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A sorrowful interest attaches to this volume of Legends of the Maori, for in it are assembled the historical traditions and the stories of Maori life that came from the lips and the pen of the late Sir
“You will find something here that no one else has got,” said Sir Maui when handing me his notes of Tainui tribal history to be edited for this volume, shortly before he left New Zealand on the last voyage. His description of the narrative was justified, for his story of the Tainui migration from Tahiti to this country and the doings of the Polynesian sailors’ descendants is more complete than any account previously published, and contains details that the tribal sages had revealed only to Pomare. It forms the most valuable portion of the volume. Sir Maui’s story, which I have called the Saga of Tainui, covers the history of the West Coast people, whose headquarters were Kawhia Harbour, from the arrival of their sailing canoe there to the era just before the coming of the pakeha, a period of five centuries. Not only is this section of the book a history of the ancestors from whom Sir Maui was descended; it also gives us a series of perfect pictures of ancient Maori life, in peace and war.
The second section reveals our old friend as an artist in short stories of Maori life—pakeha and Maori life, too—little tales of New Zealand ancient and modern; a story-teller with a lively appreciation of dramatic values. The pity is that he did not write more, from his limitless mind-store of contes, sometimes tragic but more often strongly tinged with that acute sense of humour, those chuckling fun-loving ways that were so
But Pomare’s book now presented will speak for itself. Here I, who knew Maui for the greater part of his life, would say something about his character and career, his qualities of heart and brain, his steadfastness as a friend, his courage and perseverance as a champion of his people’s rights and welfare. At a later day an adequate biography, it is hoped, will appear. In the meantime this brief sketch of his life and work may fittingly preface the book in which his stories are collected.
* * * *
A little barefoot Maori boy marched along singing a chant of welcome in line with a band of other children, carrying gifts of food to the invading pakeha army at Parihaka, one morning in 1881. He carried a loaf of bread; some of his companions bore plaited-flax round baskets of boiled potatoes. “We must return good for evil” was the word of their revered hereditary chief and spiritual leader,
That little boy, who was in the thick of the political and military turmoil of that troubled period in Taranaki, and who witnessed pakeha and Maori, to see the peaceful attitude of his chief recognised and appreciated, and the patriotic sentiment of the native people justified and vindicated. More than that, he returned to his country, after training abroad, as a medical apostle and saviour; he became the Maori’s successful political champion, their representative in Parliament, a man honoured alike by his fellow-countrymen and by Britons abroad, and knighted by his King for his services to his people and to the Empire—Sir
It was as an evangel of new life, of hygienic living as well as a revival of the olden industrious habits, that kainga to kainga the gospel of sanitation and the laws of physical well-being from the stage of infancy onward. The story of how
Pomare, when at Te Aute College, started the Young Maori Party, and with several like-minded spirits toured the country enlisting the sympathies of the tribes in a movement for the general betterment of the race. He determined to become a doctor to his people, and, assisted by a near relative, he went to the United States to graduate. Medicine and surgery were fascinating studies, and the science of bacteriology tremendously engrossed him. He bent all his energies to the task and graduated with honours.
When the brilliant young doctor returned to New Zealand the Government had just instituted a vigorous health campaign. Dr. Pomare, then about twenty-five years old, was gladly engaged by the Government to carry the gospel of health to the Maori. It was then, in 1901, in Auckland, that I first met him, and well I remember with what earnestness and enthusiasm he discussed the heavy task before him. He was the first of his race in the field, and this fact created vast interest among the native people. This interest was not exactly a helpful interest in some districts, for the old conservative folk greatly disliked having their easy-going insanitary habits upset. Gradually he won them over. He left not the smallest village unvisited, he made long bush journeys. He wore down opposition from the often suspicious people; he overcame official hindrances. His reports to the Government in those days make quite fascinating reading to-day. They are an eloquent sociological as well as medical review of the condition of his people, covering that ten years’ period, 1901–11.
