Pātea Boys – Book review

I want to give this book to all the manu-ing bros and cuzzies who are living overseas to remind them what home feels like on the skin. Listen to me, I’m not even Māori. Airana Ngarewa just has that effect on me.

These short stories in Pātea Boys (Ngāti Pātea in the te reo version) are mostly funny yarns, bookmarked by vaping aunties, drenched with boys leaping into water for the sheer hell of it. Airana makes Pātea sound like the best place to spend a childhood, as timelessly cool as its number one hit: Poi E which has taken up residence on loop in my head and threatening to break through at inappropriate moments (actually, perhaps no moment is inappropriate for Poi E). There’s a tint of rose-coloured nostalgia cloaking the old town: harmless fun, boys besting each other: the meanest manu, the fastest race, the most near-death experiences, best prank. But it’s not all a laugh. We go back to a young girl running light-footed through forest in the dark, an ancestor of these kids, one who slips past the colonial forces to light a signal fire. There’s a sentient historic waka sunk on the river bank finally rescued from the mud after over a century by a couple of idiotic, bantering kids. Life is not all dive bombs and kai, but these are the things remembered.

Each story is primed for action. Here’s a great starter:

A rugged boy takes a three-point position, his Red Bands digging into the dirt. His brow is furrowed, his muscles are tensed and his eyes are burning a hole in the horizon. Over and over again, he hears a voice speak.
‘Koro’s watching you.’
A conspiracy of children line up beside him, each with their own unique appetite.

What a set up! The conspiracy get up to all sorts of pranks soon as they’re out of eyesight and our boy in the Red Bands races on. Great story.

Ngarewa has terrific first lines. Here’s another starter, one I found disturbing: Inside the red plastic tunnel of a playground nursed in the glow of streetlights, a young girl is hiding from her sisters. Got the picture? Individually nice words, chilling in their construction. But don’t be too alarmed, there’s always an auntie somewhere looking out for the kids. The little kids say ‘stink buzz’, which is about as rude as the language gets.

These are all Māori stories, packed with universal truths of a happy childhood. The important things are recognised: fun, friends, family, food. Same the world over. But Pātea has the unique charm of a small town Māori community. You ever want to know what matters to a Māori, what truly bluely matters, what lights a fire in their belly, what tides swell inside their heart, what morepork call endlessly in the light of their mind, ask them what they put in a boil up. Ha! And the banter throughout is hilarious. These kids have their own brand of totally uncool cool. They have swag, they’re showing their abs, showing their undies, farting, playing hip-hop and moonwalking across the tarmac. And throwing the biggest manus of course. Because in Patea, that’s simply the best way to spend the day.

Oh, and you get two books for the price of one: English from one side, te reo Māori from the other.