Te Ao Hou
THE MAORI MAGAZINE
The Department of Maori and Island Affairs
His ‘'…wisdom and greatness of heart brought many races of men to understanding and peace.”*
TE RANGI HIROA
The life of Sir Peter Buck
A remarkable career
Lavishly gifted by nature, Peter Buck was soon to overcome his humble origins, becoming one of the first Maori doctors. He pioneered medicine and sanitation among the Maori people, and became a Minister in the last Liberal Government. Enlisting as medical officer with the Maori Contingent, he was awarded the D.S.O., and demobilised with the rank of Lieutenant-Conlonel.
Peter Buck joined the Bishop Museum at the age of 50, later becoming its most famous director, a world-famous ethnologist and statesman for the Polynesian people. Displaying phenomenal energy both as administrator and research worker, he was the author of many scientific monographs. His two more popular books. Vikings of the Sunrise and The Coming of the Maori have become classics.
The biography tells for the first time the full life story of one of New Zealand's most distinguished sons. Peter Buck inherited the charm, charisma, dignity and humour of the Maori, and the dedication, resourcefulness and scientific approach of the European. The full flowering of his genius was not to come, however, till when after a distinguished career in New Zealand, he joined the Bishop Museum, Honolulu. This lovingly written biography by one of his oldest friends provides a wealth of background information and anecdote to his life. Though Peter Buck's achievements are revealed on every page, the man himself shines out in the course of a wonderfully rich life story. Appendices by the late Eric Ramsden cover his family background and give an account of his ethnological researches in Mangareva.
The author
Professor J. B. Condliffe, himself an economist of international standing, met Peter Buck in the trenches in Flanders. This acquaintance ripened into close friendship in Honolulu and later when they were colleagues at Yale.
On his retirement from the University of California in 1958, Professor Condliffe joined the Stanford Research Institute, becoming its senior economist. He has continued to work on projects for governments and industrial corporations.
314 pages of text; 24 pages of photographs
$9.95
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back issues (N.Z. Rates): Issue Nos. 31–32, 34–37, and 39–70 are avaliable at 30c each. A very few copies of issue Nos. 19–22, 27–30, 33 and 38 are still available at 60c each. Other issues are now out of stock. (Overseas rates for back issues are available on request.)
contributions in maori: Ko tatahi o nga whakaaro nui o Te Ao Hou he pupuri kai mau te reo Maori. Otira Ko te nuinga o nga korero kei te tukua mai kei te reo pakeha anake. Mahemea hoki ka nui mai nga korero i tuhia ki te reo Maori ka whakanuia ake te wahanga o ta tatou pukapuka mo nga korero Maori.
Statements in signed articles in Te Ao Hou are the responsibility only of the writers concerned.
editor: Joy Stevenson.
associate editor (Maori text): E. B. Ranapia.
Te Ao Hou
THE MAORI MAGAZINE
| STORIES | page |
| The Tragedy of Whetumatarau, Mildred Clark | 18 |
| New Shoes and Old, Fiona Kidman | 21 |
| POETRY | |
| Summer, Waipiro Bay, Marie Perry | 5 |
| ‘Ko Wai Au?’, G. A. Gurney | 27 |
| Shining cuckoo, Patricia Grace | 41 |
| Tamaki Makau Rau, Kathleen Grattan | 51 |
| ARTICLES | |
| He Tira ki te Tangihanga mō Nehe, Te Pakaka Tawhai | 6 |
| He Aha Oti i te Ingoa Māori, Hepa Taepa | 7 |
| “Book of the Year' Award, Rowley Habib | 20 |
| Te Taenga Mai o Te Minita Māori, Ani Bosch | 25 |
| The Making of Champions, Donald Watson | 28 |
| Competitions Guest | 31 |
| Turangawaewae Anniversary | 32 |
| The Maori Contribution to New Zealand Literature | 36 |
| Inia Te Wiata, Sir Thomas Macdonald | 39 |
| Robert Kingi back in New Zealand | 42 |
| New Post Office at Maketu, Monica Holloway | 43 |
| Maori Course | 45 |
| M.W.W.L. Meets at New plymouth | 46 |
| Ngati Poneke Appeal Begins | 49 |
| Historic Tapa Returned to Niue | 51 |
| FEATURES | |
| Haeri Ki O Koutou Tipuna | 2 |
| People and Places | 47 |
| Younger Readers' Section | 52 |
| Books | 54 |
| Records | 59 |
| Crossword | 64 |
front cover: Dame Te Atarirangikaahu with one of her tipuna (see page 32).
back cover: See page 51.
HAERE KI O
KOUTOU TIPUNA
Mason Durie (Meihana Te Rama Apakura)
On July 1, 1889, in a house then recently built at Aorangi, Feilding, the late Mr Durie was born. Eighty-one years later in the same house where he had spent most of his life, he passed peacefully away. His mother, Hurihia Te Rangiotu was a daughter of the Rangitane chief Hoani Meihana Te Rangiotu while his father was Te Rama Apakura (Robert Durie), a member of the Ngati Kauwhata tribe. On both sides he was closely connected to Ngati Raukawa.
Mason Durie was educated at Taonui primary school (near Aorangi) and later at Te Aute College. After two years he matriculated from Te Aute at a remarkably young age, and entered Government service, joining the Health Department in Wellington. While there he worked in close association with Sir Mau Pomare before transferring to the Department of Native Affairs—a move which led him to a lifelong interest in Maori land. As a Licensed interpreter and a Clerk of the Court he travelled widely and was directly involved with a number of Judges in the Maori Land Court. He became one of the most experienced men of the time in Land Court Procedure, Maori titles, etc.
In December 1909 he was married to Kahurautete Matawha, a chieftainess of the Rangatahi, Maniapoto and Ngati Toa tribes. They were married in the St Johns Anglican Church, Feilding, by the Rev. A. A. Williams, an early Maori missionary. The marriage was a strong and fruitful one and they shared many interests and concerns. Mrs Durie died in January, 1965.
Towards the end of the 1918 war, Mr Durie left the Government Service and farmed his wife's land at Kakariki for a short period, before returning to Aorangi. Here for the next 51 years he farmed his own land becoming a successful and respected farmer in the Feilding area. He was well known in the Pakeha community and was a member of the Feilding A. & P. Assoc., the Feilding Jockey Club, the Rangitikei Club and the Masonic Lodge. For over 40 years he was a Justice of the Peace and in 1954 was awarded the O.B.E. for his services to his people and the community as a whole.
Mason became Chairman of the Raukawa District Maori War Effort Organisation which continued to function as the Raukawa Tribal Committee with rehabilitation of returned servicemen as a major task. Later, tribal committees were set up at a marae level and Mr Durie became Chairman of the Kauwhata Tribal Committee as well as Chairman of the parent Raukawa Tribal Executive Committee. He held both of these positions until the time of his death.
In the 1950s, the Raukawa Executive launched a major appeal to build a memorial to Maori servicemen who had given their lives in active battle. They chose a Memorial Centre in the form of a hall, dining room, lecture room and flat. Years of hard work, fund raising and travelling followed, until the hall was opened in 1964 at an impressive ceremony. This attractive building, ostensibly a memorial to the Maori Battalion, remains also a tribute to the efforts and foresight of Mr Durie and the others involved with him.
Towards the end of the 1950s a meeting was held at Aorangi to form another committee between Executive and Government levels. As a result the Ikaroa District Council was convened and not unexpectedly Mr Durie was nominated as its first Chairman.
Despite his association with many Execu-
tive and National Committees, Mr Durie never lost contact with people at grass roots level. He was a staunch supporter of the Anglican church and occupied many posts at varying times. As an Anglican and Chairman of the Raukawa Maori Executive, he played a large part in the restoration of the Rangiatea church at Otaki. He was also largely responsible for the erection of St Lukes Chapel at Aorangi. In 1946 he was elected to the Otaki and Porirua Trust Board, a position he held until the time of his death. In 1953 he was appointed to the Board of Maori Affairs and became greatly involved with many Maori Land Development schemes throughout the country.
Throughout his life Mr Durie was an enthusiast for Maori education and was quick to support the Maori Education Foundation, becoming Chairman of a provincial fund-raising committee in 1962.
Mr Durie's widespread influence and the respect he commanded was in evidence at his funeral held at his beloved Aorangi marae. Te Arikinui, Dame Te Atairangikaahu, and a group from the Waikato were present as were Mr K. Wetere, M.P., and Mr J. McEwen, Mr M. R. Jones, Dr P. Te H. Jones, Mr P. K. Leonard, and 3,000 others. Representatives from his old schools Taonui and Te Aute College attended, and there were contingents from Hato Paora College, Queen Elizabeth College, and the Feilding Agricultural College.
The service was conducted by the Bishop of Aotearoa, the Bishop of Wellington, Archdeacon Panapa, Archdeacon R. B. Somerville, Canon H. Taepa, Rev. J. Rushworth, Rev. G. Kereama and Fr. Adkins, representing the Anglican, Roman Catholic and Ratana Faiths.
Although Mr Durie's life was one of total devotion and service to his fellow man. Maori and Pakeha, he remained until his death an active farmer and a devout Christian. He was very much a family man and leaves four children, many grandchildren and much of the Maori race to mourn his passing. A daughter, Ruta, predeceased him in 1929.
Haere, e Koro, haere ki to kainga tuarua o te tangata.
Tuiringa Tāwera
Ko Tūhoe te iwi,Ko Maungapōhatu te maunga,
Ko Tama-Kaimoana te tangata,
Ko Tuiringa Tāwera te uri whakaheke mai.
I mate i te 2 Hune 1971. Ko ōna tau 75. He tangata i tū whānui i roto i tōna iwi tupu, i a Tūhoe. I Te Aute Kāreti e kura ana. Tōna tūranga he kaiwhakamāori i ngā Kooti whenua, arā, i ngā huihuinga nunui i roto o Ruātoki. Te wharekura tuatrua o Ruātoki, ko Tāwera, nā tōna pāpā i tuku te whenua kei runga e tū ana.
He reo kōrero, he pou herenga kōrero. he pou ūnga mai nō ngā reo o ngā iwi, te tangata tuatahi o Tūhoe ki te tito i tēnei mea, te waiata-ā-ringa. Taukuri ra—ka ngaro ngā rangatira ki te Po.
Kohine Tewhakarua Ponika
Ihaia Porutu Puketapu, O.B.E.
Well known to all in the Hutt Valley as the local Maori leader. Ihaia (Paddy) Puketapu was buried on the marae outside Aroha Ki Te Tangata. the house he loved, after his death at 84. Years before in Taranaki he had a vision of a meeting house for all at Wellington, the ‘head of the fish’. and he led his people to Wai-
whetu. There, with determination and assistance from the late Sir Walter Nash, he resisted efforts to disperse the people, and eventually saw a group of 24 state houses built round the marae area, and the beautiful meeting house established.
Among the hundreds who came to pay tribute were the Minister of Maori Affairs, and the Mayor of Lower Hutt. Speaking at the tangi, Te Oenuku Rene said, ‘One of the last ropes of Maori history has been severed. He was the last of his generation. He had tremendous faith in his people and their cause, and was referred to as a paramount chief because of the provision he had made for his people.’ Mr Puketapu was survived by his wife and nine children.
