t understand.”
Tane was pacing the room now, his voice annoyingly strident. “You and I are geologists. We give them their toys, the resources to build their weapons of mass destruction. But these minerals don’t belong to us. They are part of the mauri, the life force of the earth. They are taonga which we must respect. They all have their own tapu. We are kaitiaki, guardians for them.”
David was by nature calm and unemotional. He usually just listened and let Tane’s diatribes wash over him. Tonight, uncharacteristically, he felt himself getting angry. It might have been Tane’s lack of appreciation for the meal he had so carefully cooked or the totally unscientific and superstitious way he was using the Maori words or the swearing at the development corporations whose contacts he found so useful in his research. He put down his steak knife. “Don’t you think you’re getting a bit carried away?”
“What do you mean?”
Though he had never argued with Tane before, the question goaded him. “Geologists are only doing their jobs,” he replied. “It’s not for us to question what the minerals we discover are used for. Every geologist has a duty to be loyal to his country.”
Tane thrust his face right in front of him. The sweat of a long tramping trip assailed David’s nostrils unpleasantly. “Duty! Loyalty! You can’t be a proper scientist unless you think! Your loyalty means not thinking about what you are doing.”
David was hot now and controlling himself with difficulty. “I can’t understand why every time you think you have to be disloyal.”
“You don’t even think! You just copy your father’s opinions.”
The attack on his father was the last straw. The friendship had always been under tension on this level, and now the long smouldering fire burst into flame.
He completely forgot his steak and stood up. “Thinking! Thinking! You’re ruining your career. Listen, Tane, you’re not a politician. You’re a geologist. For God’s sake, keep to rocks!”
Tane had looked up at him in surprise.
David had been remorseless. He even pointed with his finger as he did sometimes when he was lecturing. “My advice to you, Tane, as your friend – and I’ve been anxious about you for some time – is this.” He was a mild man but his voice shook with a white-hot anger which he had never known before. “Forget your ideas and get on with your job!”
Tane had not replied. He had drawn back from David and stood quite still, his hands hanging limp and helpless at his side. His face was pale, and he had looked, just looked. It was almost as if he was seeing David for the first time. Then he had gone out of the room and closed the door.