Inevitably the young Maori health officer was drawn into the world of politics. He saw that the land troubles and other grievances of the native people had a serious reflex action on the mental and physical well-being of the race. He found also that his usefulness was cramped and hampered by official interference, and if he was to advance the well-being of his race in the broadest sense, he must become an advocate of the Maori cause in Parliament. He stood against the sitting member for the Western Maori seat,
For sixteen years Sir Maui was the Minister in complete control of the administration of the Cook and other Islands, the South Pacific dependencies of New Zealand. He had already gained experience of conditions in the Maori islands of Polynesia on his visits as doctor to Rarotonga and other parts of our little South Sea Dominion. It was not easy to travel among the outlying islands in those days. The only means of reaching the more remote places was a small schooner. One of Pomare’s professional problems in the Islands was the question of how best to deal with the numerous sufferers from leprosy. Up at Penrhyn, the northernmost of our coral islands, he found many lepers who had been segregated by their people on one of the small islands on the atoll reef. In the end, through his influence, New Zealand joined with the Fiji Government in the Makogai leper station, established on an island in the Fiji group, and there all Maori-Polynesian sufferers from the terrible disease are sent to-day. The system of treatment there has proved the most successful method of dealing with leprosy. All the sick people in this category are collected from the various islands and maintained on Makogai, and already a number have been returned to their homes cured. This result, and the fact that the island populations generally are increasing by every census, is a happy condition that had its beginning in Pomare’s first Pacific cruise.
As Minister in charge of the Islands, he exhibited a truly statesmanlike skill in the administration of those small and scattered but strategically and commercially valuable dependencies of ours. The Islanders loved him; they remember him with a touching devotion when they meet and discuss the affairs of their coral homes. Lady Pomare, too, and Miss Ana Pomare won the hearts of the Islanders on their visits with Sir Maui; they were claimed as kinswomen and chieftainesses.
Pomare could recite the list of his chieftain ancestors from a period some eight hundred years ago, long before the historic canoes crossed the ocean from Tahiti and other Eastern Pacific islands to New Zealand. Several lists, in fact, for there were collateral tables of names down through the generations from the far-back Hawaikian days. And not mere shadowy names, but most of them with some definite tradition attached in the orally-preserved history of the tribes. Practically every Maori, not merely those
pakeha race can exhibit the same intimate acquaintance with their ancestral lines?
This pride of pedigree—wickedly vain, no doubt, from the point of view of many of our sturdy democrats—had a certain virtue in it. It made often for a chivalrous spirit, a scorn of mean actions. A rangatira would endeavour to behave as his renowned ancestors had behaved in certain circumstances. Of course, like the pakeha’s ancestors, some of those long-gone rangatiras were great ruffians, but there were the outstanding names that were imperishably associated in their descendants’ minds with deeds of bravery, endurance and generosity.
In another way the constant remembrance of the chiefs of the past influenced the deeds and words of the descendants. It enabled public speakers to give pleasing point to their addresses with traditional allusion, proverb and aphorism, and ancient chant. Sir
With mingled pleasure and profound sorrow one casts one’s thoughts back through the memories of long friendship—the pleasure that comes from the recollection of our many unreserved talks on the subjects that interested us most, talks in which Maui revealed his touching pride of race, his patriotic fire—sorrow that, alas! those honest, earnest outpourings of heart and soul will be heard no more. Poignant was his grief, hot his indignation, at anything that touched undesirably the honour and freedom of his Maori-Polynesian peoples. His sympathies with the Samoan people were deep and strong.
How pleasant it was to hear him recall the scenes of his youth; to hear him describe his mentors in Maori lore 1 How well he brought before one, in a deft word-picture, such a man as his old tohunga instructor Tepene, of Ngati-Mutunga, who sent for his mokopuna Maui so that he might pass on to him his tribal history and sacred knowledge; Tepene, grim black-tattooed ancient, who to his last day wore his hair tied up in a top-
A knightly soul was Pomare; chivalrous in his defence and championship of a national cause which needed an advocate; kindly, ever ready with a joke rather than a hard word; generous in the instinctive manner of a true rangatira.
Intensely patriotic in the Maori sense, he was also broadly Imperial in his outlook. The tribes will not forget his eloquent and impassioned appeals in the days of the Great War, when there was necessity for keeping the Maori Pioneer Battalion up to its full strength on the Western Front.