Lady Miria Pomare, O.B.E.
Many hundreds paid tribute to Lady Pomare in services at St. Paul's Cathedral. Ngati Poneke Hall, Rangiatea Church at Otaki. and at Manukorihi Pa, where her ashes were laid beside those of her husband Sir Maui Pomare, a much-loved doctor and the only Maori ever to be Minister of Health, and her two sons Te Rakahera and Te Naera. Aged 94, Lady Pomare outlived her husband by 41 years. Their three children also predeceased her.
One of the founders of the Ngati Poneke Maori Association, she remained its patroness until her death. During her long life she worked hard for many welfare organisations, and held office in more than 20. Speaking at St. Paul's, with his text Psalm 90 v. 1, ‘The Lord hath been our refuge from generation to generation’, the Bishop of Aotearoa, the Rt Rev. Manu Bennett said, ‘She is the last of a generation—one that blazed the trail to the new world. She stood behind a very great statesman of his time. She was a woman of great personal dignity, and never seemed to get older. She had the quality of a gracious lady, an aura; when she came into a room, you knew she was there.’ He said she was a perfect example of the saying
‘Every man is born between two generations. From one he receives. To the other he gives. He is the connecting link in the continuity of the species.’
Henry Te Hira
The first Maori member of the Rodney College Board of Governo's, Mr Henry Te Tira died in Whangarei, aged 52. The problems of Maori youth, farming and sport were his main interests.
After his service in the RNZAF during World War II, Mr Te Hira lived in Auckland where he founded the Akarana Football Club. After moving north, he continued his sporting interests, and became widely known for his farming achievements, including the winning in 1967 of the Ahuwhenua Trophy, for the best Maori farmer of the year. He is survived by his wife and seven children.
Rauwha Tamaiparea
The whole of Taranaki was saddened at the passing of Rauwha Tamaiparea, widow of the late Awio Tamaiparea. Much loved and respected, she was an authority on Parihaka, and was also closely associated with the house Te Paepae. In recent years she gave full support to the restoration of Parihaka and passed on the chants she knew to the younger people associated with its rebuilding.
Tahiawaru Tarapipipi Tamehana
Descendant of the first Maori Kingmaker, Tahiawaru Tamehana, who succeeded his brother in the role of Kingmaker only four years ago, died at Waharoa aged 65. His funeral service was held at Rukumoana. Morrinsville, his original home, and he was laid to rest near the old Maori Parliament building. A nephew. Ranginui Tamehana, has been appointed the new Kingmaker.
Huitao Ngaparu
Many friends and relatives attended a memorial service at Silverstream and another at Ohau after the sudden death at 55 of Huitao Ngaparu, at Upper Hutt. Mr Ngaparu was born at Mokai and educated at Te Aute College. He had links with Ngati Raukawa, Te Arawa and Tuwharetoa tribes. He leaves his wife, a son Alan, and daughter Tina, formerly a Wellington television announcer.
Abe Phillips
Musical tributes were paid by Prince Tui Teka and the Shadracks at the funeral service held at Waipatu marae, Hastings, for Abe Phillips, a well known entertainer, following his death in a car accident near Waipukurau. After a combined Anglican-Roman Catholic service at the marae, requiem mass was celebrated at the Church of St. Peter Chanel.
Kingi Winiata
A life of dedicated service came to an end with the death of Kingi Winiata of Waihirere, Wairoa, and the many represenatives from the business and farming communities at his funeral service showed the high esteem in which he was held in the district. To his Maori people he was a wise and authoritative guide and he was respected by the Pakeha for his abundant knowledge of farming.
Of humble birth and with very little education, he worked extremely hard, and with his late wife, born Merekakara King, built their tiny holding into a prosperous farm. With their one son they brought up 12 foster-children. He worked with his great friend Sir Turi Carroll for the regaining and supervision of Maori land blocks, and wisely regulated sales of stock. These two men also worked hard for both the Takitimu and Taihoa maraes.
Rev. T. Pohatu
The Bishop of Waiapu, the Rt. Rev. Paul Reeves led a memorial communion service at the Kiekie marae during the funeral service for the late Vicar of Hikurangi, the Rev. T. Pohatu. Many fellow clergy attended, and after the tributes to their spiritual leader. Canon Rangiihu spoke. The Hikurangi choir also sang.
Maria Kina Totara
Mrs Totara died in Dargaville Hospital after a short illness at the end of a long life of almost 108 years. Very active in her garden, and taking a great interest in her family and in church affairs, Mrs Totara will be greatly missed.
Summer
Waipiro Bay
Under the Norfolk pines they sat, relaxed,
Two women chatting, now their chores were done,
One spoke of menfolk, and their fishing skill
The catch that day had been a bumper one.
The other thought the gardens were too dry,
Looked out to sea and wished the rain would come.
But cloudless blue filled all the bowl of heaven,
And wavelets lapped the wide beach at their feet,
As though the calm warm days would always stay.
Drowsy, they let the summer's warmth
Steal through them till their chatter ceased,
And soft contentment eased their busy minds
From house and children and all daily needs.
Only cicada's song and seagull's cry
Vibrated in the air as they slept on.
Marie Perry.
He Tira ki te Tangihanga mō Nehe
Nō mua tata atu i te tina, ka patu mai te waea a Āpirana1 kua hinga a Nehe no te iwa karaka i taua ata. Pēnei ai tēnei mea. Rongo ana te tangata kua hinga a mea, ko te mahi he waea haere. Na, ka hui mātau i tō mātau mate, ka anga hoki ki te whakarite mo te tira haere ki te tangi. Ko tō Koro2 rāua ko tō Nēpia3 ngā waka wātea, ā, ka whakaritea ko wai hei runga i tētahi, i tētahi.
I te mea he moata ākuni te hanatu a Koro mā, ka whakataua me tatari mai rātau ki ngā raorao ki Takamore. No te wāhi kotahi atu mātau, arā, no te māngai o te Ika-a-Māui, nā reira kia kotahi rōpū te whakaeke. Ka pēneitia, ka ngēwari hoki te whakahaere o te marae, ā, ahakoa pēhea te kaitā4 o te rōpū, ko te marae i kore.
I te ata, ka hoki atu mātau. Ko te mahi i te huarahi he kōrero i ngā kōrero mō Nehe, he ako, he waiata i ngā waiata i titoa e ia, i ngā mea i kaingākautia e ia. Hei kura tēnei i a mātau hei tukutuku i ngā tangi, i ngā wawata o te hinengaro ngunguru.
Ka eke ki runga o Takamore, tē kitea atu a Koro mā. I te mea kāre anō kia kaha te tītaha o te rā, ka tatari mātau, ā, ka tatari. Kua tō tonu te rā ki runga i a Rangi-Tawāea. Ka āwangawanga koi pōngia ki te ara. Ko te awatea te wā whakaeke—he mahi kē anō tō te pō. Nā reira ka whakaae mātau me whakaeke i taua wā tonu, ko mātau anake. Ka ū atu ki te pā, ka whakamāramatia mai e tētahi o ngā kaikaranga me pupuri ake tā mātau whakaeke kia wātea mai te marae. Kāre e taea tēnei mea—me āta tatari—me te āhua mate roto noa iho o te tangi.
Kātahi au ka āta titiro atu, ka āta whakarongo. E auē ana te whānau me te takatū. E kā ana ā rātau ahi. Ka rongo au i te tangi e huhuti ake ana i roto i a au me te whakahīhī. Ko te iwi kāenga i te taha mauī kē o te wharenui o Kapohanga kia tata ai ki ā rātau kōhua. Ko te manuhiri i tahaki i te taha katau. Nā reira pea i rerekē ai tā rātau haere ki te hongi, inā tīmata kē atu i ngā tāngata i waho nei e tūtū ana. Otirā kāre he raruraru ki a Ngāti Porou, ko te hongi te mea nui.
Nā, ka haramai te karanga a Whāia-i-te-Rangi, te karanga i karangatia e ngā whakatipuranga mai rānō. Ka whakaō atu tēnei e whakaeke atu rā. Haere atu ngā poroporoaki, ngā mihi. Rongo ake au nōku tētahi o ngā reo rā, ā, pokia noatia e te auē. Tangi atu, tangi mai. Tata atu, tiro atu ki te roro o Kapohanga, kātahi anō ka whakaaea kua hinga te kaihautū o ngā waka. E moe mai ana i te moe a te hunga kua whetūrangitia, e mau mai ana i ngā taonga tuku iho a ōna tipuna. Ā, ka āhua ngāwari te ngākau, ka hoki mai ngā whakaaro, kua tirotiro haere anō, kua whakarongorongo.
Kātahi ka whakatika mai te pūkōrero i te raparapa o te taha mauī e noho ana. Nā kua tīmata te whakawhitiwhiti kōrero. Mā te tohunga anake ki te reo Māori e hopu te wairua me te tikanga kei te rere i ngā kupu. Pēnā anō hoki ngā waiata.
Kāre i tino tutuki tā mātau, ka tatū mai te waka nunui o te tira kaitā tūārangi. Nā, kua pōnānā mātau kia wawe te wātea te marae. Ēngari ka haere tonu te iwi kāenga kia kitea ai he rangatira mātau ki ō rātau aroaro. Ka oti pai ēnei āhuatanga kātahi anō ka haere ki te wai ki te horoi. Ko te wai kei te roro o te wharekai, arā o Ngā-Tama-Toa. Ēngari i whakatūria he wai anō
1. Āpirana: Ko Āpirana Mahuika tēnei
2. Koro: Ko Te Kapunga Dewes a Koro
3. Nēpia: Ko Nēpia Mahuika
4. kaitā = nunui.
i te wāhi tūtū o ngā waka. Ko tēnei mō ngā tāngata kei te pōnānā ki te haere, mutu ana tā rātau tangi.
Ka aro kē atu mātau te kanohi ngaro, ki ō mātau mātua, ki ō mātau whanaunga ināianei, koia nei hoki te āhua o tāua o te Māori. Nā, ka kore e kite i ngā tira e whakaeke ana, e rongo rānei i ngā pōkeka, i ngā tangi whakahuahua i ngā whaikōrero me ngā waiata.
Me haere hoki ki te kai. Mutu rawa ake kua pōuri, kua kore te tangata e whakaeke. A Nehe, arā, a Hānara (Arnold) Tangiāwhā Te Ōhākī Reedy i mate i Tūranga i te 8 o Āperira 1971. He Ariki, he Tohunga nō Ngāti Porou.
Ko te kaituhi o ēnei kōrero ko Te Pākaka Tāwhai o Te Whānau-a-Umu-Ariki, kei Pōneke nei e noho ana, ā, e mahi ana.
Ko te wāhanga tuatahi tēnei o ngā kōrero i tukua atu ki te Kura Wānanga o Wikitōria kei Pōneke nei i Hepetema 1971.
He Aha Oti i te Ingoa Māori
What's in a Maori Name?
