Maori Feasts.

New Zealand Graphic, 25 December 1898, Page 2

Maori Feasts.

OME few years ago—before the days of ‘ Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay ’ — there used to be an immensely popular song, in which each verse was devoted to a separate nation. It began, of course, with the English, and if memory plays not false, the opening lines went some-

thing after this fashion : —

lu feasting and jollity some men delight ; That’s English you know, quite English you know. While some prefer racing, a dance, or a fight; That’s English, quite English, you know. Unquestionably, the bard of this delectable ditty—which ran through some twenty-four verses —hit the national characteristics on the head when he set down the above lines, but they would have applied with even greater force if given in a Maori verse —one of the few nationalities not included by the way. » In feasting the Maories do most certainly delight, and even though the occasion be a funeral or rather a tangi, there is usually even nowadays any amount of ‘ jollity ’ as a relaxation from the serious business of the gathering —the wailing and crying—which must honestly be a rather exhausting performance. Neither are our island aborigines at all behind their white brothers in their intense enjoyment of ‘racing, a dance, or a fight,’ as anyone who has attended a Maori race meeting and the ball which invariably winds up proceedings can fully endorse.

It is, however, ‘in feasting’ that Maories have always chiefly delighted, and it must be confessed that in this respect they are—or perhaps it would be more correct to say used to be —veritable ‘ record breakers, ’ if one may be pardoned the slang of the day. The writer’s ancient history is something weak, but even the huge banquets of Nero and of Darius were not, comparatively speaking, on a more lavish scale than those

of the great Maori chiefs'of the ‘good old times,’ before the pakeha ‘ swallowed up the land,’ and when it was still permissible to lunch or dine off the bodies of one’s enemies, and to ornament one’s gate posts with their heads. True, of course, there was not the variety of fare, but the number of guests would not have been contemptible even for a Roman emperor. Four thousand is mentioned casually by one writer on early New Zealand as being the number of Maories present at a feast at which he was one of the guests. With the characteristic neglect of descriptive writing which makes most of the reminiscences of early New Zealand irritating reading, the author does not make the smallest attempt to describe this leviathan entertainment further than to say ‘ it must have costat least a thousind pounds. How characteristic of the Britisher ! The picturesqueness, the savage splendour, the prodigality of this mammoth ‘ party ’ impress him not at all, they merit barely a sentence or so. But the cost! a thousand pounds !! ! There’s something worth setting forth. The menu on such occasions was, as has been said, somewhat more limited than was the case when the Caesars scoured the world for dainties which might tempt stomachs delicate after the ‘second vomit,’ a custom of the age which we shudder at nowadays, but which is not so very much greedier than the ‘ punch romania ’ which bon viveurs in London take in the middle of a sixteen course dinner with the acknowledged intention of enabling them to eat when satiety has really set in. But still even in variety the Maori menu was not an altogether despicable affair. Let us first attempt to describe how the food was arranged. Usually it was placed on a platform supported by a scaffolding. In the case of monster feasts, such as that of the four thousand, there would be three or four tiers of platforms, one above the other on each scaffolding. An old Maori chief, Toenga Pou, tells of one of these enormous entertainments in the ‘ Defenders of New Zealand. ’ The scaffolding on this occasion—memorable for its disastrous sequel—reached a total length of over 360 feet. The lowest platform was 12 feet square, and held somewhere about 600 baskets of kumeras ; the next above slightly smaller held 500 baskets, and so they towered upwards, 75 feet in height, the uppermost platform being perhaps 18 inches square and holding a single basket. From the sides of these platforms and from poles in between hung every imaginable viand known to the Maori gourmand. Preserved birds there

were of every sort. Pigeons, tuis, kaka, weka, kiwi curlew, duck, widgeon, etc., etc., and tons, literally tons, of fish of all kinds. Baked dog, preserved rats, pork, and other delicacies dear to the Maori mind and stomach were also provided in incredible profusion. Of kumeras alone there were 3,500 baskets. Verily an heroic Barmecidal feast Steamed dog there was too, but this was a delicacy reserved for the chiefs and men of high rank. For the rest ’twas come and cut again for all apparently. The pork for such fe ists was killed in old time Maori fashion ; that is to say the unfortunate grunters’ legs were secured, and then, shade of gentle Elia ! poor piggie was incontinently cast into deep water to die by drowning The idea was that killing in this way saved the blood and made the meat juicier. The presents given at feasts such as this were always valuable, and the more noted the tribe and importai.t the chief the more costly the parting gifts. These were, however, always supposed to be returned with interest sooner or later, so the custom must have been a somewhat embarrassing one occasionally. Something akin to the wedding present nuisance of our day one imagines.