Kindly, gifted, chivalrous Maui, dead at fifty-four, a too-early flickering out of a brilliant life. Dead in a far-away land; yet we cherished the belief, in the Maori way, that with his ashes his spirit returned to his old beloved scenes, to flit to the Rerenga-Wairua of his noble ancestors. His memory is close to us; the New Zealanders, Maori and pakeha, who knew and valued and loved him. To his family one may echo the thoughts in one of the old laments of his race for a high chief and leader:
[The following poem was written by Sir
THE tradition of Tainui as handed down from generation to generation for six centuries begins in the tropic islands of the Eastern Pacific. The Maori calls this fatherland Hawaiki; it was the last of many Hawaikis on his long adventure of ocean roving and island exploring that ended at length in our own Aotea. Our Hawaiki was the group of islands which Captain Cook named the Society Islands; we know them best to-day as Tahiti, and its neighbours Raiatea, Huahine, and the lesser Moorea and Porapora. There begin our genealogies.
In one of the islands of that group our great ancestor Hoturoa was born. By the time he had grown to manhood the tribes were at war, and because of the dissensions he and his people migrated to Hawaiki-it’ (“Little Hawaiki”). There they took up their abode at a place called Waihi in the traditions. In the Tahiti tongue to-day it is Vaihi, which is in the district of Papara, in the island of Tahiti. Hoturoa’s wife was Whakaoti-rangi, and they had two sons, Hotu-hope and Hotu-matapu.
At Waihi more dissensions arose and the clans warred upon each other over land and other causes, but chiefly for land, for the isles of Hawaiki were but small countries to hold such a large population. The tribespeople scattered and lived unrestful lives and the thought grew that it was time to set forth into the vast unknown ocean again and seek homes that would be less circumscribed. The leaders of those families who had decided to migrate were Hoturoa and his kinsman Ngatoro-i-rangi, who was a wise man and a high priest.
In order to make their voyage to a new land in the far south-west, of which descriptions had been brought to Hawaiki by adventurous navigators who had returned from time to time, it was necessary to build strong ocean-going canoes. Hoturoa and Ngatoro-i-rangi went into the forest and sought a suitable large tree, and they discovered one which would serve as the hull, on which the upper parts could be built with planks fastened together with coconut fibre in the usual manner of island shipwrights. Hoturoa and his tohunga kinsman then returned to their village and called upon the people to assist them in the making of the canoe.
The first step in this important work was the propitiation of the spirit of the forest, Tane-mahuta, who is lord of the forests and all the creatures that dwell therein, by appropriate ceremonies. Ngatoro-i-rangi led the workers to the tree selected, and when they stood at its base he recited a sacred chant, which was the karakia his ancestor Rata used when he went to the forest to fell a tree for his canoe. This was the prayer recited by the tohunga:
And again Ngatoro-i-rangi uttered the karakia:
After this had been uttered, they felled the tree with stone axes and with fire, and there made the canoe. Then Ngatoro-i-rangi said:—
So they put the skids under the canoe and the bow was made to touch the stump of the tree, according to the custom that a man should say farewell to those remaining, by touching noses. Such was the ceremony of the ancient canoe-makers. And so the canoe was dragged from the stump, the head of the tree. The work of hollowing it out with stone axes
The Hauling of Tainui.
rango) were placed in position for the haul to the sea. Ngatoro-i-rangi, the priest, stood on the canoe; his voice resounded in the forest; he gave utterance to this sacred chant:—
The purpose of this karakia was to assist the hauling of the canoe to the seashore. And again Ngatoro-i-rangi’s voice was heard in this hauling charm:—
The new canoe glided along the skids, and so, for the first time, the people heard that the name of their canoe was “Tainui” (Great Tide). It was dragged to the beach and there a house was built to protect it from the hot sun. The sides of the canoe were built upon the carved-out keel.
It was at this juncture that a certain boy came and saw Hoturoa and Ngatoro-i-rangi working away at the canoe. This boy began to play about and climb upon the canoe. He was scolded by Hoturoa, but he still persisted. Hoturoa became angry and he struck him with one of the
Now, the young chief Tama-te-kapua saw Tainui afloat at her moorings, so he had his canoe, the Arawa, also dragged to the sea. All the other canoes at Waihi were old canoes; Tainui was the only new one.