Nā Hepa Taepa
I roto i tētahi tautohetohe āta riri tika nei, ka puta i tētahi tana pātai koi tonu, “E kī, e kī! He aha koia i te ingoa Māori?” Pai tonu te pātai nei, ahakoa i puta ake i te pukuriri, i te ngākau kino. Tēnā koa, he aha tā ngā kupu pērā me Aotea, Tarore, Haerehuka, ngā ingoa huhua noa iho a te Māori? Ki ētahi o tātou, tētahi wāhanga nui tonu, ki a rātou nei, kāore rawa he whāinga kiko, he tikanga rānei. I te aha? I te kore aro ake ki te reo nei a te Wāhingaro ki a ngāitāua. Ki ētahi anō, he maninohea noa iho te kimi i te whakahuatanga tika i ngā kupu a te Māori. Nā konei, ina rongo i ngā pēnei e nana ana, mamae ana rā ngā taringa i te takakino a te hunga nei i te taonga a ō tātou tūpuna, ki a tātou, arā, i te reo Māori. Ētahi takakinotanga ko te hoatu reta kāore i reira, i aua kupu, ā ko te whakarere ake, he aha hoki te mutunga, he kupu rerekē noa ake, he kupu e kore rawa e kitea i roto i te reo Māori, ahakoa pēhea te kimi a te tangata. Ko Paraparāumu
In a heated argument someone posed the searching question, “Is that so! Then what's in a Maori name?” The question was a good one, though asked in anger and enmity. Now, what is the significance of words like Aotea, Tarore, Haerehuka and numerous others? To quite a number of us, there is no real value or significance. Why? Because of a lack of apreciation of the language. God's gift to us. Others regard seeking correct pronunciation as unnecessary and bothersome. That is why it is painful to hear such people mutilating the language that our forebears left us. Some such acts have been the omission or insertion of letters, so that a totally foreign word is made, one that can never be found in Maori no matter how hard one looks for it. Para-
Parapara-a-umu) tētahi o ngā ingoa nei, Paramutia ana, waka tōtō tamariki nei.
E hoki ana ngā mahara ki tētahi tangata nō Āirana, i beare manurere mai ki Niu Tīreni, he waewae tapu hoki ia. Ko tana whakamau mai he kauwhau ki tētahi hui nui tonu. Ka tau ia, whakatika tonu mai ki te teihana matua o Ākarana. I reira ka kite atu te pōta i a tauiwi e kimi ana i te tereina hei hari i a ia ki te takiwā o tana hui. Te uinga atu a te pōta ko hea tana tira, ko te whakahoki mai ki Nākerewākere. Ka raruraru te pōta ko te kīnga atu ki te Āirihi nei, kāore i tika tana haere pēnei mai, te āhua nei me haere kē ia ki tētahi whenua kē. Ū pū tonu a tauiwi ki tāna, arā, ki Nākererwākere, takiwā o Niu Tīreni, ā, kei a ia te kauwhau i taua pō tonu, i mea hāora. Ka puta te mahara ki te pōta, ko tana ngaronga atu, kāore i roa, ko te pōta ka puta anō me tētahi mapi o Niu Tīreni, ka whakaaturia atu, arā, tika tonu tāna, ko Ngāruawāhia rā hoki tāna e whakamau atu nei. He tika rā, ēngari he waewae tapu tēnei ki ēnei moutere, nā reira hei aha ake tana whakahua, ēngari tātou o te wā kāinga, te hunga māngere ki te whakahua tika i ngā kupu Māori. Rongo ai hoki au i ētahi o ngāitāua ina whakahua i ngā kupu a tauiwi, ē, kia tika tonu, ā, ko ā te Māori hei aha ake.
He pātai ka uia, “He aha tā te whakahua tika ki te pātai kei ō tātou aroaro, arā, ‘He aha oti i te ingoa Māori?’ ‘Ki tōku whakaaro he nui tonu te hāngaitanga o tētahi ki tētahi, ma te tika hoki o te whakahua e puta ai te wāriu o ngā kupu, arā, o te reo tonu anō. Nā Tā Ānaha Pēka i tuhi, “Ehara te reo i te kupu kau. Kikī tonu a ia kupu i ngā āhuatanga e pā ana ki te hinengaro, ā, ka puta ko ngā whakaaro. E kore e taea te rotarota i ā te hinengaro, mātua maringi mai aua āhuatanga. i te huakanga i te tatau o te reo. E kore e hou ki te manawa, e mōhio rānei ki te hinengaro o te iwi mātua mōhio rawa ki tana reo.” Koinei rā ōna whakaaro.
Nā, hoki mai ki te pūtake tūturu, ā, titiro ki ngā ingoa tāngata, takiwā, manu, kararehe, whānau rānei a Tāne Mahuta, ko te wherahanga mai tēnā o tētahi ao whakamīharo, o ngā mea-ā-wairua, o te
paraumu (Parapara-a-umu) is such a name, abbreviated to “Pram”—a child's perambulator.
The mind recalls an Irishman who flew to New Zealand for the first time. He was set on reaching a certain important conference which he was to address. When he landed he made immediately for the main Auckland station. There a porter noticed the stranger seeking out the train for his destination. When the porter enquired his destination, the reply was, “To Nagarywogary.” The porter was doubtful and informed the Irishman that it locked as if he had come to the wrong country. But the stranger was adamant; Nagarywogary was a place in New Zealand, and he was scheduled to give an address there that night at a certain time. Then a thought occurred to the porter. He disappeared for a short time then returned with a map of New Zealand which he showed to the traveller; just as he had thought, Ngaruawahia was the place he was making for. True, he was a first-timer to these isles, so we can overlook his pronunciation, but what of us locals who find it too much trouble to pronounce Maori words correctly? I hear many of us being very particular in the pronunciation of foreign words. but caring less with Maori.
It will be asked what pronunciation has to do with the question before us, “What's in a Maori name?” I think it is relevant, for correct pronunciation leads to better appreciation of the value of words and ultimately, of the language. Sir Ernest Baker wrote: “Language is not mere words. Each word is charged with associations that touch feelings and evoke thoughts. You cannot share feelings and thoughts unless you can unlock their associations by having the key of language. You cannot enter the heart and know the mind of a nation unless you knows its speech.” These are his thoughts.
Now, to return to the original matter, look at the names of people, places, birds, animals or plants and a fascinating world unfolds, a world of profound spiritual experience, of history, of folklore, customs, legends and proverbs, all contributing to the birth of a modern word, “Maoritanga”-the word that can answer the question.
hītori, ngā mahi a ngā tūpuna, ā rātou tikanga, pakiwaitara, pepeha, whakatauākī, aha noa ake i whānau mai ai tēnei kupu a te ao hou, “Māoritanga”, arā, te Māoritanga o te hunga o nehe i waiho ake ai ki a tātou o tēnei whakatupuranga. Koinei katoa ngā tītahatanga o tēnei kupu, “Māoritanga”, te kupu mana nei hei whakahoki i te pātai tuatahi rārā, “He aha oti i te ingoa Māori?”
Tēnā, whakaarotia te ingoa nei, a Aotea. He aha tōna nei āhuatanga hei hopunga atu ma te tangata? He maha ōna nei whakamāramatanga, kotahi hoki he kapua mā. I ētahi takiwā anō he kupu whakapotonga te roanga atu, arā, Aotearoa, te kapua mā tino roa hoki, koirā rā tētahi o ngā ingoa o tēnei moutere i huaina ai e ō tātou tūpuna, Te Ika-a-Māui-tikitiki-ā Taranga, e ai ki tēnei karangatanga ōku, ki a Te Atiawa ki te Upoko o te Ika. Ko Aotea anō te ingoa i meinga mō tētahi moutere ki te takiwā o te Tai Tokerau, he moutere rongonui, ā, ko tōna ingoa a te Pākehā ko te Great Barrier Island. Ki te tonga, ki a au nei e noho atu nei i te Upoko o te Ika, hoatu ana tēnei ingoa ki tētahi o ngā Wāpu i te Whanganui-ā-Tara, he tika tonu kia tapaina te Wāpu nei ki tēnei ingoa, no te mea he ingoa nā Tangaroa. Tētahi hoki o ngā waka rongonui o te Hekenga mai i te 1350 te tau, ko Aotea, tōna nei tangata ko Turi. He waka tino nui tēnei notemea nōna i mau ai hei taonga māku mō tēnei whakatupuranga tētahi whakataukī, i mōhiotia ai e tēnei reanga te tino hōhonutanga o te wairua Māori ki ngā mea whakateatua. Waiho ake ka rere ai ki reira ngā kōrero ki taua whakataukī.
Tērā tētahi waiata he mea tito nā tētahi matua tāne mō tana tamāhine. I reira ka waiatatia ngā mahi a tana tupuna, a Te Hau, i haere mai nei i te Hekenga mai. I haere mai a Hau ki te whai mai i tana wahine, ā, whāia rawatia mai ki te Tai Hauāuru ki Pātea, ā, nāna, nā Hau o te waka o Aotea, ka whānau mai ngā ingoa-ā-takiwā i tēnei takutai ki te uru, a Whanganui, a Whangaehu i te tūehutanga o te wai; a Rangitīkei, i te tīkeitanga o ngā waewae o Hau ki te whai i tana hoa wahine. A Manawatū, i te tūnga o tana manawa ki
“What's in a Maori name?”
Consider then the word Aotea. What is there so interesting about it? It has many meanings, one of which is white cloud. It is sometimes an abbreviation for Aotearoa, the white cloud and long, that was one of the names given to this island named by our ancestors, the Fish of Maui-tikitiki-a-Taranga according to this part of the the Atiawa tribe resident at the Head of the Fish. Aotea was also the name given to a northern island of import, named by the Pakeha Great Barrier Island. In the south, to us who reside at the Head of the Fish, the name was given to an important quay in Wellington harbour, which is appropriate, for it is a maritime word. One of the important canoes of the 1350 migration was Aotea, under the command of Turi. Important indeed, for its crew was responsible for preserving for us of this generation a treasure, namely a proverb that reveals the depths of the spirituality of the Maori soul. Reference to this proverb will be made later.
There was once a song composed for a young girl by her father. Therein was sung the exploits of their kinsman Hau, who came here in the Migration. He was in pursuit of his wife, finally reaching Patea on the West Coast; and by him, Te Hau, were originated the place names of that coast in the west: Whanganui; Whangaehu, when that river was in turbulent spray; Rangitikei, because Hau lengthened his pace in chase after his wife. Manawatu,
te whakamiharo i te ātaahua o te whenua huri noa. A Hōkio, i te rorohiotanga o ana taringa i te mahi a te hau kōwhiowhionga; a Ōhau, i tana tapanga tonutanga iho i tana ingoa mo te awa reka i tana inumanga ake. A Ōtaki anō hoki, i te nanaonga iho a Hau ki tana tokotoko hei taki ara haere mōna, ā, puta atu ana ki Waikanae. I Waikanae ka titiro iho ia ki roto i te awa, arā e titiro ake ana ki a ia ko ngā whetū tini mano pēnei me te kanae ika e pūkanakana ake ana ki a ia. Tae rawa a Hau ki Rimutaka maunga, tana tirohanga iho ki tērā whaitua ko te moana rā e rarapa mai ana, anā ko Wairarapa ka whānau mai.
