Chapter five, in which Mahoe’s Dave the Cleaner is filled with a new spirit.
Yes, we can never truly know the ending of the story of the time when the children of the Mahoe tree rescued Dave the Cleaner. There are so many possible ways.
Perhaps Dave woke up and, “POP!”, his dream of turning into a liquid vanished. He was his usual self lying in bed.
Or maybe Dave dreamed Mahoe’s Dave The Cleaner was so real that he took over all the cleaning of the school and no one noticed? Can you imagine that? Yes, what if the children of the Mahoe tree had managed to create such a perfect copy of Dave the Cleaner than not even his Mum and Dad could not spot the difference at first glance?
It’s a fun question. We know the Mahoe children who created the new Dave the Cleaner were 5 years old, just starting school and still had curious, enquiring spirits.
Perhaps this might mean their Dave the Cleaner would have a different spirit and see the universe in different ways to the old, adult Dave the Cleaner? Maybe they might look the same but act in very different ways.
So let us imagine the story of the Mahoe children continues and they managed somehow to create a perfect copy of Dave the Cleaner.
Let us imagine that when Mahoe Dave the Cleaner thought about these questions about his spirit he began to wonder. “Hmmm, come to think of it, what is the story?” he asked himself, “Perhaps I do feel somehow a bit empty and incomplete. Yes, what is my best, true spirit? I will have some fun and set off on a search to find, well, I didn’t know exactly what.”
So Mahoe’s Dave the Cleaner set forth on a journey to where he did not know to explore what he did not know in the universe.
Now the story goes the children of the Mahoe tree had somehow given him new, clear eyes to see with, a new, sharp nose to smell with and new, keen ears to hear with.
The first thing he discovered was everything seemed so fresh and new. “How amazing all this is. It’s more wonderful than I ever remember,” he exclaimed to the trees, mountains, clouds and stars as he walked across the lands of Aotearoa. “Why does everything seem so new and yet so familiar from when I don’t know where?
How come the birds now sing so beautifully?
Why do raindrops on spiders webs sparkle with rainbows now?
What has changed in me? Who can tell me what is happening with me? How best can I enjoy this world?” he asked the universe.
No sooner had he asked these questions when Dave the Cleaner came upon the oldest known reptile on planet Earth sunning itself on a rock in the Sun. It only lives in Aotearoa and it was the tuatara.
“Aha Tuatara,” he said, “surely you and your ancestors have seen vast changes this past 200 million years. Speak to me with all the knowledge living in your bones from ancient times. Please tell me the secret to your amazing, long survival.”
Tuatara just sat there looking wise, so very, very wise. Tuatara did not answer. Perhaps it had not heard his questions. Mahoe Dave the Cleaner look closely at Tuatara’s head and noticed something very peculiar. Tuatara had no ears though it appeared to hear his voice. Indeed it cocked its head and seemed to peer intently at something on a distant cliff overhanging the Great South Pacific Ocean.
What could that something be? Mahoe Dave the Cleaner looked closely with his new, clear eyes at the object on the cliff top.
“I don’t know if you ever met old Dave the Cleaner,” he said to Tuatara, “Well I might look just like him but we are not the same. He would look with his dim, old eyes and only see a great tangled bundle of old, knotted ropes clinging to the cliff top above the ocean. He would assume they are ropes from the huge nets of giant fishing boats or they are from the sails of a sailing ship wrecked on the rocks long ago.
No doubt he would say they were thrown high up onto the cliff edge by storm force winds and waves.
However I see with my new, clear eyes that it is a tree – the Pohutukawa tree of Aotearoa. Some people call this tree the New Zealand Christmas Tree because it blooms myriad, bright red flowers with glowing yellow tips at Christmas time. For many it is a symbol of hope. That’s right eh ”.
Tuatara bibopped its head. It seemed to agree with him. It did not seem to be a sign of disagreement.
It now cocked its head on an angle as though listening hard to the Pohutukawa tree. So Dave the Cleaner listened carefully with his new, keen ears.
“Aha, Tuatara,” he said, “I bet old Dave the Cleaner would listen with his deaf, old ears and probably only hear the random chatter of sparrows in the Pohutukawa tree or maybe just the squawks and squarks of a rabble of birds squabbling over perches on the branches.
However I hear with my new, keen ears the calls of many different birds and they are all the same. They call like wind chimes in the breeze. Each and in turn the different birds call, “Why? Why?”, “What? What?”, “When? When?”, “Where? Where?”, “How? How?” and always “Why? Why?” again. Surely they call with the bell-like clarity of children, don’t you agree?
They remind me of the children of the Mahoe tree.”
Tuatara neither bibopped or bobipped its head in answer. Perhaps it stretched is neck a little. Mahoe Dave the Cleaner waited.
