NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVLI, Issue 13, 27 September 1911, Page 55

NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

rhe Editor desires to state that Neiv Zealand (Stories by Xcic Zealand icritcrs, are published on this page reqularlu The page is open to any contributor, and all accepted-stories trill be paid for at current rates. .Terse bright .ketches of Dominion life and people, icoccn in short story form, arc required,.and should be headed " New Zealand d '..or' Stories.'’ Stamps for return of IfS. must be enclosed ‘ 1

THE MARRIAGE OF RIAN A.

By

TE PANA.

zf A OWN on the bank of the creek I B where the great Puriri spread B I ‘* s branches, and broke the sting of the south wind and sleet- blowing in from the sea, Riana, an.t Mann weaved webs of future ami. sinh is the conceit that enters into ■the wooing of the Maori, thought that each other were the most desirable or all the maids and youths dwelling within their kaiar.ga. The swift driven rain renetrated through the “tairoas,” and cotton shirt of Mann; while Riatia, the water dripping from her long plaits of hair, her single garment of the nightdress order, drenched, and adhering to her body in patches, sat’and looked at Manu. across the few feet of intervening spate. Iler soft brown-eyes never- left the youth, who, turning his head, that the drops of water from the overhanging leave-, might find a new place in his hair, whereon to drip, caught her gaze. There were two Hashes of white teeth, and four pin pricks of light from two pairs of eyes;, nothing else. No mad rushes to each other's arms; no lingering kisses, no squeezing of wet bodies; no whisper of mutual feelings; for the .Maori makes love with his eyes, and an looks, does his wooing. Words are as the wind; here to-day, and to-morrow rustling some other woman's hair and heart in the next kaianga. For all time, the eye expresses its sentiments; unto the time when the black crisp hair, has turned to a l .snowy softness, and the. footsteps are slow, and the hand shakes, and one longs to sit over the fire, and see again in the flames the ghosts of yesterday, the surge of passionate young blood, and the lithe brown limbs. 'Tis then that the Maori maid, grown old and wizened, and bent with heavy toil of the years, discards the eye signs, and uses speech to convey her love; for when the hair is white, the eyes are dim, and heart thrusts prompt not the gleam and flash. But, the eyes of Manu and Rianga, told each other the old ‘tory; the old tale of passion, and the stirring of hot blood. The youth grinned, and again displayed his white teeth. ®'ana,” he said, “old Kuruini, t iy father thinks well of our mating.'’ res, Manu. To night as I cleaned ’be pn pu (a shell fish of the periwinkle ’.Vpei in the creek, he came to me, and visaed me, ■Greeting!’ What does Maun, son of W'hero, want round my house at night; he with his song singing’, and yellow dog, that allow not my old bone- to rest O n the mat.’ And I told him Manu, what your eyes tell me.” \\ hat then Ri, do my eyes speak.” •Manu. you talk as do the Pakeha up ’he hotel. The thin women and •at men that sit on the roof at night, and giggle at each other and ask ques’-’ tions such as yours- I know of their "ays Manu. for three months did I work the hotel, and each evening carry ■’P to the. roof wine in gold necked ■Hies; and because my lips were shy speaking Pakeha, I heard much, for i i y <eased not making their love when ■ was near. And Manu, we want not the "•no, to make us.love.” Its so; and the Pakeha tangatu, " ild grin over his high while collar, a our wooing,” replied Manu. "But lis tmt to tglk of them, that I sit here, ■nid shake in the rain and cold. What, •■n d your father of a meeting between that we my speak nt our mating'!'* 10-morrow evening wheh. Kara mv mother, and my brother Kawau have gone to the rocks for their fishing, and Nona the child of my sister lies in he.r 'lanket and yells not, Rurnini baile you 'i-it him" and hold korero. I, Manu, shall lg> in my blanket "* if asleep, but my father is told ami if you quake at fear of hie words.

look to me, and my eyes shall speak, that you may be encouraged.” Breaking into English she added, “I do love you, Manu,” and walked away into the darkness and rain.

Manu withdrew several damp matches from an inner pocket, and made many attempts to produce a flame, that he might light his cigarette. He muttered the English “Damn!” jumped the creek, and walked along the beach to his whare. Just as he reached the stile, serving as a gate in the ti-tree fence round the kumera plantation, ho turned and looked towards the end of the village where a faint glimmer of light shone from a window in Rianas house. He raised his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss at the smudge in the darkness, thinking to himself, "I don't know what that means, but I saw a Pakeka at Whangarei do it to a girl on the Ngapuhi, as she sailed for Auckland ’Tis foolish of me.” It is quite possible

that the South wind, carried the wafted kiss, and laid it gently on the brow of Riana for as she turned and snuggled more deeply in her blanket, a draught of air played lightly over her forehead, and a little brown hand stretched up—smack —(“A mesquite: how annoying”) “He waeroa; ka kino,” said Riana, and covered up her face. But mosquitoes travel not in the South w ind.

