Where the Octopus Waits

By Barry Brailsford

Koro, the old one, is the Keeper of the Sacred Lore. Seven elders gather in his little seaside shack to try to chart a path for the tribe’s survival, a path that will bring together the ancient and the new: a knife-edge dangerous course.
Confronting their people with the old tribal mantra...
"we are of the sea and the sea is of us" they issue a brave challenge. It will send their Stone Seekers to the deep snows of the mountain trails, their Tree People into the primeval forests where the tall trees honour thousands of years of growth and their Navigators to the Long Tides where the wildest of seas contend.
Now, ancient tribal truths, so tragic they have been hidden for centuries, have to be revealed. While they cannot change the past, they realise they can heal the past, but only if they face its painful truths. That pathway to redemption has been too long denied. Only by washing the blood off the stone and making an epic voyage can the tribe survive.
Above all else we know... if we lose our story we lose our dream and if we lose our dream the spirit dies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barry Brailsford
• Release date: Oct 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301617777

Barry Brailsford

Barry Brailsford, New Zealand, graduated MA (Hons) in History from Canterbury University, was a member of the NZ Archaeology Association Council and a Principal Lecturer at the Christchurch College of Education. In 1990 he was awarded an MBE for his contribution to education and Maori scholarship. Since 1990 he has been writing full time. His work is a journey through the wisdom traditions of indigenous Pacific peoples.

Book preview

Where the

Octopus

Waits

by

Barry Brailsford

Book Two of the

Wisdom Seeker series

Smashwords Edition

Barry Brailsford

Praise for Barry Brailsford’s books:

Barry journeys into the strength, power and spiritual wisdom of indigenous peoples. His work honors the precious knowledge placed in his hands by our elders.

Tuti Hinekahukura

Elder of the Maniopoto tribe of New Zealand

Author of A Gossamer of Wisdom

Barry makes unique and instinctive use of the magic of words beyond the capacity of all but the most talented authors. His deep knowledge creates a profound resonance between past and present.

Hamish Miller

Author of It’s Not Too Late, The Sun and the Serpent,

The Dance of the Dragon and co-author of In Search of the Southern Serpent.

Barry combines mythic majesty with deep and potent philosophical content. His work is charged with primal power and spiritual delicacy.

Jean Houston, Ph. D

Author of A Passion for the Possible and A Mythic Life; Learning to Live Our Greater Story.

"Wonderful. Here ancient traditions come together to challenge artificial boundaries."

Anne Wilson Schaef, Ph. D

Author of Meditations for Women Who Do Too Much and

Native Wisdom for White Minds.

Published by

STONEPRINT

StonePrint Press, New Zealand.

www.stoneprint.co.nz

[e-mail]

©2012 Barry Brailsford

Barry Brailsford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Permission for readings at occasions of celebration is freely offered

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Graphic design and cover: Renzie Hanham

Cover photo: Graham Wood

Photo of Barry: Rob Tucker

Octopus illustration: Cecilie Okada from

Wisdom of the Four Winds

Ebook conversion by Peter Harris

www.ebookuploader.com

Dedication

This work is dedicated to two people who left us before we were ready but in their time influenced many in remarkable ways.

Maruhaeremuri Stirling of Te Whanau-a-Apanui, Te Whanau-a-Maruhaeremuri, Ngati Porou, Ngati Kauwhata, Ngai Tahu and Ngai Tuahuriri greatly enhanced the mana of her people and others far beyond these shores. Maru, a wonderfully gifted trail companion and friend, helped carry pounamu to the great circle of twelve Native American tribes to help mend their sacred Hoop of Life. It was a brave journey made by five.

Hamish Miller, a true Scot, a fine author and friend, left a wonderful body of work that added new dimensions to our understanding of earth energy lines. His courage, integrity and endless sense of fun brought light and insight to those he met on the way. He urged us to keep an open mind on

the mysteries in the world around us and to be kind to each other and the planet.

From the Author

The author asserts that many of the characters in this novel exist, that they are not a figment of his imagination. He knows Koro very well, travels with him often, knows Hemi and Aunty Jane by other names, meets Boots frequently and has walked with the Star Walkers.

Koro affirms the truth of the old lore shared. It’s not conjured up by an overactive mind. It is founded in an ancient school of learning that now allows wisdoms of the past to be shared. It is part of what the elders call

‘The Returning’, so it is older than old rather than New Age.

