56 pages • 1 hour read
Alan DuffA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
After driving Jake out, Beth reaches out to her community to enact change. She begins with the children who have been left behind by their parents. It is gradual, but eventually she convinces the children to trust her and come and see her if they are hungry, in need of affection, or in need of a good cry. Beth gets investment and support which allows her to turn her initiative into a project called “Self-help.” Her living room becomes a learning space for trades and DIY skills, and her community comes to rely on her for more than just food. When a child takes an overdose of glue, they come to her for aid. When that child dies in her arms, she decides to expand her project to include a visit from the chief, Te Tupaea, every Saturday so that the Māori of Pine Block can learn about their culture, history, and language and decide to change.
Plagued by violent and gory nightmares, Jake has become unhoused in the aftermath of Beth’s accusation, moving from one offered bed to the next every night. Slowly, he loses the respect that he’s cultivated. Friends no longer speak with him and fewer people are willing to offer him a bed for the night or free drinks at McClutchy’s until none do at all. He collects debts from friends whom he cannot pay back. His alienation is gradual but especially decisive when he attempts to work for McClutchy’s as a bouncer. Arrogant and gunning for a fight, he oversteps his bounds as an employee, beats up a customer, and gets fired. The only place that seems to treat him the same is the Chinese restaurant he now frequently visits; however, they give him less food in his spare ribs order because he no longer inspires fear.
When Jake’s luck with lodging runs out, he takes to walking the town of Two Lakes until he hits Samuel Marsden Park. He ruminates over the alleged injustices done to him by Sonny, Beth, and others while sparing a few thoughts for his children—Grace especially. One day, he enters McClutchy’s and walks up to the people with alcohol addictions, or “alkies,” fishing for a way to come and live with them since he has little recourse left. They intimate that the house and booze that they have are communal, and if Jake wants to live with them, he needs to adhere to the rules of their household. Jake agrees.
Te Tupaea recounts Māori history (in English) to the more than 100 people gathered at Beth’s home, and the crowd begins to understand that what they were taught in school was never inclusive. They’d been taught English history, which never showcased the events, peoples, and decisions made by the Māori when they faced off against English colonizers. Te Tupaea explains what the Treaty of Waitangi was meant to be: a contract between equals, not a concession of their rights and lands to the English. He performs a haka, “a culturalized way of saying: Fuck you! I am me! I stand here, I fall here” (174). He explains what mokos (tattoos) meant for the Māori of old: a symbol of warriorhood, chiseled into skin for months without sound or sight of the pain that it caused. He declares that many of them have been living through their own pain, but their addiction to beer has made them not Māori.
Meanwhile, Nig is receiving a face tattoo in the moko style from a tattooist who is not Māori and does not know the meaning of the designs that he replicates, only their intricate detailing. The narrative returns to Te Tupaea, who admonishes the people at the gathering, calls them lazy for blaming all of their ills on the Pākeha, and inspires them to do more for themselves. Their pride is bolstered. With Beth as an example of a woman who has gone through hardships and emerged stronger on the other side, they think that perhaps they, too, can do better.
A child by the name of Cody McClean is spying on Jake in the woods. Jake attempts to strike up a conversation, and Cody refuses to approach him at first. The promise of Chinese food for Christmas, however, gets the child to respond. Soon, Jake admits that he lives in his self-made hut in the park because he’s lost his home once again—this time the place that he secured at the “alkies’” house for allegedly not wanting to drink sherry in the morning with his new roommates. As they talk, Cody reveals that he and the other street children have been watching him and have seen him in his most vulnerable and emotional state. That night, Jake offers Cody a place in his hut to spend the night, and the child hesitates, implying that Jake might have a history of sexual assault. Still, Cody agrees, and he and Jake share cuddles for warmth—something Jake has never done with his own children. For once, Jake’s dreams are not excessively violent.
Instead, Nig has terrible dreams of who he imagines to be his ancestors. They disown him for being of “cowardly” blood and knowing fear, and they beat and break the bones of a man who has Nig’s face.
Mavis begins teaching hymns to the people, and Te Tupaea teaches them war chants in their language. They build additions to their newly plowed and sown rugby field on land that the Tramberts donate. Rumors of Beth’s movement spread through Pine Block. Although many show up to Te Tupaea’s Saturday performances and teachings, others cling to the life that they have always known. One day, Te Tupaea decides not to show up for their meeting. While the people at the gathering scramble, Beth takes the lead and begins the chant, with the others eventually joining. Te Tupaea watches from afar and witnesses the transition and the change in the community taking hold.