The next evening Manu, made his way to the whare of Riana, and as he approached the adjoining pataka, or store house, the dogs barked and gave warning of the approach of a stranger to old Kuruini, who opened the rough hewn door, and stood there awaiting his vistor. “Telia koe!” greeted Manu, and grasping the old man's hand, pressed his brow to the wrinkled forehead beneath the shock of iron grey hair. ’Tis the ’Hongi he made the sign of friendship with the Maori. This dwelling was merely a slab roofed shed. Down the centre of the earthern floor ran two long pieces of wood, marking off a pathway; on each side were spread the sleeping mats and at the far end, near the wall, a rolled up form in a blanket, showed that arrangements were as Riana had predicted. A

few. ember# burned in a bole in the ground, and a solitary «andle stuck in a bottle served as an illuminant. On the walls, hung a bundle’of fishing lines, some; od dmen t s -of ■ female all ire, and a pair of. high-heeled, ‘-‘button up’’ boots. Old Kuruini, arranged the folds of his blankets,- spread his' feet to the glowing embers in the' hole, and spoke. “Manu, -fidn of. Whero, • you come to me. that we may speak of your mating with Riana. It. is Avell. The years feel weighty upon me. and the oil Hows slow Ivin my knees and elbows, and my bones rattle as 1 walk. ‘Tis well, that Ri should se.ek a husband. Know you that the long man of Austria, who bottles the juice of the grape at the gum-fields, came and spoke me of Riana. But as thou knowest Manu?‘tis not of the Maori to seek a mate with the Pakeha. Brown mixes not with white, and to the surface rises always the .lighter colour; the heavier sinks to the button; well it was

that, Riana laughed at the talk of the wine-making Austrian; and Jthe dogs saw him to the feme. As for thee Manu. the people of the kaianga know’ you, and know of thy descent. A fitting mate for my vhild, and word shall go forth, that Riana ami Manu lie married according to the laws of the church. Ami it would please me mightily, son, that the yellow dog. thy friend, should l>e tied to the feme each eyeing wljen the sun goes out, for he spoils my hl<m»]>. with bis loud noises. That is my talk to vou. Kia Ora, Manu.’’

“Kia ora. Kuruini,*' replied Manu. and with a glance at the huddled form at the end of the wall—a glance that showed him the brown fare of RianiT with eyes aglow—he barked out the door, whistled to his yellow’ dog, and returned to the whare at the other end of the village. On his way he met the sohool-teacher, who wished him-“good evening,** and remarked that,Manu seemed in particularly good spirits. “Yes, sir,” replied Manu.

"1 been see Kuruini, ami me and Riana. get te marena (married) <oip? month. Good thing, eh! you think?*’ The teacher said it was, and wished him “Kia ora,” and on arrival home told his wife the news. That good woman

was in great- glee, and metaphorically pruned her leather*, and sighed in joy at rhe anticipation of Hie event, 'strange is the fascination of a wedding for the womenfolk.

As Kuruini had said, the betrothal was announced to the Maori people, and fnr. the next mouth excitement ran high in the village. One morning the sun rose over the edge of the sea and tipped the fi-tree on the hills a golden yellow; a. sky-lark snared and sang his sw : eet. song. Hie cry of a weka could be’ heard far down in the,swamp', and a silent watcher

would have seeriMhe teal in a bend of the • reek, cleaning their dark brown feathers preparatory to making the morning Hight. The little native settlement facing the strip* of sandy beach began to show signs of awaking. Then spirals of smoke rose from half-a-dozen whare*; dogs crowded from cover, and starveidfooking prgs <‘ommenced their work of perpetual grubbing. <tray groups of children, heavy-eyed with sleep, formed a procession and carried their blankets to the fence for the daily airing. Ac ■the rear of a large tent, gleaming while in Hie sunshine, men worked with 4 spade and excavated a hole in the ground, which they filled witli stones and logs of wood. Embers from a whare fire were placed in the centre of the pile, ami soon a roaring blaze of flame shot. skywards. As the wood burned and the heat died away, men with ti-tree stakes poked here ami there levelling the surface of the red-h.-ot. stones. Water was now poured in, and as the steam rose in clouds kits of kuuiaras and fish were placed in tAe centre, ami a wreath of fresh, green leaves arranged around the opening. Two damp sacks covered the food, and over all was heaped a mound <>f earth. The “kopa Maori,” or steam cooking-hole of the natives, was in full working order. Yes, “the*’ day had arrived at last, when