If you think this novel is set in Aotearoa/New Zealand you are right. However, imagining the shack’s location is up to you. Finally, if you see yourself in these pages that’s okay. Wandering is not the exclusive right of old age.

A Warning

Alas, this book contains no steamy sex scenes or coarse language, is utterly devoid of gratuitous violence and offers no expert, unwavering advice. It addresses no contentious religious or political issues with authority and is not filled with dark, fear-ridden news. In addition it celebrates no celebrity or sporting figure and is produced without the blessing of a major sponsor.

If you are brave enough to cope with that, you are invited to read on. Here you will discover the ‘old sciences’ that our ancient ancestors called ‘wisdom’, the profound knowledge they called ‘sacred lore’ and an intuitive dimension of life that they named the ‘knowing’. All have stood the test of time and the ravaging tides of the ages. This ancient lore speaks to us because we are of it and it is of us.

So this book is about remembering who we truly are. It is for you, no matter what your colour, for it is above and beyond matters of race. It is bound in universal truths that never die, old truths that still retain their power.

I am Octopus

I am the whirlpool

Born of the caverns of the mind

I am the challenge

Set across the path of our kind

I am the learning

The Navigator sails to find

I am Te Wheke

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 / The Poker Club

Chapter 2 / Old Players with Plans

Chapter 3 / The Great Gathering

Chapter 4 / Gaining Momentum

Chapter 5 / Recovering Lost Lore

Chapter 6 / Calling the Crew

Chapter 7 / On the Stone Trail

Chapter 8 / Te Wheke — the Octopus

Chapter 9 / Blood on the Stone

Chapter 10 / Days of Redemption

Chapter 11 / The Leaving

Chapter 12 / On the Whale Trails

Chapter 13 / Where the Octopus Waits

Chapter 14 / Riding the Shadows

Epilogue

Author’s note on the history shared

Glossary

Also by Barry Brailsford

CHAPTER ONE

The Poker Club

Six came. The usual number. All were senior elders of the little village by the sea. Three grandfathers and three grandmothers who had outlived their partners. They all came with dreams they wanted to keep alive. But their way was to quietly discuss tribal matters across Koro’s old round table as they played poker. Gathering in his old shack for the first time in many months there was plenty to share. It was early in the new year.

Koro welcomed them with all the enthusiasm of a young boy on his birthday morn. Times were hard but their humour was always high. They believed the sea that swept mountainous waves into the bay today would provide. It wasn’t a question of food, for there was plenty. A well- set net or a well-baited hook soon filled their baskets. Their youngsters were good sea hunters. No, while having food in storage, dried or preserved, was a matter of pride, it was not enough. Nor was a clever mind, although they had room for plenty of those. They needed to plan for more. Needed to bring old knowledge to the fore and use it to save their village, and beyond this bay, their tribe. That was the Poker Club’s agenda today.

‘First things first,’ announced Tui, who was named for a beautiful songbird and lived up to its spirit. ‘Is that the kettle I hear whistling on the fire, Koro? Of course, you’d expect a coffee after slogging away gathering the extra chairs from the shed and baking a cake. But I don’t smell it. Another failed cake day, hey!’

This episode never changed. Koro always had the kettle boiling on time and never attempted to make a cake. Tui always made the tea and coffee and arrived with a delicious cake, as did others. Seafood offerings and giant sized sandwiches saw them through the day. Food was never short on poker days.

Tui’s expectation that Koro should offer a cake was played out on each occasion. Both had been without a mate for some ten years. A deadly flu’ swept through the village and carried them away on the same day. The cake thing was her way of saying I’m still here and waiting. Koro replied with a chuckle, ‘Sorry Tui, no cake today, but who knows when an old man like me might get around to it. There’s always hope.’

When the cards came out, the agenda would be quietly placed on the table. While the games were filled with occasional squeals of delight and much laughter, throughout the play they threaded the issue of the day. Their disciplined minds never slipped into gossip or allowed their focus to really stray. Within the shack sat knowledge bequeathed from generation to generation, over thousands of years, to ensure the survival of the tribe.

‘Koro, how are you after your fall in the mountains?’ asked Hemi, a very dear friend. Few were closer to the old one. ‘Heard you slipped on hard ice when your spring froze over after early snow. Blood everywhere they say and a long trail of it back to your hut where you collapsed. Head blows can be serious.’

