Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush

I’m still feeling dizzy. Although it has been a long time since the wonderful day of my sister’s birth/a little holiday America likes to call Independence Day, my night was just too strange to go unwritten. Sit back and rewind your watches 2 weeks—you’re going to relive the evening of July 4^th, Kiwi style.

For the 4^th, after volunteering a bit of time in Rotorua, my orientation group (all 60 something of us) loaded on the buses for an evening spent at a mock Maori village, meant to teach the Maori lifestyle and traditions to its visitors. It was extremely interesting to learn about their history, watch their performances of song and dance, and gorge on some delicious food at the “Hangi.”

After the evening, we loaded back on the swaying bus. I say swaying because I was sitting in the very back row, and got the full experience as the bus rocked dangerously side to side while the rest of the students thundered on.

Our Maori bus driver, who we called Mark even though his real name contained 20 more Maori words in it, was really hyped up. He had enjoyed himself at the Hangi, and performed a Haka at the end of the night, entertaining crowds with his ability to bulge his eyes almost right out of his head and wiggle his tongue to no avail. This technique of bulging eyes/outstretched tongue is a Maori intimidation tactic and often used during their songs, or at the very least, the Haka. A Haka is basically a chanting pump up dance performed (usually only by men) before going to war, or more commonly, before Rugby games (which to the average Kiwi, is basically the equivalent of war anyway).

As Mark started the bus, he started talking about his cousin “Broch” (pronounced Brrrr-ah-gh-ck the ghck being a mix between a -ck and a gutteral more throat hacking german style -gh). I was more than a little confused as he continued asking if we all knew who this Broch guy was.

“You all know my cousin Broch, right? He was adopted into a Hawaiian family. Hawaiians and the Maori both migrated from the same place. We are cousins. Broch and I are cousins. Broch!”

I looked around and most of the other students seemed to be as confused about this cousin Broch business as me.

“Broch! BROCH! BROCH OBAAAAMA!”

The realization hit everyone at once, the bus erupted into peals of laughter as Mark continued,

“YOU WILL ALL SING THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER FOR MY COUSIN BROCH! YOU WILL STAND UP AND SING FOR MY COUSIN!”

A weak version of the national anthem began, and was immediately interrupted by Mark.

“IF YOU DO NOT STAND UP AND SING FOR MY COUSIN, YOU MUST COME UP HERE!”

He then menacingly whipped the bus door open, insinuating a non-participant’s fate.

He started up the Anthem again, this time a more rousing tone was used. The front row stood up immediately, as they were directly in the line of fire. A wave rose in the bus as each row stood, belting out the lyrics. I caved and stood for Mark’s cousin, despite my body insisting not to stand in the dangerous sway. I even pulled out some Madrigal harmonies to accompany the Patriotic tune.

When we finished, everyone sat down in their seats, anxiously waiting to see what was next to come. Sure enough, Mark wasn’t finished with us. He made us sing Karaoke to some American Pop songs, and then started up “The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round” for us all to sing. Once we reached the verse “the people on the bus go up and down,” of course participation was once again required and threatened with ejection if not given happily and fully.

We started curving into a roundabout as Mark told us he had one more song for us to sing that we would all know.

Suddenly he started belting out “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush” as he passed each exit from the roundabout, circling in it again. The bus seemed to speed up as his singing reached a louder fervor to be heard over the peals of laughter. He missed the exits again and again and again. Going around around around the roundabout seemingly faster and faster. I dizzily watched the car lights blur into one continuous circle of light. The vehicles waiting at the yield signs were piling into longer lines when he finally took an exit to loud applause.

“I suppose I should get my driver’s license someday, I appear to be quite good at this whole bus driving business”

He yelled over the flurry of voices as he swerved into the Kiwi Paka Hostel where an American Flag and balloons decorated the bar for our celebratory return.