Manu,. son of Where—die of the tattooed face, great bulk of size, ami persuasive talking powers; a descendant of Ti When, of the fourth canoe of llawaiki-— was to be joined to pretty, soft-eyed Riana; herself as full of blood as HlO husband A great maid of the Maori was Ri. None so quick as she at applying the pipi-shell to the skin of the kumera; and even as a child, slung bn her inobhcr’s back, "pikau fashion, she had show n' trigris of becoming a weaver of kits ami mats, bv managing with tiny fingers to tangle the long thin plait of hajr that continually bobbed Hud danced in front of her as the mother worked in the potato pat< h. Yes. it was a good match; even' old Tauro thought so. ami his altirmative opinion <eemed to add "mana” to the matter So the day had arrived. The food tents and tables were in readiness, and bre.ikfasL was announced by a leather-lungc-d individual in a voice of cmnmand. Tliord wa,s no loitering here. It was a

case of get right down to business, and the adjiuent whares shed their edirtents ip tdie shape of women and babies and feeding bikths. Grace was *aid and the fe.asting cojumeiived.. Bowls of stemming •golden vvllow kuiijeras. fish (frosh’ from

the sea. that morning), and great slabs of fat pork were plated in front of each individual, by men waiters in white flourbag aprons. They took their business seriously, these “stewards.” At the end <>f the'long tent the village maidens presided in the “pantry,” amidst a clatter of dishes, and their shouts and shrieks of laughter told of the joy of labour.

Wi Para, picking up with his fingers a kurhera, and biting it in the middle, remarked, between sharp indrawings of the breath necessitated by the heat in Iris mouth, that this was a great day and a great feed, long may Manu and Riana live; their progeny be as the blossom on the peach-tree in spring; and their . But a yell from outside denoted the arrival of a visiting party, and interrupted the flow of Wi’s rhetoric. Quickly the tables were deserted, and the people filing outside formed into a long line. From the laughing, fat old Warrior at the end of the rank, to Mann at the head, the visitors passed Shaking hands and exchanging greetings with each individual. Such is the Maqri welcome, and the ceremony over, the tables were again resorted to, with a repetition of fish, kumeras, and pork. !At last the initial meal of the day a thing ofl the past, visitors and reslidentials alike adjourned to the little church on the hill. The bride dressed in the White of marriage, presented a contrast to the gay “reds,” “greens,” and “yellows” of the rest of the women. There Was no harmony or thought of “colour Scheme” here. To the native, the brightest is the best, and “all is gold that glitters.’ 1 What matter if the skirt be green, the blouse red, and the hat ultramarine. It catches the eye, is “flash” find the little children gaze with starting eyes at the display, and in their ynlnds are covetous, and long for the time when they, too, may’ purchase Clothing equally’ “flash.” The wedding Ceremony is the quietest thing of the day. It is according to the law and the church; replies are spoken in low undertones; the assembled people sang ft hymn, and forth into the sunshine comfe Iliana and Manu, man and wife. ’TiS but the beginning of the Maori woman’s life. She is content to be a slave to her man; to work his kunrera patch, and to wash his clothes, and in the long, dark evenings, sit at the side of a smoky fire and talk love with her eyes. ’Ti9 all very simple and strange, and Manu, Jiis whare now brightened by the presence of Iliana, discards his new, 'light boots, and sits on a kit of kumeras jn the corner by tire fire. “So ’tis over, Riana, and we may smile and talk in fhe shade of our own whare, and sit no more on the creek bank, where the wind blows from tire South. Kuruini is • pleased, Where, my father, has taken the yellow dog; and you and I, Iliana, ’ivith'the love-light in our eyes, and the JPataka full to the door with flour and Sugar, may’ sit and rest awhile, that the shyness may depart from us both. You feel happy,'Bi?” “Yes, Manu; to-night as we walked hand in hand from tho food tent,” replied Riana.” I thought this fcaianga had (changed. and the halfJnoon seemed brighter than before. And Jhen fire seemed to burn within me, and vise to my very brain; you remember) I stumbled, find you, Manu, squeezed ;ny waist, and whispered ‘aroha Jiaka? !(s'trong love) with your eyes. Yes, I »m happy. Your kuinera crops this year phall flourish; your corn rise in height, greater than the Pakeha farmers’ down tlio bay. For my love shall tend the growing.” “Kia ora to that,” replied Manu; and the smoky wood of the fire (burst into flame and lit up the faces of lhe lovers.

Down in the meeting-house a dance is Jn progress. Maids and youths perspire freely in the stifling atmosphere, and at one end seated on a soap box, young Rawirl, in his shirt sleeves plays the “Belle of New York” on a wheezy accordian. All night will the dance go on, find when the grey’ shadow’s creep over the hills, some old man will arise and sleepily announce that “This has been a great wedding, my friends. May the next be equally’ ns good; may’ the food supply be plentiful; and may’ Manu and Riana be happy to the end.” “Kia ora to that,” shout the dancers, »nd file out into the dawn.

’ “Hullo, wot's in the basket, ’Arryt” ’Dining pigeons.*’ . “Don't yer ever loee ’em’!’* ••JJo, 1 croese# mine with a talkin’ parrot, ««o that if vhej lose* their waj they ran ar*kt - - - , _ —’• Loudon Opiaioikr