A sigh followed, and a brief silence as they remember Hemi’s youngest boy who fell to his death in the high alps in the southern island.

‘I’m great. That was nine months ago. Lucky for me Huia and her man turned up… saved by my long lost granddaughter… but you all know about that. It’s good to be back. I’m happy to bring our team to seven again. But I need to know what’s happening. I’ve heard rumours but little more.’

Aunty Jane, who was aunty to everyone no matter what their age, was the oldest at the table. Her passions in life were cricket and rugby, always had been, since the days you could only follow big games on the radio. Seems she was good at both as a young girl but in her teens gave playing away. Bare-foot cricket in the summer and bare-foot rugby in the winter were the village kids’ games. Gender had nothing to do with who might play. The local school was too small to exclude anyone. When they gathered like this she often got the ball rolling before the cards came into play.

‘Koro, the new State Highway bypass has diverted so much traffic away it’s having a big impact on the village. We used to complain about too many people in the bay. Now we complain about too few. We only have a dozen shops but they provide good work for our people. Now the café that used to overflow is struggling as is the bakery with its delicious Maori bread, cakes to bribe for as well as cheese straws and other biscuits that were as good as our mothers’ baked.

‘The grocery store is in dire need of customers. We were the convenience store for those who suddenly remembered things forgotten in their rush to leave the city. Little items that soon built up on the till. Our grocery store is an-everything-you-might-need kind of place and more. And it did very well out of travellers who purchased our hand- knitted jerseys made from our hand-spun wool. They fell upon our local craftwork like vultures. We couldn’t meet the demand for bone carvings, pounamu amulets and paua shell necklaces. Now it’s like you can’t give them away. Then there were the wonderful paintings sold at the café. The petrol station is closing because of the new one on the main road.

‘This bypass is tearing the heart out of the community. That’s the economic report but it is merely a backdrop to the effect of this on the young. We need to generate work for our people, give the families hope and find ways to hold the young here before the drift that’s growing becomes a floodtide that will strand them on the shores of the big cities. Ae, stranded, jobless, alone and in despair.’

Aunty Jane ended her story and nodded in agreement as the pack was handed to Koro. He shuffled the cards in a very professional way and then sent them flying around the table to settle in front of the players. They now switched into poker mode and began to play. Two games later they stopped. This was their way. The issue had been laid out. Then they gave it space.

‘Koro, we have prepared big roadside signs to erect on the new highway. They are attractive works of art that will divert some tourists our way. When the road authorities approve them, they can be up in a few days,’ explained Wiremu. His family ran the café and bakery so he was determined to do whatever he could to keep his five grandchildren close.

They played a quick hand in silence. Everyone knew signs were necessary but on their own would not be enough. Many of the smaller villages were dying. The cities grew and the outlying settlements withered away. Only those who created new initiatives of real substance won through. All knew the bypass had merely brought to a head a reality that had been creeping into their lives for decades. Death of the village by a slow bleed had been replaced by an arterial cut that was terminal.

‘What did our ancestors do when all that mattered in their lives was threatened?’ asked Tui.

‘They didn’t give up,’ said Aunty Jane as she took the cards in her hands and gave them a sharp rap on the table to set them straight. ‘Moreover,’ she said as the cards flew again, ‘Neither will we. Kia Kaha! Be strong, have courage and look the facts in the eye.’

Koro smiled. ‘Ae, your message is clear. And the eye image is apt. We need a vision, a wide ranging vision that reaches into the heart of our village and touches those beyond, reaches out to the nation and even the world.’

Silence. Cards were tossed aside and replaced.

‘Four aces should do it,’ Koro suddenly announced, as he slapped his cards down at the end of the hand. ‘Does any one have a fifth up their sleeve? No! My game I think and time for a break, maybe even time for another cup of something and a little cake. When that’s done let’s gather outside. There’s something I’d like you to see.’

vvvvv

The sky had cleared to a brilliant blue, which was mirrored in the wild rollers as they smashed ashore, a blue enhanced by the flash of white that curled off the cresting waves. The receding tide had swept clean the sandy foreshore. All the debris of yesterday had been carried away. Gulls swept by riding the wind then curved back to front it and hover in place. Standing close to Koro, they took in the majesty of nature at play.

