Page 2

Amidst the bushes my eyes zoomed in to the surroundings. I noticed growing in the bush a strange shape, a curving stalk with a bulb turned inwards. It was unusual, mysterious and beautiful and reminded me of the designs painted on the ceiling of our meeting house in Ngatira.

I remember being at the marae lying in the meeting house. I would gaze up at the panels adorned with patterns and think to myself how strange they looked. In a trance like state I would follow the lines as they curved and disappeared out of sight. I would stare for what seemed like hours at the painted heke panels.

I kept my eyes transfixed to the ceiling, scared to look down at the photos of the dead people that hung from discoloured old walls, afraid they would come alive and grab me. I was always comforted by the presence of my uncles and aunties who lay beside me snoring and making strange gargling noises.

Ignoring the old wrinkly faces whose images were frozen in time imprisoned by wooden frames I would refocus on the panels on the ceiling. Was it the shapes, or the spaces between the shapes, or was I going cross eyed? As my eyelids grew heavier and just before I went into a deep sleep I thought to myself, I’m going to paint patterns like that one day…… I’m going to paint a ceiling….. Time would stand still as my eyes traced the flowing lines disappearing into the nothingness.