I kī ake au, me kāore te waka nei a aotea, e kore tātou o tēnei rautau hou e whiwhi ki tā tātou whakataukī tohunga, ā, e kore hoki te waimarietanga o ō tātou tūpuna ki tētahi ingoa mo te tūāhu e tū mai rā i Ōtaki, arā, a Rangiatea.
Nā Aotea te whakataukī nei, “E kore au e ngaro, te kākano (purapura) i ruia mai i Rangiatea.” Ko te Rangiatea nei ko taua ingoa anō ki te takiwā o Rarotonga, arā, ko Ra'iatea. Ko Ra'iatea he moutere kei runga tata atu i Rarotonga, ā, ki ngā kōreroa a ō tātou tūpuna, i rere mai ngā waka o te Hekenga mai i reira, i whānau mai ai te whakataukī rārā, i runga ake nei, mo te hōrapatanga o te Māori i te Moananui-a-Kiwi, puta noa. Koirā rā tā tētahi wāhanga tāna whakamārama, mo te toitūnga tangata, e kore rawa e ngaro.
He tika ki tētahi titiro. Engari tērā tētahi kē atu whakamārama, arā, kei te whakateatua, ko Rangiatea hoki, ko te tūāhu o te Runga Rawa, o Io, me ōnā karangatanga huhua. He mea tiki atu i Tikitiki-o-rangi, o ngā rangi-tū-haha, te ingoa nei a Rangiatea, mo te moutere o Ra'iatea me te tūāhu tonu hoki i whakaarahia i runga anō i taua moutere.
Nā Aotea te whakataukī, engari nā Raukawa te whakatinanatanga o ngā āhuatanga o taua whakataukī, i tana hanganga i te tūāhu e tū rā i Ōtaki. Anei ngā kōrero mō taua ingoa, mō Rangiatea.
Tērā a Tānenui-ā-rangi me ana whakaaro kimi i te ora mo te tangata e noho nei i runga i te mata o te whenua. Ka roa e whakaaroaro ana i te take nei, ka puta te
where his heart stood still in wonder at the beauty of the land all round. Hokio, where the wind whistled piercingly in his ears; Ohau, to which river he gave his name after drinking its sweet water. Otaki, when he used his staff to clear a path, thence to Waikanae. At Waikanae he looked into the myriad stars reflected in the river, like the eyes of the mullets shining up at his. He went as far as the Rimutaka range and saw the lake flashing on the other side, hence Wairarapa.
I have mentioned that were it not for aotea canoe, we of this century would have been denied our classic saying, nor would our ancestors have been fortunate in having a name for the shrine that stands at Otaki, Rangiatea.
The proverb was Aotea's. “I will never be lost, the seed broadcast from Rangiatea.” This Rangiatea is the same Ra'iatea in the region of Rarotonga. Ra'iatea is an island just north of Rarotonga and according to tradition, this was the Migration's starting-point, thus the proverb quoted above came into being, referring to the general dispersal of the Maori through the Pacific. This is how one school of thought explains the survival of man.
In one respect it is right. But there is yet another explanation which is spiritual, Rangiatea being the abode of the Absolute, of Io of the many names. The name Rangiatea was obtained from Tikitiki-o-rangi, the topmost of the heavens, for the island Ra'iatea and the shrine on that island.
The proverb is Aotea's but the Raukawa people made it a reality and gave it great significance by building the shrine that stands at Otaki. Here is a part of the mythological background of the name Rangiatea.
māramatanga ki a Tānenui-ā-rangi. Ko te māramatanga nei, kia haere ia ki te marae o Tikitiki-o-rangi, ā kei reira ko ngā kete e toru, ko ngā kawenga o roto ko ngā mātauranga e whiwhi ai te tangata i runga i te whenua, ā, mō ake tonu atu.
Ko te kakenga tēnā o Tānenui-ā-rangi ki te rangi tuatahi, tuarua, tuatoru, ā, tae atu ana ki te rangi tekau mā tahi. I reira ka puta te manu nei ki te whakataki i a ia, ā, nāna i taki haere, ā, tae atu ki Rauroha, te marae o Tikitiki-o-rangi. Te taunga atu, ka puta te rongo me tapoko rawa a Tānenui-ā-rangi ki roto ki te poho o te tūāhu e tū hāngai mai ana, ā i reira ka riro mai ngā kete a toru, uruuru matua ka tahi, uruuru rangi ka rua, uruuru tau ka toru. Ka riro mai ana kawenga, ka hoki mai tana kotahi, ko tana kaitaki ko te manu rā i noho atu ki Tikitiki-o-rangi, ā, ko taua manu ko te kōtuku; koirā i kotahi ai tana rere, ko tana takinga ki Tikitiki-o-rangi. Nā tēnei rere ka whānau mai te whakataukī mo te waewae tapu, pērā me Irihāpeti, te Kuini, “Haere mai e te manuhiri tūārangi, nau mai e te Kōtuku rerenga tahi.” He hōnore nui tēnei ina pōwhiri pēneitia te tangata. Mā tēnei whakamārama, arā, mā ēnei kōreroe kitea ai te hōhonutanga o te hinengaro o te Māori o nehe ki ngā mea-ā-wairua, kitea ai te hingaitanga o ngā whakaaro ki ō te Karaiti, “E kore te tangata e ora i te taro kau, engari mā ngā kupu e puta mai i te māngai o te Atua.” Otīa, mātua ringihia tonu mai i te poho o Rangiatea, te tūāhu o Io matua-kore, aua mea e ora-ā-wairua ai te tangata, e kore ia e puta.
Nā ēnei kōrerohoki ka mārama te huhua o ngā rangi, e toru rawa ki ngā kōreroa ngā Hūrai, ki a tāua, te Māori, tekau mā rua; ka mārama te huhua hoki o ngā ingoa o Io, me ngā ingoa o Ihowa, ka kitea ai te tātatanga o ngā ingoa nei o Io, o Ihowa, “He aha oti i te ingoa Māori?” Ā, tēnā e huri ki ngā tamariki a Tāne Mahuta, ana, kei a rātou ētahi kōrero ātahua, hei whakahoki i te pātai i pātaingia.
Kua tae mai a raumati me te mātārere nei te koekoeā, tēnei tohu, “Kia kori, he wā ngakinga kai tēnei”, “Kia korim he wē ngakinga kai tēnei”, i pāterengia hoki, “Ko taua manu he koekoeā, te manu tēnē o te Mātahi o Orongonui raumati.” Ka rere
There was one Tanenui-a-rangi with his thought of seeking sustenance for man on the face of the earth. After constant meditation, enlightenment came to Tanenui-a-rangi. His understanding was that he should go to the Tikitiki-o-rangi courtyard where there were three baskets holding all the knowledge that would benefit man on earth forever.
Tanenui-a-rangi ascended to the first, second, third and finally the eleventh of the heavens. There this bird appeared, to conduct him to Rauroha, the plaza of Tikitiki-o-rangi. On his arrival he learned that he must enter the shrine that stood before him and there obtain the three baskets, Uruuru matua. Uruuru rangi and Uruuru tau. Having received the objects of his quest he returned alone, his escort to Tikitiki-o-rangi remaining there, and that bird was the White Heron; and that flight to Tikitiki-o-rangi was the only flight it ever made. This flight gave rise to the saying used for any personage such as Queen Elizabeth, visiting for the first time, “Welcome, illustrious visitor from beyond the horizon, twice welcome thou White Heron of rare flight.” This is an honour when extended to any person. This explanatory background reveals the depth of Maori spirituality, reveals also the parallel to christain thought, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.” Nevertheless, unless sustenance comes continuously from Rangiatea, the shrine of Io the parentless, for man's spiritual well-being, he will not survive.
From this background we have the concept of the plurality of heavens common also to Hebrew thought, and the further concept of the plurality of Io attributes in common with Jehovah. “what is there is a Maori name?” Then turn to the children of Tane Mahuta, where there is a wealth of beautiful legends and myths, for a reply to the question.
The harbinger of spring, the shining cuckoo, has arrived with its message, “Bestir yourself, the time to cultivate has arrived.” As the ancient recital notes, “That bird was the shining cuckoo, the bird of the first month of spring.” So the mind recalls
ngā mahara ki te whakataukī rā, “Tama tū, tama ora; tama moe, tama mate kai.” Koinei hoki te hāngaitanga o te tangi a te manu nei, a te koekoeā, ā, ko tā te puawānanga o rō ngahere tōna tohu, “Kia mataara”.
Ētahi kōreronunui kei a ia, ina hoki ki mua noa atu tātari mai ai, arā, ki te moenga a Rehua whetū i tana karearoto i a Puanga, he whetū anō hoki, ā, ki a Papatuanuku anō rāua ko Ranginui me ā rāua tamariki tohetohe ki te riri.
Arā rā te whakataukī: “Mā te punga e ū ai te waka, waihoki te tāne te whānau, mā te wahine.” Koinei tāua te tangata ka tōtika, i te morimoringa a tō tātau tupuna wahine, a Papatuanuku. Pērā anō a Puawāannga te rauhīnga tana whaea a Puanga, mai i te tīmatanga e haere tanu nei. Nā reira e hoki ki a Rangi rāua ko Papa i a rāua anō e takoto pipiri ana.
I kreira ka kakari ā rāua tamariki, ko ētehi ki te wehe, ko ētehi ki te waiho noa iho i ō rātou mātua. Riro ana i a Tāne Mahuta ka wehe ngā tokorua nei. Koinei ka whānau mai te pepeha. “Nā Tāne i toko ka mawehe a Rangi rāua ko Papa, nāna i tauwehea ai, ka heuea te Pō, ka heuea te Ao.”
Takoto kau ana te kuia nei a Papatuanuku i; te mahi a Tāne. Ka roa, ka roa a Tāne e mātaki iho ana i tana whaea, ka oho te whakaaro ki te kimi wahine māna, kitea ake e ia, a wai ake, a wai ake, moea katoatia i tana whāwhai kia puta he uri mōna—puta kē ana he rākau, he tōtara, he maire, mataī, rimu, kahikatea, he aha ake.
Koinei ana uri i waihotia ake e Tāne hei kahu mō tana whaea, ka rere ki te pokepoke one, kia rite ki tōna te āhua, hāngia atu te Hau Ora, tū ana mai ko Hinehauone, “He atua, he tangata, hou!” Ka moea e ia tāna i hanga ai, ka puta ko Hineātauira, moea tonutia anō tēnei tamāhine e ia.
Nāwai ā, ka puta te hiahia o Tāne ki te toro i tana tuakana i a Rehua. te whētu, ko tana pikinga ki te rangi. Ka ngaro atu ia, ka rongo a Hineātauira, he mea moe ia e tana matua tonu. Ka whakamā te kōtiro nei ko te omanga ma te huanui jo te Tupurunga o te Pō, ki te huna. I reira ka huaina ia ko Hinetītama. Kāwhaki tonu ia,
the proverb. “he who works survives; he who is idle perishes.” This is the parallel to the; shining cuckoo's message and that of the clematis of the forest, “awake!”