‘If our traditions hold true, and the chants we still say mean anything, our ancestors arrived on these shores in the kind of storm that hit so hard last night. I thought my shack would be carried away. Wind, rain, lightning and thunder all had their say. They rode such a terrible storm, rode it ashore in the dark of the night. Ae, I love to return to their story, embrace the storm and gather courage from the journey they made. They sailed across the widest of oceans to make a new life in a distant land. Voyaged with a vision for their children and their children’s children.

‘Has that vision been lost forever or merely been set aside? I ask you, where does it now reside? Are we the dream makers, the vision keepers not only for the village but also the tribe?’

With those words Koro looked into each face in turn then quietly turned and walked inside. The others stood looking at the distant horizon where the sea met the sky then following Aunty Jane’s lead gathered to the table again. In silence she shuffled and dealt the cards. The game went on but everyone was playing by remote control. The atmosphere had shifted, the dimensions that opened to them were of this day and days long gone. Flames of hope born of ancestral connection warmed heart and soul and lifted the focus of the mind.

A game ended and the cards were put aside. Koro nodded, sought the consent of all to proceed, paused then chanted ancient words that slowly fell away until silence covered all. He was taking them on a journey into the realm of the ancestors.

An observer might think them asleep but in the trance-like-state they embraced every sense was vitally awake. Traversing the deepest trails of the mind, accessing tribal memory, seeking guidance from those who risked all in days long gone to ride the tides, they placed themselves in peril in the interests of the tribe.

Together they were moving beyond time into a realm that defies science, a space where now meets yesterday with a power that bridges into tomorrow. To detach from the power of the seven joined, to fall away alone was to go beyond return. On Koro’s call they journeyed back. Seven returned as one and nodded to each other and smiled.

‘So, as it was placed for them long ago, it is given for us today. We are of the sea and the sea is of us,’ announced Aunty Jane. ‘We are called to meet the Great Storm in the spirit of the old ways. Sounds exciting but how do we bring shape to the words we all heard.’

‘The challenge is to make those values work for us today,’ responded Hemi.

‘But it rings true,’ offered Boots, a man of action not words, the quietest in the team. Only his mother had ever used Rongo Tane, his given name and she died long ago. The story goes that when but a toddler he refused to take off his brand new boots to go to bed. Anyway Boots is Boots and happily answers to that name. He claims he once met a man of similar age named Soxs. They shared a beer on the strength of that and had a good laugh.

‘Are we asked to find our future on the ocean,’ offered Wiremu, who happily answered to Worry when with his friends. It was a term of affection and respect for in the Poker Club thoughtful doubters, those who offered the awkward questions, had their place. He balanced those who felt all obstacles could be easily swept aside. Their collective power resided in the balance of talents. This they knew and in that openness won through again and again to guide the tribe.

‘Ae, that’s for us to discover and if the old blood still runs true, it’s up to us to find an answer,’ stated Koro.

‘Courage moves here, courage bound to the sacred lore of the sea. But does the courage needed still abide?’ asked Tui. ‘It’s a long time since our people focused on the tides.’ Then putting aside that serious tone she smiled and said, ‘Seems some men today can’t even bake a cake or so I’m told.’ Her gentle laughter continued as she turned to Koro for an answer.

He broke into a broad smile and to move them on took up the pack and dealt another hand of cards. Soon after they stopped for lunch. Koro was filled with hope for he felt they had made the first great breakthrough. Many challenges would face them in the days to come. The long journey had just begun.

vvvvv

It was Kowai who spoke after the food and plates had been tidied away. Being but sixty-two she was the youngest in the Club. Her talents were many. She was a crafty poker player, a skilled risk taker with a face that was hard to read when the stakes were high. Kowai had risen to great heights in government service and gained the respect of those in the seats of power in Parliament. She retired early and returned to her village family to wrap her arms around a host of grandchildren. When they gathered in Koro’s shack, Kowai tended to speak last, preferring to wait until the others had contributed.

‘Are we all holding the same vision and committing to the same course? I know we felt the Wairua move, felt that special connection that told us the spirit of the ancestors came alongside. But what do we make of… we are of the sea and the sea is of us? How do we build a better future in the power of the sea? How do we act on the words and rekindle the flame of hope?

‘There are still enough fish along our shores to feed the people but we cannot harvest them commercially. That’s not possible. So I put that aside and look at those words again and ask that the vision be spelt out.’