One hour. No movement. Just the occasional eye blink.
Two hours. No movement. Or so it seemed to Dave the Cleaner. He looked into Tuatara’s eyes. What were they peering at? The Pohutukawa tree? The calling birds?
Three hours. Still no movement but, wait, there seemed to be fewer wrinkles in Tuatara’s neck. Dave the Cleaner could see it had stretched its head out towards something more distant but somehow near. “Is that the reflection of smoke or a cloud of worry I see floating by in your eye, Tuatara,” he asked, “And why does your nose twitch so?”
Mahoe Dave the Cleaner sniffed the air, “Aha I detect smoke in the air.” he exclaimed, “I bet old Dave the Cleaner with his dimmed senses would only see and hear and smell the fires and smoke of distant ancient volcanoes whereas my new, sharp nose detects the fumes of factories and the gases of exhaust pipes all round. My fresh clear eyes see myriad smoking chimneys and pipes all round. My new, keen ears hear the roar and crackle of fires of all sorts and, oh, the calls of the birds in the Pohutukawa tree. Do you know who they call to?”
He studied Tuatara searching for a response. Did Tuatara wink or did it blink? Whatever, one eye still peered towards the Pohutukawa tree while the other swivelled towards the skies, or so it seemed to Dave the Cleaner.
There are few children who can look in two directions at once. However try as he might, he could not see both the tree in front of him and the heavens above at once. So he gazed to the skies and listened to the bird calls. This he could do.
He looked up at the moon and looked again. Each time he looked the moon seem larger and closer and browner and frownier.
“Why? Why?” a bird called.
And now he saw the moon’s rim glow pink and purple. The murky clouds seemed to twist the moon’s face in rage. Could it be the moon can speak?
Dave the Cleaner listened hard, so hard he did not know if he was hearing voices in his head or the sounds of the bird calls and winds in the trees or the moon. A distant voice seemed to be saying, “Why? Why? A thousand, million nights and even some days you ask why, why and I say I can never tell you why. No moon can tell you why. Why should any moon know why?”
“What? What?” “How? How?” “Why? Why?” the birds chorused and now
Dave the Cleaner suddenly noticed something else extraordinary. The sun had changed too. Usually this time of the day it was so white and bright it could blind humans if they stared at it for long. It was now dimmed and blood red.
“Woh, that looks like one angry sun. See how it pulses larger each time I look at it” he said. “Woh I fear it will crash down on us all. Not even an ant could hide to save itself.”
“What? What?” “How? How?” “Why? Why?” the birds still called and it seemed to Dave the Cleaner that the sun’s red, red face turned purple in places like a great, shouting mouth.
Again he strained to hear and again he could not be certain if he was hearing voices in his head or the sounds of the bird calls mingled with the swishes and hisses of the breezes in the grasses or the sun. Or was it the phishes and hisses of steam escaping the trunks of burning trees.
Again he thought he heard a small, distant voice somewhere perhaps saying “Ssss Why? Hssss How? A thoussssand million dayss you pessster me with you whatsss and your whysss. A thoussssand million dayss I sssay I don’t know. A sssun is jussst a sssun. It glows a few billion years and it goes.”
Dave the Cleaner turned to Tuatara and pleaded, “So help me, what’s the story? Am I hearing the distant voice of the stars, our sun and our moon or is it the sound of the winds in the trees and grasses or is it some part of me talking to myself or is it the voice of everything? Is it telling me the answers to my questions is my questions?”
Tuatara seemed to hear nothing, say nothing, do nothing. “Don’t you care? Aren’t you worried? ” Dave the Cleaner asked. “Hey Tuatara, are you still awake? Maybe I should give you a poke to check?…Whoops…just changed my mind. I just remembered your bite is as fast as it is strong and it grips hard for very, very long. Wait! You are looking at the ocean now, aren’t you Tuatara. What are you seeing? Woh. Just look at those huge waves. There must be an enormous storm way out to sea somewhere. Can you believe those waves? Words fail me.”
No words can express the awe Dave the Cleaner felt as he watched the great waves roll in and smash against the cliffs. Whooomphaaa. Whooomphaaa. Whooomphaaa. With his new, clear eyes he could see rocks exploding into the air with each Whooomph crash against the cliff face. With each long haaaaa the ocean drew back as though to study the latest holes in the cliff.
Soon the cliff face reminded Dave the Cleaner of the face of a giant with mouth open gasping and eye hollows gawping in shock at the actions of the ocean.
Each whooomph sent a blast of air, rocks and salt spray upwards with such force that the tuft of hair atop the giant’s great, wrinkled brow stood on end and performed a dance of desperation. In the moments of silence between the whooompshs and the haaas the tuft of bedraggled hair drooped down amidst the rain of rocks and ocean spray and he could hear the distressed calls of “What? What?” “How? How?” “Why? Why?”
