Ka mate! Ka mate! in Cardiff
October 9th 2007 13:39
Dejected Kiwis leave Cardiff
These last three days have been dark ones for Aotearoa. Now that the All Blacks have gone and taken our Rugby World Cup hopes with them, we’re drifting, desolate and bereft, like waka without guiding stars, through the airports and railway stations of England and France. Saturday night’s devastating loss to Les Bleus is on all Kiwi minds, in all Kiwi eyes is the same look of disbelief and on all Kiwi lips is the same litany of painful questions; how/ why did it happen? what went wrong? who’s to blame? did we choke or were we strangled? I’m as heartsick as the rest of them but I’ll leave the analysis and the accusations to the experts. I’ll hold instead to a few precious memories.
Friday night Cardiff, charged with excitement and optimism; cafes and bars packed with French and New Zealand supporters as well some Irish, who once had hoped to be here playing us; crowded streets noisy with banter, singing, yells of surprise as old friends’ paths crossed, chants of “Allez les bleus” or “All Blacks”; handshakes, wishes of “bon match’, or ‘good luck” and everywhere “kia ora”, eyebrows raised in the Maori salute.
Cardiff Castle
Saturday morning; red, white and blue, black and green queues outside Cardiff Castle; an impromptu game of Rugby on the castle lawn; Rugby fans pouring onto the city bus tour and milling on pavements outside the pubs; shouts, cheers and flashing cameras as the French team passed by in a big blue coach.
The French Rugby team arrive in Cardiff
Saturday afternoon; in the famous Angel Hotel, where infamous All Black Keith Murdoch punched a security guard and was banished from the 1972 tour, never to be seen again; pre-match warm up beers; the brotherhood of the Rugby jersey; exchanging the words of La Marseillaise and E Ihoa Atua, all-in French and Kiwi Anthem practice, then everyone agreeing that it doesn’t get much better than this.
The Angel Hotel
Saturday evening; the walk down to Millenium Stadium; vendors selling last minute merchandise from supermarket trolleys; a man with a stencil painting black ferns and blue fleur de lys on passing faces; losing one another in the crowd at the gates; finding one another in our seats, under the glare of lights inside the legendary stadium, where great Rugby moments are legion.
Millenium Stadium
The glorious beginning of the match; the passion of the anthem and the old, traditional Te Rauparaha haka with its crucial and ominous question - Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora! Will it be death or will it be life - buried in the kaha of the All Blacks performance; the soaring spirits of the first half of the match – ka ora! Ka ora!; the desperate hopes of the second, until the final whistle dashed them – ka mate! ka mate!
Saturday night Cardiff, the streets subdued, the life of the celebration crushed on both sides; sympathetic French, saying “Desolee (Sorry) shaking hands and heads, murmuring “Vous etes toujours le meilleur equipe du monde” (You are still the best team in the world) I found myself thinking then of the old Maori proverb. Mehemea ka waiho koe, me he maunga teitei (If you must bow down, let it be to a lofty mountain) And although I would normally deny the mountainous stature of the French, I have to concede that there, in the streets and bars of Cardiff, in the aftermath of the match, they were gracious, great, even lofty victors.
French supporters, Sunday morning, Cardiff
Some Kiwis will make their way home now, with disappointment and bitterness as their baggage, but many will go on, making the most of the rest of the tournament, for the love of the game. They’ll put their hopes perhaps on one of those last four teams and follow them through the confrontations and contests that are the essence of Rugby and of our passion for it, to the ultimate defeat or victory which is its end. Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!
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