‘Aunty Jane, if I might offer a few thoughts,’ said Koro. ‘As a tribe we are at the razor’s edge. What we face in the village we face all along the shore and the forests beyond. We adapt to western ways and seize with both hands the wonders of education and some truly excel. But those who do not adapt become the children of the lost. We shudder when we think of the young ones who walk with such despair they find solace in alcohol and drugs. We despair when our children and grandchildren take their own lives.

‘For years I have been saying to our people, if we lose our story we lose our dream and if we lose our dream the spirit dies. You know this, see it played out in tragic ways again and again. You see some become so filled with a sense of alienation, that they see no place for themselves in this world and leave it. Alienation is a terrible word filled with a heap of pain. No one should feel alone. That has never been our way. Family is the core of our being and tribe the gathering of the same. Awhi, nurture and support for those of our blood used to be our basic lore. We are adrift on turbulent seas of change. We have lost something vital, which we need to reclaim.’

‘Ae, we have lost too much of our story,’ said Wiremu with an audible sigh. ‘How do we compete with TV, twittering moments, texting mania and exciting video games? These captivate many of our young and hold them in a powerful embrace. They are not a just a passing thing. Their appeal is understandable and they are here to stay.’

‘Is our vision strong enough to compete?’ asked Kowai, who continued to seek clarity and commitment to outcomes that would be both real and attainable. She began to sense Koro and Hemi were holding something back. Sensed an under-current of purpose that awaited its moment. She’d sat through too many high-level government meetings to be wrong about that. So she looked at Koro and smiled. ‘This vision has to be very strong if it is to capture the imagination, not only of the village but also the tribe. In fact it needs to speak to the whole world. The global meltdown, that’s hit so many states, calls the peoples of the planet to re-evaluate what truly matters in life. The world is in a bad way.’

Now all thought of returning to the cards was put aside. Kowai had raised the vision stakes so high, they knew their timeworn strategy of engagement and disengagement no longer suited the moment.

‘Truth is paradox,’ offered Koro with a smile. ‘Adversity gives birth to opportunity, a challenge ignites hidden strengths, impending disaster fires the belief that nothing is beyond hope. We stand at the crux of paradox today, the razor edge of decision. So I ask any with thoughts to add to share them now and when all have spoken I have a dream to share and a commitment to make.’

Tui broke the silence that followed by offering to bake Koro another cake if his dream lived up to the expectation his words had created. Boots said he had nothing more to offer. Wiremu and Hemi smiled in a way that said the floor was Koro’s. Kowai knew she had brought them to this moment and was happy to have done so. Aunty Jane turned to Koro, reached across the table and took his wrinkled hand in her own and whispered an ancient prayer. ‘We have looked to distant horizons and let our minds travel the many realms of time and waited on the spirit of our ancestors. The words that came to us were not new, they were older than old, truer than true and are in our face every day. Yet, that moment of affirmation, that cry from the past that said — we are of the sea and the sea is of us shone anew. Yet, there was even more.

Koro continued. ‘It’s so easy to forget who we are, to turn our back on strengths born of our ancestors. We are of the sea means we are of the blood of the Star Walkers who used the stars to bring them home after incredible voyages of discovery. We still hold the chants that map the ancient star trails to this land and our homelands of long ago. We fear not the pull of the waves and the powerful flow of the Long Tides, the great ocean currents that sweep across the Pacific. We still hold them close and understand where they go.

‘We are of the Whale People who follow the Long Tides from the breeding waters of the tropics to the frozen seas of the Antarctic in the circle of the seasons. The Whales are the keepers of ancient ocean lore that serves again and again. We are of the Dolphin People who bring their laughter to the tides and teach us there needs to be time to play. We are of the Water people who thrill to the sound of the waves. Those who carry the old knowledge of the Sea Hunters, who fish the outer tides, serve on our fishing vessels. And our Sea Gardeners still nurture the shellfish beds of the inner tides. All these families make up the Sea People aspect of the tribe. We know the blood of the ancestors holds true within these families. We see that in our older ones and I believe we can awaken it in the young.

‘Yet, while we are born of the sea, we know Papa-tua-nuku, our Mother, is of the land that embraces the sea and provides with another hand. So we are also of the Stone People who honour the power of stone and shape it to make sharp adzes to carve the hull of the waka. We are more