Meanwhile, Nig gets caught in a gang fight against a gang called the Black Hawks and gets stabbed in the thigh. Jimmy slaps him for getting involved in the altercation because Nig was meant to escort two people to the courthouse that day and failed to do so. Tania is likewise no longer interested in Nig and offers herself to other men. Jimmy dons his full gang regalia and gathers his gang members to wage a war against the Black Hawks. As their convoy passes by Beth’s new house, she knows that Nig is with them and his future is bleak.
Nig dies in the fight, and his family and gang members (as well as police to stave off further gang warfare) gather at the Two Lakes cemetery. Te Tupaea and Mavis accompany Beth as she is greeted by mourners. Tania is among them, along with other Brown Fist members, and she tries to impart her feelings. She only manages to hug Beth. Mavis leads what seems like most of Pine Block into sad hymns before Te Tupaea begins the send-off in chorus with 400 other voices. In the distance, Jake weeps and looks on as his eldest son is laid to rest. Cody is by his side. The people of Pine Block finish their hymn, said to be “more mighty than the departing rumble and roar of Browns” (192).
In this ambivalent resolution section of Once Were Warriors, Duff questions whether there is one solution to address the struggles of the Māori of Pine Block. Although he highlights the healing nature of reclaiming one’s pride and cultural identity, he nevertheless underlines that intergenerational destructive habits and restrictive social infrastructure are hard to overcome. Beth’s story, in one aspect, is positive. In Chapters 14, 16, and 18, Beth undergoes her most significant character development when she becomes a leader of her people with her Saturday meetings and community outreach. She is immensely successful, and hundreds of people eventually reaffirm themselves as Māori. On the other hand, addiction and engrained habits are hard to change, and there are those who will not commit to the effort that Beth and Te Tupaea demand:
The other half, the ones who didn’t wanna give up their all-day boozing, well they went on as always, and their kids still ran wild at all hours, and y’c’d hear their parties raging half the fuckin’ night and fights break out and yellin and that old usual shit stuff (186).
Duff’s description about behavior going “on as always” echoes Grace’s observations about parties and illicit behavior going “[o]n and on and on into this lovely night” (20). This highlights The Impact of Internalized Intergenerational Trauma that continues by the end of the novel despite community intervention.
But while Te Tupaea claims that he does not care about them because “they got their chance” (186), the ending of the novel is more ambiguous. Many are left behind by adopting such a perspective, including Boogie, who, though able to perform a waiata for his sister’s funeral under Mr. Bennett’s tutelage, is never seen in the story afterward and returns to the state-run Boys Home. Duff portrays someone missing out on this cultural education. Furthermore, while regaining a cultural identity and community is presented as a vital undertaking, it does not overcome the barriers and social structures, like street gangs, that were created in the absence of a culturally cohesive community. Duff uses Nig as an example. Although Nig takes steps to incorporate part of his culture into his life through a moko on his face, this is obscured by the fact that his tattoo artist is not Māori. His dream of being beaten to death by his ancestors implies that he is seen as pantomiming rather than fully engaging with Māori culture: “And their tattooed faces were deeply etched, whilst his manhood markings were but lightly marked” (183). Much like Te Tupaea’s uncompromising attitude, the ancestors in his dream deem his cowardice unacceptable and worthy of a violent death—a foreshadowing of the death he meets in a gang war. Jake is also removed from such a movement. Jake’s experiences of being unhoused in Chapters 15 and 17, reflect his marginalization from all communities, be it Beth’s house, Pine Block, McClutchy’s, the house of people with alcohol addictions, the city of Two Lakes, and most of the street children (apart from Cody). His ending is the most ambiguous, and Duff does not resolve this story arc. Duff suggests some redemption with Jake’s care of Cody, but also suggests that Cody is in danger of being sexually assaulted.
What Beth’s movement creates is a focus, a structure by which those able and willing to change have the possibility of doing so over time: “[Y]ou sitting there, eh, and looking at these Maori fullas and the odd woman [Beth], and thinking Yeah, maybe I can, you know, better myself” (185). The faltering syntax at the end (“Yeah, maybe I can, you know, better myself”) implies that the change will be gradual and not smooth. The movement cannot fully address the street warfare, The Effects of Socio-Economic Inequities, and judicial wrongs experienced by everyone—at least, not within the novel’s temporal constraints. Duff implies through the music motif that the cultural renewal that Beth propagates is a path of hope and potential, built on inner strength: “The last refrains of sweetsad hymn more mighty than the departing rumble and roar of Browns” (192). It is a community pillar that allows members to feel support and stability when faced with, in Beth’s case, the death of her second child and having “to look at those who had murdered, by association, her eldest son. (My Nig.)” (190). Duff ends the novel with the implication that tragedy will continue to strike and more hardships will need more solutions, but reclaiming one’s identity and renewing one’s community is the start.