There are tales about the puawananga that go right back to the marriage of the star Antares and his beloved rigel, even back to Earth Mother and Sky Father and their argumentative, rebellious children.
There is a proverb, “As the anchor is to the canoe, so is the woman to her husband and family.” This has been true for man as sustained by Earth Mother. So also the clematis, by its mother rigel, from time past until now. Let us then return to Rangi and Papa when they were still together.
Their children strove, some to separate them, others to let their parents be. Tane Mahuta won and he separated the two; so came the saying, “Tane thrust upwards and separated Rangi and Papa, so there was night, and there was day.”
Thus, Papatuanuku lay alone because of Tane. Tane watched his mother below for some long time, then came the thought that he should seek out a wife, and he sought out many, taking them all to wife in his desire for offspring; and when they were born they were trees—totara, maire, matai, rimu, kahikatea and others.
These were his children whom he left to robe his mother, while he turned to shaping from sand a human form like himself, breathing into it the breath of life, and lo, there stood Daughter of Earth-aroma, “divine and man”! He knew her whom he had made, and so was born Hineatauira, the Model Daughter, whom also he married.
In time tane desired to visit his elder brother. Antares the star, so he scaled the heavens. Whilst he was away. Hineatauira learnt of her shameful parentage. For shame, this young girl ran down the pathway called “The Great Expanse of Darkness” to hide. Whilst there, she was renamed Daughter of Defiance.
On to the very low regions of Te Reinga she fled, where she was named a third time Daughter of the Dark Expanse. When Tane returned he pursued her to the underworld of Te Reinga, only to find the Doors of Darkness closed by Hinenui.
tau rawa atu ki te riu o te Rēinga. i reira ka huaina tuatorutia ia ko Hinenuitepō Hoki rawa mai a Tāne, whai noa atu ki te Rēinga, tūtakina kētia e Hinenui “Te Tatau o te Pō.”
Ko te tanging atu o Hinenui ki a Tāne, “E hoki ki te ao hei whakatupu i ā, tāua tamariki, ā, waiho au ki konei kukume mai ai i a rātou.” Ko te hokinga o Tāne ka pōngia i te are whānui, noho ana i a Hineāteao ka kite ake ia i te Aitanga-a-Ira je whiti iho ana, ka pātai ia ki a Hineateao, “Ka whakaaetia rānei taku hopu i aua tini whetū hei whakapaipai mō taku matua, mō Rangi?” Whakaae tonutia mai. Ka whakaaro a Tāne me waiho kia whakatā ia, ka haere ai ki te hopu. Ka moe ia, oho rawa ake, tū, ana ko tana taina ko te Wehinui-ā-mamao, me ngā whetū rā kua mau. Ko te Weroininihi rāua ko te Weroikokoto me te takurua, ko te weroiteaomarie mo te raumati, ko Puanga mo te mahuru, te wā mahi kai.
Ka mau a Puanga, ka rongo a Rehua, ka rongo i te ātaahua o taua wahine, haere ana, ka mau ki tana wahine. moem iho, ka-puta ki waho ko ā rāua mātāmua, ko Puawānanga, ko Puahou, ko Taumate, he putiputi ātaahua katoa. Te puhi a Puanga rāua ko Rehua ko Puawānanga ki tētehi reo, ko Poānanga ki tētahi reo kē, ko Pikiarero ki tētehi reo anō.
Ko tētehi atu kōrero mō Puanga kei a Te Atiawa ki Waiwhetū, ki Pito-one. Kei runga tonu ake i a mātou i Waiwhetū he maunga, ko Pukeatua. I te Pūpū ata. i te rua tekau mā tahi o hune, te rā tuatahi o tā te Māori maramataka, ko te Puanga whetū tērā kua puta me tana pae-kapua, kei runga tonu o Pukeatra e tū ana. Tēnei tena tohu: mehemea kei raro tana Pae-kapua i a puanga he tohu whai kai, mehenmea kei runga he tau mate kai, nā Konei ko te pepeha a Te Atiawa: “Titiro whaka Pukeatua, ki a Puanga me tana Pae-kapua.” Kāore i ārikarika ngā kōrero mō tēnei ingoa te Puawānanga.
Tērā tētehi whānau rākau. hei tāina ki a Puawānanga, ko te Ake tō rātou ingoa whānau.
Te wa tika, e ai ki ngā kōrero, hei puanga mō rātou, mō ērā atu hoki pērā
Hinenui cried sorrowfully to Tane, “Return to the world of light to foster our children, whilst I remain here to draw them to me.” Tane, returning thence, was benighted on the wide pathway to be accommodated by Daughter of the Light; there he saw above him the Children of Lightning shining forth from above and asked of Heneateao, “Would I be permitted to take those myriad stars to adorn my father Rangi?” Permission was given. Tane decided to rest first and then retrieve them. So he slept and awoke only to find standing there his younger brother Wehinuiamamao with the captured stars. These were Challenge the Stealthy and Challenge the Interceptor to preside over the winter. Challenge the Calm and Peaceful to preside over the summer, and Rigel to preside over the spring, the time for growing food.
When Rigel was captured, Rehua saw what a beautiful woman she was, so he went and took her as his wife, and there were born their eldest children, Puawananga, Puahou and Taumate, all beautiful flowers. The favourite of Rigel and antares was puawananga. according to one dialect, to another Poananga. and to another Pikiarero.
The Atiawa at Waiwhetu and Pito-one have more to sat about Rigel. Above us at waiwhetu stands a mountain called Pukeatua (Sacred Hill). In the early morning of June 21st, the first day of the Maori calender, Rigel appears with its perch, an accompanying cloud. standing above Pukeatua. This is her sign: should her perch be below Rigel, the signs are good for cropping, but should the perch be above her, the; season will be lean, so the Atiawa people have their saying: “Look towards the sacred Hill, to Rigel and her perch.” There is quite a story in connection with this name Puawananga.
There is a family of trees, junior to the Puawananga, whose family name is the Aka. According to mythology and legends, the correct time for them to bloom, and also
me te Pohutukawa, Rātā, Kōtukutuku, Mānuka, te tini a Tāne Mahuta, kei a Ruamoko te tikanga. Ka huri te koroua nei ki ōna taha koinā te hurihanga-a-tau ki te raumati, ngahuru, takurua, mahuru rānei, kei tōna taha e huri atu ai ia te ritenga, ā, i a ia ka huri ka rongona tonutia tōna harurutanga, me tōna rūnga i tana whaea i a Papatuanuku. Ka hāngai ai te haka a Ngāti Porou: “Ara rā e..e..e! Ko Ruamoko e ngunguru nei! Au, au, aue Ha!”
Tetehi mea mīharo ki te Pākehā ko te maha whakataukī a ngāitāua hei whakarite i ngā āhua wā katoa. Irta hoki mo te pōwhiri i te toa taua: “Nau mai te pōporo tū ki te hamuti”; mo te whakatūpato kei whakahāwea ki te iti tāngata; “He iti mokoroa, natia i nanati te kahikatea”; mo te tangala māngere ki te mahi kai: “I hea koe i te ngaborotanga o ngā rau o te kōtukutukit?” Mō tēhea ake wā. tehēa ake wā, kei te hūnuku a Tāne Mahuta ngā kōrero, ngā pepeha, whakarile, taukī hoki.
Hoki ake ki te whānau Aka nei, e rua hei whatoronga atu, arā, ko te Akatea, ko te Akamatua, te Aka e korc e whakangāueuetia. He whakataukī tā Te Arawa, i take mai i ngā mahi a tō rātou tupuna a Rangitihi, nāna nei ngā Pū Manawa e MVaru o Te Arawa.
I tētehi pakanga ka taotū a Rangltihi. Na te hoariri ki te upoko, ko Rangitihi tērā ka hinga, ka what! a Te Arawa. I a ia e takoto ra ka kite ia i te akatea e toro iho ana, mau tonu ake ia, tapahitia e ia, takaia ana tana upoko, ko tōna kōkiritanga anō. Te kitenga o tana iwi, ko tō rātou whakaekenga anō ki te āwhina. mamae ana te hoariri, raru ana. Koinei ka whānau mai tēnei kī nā: “Rangitihi, upoko i takaia ki le akatea.”
Mo to akamatua, te kona a Tangolango ki tana tāne ki a Tāwhaki. arō anō ngā kōrero.
Ko Tangotango he wahine ātaahua nō te rangi. ka rongo ki te toa o Tāwhaki o tōna hekenga iho i tc pō takoto ana i a ia. Ka mahara a Tāwhaki he wahine nō konei and. t te tākiritanga o ie ala o ia rā ngaro ana laua wahine. E hia ngā pō ka hapū a Tangotango. kātahi anō a Tāwhaki
for others such as the Pohutukawa, Rata, Kotukutuku, Manuka—Tane's multitudes—is dependent on Ruaumoko. god of earthquakes. When this old man turns to his various sides the seasons of the year follow —summer, autumn, winter or spring, dependent on which side he turns to, and when he turns his rumblings and quakes may be heard and felt in Papatuanuku. Which makes the Ngati Porou haka appropriate: “Behold, ‘tis the earthquake god that groans. Au, au, aue. Ha!!”
One thing that impresses the Pakeha is the many proverbs we have appropriate for all situations. For instance, when welcoming returned men from battle, “Welcome to the Poporo who survived hell fire”; to caution with a word not to underrate a man of small stature, “Though small the mokoroa grub, yet it lays low the lofty and mighty kahikatea tree”; or to reprove the lazy one, “Where were you when the native fuchsia shed its leaves.” No matter what the occasion, Tane Mahuta's family have the apt words, legends, parables or proverbs.
Returning to the Aka family, there are two of interest, the White Rata and the Firm Vine that can never be shaken. The Arawa people have a proverb that originated from the exploits of their ancestor Rangitihi, whose sons became the eight pulsating hearts-the eponyms of the Arawa confederation of tribes. In one battle Rangitihi was wounded. The enemy chanced a blow to the head, Rangitihi was laid low and the Arawa war party broke and fled. Whilst lying wounded he saw above him a vine reaching down, and severing this, he bound up his cleft head, then charged into the fray again. When his people saw this, they too rallied again to help, causing havoc and inflicting defeat on the enemy. Thus was derived the rallying call, “Rangitihi who bound his head with the White Rata vine.” For the Firm Vine, Tangotango's parting advice to her husband Tawhaki, there are other stories.
Tangotango, a beautiful celestial maiden, having learned of Tawhaki's prowess as a warrior, descended and visited him at nights and became his wife. Tawhaki understood her to be an earthling. But at the dawn of
ka mōhio ehara kē tana hoa nō tēnei ao. I te whānautanga mai o tā rāua kōtiro ka puta pōhēhē i a Tāwhaki, “Te piro hoki!” I tērā, ka pōuri a Tangotango, ka tautohetohe rāua, te mutunga, mau iho a Tangotango ki tāna tamaiti, ko tana omanga. Aurere noa atu a Tāwhaki kua tae kē a Tāngotango ki te rangi. Ka karanga ake a Tāwhaki, “He aha tō koha ki a au?” Ka whakahokia mai e Tangotango, “Kei mau koe ki te aka taepa, engari kia mau ki te akamatua”.