Both these canoes were left lying at anchor in the lagoon. Now Tama-te-kapua approached Ngatoro-i-rangi to go and perform the necessary incantations over his canoe, because the Arawa canoe had no priest. As Ngatoro-i-rangi was going to the waterside, Tama-te-kapua said: “You had better bring your wife Kearoa so that the incantation in regard to the female element of my canoe may be completed.” So Kearoa went with her husband on board the Arawa. Ngatoro-i-rangi performed the ceremonies usual on such occasions, and he went into the deckhouse built amidships. Tama-te-kapua had given directions to his men to haul up the anchor and to set sail while Ngatoro-i-rangi was below, so that the priest would be carried off to sea as the tohunga of the Arawa. So Hoturoa and his canoe Tainui were left behind, and Ngatoro-i-rangi, against his will, sailed in the Arawa.
Tainui now took in her cargo for the voyage and embarked her people. Hoturoa, with his two wives Whakaotirangi was one of Hoturoa’s two wives; the other was Marama-Kiko-hure, whose conduct when the New Zealand coast was reached made trouble for Tainui.
SO Tainui put to sea without the high priest Ngatoro-i-rangi, who had been carried off so deceitfully in the Arawa. With sail and paddle began the long voyage of this strong outrigger canoe to the new land, Nukuroa, or Aotearoa. But the beginning of the voyage was stormy and perilous. The seas became angry and then was heard the warning cry of the seabird called the torea; it cried “Keria! Keria!” Hoturoa ordered his crew to put about and return to anchorage. The angry seas became calmer and Tainui again put forth to sea.
Then again was heard the sharp cry of the torea, “Keria! Keria!” Again the stormy winds raged and the seas ran high; and once more Hoturoa put back for shelter. That is why we who are descended from the crew of the Tainui canoe are always watchful when we go to sea should anyone hear that bird utter its call, “Keria! Keria!” We know when we hear that cry that it will not be long before a storm bursts.
Now Hoturoa, in his anxiety, visited the chief Tama. He found Tama and Ngahue loading their canoe, Poutini, for the same voyage. Hoturoa asked Tama to come and be his tohunga, that is, the tohunga for the Tainui canoe, because both Tama and Ngahue were tohungas, and it was not needful that both should be in the same ship. Tama asked: “Where has Ngatoro-i-rangi gone?” Hoturoa replied: “He has gone in the Arawa.”
So Tama took compassion on Hoturoa and he gave over Poutini to Ngahue, and thus it was that Tama came to the Tainui canoe with his two wives. Those who remained said: “O Tama, this is the Tamatea, the ninth night of the moon,” and he said: “This Tamatea will seek that Tamatea at sea and there we shall decide our fate.” And Tama asked Hoturoa what it was that was preventing the canoe from sailing, and Hoturoa told him of the torea’s warning and the storm.
Tama stepped aboard the Tainui, and uttered the following prayer:
Then Tama uttered the second of his prayer charms:
The Tainui in the Storm.
Now at last Tainui was able to sail the trackless ocean. She encountered adverse winds and tempestuous seas, but still she sailed on, combating the waves. Now Tama became exhausted with his efforts, and in his extremity he uttered this incantation:
Tama coupled this incantation with another, in which he introduced his own name and those of the gods of war and of cultivation and the peaceful arts:
And these prayer-charms calmed the seas and brought fair winds, and so Tainui sailed peacefully along towards the new land of the south.
IN such manner came our ancestral canoe to these shores, where the other canoes had already arrived. When Hoturoa and Tama saw the I canoes lying at anchor in an East Coast bay, it was night. They heard the people on board snoring, and so they thought these people must have only just arrived, they were sleeping so soundly. Tainui was beached and Hoturoa and Tama jumped ashore to perform their rites in propitiation of the spirits of the new land, and went in search of wood. They discovered a manuka tree, which they cut down and took to a secluded place, where they lit a fire; there they made their altar and offered up incantations. They then went back to their canoe and commenced to play tricks with the anchors of the other canoes. They dropped their own stone anchor, and pulled up the anchors of the others, and so placed them that their ropes went over the anchor rope of their own canoe. They let out a great length of the cable so that Tainui lay some length away, and then they awaited the dawn.
