Maungapohatu Te Maunga
Te Maunga

I AM

We trundled around the ups and downs of the forestry road over ridges and daring the precipitous drops on one side and then the other. I remember a man chopping wood in the distance - the axe swinging, hitting, but misaligned with the chop in my ears. I remember there was a wharenui and ramshakle buildings. I remember being told this is the last 'real' pa in the country.

A photo of the sacred mountain was taken, recently updated! I didn't then know about the diamond hidden there and the hope that the jewel sprung. We returned to the "real" road, and to the lake and ultimately back to the city. But with the mountain etched somewhere in a six year old's knowing.

Some years later I somehow caught an eel in a billy - I named him Charlemagne. Also here was a man with a kete who sat writing. Reportedly he wrote books about princesses, well that is what my sister said. Maybe one day I could write about Charlemagne.

A day or two later in a fairytale building now lost to the mist I stood entranced - "Ko Maungapohatu te maunga" it said in big white letters. I didn't understand it but I did remember.