Ka roa e noho mokemoke ana a Tāwhaki, ko tana kīnga atu ki tana taina, ki a Karihi, ka haere rāua ki te whakataki i tana whānau. Ka haere rāua, rokohina atu ko tō rāua kuia ko Matakerepō kei te take o ngā aka e rua, e iri iho ana i te rangi. Ka tohutohungia atu rāua, “Ina, e piki; kei taka ki waenga, kei titiro ki raro, kei pūawhe”. Ka whakatōnga rāua i te mahara ake ki te kuha a Tangotango, “A, kei mau ō kōrua ringa ki te aka taepa, engari kia mau ki te akamatua.” He aha rā, mau kē ana a Karihi ki te aka taepa, tāhi ka piupiua e ngā hau. Waimarie i a Tāwhaki ka mau a Karihi, ka tangi rāua i reira mo te oraititanga o te taina. Ka hoki te taina, whakamau tonu atu ki te akamatua te tuakana, ka piki tae atu ana ki te rangi tuarea, ki tana whānau, noho tonu atu.
Kei roto i ēnei kōrerote hōhonutanga o ngā whakaaro-ā-wairua o ō tātou tūpuna. Tēnā, whakarongo ki te tīmatanga o te maioha ki te mātāmua ina whānau mai.
“Nau mai e tama, kia mihi atu au—
I haramai rā koe i te kunenga mai o
te tangata—
I roto i te āhuru mōwai, ka tāka te
pae o Huakipōuri—
Ko te wharehangahanga tēnā a Tānenuiārangi—
I tātaia ai te puhi ariki—
Te hiringa matua, te hiringa tipua, te
hiringa tawhito rangi e…”
Kei konei e mau ake ana te hāngaitanga o ngā kōrero mō ngā mahi a ngā tūpuna, te tohungatanga o ō rātou whakaaro, wawata, tūmanako. Tēnā, whakarongo anō ki tētehi
day each morning his wife disappeared. After some time Tangotango was with child and only then did Tawhaki learn that his wife was not an earthling. When their daughter was born, he tactlessly remarked. “The smell!” Tangotango was hurt, they quarrelled, and Tangotango took her child and fled. Tawhaki made lamentable protests, but Tangotango was already at her celestial home. So Tawhaki cried, “What is your last word to me?” Tangotango's reply was, “Lay not hold of the swinging vine, but rather take hold of the Firm Vine.”
At last, after a long and lonely life, Tawhaki confided in his younger brother Karihi that he desired to visit his family. They set out and found their elder, Matakerepo, at the foot of the two vines suspended from heaven. They were advised, “Come, make your ascent here, but don't fall in between and don't look down, or you will be thrown about in the wind.” They remained silent, remembering Tangotango's parting words, “Lay not hold of the swinging vine, but rather take hold of the Firm Vine.” Somehow, accidentally, Karihi took hold of the swinging vine and was buffeted to and fro dangerously. By sheer good fortune Tawhaki caught Karihi and they mourned greatly this terrifying experience of the younger one. Therefore he returned home, whilst the older brother continued steadfastly grasping the Firm Vine, ascending the many celestial regions to the home of his family, where he remained permanently.
In this account may be seen the profound thoughts of our forebears for things spiritual. For example, listen to the greeting to a first-born child.
“Welcome, child, that I may salute you,
For from the sheltered haven of man's
embryo you came
Having crossed the threshold of Huakipouri fashioned by Tanenuiarangi
When he created woman from the body
of Mother Earth
And received powers from the Gods
and the ancient celestial home.”
Herein the great worth of the legends, traditions of the ancients, their deep spiritual
roanga atu o te karakia nei:
“Haramai e tama, puritia i te akamatua,
kia whitirere ake koe, ko te kauae
runga—
Ko te kauae raro.”
Kia whitirere ake ai ki ngā mātauranga teitei, nunui whakaharahara o te Wāhingaro kia tutuki ai ngā mea tika hei ora mo te nuinga.
Ki a tātou he aka anō te aka, he rātā anō te rātā, he pohutukawa anō a ia, ehara ki te Pākehā. Ki a ia no te whānau kotahi rātau, ā, kei tēnei whānau tētahi āhuatanga, he haeretahitanga o te kaha rākau me te ātaahuatanga rākau, e hapa nei i ngā rākau Pākehā. Koinei i tapaina ai e te Pākehā ki te ingoa Kariki tōna whakamāoritanga “Uho Mataī”, koinei anō hoki i koha ai tā rātou whakahau kia kauā te tua i ngā rākau Māori. He whakataukī anō tā te whānau nei hei whakatūpato: “Kei whatiwhati noa koe i ngā rau o te rātā.” Nā tētehi kaituhi tana tuhinga: “Ina kite ake au i te pohutukawa, i tēnei rākau rangatira, e ura mai ana i roto i tōna korōria whakamīharo, e piri haere ana rānei i ngā tahataha, i runga i ōna whāriki kākāriki, e tū ana rānei i tētehi wahapū pēnei me te matahī i te waharoa, ka rere whakaaroha aku mahara ki tētehi Maori i ū mai ki Niu Tireni i neherā. I te tatanga ki uta, ka kite atu ia i te pohutukawa e puāwai haere ana i ngā tahataha, ko te makanga i tana amokura ki te moana me te aue, “Kāore he take o ēnei hanga ki tēnei whenua mīharo, e tupu haere nei ōna whakapaipai ātaahua noa ake, i runga rākau!”
Ko Tauninihi rā hoki te tupuna i maka rā i tana amokura ki a Taiwhakaea, i te ūnga atu ki Whangaparāoa. Te taunga atu ki te one, horo tonu ia ki ngā kura e mumura mai rā i uta, warewaretia ake a Taiwhakaea. Te pānga atu o te ringa, ngāhorohoro ana, he pohutukawa putiputi kē rā hoki.
Tū pakapaka ana a Tauninihi me te pōuri i tana whiunga i tana kura. He roa tonu ia e kimi ana i a Taiwhakaea, ka rongo ia kua kitea e Mahina, i kitea atu ki te ākau ki Mahiti. Te tononga atu kia whakahokia
thinking, their hopes and dreams lie. Listen further to another part of the incantation,
“Come child, take hold of the Firm Vine
That you may ascend to realms spiritual
to acquire that learning that will equip you
To cope with the many problems
terrestrial.”
To reach up to the highest learning from the Unseen to complete all that is right for the betterment of the many.
To us the aka is aka, just as the pohutukawa is pohutukawa, and the rata is rata, but this is not so to the Pakeha. To him they belong to the one family, and this family has the combination of strength and beauty lacking in imported trees. This is the reason why the Pakeha gave the Greek name which means “Ironhearted”, and why they earnestly campaign for the discontinuance of felling native trees. There is a proverb warning against vandalism, “Do not indiscriminately break off rata branches.” Prevent vandalism.
An author wrote, “When I see the majestic Pohutukawa a blaze of red about our shores or clinging to some cliff-face against a background of sober green, or standing at a river-mouth like a sentinel at an entrance, I find myself entirely in sympathy with a certain Maori chieftain who sailed to New Zealand a long time ago and who, on nearing the shore, saw the Pohutukawa in full bloom at the edge, threw his red head-dress into the sea declaring, ‘Such things are of no use in this wonderful land where adornments far more beautiful grow upon the trees’.” The chief, of course was Tauninihi who threw his red head-dress, Taiwhakaea, into the sea when he approached the shore at Whangaparaoa. When he, set foot on the beach he ran hurriedly to the red blazing along the beach, forgetting Taiwhakaea. When his hand touched them they dropped to the ground, for they were of course the pohutukawa blooms.
Tauninihi stood in amazement, sad at his thoughtless casting away of his own red head-dress. He sought a long time for
mai taua kura, ko te kupu mai: “Ē, e kore e hoki atu, ko te pae kura kite kē hoki tēnei a Mahina.”
I te tau 1950 ka whakanuia e ngā iwi tīmata atu i Te Kaha, muri iho ki Tūranga, te pūtahi o ngā iwi o te Tairāwhiti, hoki ake ki Mātaatua mutu rawa mai ki Waikato, te ono rautau o te tutukinga o ngā waka i maunu mai i Hawaiki ki ēnei takutai.
Nā wai i mātakitaki tērā ūnga tuatahi mai? Nāna rā hoki! Nā wai i mātakitaki te hākaritanga i aua tauranga? Nāna anō rā! Nā te tamaiti nei a Tāne Mahuta, nā te pohutukawa!
Nā tētehi tohunga titiro rākau tēnei whakataunga: “O ngā puāwai katoa o Niu Tīreni, kāore he putiputi kē atu i tātata ki tō te pohutukawa te ātaahua.”
He kupu nunui ēnei i roto i te āhuatanga i pātaingia rā, “He aha oti i te ingoa Māori?” Ina hoki i a te pohutukawa e puāwai ana i Aoteoroa nei, ko te Whetū Mārama o Peterehema i tērā pito o te ao, e pānui ana kua whānau a Ihu Karaiti. Koinei tā te Pākehā ingoa tuarua i whānau mai ai, arā, Te Rākau o te Kirihimete, notemea, kei te Kirihimete ka kitea te pohutukawa i roto i tōna korōria ātaahua.
1350 tau i muri iho i te pohutukawa e pua ana ka pōwhiritia e ia ō tātou tūpuna ki tō rātou kāinga hou. I te tau 1814, ka kauwhautia te kauwhau tuatahi e Hāmuera Mātenga i rongo ai ō tātou tūpuna i te Rongopai i te rā o te Kirihimete. I te wā anō e puāwai ana te pohutukawa, i te tau 1928, ka whakawahia he Māori hei Pīhopa tuatahi mō Aotearoa.
Koinei pai tonu, hāngai tonu hei mutunga kōrero, ko ngā kōreromo te pohutukawa, hei whakahoki i te pātai i uia rā, mehemea he whāinga-kiko anō i te kupu, i te ingoa, i ngā kōrero Māori.
He pitopito noa iho ēnei kōrero, Te Ao Hou pukapuka, arā kē e heipū mai rā i ō tātou marae huri noa, ngā kōreromo te pātai nei, “He aha oti i te ingoa Māori?”
Taiwhakaea, only to hear that Mahina had found it at Mahiti beach. When he asked that his red head-dress be returned, the reply was, “Oh, it will never be returned, this is the head-dress found by Mahina upon the beach.”
In the year 1950 tribes celebrated the sexcentennial of the canoes' arrival to these shores in the migration from Hawaiki.
Who witnessed that first arrival? He did of course! Who witnessed the celebrations marking those landings? He did again! Tane Mahuta's offspring, the Pohutukawa.
A certain botanist made these conclusions, “Of all the beautiful blooms of New Zealand, there are none more beautiful than the Pohutukawa.”
These are very important words in the light of the question that was asked at the very outset, “What is there in a Maori name?” For here in Aotearoa the Pohutukawa blooms whilst in the opposite part of the world the brilliant Star of Bethlehem ushers in the birthday of Jesus Christ. Thus the Pakeha gave the Pohutukawa a second name, The Christmas Tree, for it is at this time of Christmas that the Pohutukawa is seen blooming in all its beauty and glory.