When the people from the other canoes arose in the morning they beheld Tainui at her moorings some distance off. This, of course, was done purposely in order to deceive. When Hoturoa and Tama saw that all the voyagers were awake they set their men to work hauling in on the anchor rope, and so pulled their canoe in closer in order to converse with the other sailors. They described their long and tempestuous voyage. Then the captains began to argue as to which canoe had landed first, each claiming that he was the first. Hoturoa and Tama said: “It is no use arguing here; let us go and examine the posts of our altars on shore.”
The others agreed to this, and the captains and priests went ashore, and each tohunga went to his altar, and Hoturoa said: “Let us bring the posts of our altars and compare them.” Hoturoa declared to the tohungas that his canoe, the Tainui, was the first to reach the new land. “Look at the post of my altar,” he said. “It is quite dry.”
And the tohungas asked: “Why was it that we did not see the Tainui?”
Hoturoa said: “I lengthened the rope of my canoe, for I was afraid that I might be left high and dry when the tide went out. Look at the
That is the reason why the Tainui canoe has precedence when the names of the canoes are mentioned; it is because of this sailor’s trick that Hoturoa and Tama practised upon the experts of the other canoes.
Now Hoturoa heard that Turi’s canoe, Aotea, did not remain at the place (near the East Cape) where all the canoes made the land, but continued her journey along the coast to the Aupouri country (the North Cape) and sailed down the West Coast. Hoturoa wished to follow Turi. At the same time Tama heard that his original canoe, Poutini, had also gone west by way of the North Cape, so they hastened to follow. The Tainui sailed along the coast to Tauranga and Tama found that his canoe, the Poutini, had called there. They sailed northward to the tapu. They thought they would not be found out.
When Tainui arrived at the Tamaki Isthmus they beheld the seabirds coming across the land and the birds on the kumara which Whakaotirangi had hidden under the tapa-mat bed of Hoturoa and herself. This reference to the small basket of kumara which she saved has become a proverbial saying amongst her descendants. While they were on the isthmus Tama went forth to look for his canoe, Poutini. After he had left, the Tainui was dragged by her crew across by way of Otahuhu. That happened to be the day when Marama-kikohure (Hoturoa’s second wife) had sinned with her slave.
The Tainui, because of this breach of tapu, could not be shifted. Hoturoa began his prayers, but still the canoe held fast. So Hoturoa, knowing that his priestly powers were not sufficient, went in search of Tama. When they met Tama asked Hoturoa why he had come. Hoturoa
And it was by the recital of this incantation that the people were first appraised of Marama-kikohure’s sin, and Hoturoa was enlightened that it was due to the misconduct of his wife that the canoe had stuck fast. And the Tainui thus glided over her skids and so was hauled to the shore of Manuka, whence it could explore the West Coast of the island. At a place which came to be named Awhitu, near the entrance to the harbour of Manuka, Hoturoa’s slave was waiting for him.
They sailed down the coast to Kawhia, where they arrived at the harbour entrance at night. There they beheld Turi’s canoe Aotea.
The Turning of the Whale.
manuka poles. One was to be used as a post for a tuahu (altar). The other, after he had re-embarked in the Tainui and returned to Matatua, he drove into the whale’s belly after man-hauling the creature over. After placing his pole in the whale’s belly he had his crew haul the whale back as it was before. Then he paddled out to sea and awaited the dawn.
When Turi and his people arose in the morning and looked out towards Honipaka Point they saw a large canoe being paddled in from the sea. When the canoe came nearer, Turi recognised it as the Tainui, because it had no carved figurehead at the prow and no decorated sternpost. When the Tainui came up to the Aotea Turi called out to Hoturoa: “O, Hotu, behold my land! There are many pipi shellfish beds, rivers full of fish, and behold my great fish from the ocean which lies yonder with my stake on it.”
Hoturoa replied: “O, Turi, do not make a mistake! This is my home. I arrived here long ago—long before you. I saw that tohora (whale) some time ago.”
And Turi replied: “But why did I not see your pole of possession?”
Hoturoa said: “Let us examine the fish.”
Turi agreed to this and they went to the side of the fish. The tide was in. Turi asked Hoturoa: “But where is your post? Here is mine standing.”
Hoturoa replied: “When I first discovered this fish it was alive and its belly was uppermost. I stuck my post into its belly.” And he said: “Let us turn the fish upside down.”
