Kāwai: For Such A Time As This

Monty Soutar

Bateman Books

Otago Daily Times, December 24th 2022

Better known for his work as a historian, Monty Soutar’s first novel, set in 18^th century Aotearoa, is a meticulously researched and beautifully written story inspired by the life of his tipuna, Rongo-i-te-kai.

Ngāi Haere chief Kāwhai’s hapu, Whānau-a-mate, live on the banks of the Ngāpō stream in the shadow of Hikurangi. Made chief at thirteen after his father was killed at Te Maniaroa by the Aitanga Nui warrior Taniwha, he has dedicated the life of his eldest son, Kaitanga, to avenging his and his people’s loss. The story follows Kai from his birth to his (probably) final battle, allowing Soutar to provide insight into multiple aspects of pre-colonial life: ceremonies accompanying birth, death, and betrothal; hunting techniques and cultivation practices; clothing and adornment; ritual and magic; weapons and warrior training. Some, such as tangihanga, are still recognisable in contemporary culture or because analogous customs are common (boot camp, it seems, is always boot camp). Others, such as the preparation of moko mokai, are less familiar. Yet, the novel brings them all to vivid, tangible life, painting a portrait of a highly capable and resourceful people living in accordance with the rhythms of the land and the season.

This is no utopia, however, and Soutar does not shy away from brutality and violence. Battles are described in vivid detail and form a self-perpetuating cycle: Kāwhai watches his father and uncles defiled by Taniwha and pledges his son to vengeance. Kai kills Taniwha’s son Whiwhi-rangi, and an Aitangi-nui boy devotes himself to settling the score in return. There is cannibalism too, not just the ritual consumption of the flesh of fallen enemies but also pononga (slaves), murdered and served to honoured guests in the name of ostentatious hospitality. As Soutar says in his author’s note, practices such as utu and kaitangata were a part of traditional society but are confronting and little spoken about. Although he has based this story on the oral histories of his own whanau to limit criticism to his own antecedents, it is brave of him to include these and other controversial issues.

He also deals deftly with the problem of language. Maori words and phrases appear throughout the book, some of which are explained directly: “whāngai or adopted children…kowhaiwhai or scroll panels”, and there is an extensive glossary, but for the most part, he adopts a less obtrusive approach. Chapters open with a whakatoukī in both languages, and characters frequently address each other in Māori, followed by the English translation in a way that feels natural: “Nā wai koe? Who do you belong to?” It is an approach that does not exclude non-speakers while allowing those with some familiarity to see how they map to one another.

Kāwhai is the first of a trilogy detailing the impact of colonisation on Māori across nine generations from the 1700s to 2018. Although undoubtedly dealing with hard truths, especially for Pākeha, it is a series whose time has come and on with the makings of a contemporary classic.