Nanny Flowers Character Analysis

“A girl,” Grandfather, Koro Apirana, said, disgusted. “I will have nothing to do with her. She has broken the male line of descent in our tribe.” He shoved the telephone at our grandmother, Nanny Flowers, saying, “Here. It’s your fault. Your female side was too strong.” Then he pulled on his boots and stomped out of the house.

I could understand, however, why the old man was so against the idea. Not only was Kahutia Te Rangi a man’s name, but it was also the name of the ancestor of our village. Koro Apirana felt that naming a girl-child after the founder of our tribe was belittling Kahutia Te Rangi’s prestige. From that time onward, whenever Koro Apirana went past the meetinghouse, he would look up at the figure of Kahutia Te Rangi on the whale and shake his head sorrowfully. Then he would say to Nanny Flowers, “You stepped out of line, dear. You shouldn’t have done it.” To give credit to her, Nanny Flowers did appear penitent.

“Never mind, girl,” she said to baby Kahu. “Your birth cord is here. No matter where you may go, you will always return. You will never be lost to us.” Then I marveled at her wisdom and Rehua’s in naming the child in our genealogy and the joining of her to our lands.

“E nga rangatira,” Kahu began, “e nga iwi”—she looked at Koro Apirana’s empty seat—“tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa.” There were stars in her eyes, like sparkling tears. “Distinguished guests, members of the audience, my speech is a speech of love for my grandfather, Koro Apirana.”

Nanny Flowers gave a sob, and tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“Which of the boys?” he gasped in grief. “Which of the—”

Nanny Flowers was pointing out to sea. Her face was filled with emotion as she cried out to Kahu. The old man understood. He raised his arms as if to claw down the sky upon him.

“You’re right, dear, you’re right.”

“I’m always right, you old paka, and—”

Suddenly Kahu gave a long sigh. Her eyebrows began to knit as if she was thinking of something.

“You two are always arguing,” she breathed.

“A girl,” Grandfather, Koro Apirana, said, disgusted. “I will have nothing to do with her. She has broken the male line of descent in our tribe.” He shoved the telephone at our grandmother, Nanny Flowers, saying, “Here. It’s your fault. Your female side was too strong.” Then he pulled on his boots and stomped out of the house.

I could understand, however, why the old man was so against the idea. Not only was Kahutia Te Rangi a man’s name, but it was also the name of the ancestor of our village. Koro Apirana felt that naming a girl-child after the founder of our tribe was belittling Kahutia Te Rangi’s prestige. From that time onward, whenever Koro Apirana went past the meetinghouse, he would look up at the figure of Kahutia Te Rangi on the whale and shake his head sorrowfully. Then he would say to Nanny Flowers, “You stepped out of line, dear. You shouldn’t have done it.” To give credit to her, Nanny Flowers did appear penitent.

“Never mind, girl,” she said to baby Kahu. “Your birth cord is here. No matter where you may go, you will always return. You will never be lost to us.” Then I marveled at her wisdom and Rehua’s in naming the child in our genealogy and the joining of her to our lands.

“E nga rangatira,” Kahu began, “e nga iwi”—she looked at Koro Apirana’s empty seat—“tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa.” There were stars in her eyes, like sparkling tears. “Distinguished guests, members of the audience, my speech is a speech of love for my grandfather, Koro Apirana.”

Nanny Flowers gave a sob, and tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“Which of the boys?” he gasped in grief. “Which of the—”

Nanny Flowers was pointing out to sea. Her face was filled with emotion as she cried out to Kahu. The old man understood. He raised his arms as if to claw down the sky upon him.

“You’re right, dear, you’re right.”

“I’m always right, you old paka, and—”

Suddenly Kahu gave a long sigh. Her eyebrows began to knit as if she was thinking of something.

“You two are always arguing,” she breathed.