And when they turned the fish over they found Hoturoa’s post indeed where he said it would be found. And he said to Turi: “Behold my post! It is almost dry.”
And Turi beheld and said: “It is even as you say, O Hotu!”
“Now let us go to my altar,” said the chief of Tainui. They went to Takapuwahia and on to Heahea, and thence on to Papa-o-Karewa, and there they went into a manuka bush and Hoturoa pulled out the altar post and showed it to Turi, and behold it was dry. And Turi said to Hoturoa: “It is true! Your canoe arrived here before mine. Nevertheless, let us abide together.”
Turi then went to sea in the Aotea a short distance to the northward and there he dragged Aotea upon the sheltered shore; and that is why that
But Turi replied, “I cannot remain with you because you are an unscrupulous man and full of tricks.” So Hoturoa knew that Turi had discovered his deceit about the altar and the whale at Kawhia. He returned to Kawhia by land and Tainui was left at Whakarewa.
The sub-tribe of the Tainui by the name of Pangere remained with the canoe. Those people thoughtlessly made a latrine of the sailing canoe which had carried them in safety over the great and stormy ocean. When Hoturoa heard of this he grieved for his canoe so desecrated, and he journeyed from Rangiahua and climbed the heights of Moeatoa, where he made an altar of stone, and there invoked the aid of his gods to bring Tainui to Kawhia. And his gods heard his voice and set Tainui afloat and returned it to Kawhia, and the tide brought the canoe high and dry on the land where Hoturoa had made his first altar. Hoturoa cursed that sub-tribe for their evil deed and the power of his gods gave efficacy to the curse, and those people were wiped off the face of the earth so that nothing remained of them but their name, which has been handed down to us, and that is the Multitude of Pangere.
Thus ended the long voyagings of Tainui, the ship which Hoturoa and Ngatoro-i-rangi and their people had built on the shore of far-off Hawaiki.
HOTUROA, his wife, and his children, from this time onward lived at Rangiahua, by the waters of Kawhia. That was the pa of Hoturoa, where he begat the progenitors of all those who claim descent from Tainui; that is to say, the tribes living along the Waikato river, along the sea from Te kainga o Meeto.”
When Hoturoa set up his home at Rangiahua, his wife Whakaotirangi’s seed kumara, which she had so carefully preserved on the voyage from Hawaiki-iti, were planted in a cultivation ground, which was given the name Kareanui. There were only ten kumara planted, but from these ten plants, with the blessing of his gods, Hoturoa harvested two hundred basketfuls of kumara. Hence the saying of his descendants, “Kareanui, ka kai i roto.”
While Hoturoa and his wives and children lived at Rangiahua, his wife Marama-kikohure gave birth to a son, whom Hoturoa named Motai. One day Marama went to the shore to gather shellfish, and she left the child with Hoturoa. As soon as Marama got out of sight the child began to cry. Hoturoa nursed it and gave it food, but it still continued to cry. By trickery he got the child to sleep; but when the mother came back she discovered what had happened, and she cursed Hoturoa and his wife Whakaotirangi, and they were smitten with sores. Marama, with her brothers and relatives, left Rangiahua and dwelt at Aotea, and she brought up her son there. When Motai grew to man’s estate she told him what Hoturoa had done, and he determined on revenge. So he gathered his mother’s relations together, and they felled a large kauri tree and fashioned it into a canoe, which they hauled to the sea. Then he urged his mother’s people to return to Hawaiki-iti, to raise a strong crew of warriors and attack Hoturoa. Those who followed him agreed to this.
Now Hoturoa heard of the doings of the young man Motai, and when he saw the canoe launched he invoked the aid of his gods to upset it. And, lo! when it met the first strong wave of the ocean it capsized, and all those on board were drowned. And the canoe and Motai were turned to stone.
After these events Hoturoa and his chief wife Whakaotirangi died, and both were buried at Rangiahua, above the sea of Kawhia.
The chiefs Hotuhope, Hotumatapu, Ue, Raka, Kakati and Tawhao, and their peoples, all lived peaceably at Rangiahua. There was no war, no trouble, in the days of these men of old. Agriculture and fishing, and the arts of peace, were their main pursuits. There were feasting and goodwill between the many tribes in the days of these ancestors of ours.