1350 years later the Pohutukawa welcomed our ancestors to their new home. In 1814, Samuel Marsden preached the first sermon when our ancestors heard The Good News, on Christmas Day. At the time when the Pohutukawa was again in bloom, in 1928, a Maori was consecrated the first Bishop of Aotearoa.
So it is appropriate and fitting that this paper should conclude with a word about the Pohutukawa, to reply to the question that was posed, whether there is after all anything of worth in a Maori word, or name, or legend or tradition.
These are just some tit-bits to you, ‘Te Ao Hou’ magazine; much more may be found on our maraes to meet the query made, “What's in a Maori name?”
The Tragedy of Whetumatarau
It was a lovely day and we were on holiday. Early in the afternoon, we ambled into Sam's place.
“Well, hollo!” said Sam, looking as though he was just leaving. “How would you like to come with me? I'm just going up the hill at the back of the house to get those wood flowers I promised you.”
“At the back of the house?” I mentally questioned. There was only a steep bluff at the back of Sam's house—he must get to the top another way.
So we went: Sam, Ted, Brian, Ross, myself and the dog.
Out the back door, up through the terraced vegetable garden, through the back fence, and almost immediately, we began to climb—straight up!
I was horrified! I would never make it!
But up we went. Kiri, our huntaway pup, did the trip a dozen times as I struggled upward. True, we followed a ridge. True, there were trees to pull ourselves up by; but it took us about an hour to reach the top of the 1,000 ft bluff, and there, in spite of Ted's help and the frequent stops on the way, I fell into a ditch, utterly exhausted—vowing nothing would ever drag me up to Whetumatarau again.
But… what was a ditch doing on this outback hilltop? As I regained my breath, my eyes followed the ditch round the crest, and further over I noticed another ditch—shallower, but still a ditch. Sam had been pointing out landmarks to Ted and the boys, but when I called him over and asked him about the ditches, he settled himself down, and I knew we were in for one of Sam's interesting local stories.
Up until about 150 years ago, this hilltop called Whetumatarau, was the site of a strongly fortified pa. It belonged to a Ngatiporou sub-tribe and it had never been taken. This invulnerable pa was known far and wide, and because of this, there had been a time of relative peace. The sentries had an easy task. Why, they could see the coastline in both directions for miles. The flat land between the bluff and the sea was almost treeless, and on this the people lived and worked and played. The prestige of Manu, their chief, was high among his own people, and because of the past reputation of his warriors and the position of the pa, his ‘mana’ was great among all the Maoris of the Coast.
But peace had changed this Ngatiporou tribe.
It showed in the complacent attitude of the people. It showed in the young men who should have been training hard to take the place of the aging warriors. Instead, they played half-heartedly at their training games, and thought only of swimming and fishing and eating.
But one day, this peace was shattered!
Three warriors from the other side of the mountains came with the news.
A fleet of war canoes belonging to the great Ngapuhi tribe from up north was on its way, and their chief, Pomare, under the law of ‘utu’ had vowed to wipe out the whole tribe.
The word ‘utu’ echoed round the council. The word was picked up by the waiting women outside, and within minutes, the dread of ‘utu’ could be seen on every face.
Manu questioned the messengers further.
Of what was his tribe guilty? The men told them the grim story of kidnapping, murder and cannabalism, and the evidence pointed to the Ngatiporou. Immediately, Manu ordered everyone to prepare for battle and a siege. But the older women, overhearing had already sent the mothers for their children, the boys for water and the girls for food. The messengers had said the fleet was due to round the distant Matakaoa Point in about three hours, and there was much to do.
Manu's heart sank as he looked at the general condition of the pa—the unrepaired outer defences, and the overgrown ditches. He inspected the weapons they had, and although they were all well made, they were pitifully few. He set the young men to clear out the ditches and repair the walls. The older men worked desperately at the futile task of making more weapons—weapons that normally took days to make.
Meanwhile, the women and older children struggled to bring the old folk, the sick and the babies into the pa—Whetumatarau had never seemed so steep or so high before. There was not time to collect roots and berries and kumara from the gardens at the other end of the bay. No time to bring in an extra catch of fish. Time only for the boys of the tribe to collect several kits of mussels and pipis; time only to collect the food stored in the village storage pit.
All too soon, the look-out shouted a warning—the Ngapuhi fleet was rounding the Matakaoa Point.
Manu looked around quickly. He was not nearly ready to face this enemy, but his calmness gave his people courage and they worked quickly and without panic in the hour that remained. There was water to last for several weeks; there was firewood in plenty. If there was less food than required, no one commented.
The Ngapuhi arrived just as the sun was setting and they attacked early the next day. They opened fire with strange, terrifying weapons and almost immediately several of the Ngatiporou warriors fell dead. But the pa's position still gave the defenders an advantage, and time and time again, the attackers were pushed back down the bluff. After several days, the Ngapuhi paused in their attacks. In spite of the use of the Pakeha's muskets, their losses had been heavy. If only they could lure the Ngatiporou down from the pa…. And so the fighting stopped, and the Ngapuhi waited—waited for starvation to do its work.
Manu was worried. They had been out of food for some days and the scouts he had sent out to forage for food had either come back wounded with none, or had not come back at all. Days passed. A large number of old folk had already died, as had the sick of the tribe. Some of the children had died, and he heard whispers that they had not died of starvation, but had been killed and eaten. He refused to believe that his easy-going people, who had always loved and prized their children, could stoop to such depravity. But he preferred not to investigate.
The final blow came when it was discovered that very little water remained in the pa. Most of the grourds, unused for so long, had slowly leaked away the precious water, and that day, one of the remaining gourds had burst. For four days, the water was carefully rationed, and with the rationing, hope died in the eyes of the starving people. On the fifth day, they stood round the last empty gourd—gaunt, haggard, wasted-looking and beaten.
Manu turned hopelessly away and slowly walked towards the walls of the pa. He looked down at the Ngapuhi camp, and stared as he saw in the shadows thrown by the setting sun, the canoes being packed and the warriors pushing off and paddling out to sea. Manu called two of his chief men to him, and together they watched the unbelievable—the Ngapuhi had given up—they were going home!
He waited until they had nearly reached Matakaoa Point before telling the tribe, and he ordered the people to stay in the pa while he sent small parties of young men out to fetch food and water. But in their desperation, the people refused to listen. Men, women and children alike clambered out of the pa and down the hillside. Some went down the bay to the kumara gardens, but most were down at the river when the
Ngapuhi, returning under cover of darkness, descended on them. Few had thought to take weapons with them, and the massacre was so terrible that the river ran red with blood. Apart from a few young women, no one was spared, and those left in the pa were soon overwhelmed. Even those who had gone down the bay to the gardens did not escape to tell the tale.
As Sam finished his story, we looked at the ditches with renewed interest. We looked out across the bay to Matakaoa Point and to the river that had flowed with blood.
“And you know.” said Sam, “the shame of it is that the Ngatiporou hadn't been guilty of the murders—the Ngapuhi had made a mistake.”
‘Contemporary Maori Writing’ Takes Major
Placing in the ‘Book of the Year’ Award
It was my privilege recently, at the request of Margaret Orbell, who compiled and edited the book, and who was unable to attend the function, to receive the prize for second placing which ‘Contemporary Maori Writing,’ published by Reeds, took at the ‘James Wattie Book of the Year Award’ for 1971.
The award was announced at a luncheon held in an hotel in Christchurch on 30 September to mark the end of ‘Book Week’. It was a sumptuous affair attended by over two hundred writers, editors, publishers and friends from all parts of the country.
The other place-getters were first, ‘William and Mary Rolleston’ by Rosamund Rolleston, also published by Reeds, and third, ‘Gardening With New Zealand Plants, Shrubs and Trees’ by Mrs Muriel E. Fisher, Mrs E. Satchell and Janet M. Watkins, published by Collins. The judges were Messrs A. C. Brassington of Christ-church, senior judge, R. Goodman of Auckland and J. Kelleher of Wellington.
Selection was based on literary merit, over-all quality, editing, illustrations, topicality, price in relation to value for money and ability to last. Books eligible for the award must be written by a New Zealand author or an author permanently resident in New Zealand and be published by a member of the New Zealand Book Publishers Association.
In his comments, Mr Brassington said, “‘Contemporary Maori Writing’ could well become a standard work of writing in the special field it covered. It was well produced, its editorial work could not be faulted and the prose and poetry displayed creative work of the highest order.”
Rowley Habib
.New Shoes and Old
Day after day we'd waited for the rural delivery van, each of us pretending to the other that we weren't. But you know how it is when you're a real family and living close like we do at home, you notice what's going on. The van came about half past eleven, and Dad and I would knock off on the farm around quarter to twelve, to be ‘in plenty of time for lunch’ Dad would say, and we'd walk up to the house slowly, saying things like, ‘Well, I'll bet Abe's late today—old son of a gun's never on time.’ We'd shake our heads in agreement, and know darn well he was always on time with the mail, unless there'd been a flood or a slip and then we would have known anyway.
We'd wash our hands real slow at the tap outside so as to seem as if we were taking our time, and saunter inside. In the first few months after my sister Queenie had left home for the big city, there'd been a few letters, so it didn't matter when we said, very casual, ‘Any mail today Ma?’, because just sometimes there might have been.
The last one we'd had had told us that a few of her pals were fed up with Auckland and that they'd heard Wellington wasn't a bad place. They were going down to have a look around and she thought she might as well go along too, she could always come back if she didn't like it, and in the meantime she was seeing more of the country wasn't she? Ma wrote straight back and said stay where you are, you've got relations in Auckland, but the letter came back after a while with ‘Gone: No Address’ on it. I suppose she must have meant to write to us but just didn't get round to it. Anyway, after a while we didn't ask Ma anymore.
One look at her face and we knew right enough, though the lunch would be set up for us, and she wouldn't have shed any tears. Maybe she did after lunch when we'd gone back to work, or maybe she did at night when she and Dad were in the big double bed together. Maybe she did, but I didn't ask Dad, and he didn't tell me.
Only on Friday, when she caught the bus to town for shopping in Kaikohe, she'd say sternly, ‘Don't you fellas forgot to pick up the mail’. We never forgot.
Saturdays, the little kids would be home, and they didn't have to pretend like we grown-ups did. They'd rush down to meet Abe, but after a while, as they were never lucky enough to run back to Ma waving an envelope and yelling, ‘Its from Queenie Ma,’ I think they went off meeting the van a bit, because going back to her without anything wasn't so good.
Sundays we would go to church; every second Sunday, that is, because the minister could only come that often, and we'd kneel on the raupo mats in the hall, with the altar set up in front of it, cloth as white as purity itself and the cross bright gold. Ma would kneel there for a long time with her eyes squeezed tight together so that the creases looked as if they were round her eyes for good.
It got to be that things were pretty quiet at home after a while. I'd had a few thoughts of my own, but I didn't say anything. Perhaps the old man could read my mind, or perhaps he'd been thinking along those lines himself for a while. Anyway, it just popped out one day when we were washing at the tap before lunch.
