MAORI IN SUBURBIA-II

Standing by the kitchen sink with tea towel in hand
A noise, coming from he knows not where, suddenly awakens in his brain
Another noise similar, from out his long—so he thought—forgotten past.
It is the women wailing at a tangi. But it is more than the women
Wailing at a particular tangi that he hears now.
It is the wailing of the women through the generations.
The past suddenly converging on him. Condensed in a moment.
And he is part of that past—the history of his people.
And again as at that tangi as a child
Tears welled up from deep within him and overflowed.
And for a moment he was no longer part of that suburban house
With its well-kept lawns and concrete path,
Its neat street with its neat-kept houses all about him.

Rowley Habib