Turongo and Whatihua were born at Rangiahua. When they reached man’s estate Turongo was made much of by the people and was created their chief. At this time a young chieftainess of the Ngati-Ruanui tribe, famed for her beauty, heard of Turongo, and she came to pay him a visit. When she reached the village she happened to come to Whatihua’s house first, and she asked Whatihua, “Where is Turongo?” And Whatihua replied, “I will show you,” and he asked her her name, and she said, “I am Ruaputahanga.” Whatihua said, “Let us go to the village.” And when they reached the village Whatihua took her to his home, and there he made her his wife.
When Turongo and his father, Tawhao, heard how Whatihua had deceived Ruaputahanga they were very wroth. Turongo took it so much to heart that he went away to the land of the Ngati-Kahungunu, and married Mahina-a-rangi. Tawhao went there with him and died there. Turongo returned and lived at Maungatautari, where his son Raukawa was born. Raukawa had Rereahu, who had Maniapoto, the great ancestor of the Ngati-Maniapoto tribe. As for Whatihua, he lived on at Rangiahua with his wives Ruaputahanga and Apakura. He favoured the handsome Ruaputahanga and practically abandoned Apakura. But when Ruaputahanga’s son, Uenuku Te Rangihoka, was born, Whatihua returned to Apakura; and this angered Ruaputahanga greatly. She left Rangiahua for her homeland, by way of Marokopa, south of Kawhia, Whatihua pursuing her. When she reached the Moeatoa cliffs the tide was in and the waves were boisterous. They dashed in on the perilous beach track. “Return,” cried the woman, “lest thou perish in pursuing me, for the tides of Rakei-mata-taniwha will engulf thee.” And so Whatihua returned, and his wife, who had left him for ever, journeyed straight on, with her dog, Ruahinahina; and she arrived at last in the southern land of Taranaki with her own people, Ngati-Ruanui.
And these ancestors of ours lived at Rangiahua in the land of their fathers—Uetapu, Te Maniaorongo, Te Aopiki, Te Aotitauria, Rawahote
Ruaputahanga’s Warning.
It was in the days of the chiefs Tuhianga and Uenuku-Tuwhatu that the Kawhia country was divided. The Aotea district was given to Uenuku-Tuwhatu, and the portion of Kawhia towards Waiharakeke, as far as Taungatara, was taken by Tuhianga. These two were the great chieftains of those lands in their time.
MORE than three centuries ago, when the descendants of the Tainui pioneers had been settled on these shores for many generations and had formed numerous clans, there lived at Kawhia two young chiefs whose names were Haumia and Mango. Haumia took to wife a girl whose name was Mawake. His cousin Mango did not marry within his own tribe, but travelled southward to Taranaki and on to the country of the Nga-Rauru people. There he met a young woman named Hiapoto and his love went forth to her, and she became his wife. In course of time he returned to his birthplace at Kawhia, with his wife, who bade farewell to her people, for she was to make a new home with her chieftain in the north.
When Mango reached Kawhia he found, to his grief and anger, that all the cultivations and the land where he expected to make his home had been taken by Haumia. He asked Haumia to apportion him some of the land that was his birthright, but the selfish one would not agree to this. Greatly angered was Mango; he perceived that there was no place for him unless he took it by force of arms. He gathered his friends together and they formed a war-party and attacked Haumia and his followers. Some of Haumia’s men were killed by Mango, in assertion of his rights to the land on which they were living. With the utmost fierceness he fell upon them, and the people fled before him. None dared to face him.
Haumia’s clansmen now greatly feared that Mango would kill their chief. While Mango was attacking a pa and slaying men, Haumia’s followers placed their rangatira on a litter (kauhoa) and carried him away, for he was ill and could not walk. Mango continued his attack, and being victorious in the fighting, he followed the retreating party and overtook the litter and its bearers and escort. These men, believing that Mango would not actually kill Haumia, all crowded in beneath the kauhoa on which the sick man lay, supporting it on their shoulders and their heads. By this act they became tapu, for Haumia was a very sacred chief. When Mango and his warriors rushed up and saw this they stayed their hand and refrained from further slaughter, and Haumia and his men were saved. This ended the strife, and Mango settled there on the shores of Kawhia.