Mr. W. Brown—who also wrote in ’45 —tells for instance of a Waikato friend of his, who being invited to one of these feasts, was for his parting gift presented with four larg: hogs and over one hundred kits or about two and a half tons of potatoes. Not knowing what amount of obligation he might be deemed to have incurred he respectfully declined the present. It was allowed to remain four days on the ground before anyone attempted to appropriate it. On another occasion the banqueting hall, so to say, was a species of tent or marquee roofed in with the very best and finest Whitney blankets procurable. At the conclusion of the festivities a wild rush took place, each guest endeavouring to help himself to as many as possible. In the olden time there can be no doubt great feasts were given with much the same intention as we Britishers in the present day give our naval demonstrations and reviews at Spithead and elsewhere. We invite foreign powers thereto and entertain them royally, in order that they may have a wholesome idea of what even a part of our navy looks like when ‘ out for the day. ’ So the war dances, hakas and displays of war paint, wealth and warriors at a Maori feast were otten intended to impress on visitors the wisdom of letting their hosts alone, or of submitting easily to them if attacked. There are, indeed, instances where the feast has been the direct forerunner of the conflict.

‘All right, Torn,’ I said, ‘I was sent to bring Edith home, so we can ride together. The smoke was pretty thick as I came along, and I suppose it will be worse now, but Edith and I will go first and show the road. Old Barracouta knows it better than any of us.’ ‘ Edith !’ he said in tones of great surprise. ‘ Didn’t you pass her on the road ?’ • Good God! no,’ I exclaimed. ‘lsn’t she here? Mrs. Langley said she had ridden over to your place.’ ‘So she did ; but she left after lunch. Now I rememl>er,’ he continued, ‘ she said she would go on as far as the store at One Tree Gully. You had better ride on, old chap; you may have a chance yet, or may meet her on the road. I would come with you like a shot, only I have to carry picanniny Bill in front of me on the saddle, as there is no room in the trap, and mother would simply go into fits unless I followed up sharp.’

Without waiting to listen to his final words I dashed the spurs into old Barracouta, who after a plunge or two galloped away through the smoke, which was now thicker than ever, in the direction of One Tree Gully, four miles away. As I dashed onwards the dream like gauze seemed to thicken, and the ghostly stems of the kauri trees to grow more ghostly and indistinct. The roaring noise of the fire could now be heard like the distant bocm of breakers on a windy beach, and faintly,

far away, sounded the crash of falling forest giants. About a mile from the store a silhouetted curtain like figure loomed through the vapoury atmosphere, reminding me somewhat of the headless horseman that appeared to honest Ichabod Crane on the banks of the swamp. As it approached, the gigantic outlines subsided, and disclosed a hooded figure on a pony. It was Edith and pony- Jack. ‘ Oh Frank,’ she said as she recognised me, ‘ I’m so frightened, and so glad you have come. When I got to the store there was no one there, and no one seemed to be in the cottages. The place was so thick with smoke that I could hardly see, and so stifling that Jack and I could hardly breathe, so we turned back. I don’t know how long I have been in coming for Jack got off the track and then stumbled over a log and threw me. I managed to get on him again, but I am afraid he’s lame for he has been limping ever since.' ‘Never mind, Edith,’ said I. ‘He'll have to limp along pretty fast now, for I am afraid it will be as much as we can do to get through. The Jackson's have all gone down the river, so come along and let us push on.’ On we went accordingly. The air got hotter and hotter ami the smoke more stifling. The wind still blew a hurricane and shrieked amongst the tree tops, and

soon bits of ash and burnt wo~>d and even sparks were blown across our path. A sharp crackling sound in the trees overhead and in front of us attracted my attention, and lookiug upwards and around I found to my horror that the fire was galloping with the wind over the topmost branches and leaves of the trees around us.