“Wait a minute, taiho,” Dave the Cleaner cried to Tuatara. “The tuft of hair atop the crumbling giant’s face is really the Pohutukawa tree, the meeting place of all these birds. See how it now forms the shape of a question mark. Surely it is in grave danger.
And even as he said this, another huge wave rolled in. It hesitated, it hesitated, it hesitated long enough for another huge wave to arrive and climb up on its crest and together they hesitated long enough for yet another huge wave to arrive and surge up them. Together they formed what sailors call a “rogue wave”. It tottered as tall as the cliff face, paused, trembling high on its own force. The land around the cliff seemed to tremble, as did the Pohutukawa tree, as did the sky.
“Wow! I tremble too,” whispered Dave the Cleaner to himself, “and I am far away.” No sooner had he said this, then WHOOOOMPH…land, ocean, sky and the Pohutukawa tree became one.
The WHOOOOMPH was so ginormous its echoes WHOOOOMPH WHOOOOMPH WHOOOOMPH filled the long silence before the great Haaaaaaa began.
“Eyes open? Eyes close? Do I want to see what has happened?” Dave the Cleaner could not decide what to do. What would you do? He sat with his jawed dropped so wide open in awe that a herd of elephants could have wandered into his open mouth without him noticing.
Ever so slowly the land, the sea and the sky separated and a new sound began. Each WHOOOOMPH was followed by a strange Haaaasrustlerustle, the sound of rocks tumbling and rumbling and racing out to sea.
He opened one eye. All the gaping holes and furrowed wrinkles in the old cliff face? Gone! In their place? Bare, blank towers of rock as smooth and shiny as the blade of a butcher’s knife. And the Pohutukawa tree? Gone. In its place a new view of the distant ocean and sky. And the birds? The birds? They wheeled above in forlorn circles searching, calling for their ancient meeting place, the Pohutukawa tree.”Why? Why?”, “What? What?”, “When? When?”, “Where? Where?”, “How? How?” and always “Why? Why?” again.
“Oh, thank goodness the birds are safe,” Dave the Cleaner shouted to Tuatara in relief.
It was as though all the birds had heard him for as one flock they stopped circling and began flying towards him.
“What is happening, Tuatara?” he asked, “Quick, tell me, why are the birds all flying to us…ahh…I mean…to me?” For when he turned his head he discovered he was alone. Tuatara had vanished quicker than a blink of the eye. He was watching from that burrow, or that burrow, or that burrow and any of the thousands of burrows around him.
Dave the Cleaner turned his head back and now saw the brilliant-coloured flock of birds were very near him now. Something was strange. The closer they flew the less certain he was that they were not actually gay-coloured leaves or flitting flames or flakes of rainbow. He stared in wonder, gobsmacked, lost for words, entranced as the swirling kaleidoscope surrounded him. He blinked and you know the story. Yes, in that moment they had vanished.
Or so it seemed to him until he realized his mouth was still wide open in amazement. “Did I feel that?” he asked himself. “Did somethings ever so lightly touch the tip of my tongue? Somethings lighter than the softest touch of my finger on my tongue? Somethings lighter than the softest touch of my tongue on my lip? Somethings even lighter than the touch of my softest breath on my tongue? Somethings long forgotten and so familiar? Hmmm. I will from now keep my mouth closed with such care and I promise, I solomnly promise to treasure what those somethings are forever”.
Mahoe Dave the Cleaner stood up and turned to go. However he had taken but ten steps before he stopped and, you guessed it, he forgot his promise. He turned around, opened his mouth and called, “ Hey, thank you, thank you, Tuatara. Who knows how, when, why and which of you helped me find I know not what. Whatever, it’s a fine, fine feeling.”
Maybe, just maybe, a thousand tuataras in a thousand burrows blinked and winked as they watched Dave the Cleaner walk away singing with such a spring and a dance and a hop and a skip in his step. Maybe it was the wind in the trees or did they hear a song that sounded a bit like, “Hey, when’s a why and how’s a who and why’s a where and which is best….”
End Chapter Five
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Please note: this is a first draft script (Jan 2020) and prototype format of How the Children of the Mahoe Tree Saved Our World. I plan to create illustrations to complement each chapter as soon as possible.
Please enjoy tolerance – my diplopia means I struggle to read what I write.
This story is based on a true event. A class of five-year olds created the central plot. In the process they showed young children, unlike many adults, retain the vital spirit of inquiry and comprehension of the fundamental thermodynamics required to care for Earth’s atmosphere.
Some grand ideas and questions from Chapter Two
Idea: Pending 7 march 2020
Question: Pending
Chapter six Dave the Cleaner meets Dave the Cleaner
Chapter four When The Children of Mahoe Showed They can Save our World