These fights were the first battles between the Tainui descendants in the Kawhia country. But, as our tribal historians tell us, they were not really great battles; it was in the days to come that the long and desperate wars were waged.
There is a story concerning that chief Haumia and a taniwha, a monster of the sea, which lived in a cave at the base of a cliff on the ocean front at Honipaka, on the Kawhia coast. Haumia’s home was in Taungatara pa and he made a plantation of kumara at Honipaka, close to the seashore. He was quite unaware that the taniwha lived there in the cave underneath his garden.
Now, this monster of the coast, whose name was Raparoa, was a mischievous monster, and when he knew that the kumara crop had come to maturity he exerted his power of evil and raised a great storm and spouted salt water over the plantation and spoilt it. The whole of the crop was ruined; the kumara rotted in the salt-sodden ground.
When Haumia came to his plantation and saw what had happened, he descended the cliff to the sea to discover what had caused the sea-water to be sprayed over his land. There he beheld the monstrous taniwha. Thus this place became known as the hiding place of Raparoa, and that taniwha was frequently seen in the ocean.
Haumia boldly asked the monster: “O Raparoa, why do you not go to see the fishes at Puponga?”
Now, Puponga is the place where the fish all assemble, and it was the time when the mackerel were plentiful in those parts. So when the monster heard what Haumia said it immediately set off for Puponga, eager to feast on fish. As soon as he had left his hole at the bottom of the cliff Haumia filled it in with sand and rocks. When the monster came back he found the entrance to his home filled in, so he went looking for another abiding place. Finding none, he died. The people took his great sharp teeth and made ear ornaments of them. And that episode gave rise to a local saying, which has come down to this day: “Haumia, the remover of monsters.”
A FAMOUS man among our Tainui ancestors of those ancient times was the chief Kaihamu, who became a great fighting leader. He was also wise in the sacred arts of our race, a skilled tohunga and worker of magic and enchantments. This is the story of his warrior life, and of the manner in which he won the love of the renowned Tuparahaki, a young chieftainess of the eastern coast.
Kaihamu was the son of Mango, some of whose deeds have been related in the last chapter. There was another son of Mango; his name was Uetapu. Both he and Kaihamu were educated in the lore of priesthood and the arts of magic, but of the two Kaihamu was the more expert. After the death of their father, their mother Hiapoto returned to her people, the Nga-Rauru tribe, of Waitotara, on the West Coast south of Taranaki, and there she lived for the rest of her life.
When the two young men Uetapu and Kaihamu became skilled warriors they both left Kawhia seeking adventure in distant lands, and they travelled across the island to the eastern side, to the land which was called Tapuika in those days; it is the country between the Rotorua lakes and the Bay of Plenty coast. There they both found wives. Uetapu married Puaroa. Kaihamu won the love of the young chieftainess Tuparahaki, and the tradition of that marriage and the manner in which it came about will now be related.
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Tuparahaki was a girl of high birth, the daughter of a woman of aristocratic lineage named Te Kahureremoa, who was of Tainui and Aotea descent, and the warrior chief Takakopiri; their love story is a tradition of beauty, but it does not concern the present history. The girl was set apart as a puhi, a virgin, who should not have love affairs until she was ceremoniously given in marriage by her people. As she grew up she was sought in marriage by a young chief of the Waitaha tribe, in the Tapuika country. She returned his love and they became man and wife. This
Tuparahaki had been married but a little while when war burst upon the tribe, the Ngaoho, or Arawa. From the eastward came a wandering band of warriors, the fugitive tribe of Te Rangihouhiri, commanded by a bold and masterful chief, whose name was also Te Rangihouhiri. They were of the old aboriginal people, and they came from the Awa-a-te-Atua, seeking a new home. They captured
The Ngaoho of
When the news of Tukutehe’s murder reached Tuparahaki, the young wife was frantic with grief. She lacerated her arms and breasts with sharp flakes of obsidian, as she sang her grief song. There, for days and months, she sat in her lonely whare, speaking little, but ever grieving, ever brooding. For two years she remained in her sad widowhood, and she dried her tears in the thoughts of revenge. For her blood was that of the warrior race, and hatred of her husband’s slayer possessed her.
Tuparahaki was still but a girl, and the fame of her rank and beauty brought many young chiefs from other parts of the island—from the Ngapuhi cou