* Back, back, for our lives !’ I cried, and catching Jack’s bridle, with a wrench I turned him round as old Barracouta wheeled. Away we went along the path we had just traversed. It was of no use. We had not gone a mile before a red whirling glare appeared in front of us, with the roaring and crackling of flames and the crash of falling trees. The smoky forest stretched away to our right. There was no safety that way for miles and miles. To add to our misery, too, Jack was now quite lame and would not budge out of a walk. Hastilysnatching Edith from her saddle —a mere featherweight she was —I placed her on the pommel in front of me, and turned the old horse to the left, determining as a last chance to make for the river. It was our only hope although a remote one. On every other side we were hemmed in by the fire. There was no track that I knew of to the river although here and there the bush was tolerably free from undergrowth, but the fire seemed to be sweeping in that direction and might at any time bar our further progress. Wrapping Edith in my

mackintosh for fear of sparks falling on her light habit I plunged on in the semi-darkness, but before long I could hear the same ominous crackling sound above and around us, and soon the leaping straggling flames could be seen sweeping towards us. Glancing hurriedly back as we rode on, the glare of the burning forest seemed intense. Myriads of sparks and clouds of brightened smoke went swirling upwards, as some giant kauri, wreathed in flames, would come crashing downwards. The heat was scorching in its intensity, the air was choking so that breathing seemed nigh impossible. Edith lay limp in my arms, whether dead or alive I could not tell, and the old horse began to stagger and stumble as though his last step had been taken, when suddenly- we emerged from the burning hell behind us into a space clear of trees, and in a few yards further had almost plunged into the smoke shrouded river. Thank God, we were now safe from the fire at least, although the smoke was still stifling. My first care was to revive Edith, and some water dashed on her face soon effected this. A strong puff of wind lifted the gauze like curtain of smoke off a portion of the river, and disclosed the welcome sight of a canoe paddled by old Taonui and Billy the Maori boy. They had come up the river on the chance that we might make that way, as the fire had spread so rapidly they knew we could not

possibly get througa the bash. Placing the sa Idles and bridles in the canoe, and getting on board ourselves, we were paddled over to the other side of the broad river where the atmosphere was almost clear. The horses swam across after us—pony Jack had followed us in spite of his lame leg—and scrambled up the bank into the clearing on the other side. No fear but what they would find their way home in their own good time. The wiud that had been falling for some time now changed and began to blow from the westward with squally bursts of rain. It soon increased to a gale, and blew so strongly up the river as to make it quite impossible for us to make headway against it in our frail canoe, overladen as it was. It brought back with it, too, clouds of smoke that served to increase the approaching darkness. We therefore determined to camp inland for an hour or two, particularly as Edith required a rest after the excitement and exertions of our escape from the fire. After some difficulty we found a suitable spot in the bush, well sheltered from the storm, and having lit a fire we proceeded to boil the billy and enjoy the sandwiches that Taonui had providentially brought with him in the canoe. How we enjoyed that primitive picnic in the gloaming. Edith was half-reclining and half-shrouded in a bed of fern we had gathered and piled up for her. The

flickering firelight lit up her travel-stained face and shining eyes, and glittered on the glistening greenery of the surrounding bush. After our recent dangers and exertions, the warm billy-tea (best of all beverages) induced a delicious drowsy feeling of languor which made us half unwilling to resume our homeward journey.

I had just lit my pipe for the second t.me, and was idly watching the smoke wreaths curling upwards, when suddenly, as if it were an apparition, I was awa e of a stalwart Maori with uplifted tomahawk standing right behind old Taonui. Before I could start up, or cry out to him, my old friend with a deep groan fell to the ground cloven through the skull. A shriek from Edith proclaimed that she also had seen the deed, while at the same time strong arms were round me, and I was violently thrown to the ground, and my arms and feet securely pinioned. All this had happened so suddenly that in my- woolgathering state of mind, I could hardly make out whether I was dreaming or not; but when I noticed that we were surrounded by half a dozen dusky figures, and saw the life-blood welling from the skull of the old Popoto chief, the scene became real indeed. There had been some talk of discontent and disaffection amongst some of the wilder and more unruly natives up Omapere