‘Reckon you could go to Wellington and look for Queenie, Heta?’
‘There might be a letter today,’ I said, putting off an answer.
He looked grim. ‘I don't reckon.’
‘You might do it better'n me,’ I said. ‘They'd have more respect for you.’
He looked at his big hands. ‘Nothing wrong with you Heta, boy,’ he said. ‘You're respectable enough, and you can talk to ‘em better'n I can.’
When we went inside he said to Ma, ‘Heta's going to Wellington, day after tomorrow.’
The next day, he and I took the old truck into Kaikohe, and we got my train tickets and a new suit of clothes. With the clothes went a squeaky, shiny pair of black shoes.
We had to leave at seven the following morning so I could catch the train in good time. The cows had to be milked first before Dad drove me to the station, so we were up round four in the morning. Just before I left, Ma handed me a parcel.
‘What's this?’ asked Dad, feeling the paper. He looked at her as if she was clean out of her mind. ‘There's shoes in here, we got him new shoes yesterday.’ And he pointed at my glossy feet.
‘They're his old ones. He can use them to ease his feet. Could be he'll have a lot of walking to do.’ And with that she turned away from me, hugged me tight and whispered in my ear, ‘Find my Queenie baby, Heta, find my little girl.’
So I looked for her for a week. That's how long Dad had said I was to stay. What he could afford. He pretended he meant in terms of money, which was partly true, but also he was afraid that the cities, having claimed one child, might claim another, and he couldn't afford that either.
I went to the police, and I can't complain about the way they treated me. They even found out for me that her first job in Wellington had been on the telephone exchange, but she'd left there a long time ago. They wished they could do something for me, the police, and told me to keep in touch for as long as I was in the city. I went to a welfare lady and she was very good and seemed just about as worried as I was. We got in her nice car and drove around miles of streets, stopping to knock on doors of old apartment buildings and I showed Queenie's photo to the people who answered the doors. They all shook their heads.
The rest of the time, I just walked, looking, looking, into faces — Maori faces, Pakeha faces, men, women, children—not sure any more of exactly what I expected to find, just hoping that one of them might look like my sister, my little sister Queenie.
Little sister? Well, she was the first-born, our Queenie, and once, long ago, she had looked after me guiding me past rushing streams, keeping me away from the drains, not letting me loose in the bull paddock, when I was a really little fella; all those sort of things, and boxing my ears when I gave her check, telling me to shut up on the school bus when I interrupted her and her girlfriends, and telling them to shut up if they said it to me, adding, ‘Hey you dumb sheilas, leave my brother alone, or I'll thump you.’
Now I'd come to look after her. Walking round and looking. Changing my shoes often, putting the good ones on, for when I was talking to people. I went into the Maori meeting-hall down the bottom of Lambton Quay one night, and they were practising action songs. They were flash city Maoris come from work to their clubrooms, dressed in slick suits. They had lots of trophies for their good singing and I felt shy. Then one of the women got up, not so smart as the rest, and I heard the throb, the waiata I knew, true and clear, and I nearly cried. After she had stopped singing I showed her the photo, but she shook her head like all the rest. I went outside and she followed me, to find me sitting in the bus shelter across the road, really crying. She was pretty good to me, said her name was Wai, and would I give her the photo and she'd ask around. I said no, because I needed it to help me in my search, but I'd send her one when I got back home if I hadn't found Queenie, so we exchanged addresses on the back of an envelope I had in my pocket. She said, ‘Come home, have kai at my place.’ I wanted to go, but it was the last night and I was frightened to stop looking.
In the morning I went to the police again, and they drove me round the wharves. ‘What are you taking me here for?’ I asked. They explained and it hit me like someone was smashing me up and I couldn't stop them. ‘Is that what they think? Do they really think Queenie would be like that?’
I thought inside me. And I guessed that was their answer to the whole problem and I'd have been wrong to blame them for thinking it. I was glad I was going home that night.
I went to the station early, wanting to be on my way and I was sad, and there wasn't really anywhere left to go.
I checked my ticket, and as I left the counter, I saw her. Just like that. She was asleep.
I'd walked right past her the first time, but she wasn't very noticeable, so maybe it wasn't so strange. Lying there on the seat, she had her feet drawn up under her knees, shoes off, and a hand clutching the bushy hair that she'd always wanted to have straightened. Queenie had always slept like that, with her hand in her hair, even when she was little and I used to cover her with more of the blanket when we slept together.
When I shook her gently, she opened her eyes, looking from under heavy lids. ‘Heta,’ she said. ‘Hey, what in hell you doing here mate?’
I knelt beside her. ‘Come to get you,’ I said. ‘Dad sent me.’
She shook her head, dazed. ‘No, no, he can't do that.’
I looked at the station clock. It showed seven o'clock. The train left in half an hour. ‘Where are your things?’ I said urgently. ‘Come on, quick, tell me.’
‘Things?’ She looked blank and patted the kit beside her: ‘Them's my things.’
‘All your things?’
‘Yeah.’
That shook me, but pleased me too. We could get straight on the train, for I'd had her ticket bought and with me, all week. A moment before I'd nearly got the money back at the counter, but they were busy, and I hadn't had the heart either, because it was so final. I could do it back home, I'd thought. Suddenly it was an omen.
‘Hurry.’ I said, yanking her to her feet.
No.’ She pulled against my hand, and there was a quick, wild look I'd never seen on her face before. ‘No, I don't want to go back.’
‘Ma worries about you. All the time. Every day.’
‘I'll write to her.’ said Queenie.
‘Queenie, Queenie, sister.’ I didn't have anything to say.
‘You going on that train? You could have a good time here.’
‘No thanks.’
‘Come round to the cafe,’ she said, with a touch of the old bossy Queenie.
I followed her obediently, and hopeful, playing for time. The cafe was warm and steamy. You had to go along behind a rail by the counter and on the other side there was a string of girls serving, mostly Maori girls with tattooed hands. I noticed Queenie's hands were tattooed too— L-O-V-E, love, on the fingers of one hand, H-A-T-E, hate on the others.
‘I worked here for a bit,’ she said. ‘They all know me.’ She smiled dreamily through the steam. ‘You want something to eat?’
I looked at the food and shook my head; the potatoes mashed to grey and black; my Ma would have died to see the way they hadn't taken out the eyes. The dark pots of sludge coloured meat.
There are springs of water under the earth. Under the darkness.
The girls smiled at us. ‘Hi, Queenie,’ they called.
‘They sure know you,’ I said. ‘Why didn't you stay?’
‘Stay? I dunno. Too much else to do.’
‘Do? What d'you do?’
‘Eh? Oh nothing.’
We bought coffee and sat down.
‘You coming with me?’ I said, and stared about me, not wanting to look into her thoughts. The Pakeha across in the next seat, picking his nose, thought I was looking at him, and decided to use a hankerchief instead.
‘Its been cold here,’ Queenie remarked.
‘I know,’ I answered. ‘I've been here a week.’
‘Have you? What for?’
‘Looking for you.’
‘Is it warm at home?’
I put my hands on hers. ‘Is it warm little sister? Warm as sunlight, warm as Ma and Dad in bed. Warm as the tunnels between their legs where we used to crawl on cold
winter mornings, warm as kisses from the little fellas at night, warm as the hangi on picnic days. Is it warm, Queenie? You should feel the cows’ flanks, they're still warm. Rosie misses you and so does Tilly —they never given half the milk they used to since you went away.
Her face flickered with pleasure. Our hands tightened together and I hurried on. ‘Warm as dinnertime, and loving, and Ma and Dad and you an’ me at home like we always used to be, only you're not there. Only cold is in Ma's face when there's no letter from her Queenie, and no Queenie coming back to see her anymore.’
I held onto her hands and drew her up from the seat.
A loud speaker voice came chanting over our heads—‘The Auckland Limited Express will depart from Platform Eight at 7.30. Hurry along please.’
Out of the cafeteria, cold blue light gushed down on us, the subway canyons streamed away on our left.
‘I'm taking you home, Queenie,’ my heart singing. ‘I'm taking you home.’
‘… Passengers are reminded…’ the voice rattled from the loud speaker—Queenie's lips moved with it, like in prayers, she'd heard it many times before—
‘…Refreshments will be served at Palmerston North…’
‘Carriage N, Carriage O—we're nearly there Queenie, the last one it is—’
‘…Please do not attempt to board moving trains..’
‘We'll be on it Queenie, don't worry—’
‘… If you wish to smoke, you must use a smoking carriage. Special carriages are provided for smokers and nonsmokers..’
‘Queenie, good day mate, how would you be?’
Voices, voices all around us. A dozen faces, brown and white, under long streaming hair, faded jeans, bare feet, a guitar.
—Mocking me now from above—
‘… We wish all passengers a pleasant journey..’
‘This is it Queenie,’ I said feverishly. ‘This is our carriage.’
Again she looked at me with dreaming eyes, from the midst of her friends. Round their heads some wore bands, worn the way our people wear their tipare when they are in costume. They looked like the wild guys I'd seen on the pictures on Saturday nights, back home.
‘My brother, Heta,’ she explained to them, not sure whether to be embarrassed or proud. I was so different. So different from her too, though I'd not noticed it properly till that moment. Until then, she'd just been Queenie. Now she was—different. She might have been pregnant but then again she might not. You couldn't tell for sure, her puku had fallen away in her jeans, but maybe it wasn't a baby. They wouldn't have minded at home. Well, not so much that she couldn't have come back. One of the boys in the crowd threw his arm around her, casual and friendly.
‘… The limited will depart in two minutes. All seats please.’
‘Get on, Heta,’ she said, and kissed me, quick and funny, on the cheek. ‘My love to Ma and Dad and the kids. Tell ‘em I'm all right. Tell ‘em I'll write.’
‘Aren't you coming home. Queenie?’ I said, knowing the answer.
‘Home?’ The vague embracing smile over her companions. ‘This is home now, brother. My friends. We take care of each other.’
I was on the step of the train. ‘On you get lad,’ said the guard. I stumbled backwards, the door shut in my face. On the platform Queenie's friends had started to sing, gently, like a conversation between themselves, with the guitar laughing along with them.
Neon signals across the way were flashing on my horizon, I couldn't see her face for lights and tears. The train started to move. For one blinding instant Queenie's face and mine focussed on each other, and she leapt at the train door. Locked, maybe, it didn't budge and she fell back as the train gathered speed, loosening her grasp. I craned my neck around, but already she had picked herself up and was catching the strolling band wandering along the platform. I guessed her face would be dreamy again.
‘Goodbye little sister—Haere ra e te tua-
hine—Haere ra e Kuini, Haere ra,’ my heart beat with the wheels of the train.
At home on Sunday, Ma would say her prayers—ake, ake, ake, for ever and ever, amine—and I wondered, this time, would she ever open her eyes again.
I bent down to change my aching feet out of the new shoes into the old ones. It was the least I could do for myself. I'd be travelling all night, and all the next day too.
Back there, she and they together might ride easy into a neon night, but my journey would not be so good.
Te taenga mai o Te Minita Māori
I a au e kura māhita ana i Kaiwharawhara i ngā r&


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