Hinemoa and Tutanekai

Dominion, Volume 30, Issue 113, 6 February 1937, Page 25

Hinemoa and Tutanekai

At Lake Rotorua there lived a young man called Tutanekai, who had a great friend named Tiki. The two were very fond of music, and they played curious Maori instruments which, for want of better English names, we will call the horn and the flute, Tutanekai’s instrument being the horn and Tiki’s the flute. Night after night they sat on a kind of platform they had built on the hillside, and there played by the hour. On calm evenings their music could be heard right across the lake at the village of Owhata. Among those that heard the distant notes was a certain Maori maiden of high rank and rare beauty named Hinemoa. She listened to the musie and said to hgrself: “I know who is playing. It is Tutanekai and Tiki.”

Now Hinemoa’s family were very fond and very proud of the sweet and beautiful maiden, and they were not at all eager as yet to betroth her to any of the Maori youths that were seeking her favour. They doubted, in fact, whether there was any young chief in their pare of the country’ altogether worthy of her. They kept, therefore, a somewhat strict watch over Hinemoa, encouraging no suitors at all. Hinemoa, nevertheless, had attended the great public gatherings which took place from time to time at Rotorua. There she had noticed the handsome young Tutauekai. Thus for some time shy glances were all that the pair exchanged. Tutanekai knew it was useless to ask Hinemoa’s parents for her hand in marriage ; they would not consider him of good enough birth. He couid not even dare to visit her village with the object of stealing Hinemoa away. He arranged with her, therefore, that Tiki and he would play from their balcony late every night. ' The first calm,, dark night that the chance came, Hinemoa was to take a canoe, and, guided by the sound of music, paddle over to Mokoia Island.

Hinemoa watched her opportunity and stole down to the beach one dark night, caught the strains of music coming over the calm water, and turned to find a canoe. Alas! she was foiled. Every canoe had been drawn high up on the beach ; she could not possibly launch one alone. “My father has done this,” said Hinemoa to herself. “He evidently suspects that I am trying to run away.” The strains of Tutanekai’s horn reached her ears. “I must go,” said Hinemoa. “I will swim.” She knew what a great distance lay between her shore and Mokoia Island. Her decision was, however, soon made, and she set to work to collect six large, dry. empty gourds from the canoes. These she tied together to use as a float, then, throwing off her clothes, she slipped into the dark water. At last she reached the island at a point immediately below Tutanekai’s home. Trembling with cold and exhaustion, the brave girl scrambled ashore, and found to her joy a hot pool right on the edge of the lake. It is called “Hinemoa’s Bath” to this day. Hinemoa slipped into fhe healing waters, which warmed and restored her.

While she was resting in the dark shadow of a roek, she saw a servant come with a calabash down to the lake for water. Assuming a gruff man’s voice, she called: “For whom are you getting water at this hour of the night?” The slave started. "For my master, Tutanekai,” said he. "Then give me a drink first,” demanded Hinemoa. The slave handed her the calabash, and, having drunk, she threw it down and broke it. The slave then went back for a fresh calabash, telling his master that a man iu the warm pooi had broken the first one. “Well, make haste” said Tutanekai, “I am thirsty." Again Hinemoa asked the slave for a drink, and again, on being given one, she broke the calabash.

When this strange performance Had taken place yet a third time, and thirsty Tutanekai was still waiting for his water, he took matters into his own hands.

He bounded down to the hot spring. "Where’s the fellow that’s been smashing my calabashes?” he shouted. Hearing Tutanekai’s voice, Hinemoa hid more closely in the shadow while bo groped his way among the stones and bushes. At last in the darkuejs lie touched a hand.

“I’ve got you.” he cried. "Who are you ?” “Tutanekai, it is I, Hinemoa,” said a shy, soft voice. Tutanekai’s joy and delight can well be imagined. Throwing his mat around the beloved Hinemoa, be led her tenderly to his home; and from that time, according to ancient Maori law, they were man and wife. The descendants of Tutanekai and Hinemoa live to this day on Lake Rotorua, and they never Pre of telling uf the surpassing beauty of Hinemoa, .md of her brave and wonderful swim across the lake to Tulanekai.— -From “Heather Bell.’- Martinborough,