The Story of Tuwhakairiora

Te Ao Hou, June 1962, Page 21

The Story of Tuwhakairiora Poroumata and his wife Whaene were well born, being descendants of Porourangi, their tribe was Ngati-Ruanuku. They lived on the East Coast at Whareponga, near where the town of Ruatoria now stands. It was the custom in those days for the people, whenever they gathered food, to give a portion as a tribute to their chief. So when the tribe made a catch of fish, the attendants of Poroumata's pa went to the landing places to fetch the fish. For some time all went well with the fetching, then trouble arose. Poroumata's attendants had become greedy; they carried away too large a portion of the catch, and they chose all the best portions. When hapuka were caught, these attendants cut off all the tails, the belly-fat and the heads, and left only the poorer portions for the people. Nor was it only the attendants of Poroumata who abused the people in this way; Poroumata's own sons did likewise. Because of this, the people began to murmur amongst themselves. They were resentful of the unjust tribute which was being exacted from them, and they plotted to kill Poroumata. Poroumata knew nothing of the wrong deeds of his sons and attendants; he cherished only kindly feelings for the tribe. But the people believed that these things were done on the instructions of Poroumata. One night Poroumata looked at the clouds beyond the crayfish beds, resting close and compact, at the Milky Way and the Magellan Clouds, at the flakes of mist running together and settling in masses upon the mountains. He said, ‘It will be calm tomorrow; the wind will be a light sea-breeze making gentle ripples on the water; I shall put to sea.’ In the morning he and his men embarked in the canoes and reached the fishing ground. While he was occupied with baiting his hooks the men in the bow of his canoe exchanged knowing glances with those in the stern, and those in the stern with those in the bow. All the men exchanged similar glances, indicating that he was to be slain. They slew him then, and he died. They tore out his entrails and vitals, and threw them into the sea, and they were cast ashore. The place where they were cast ashore came to be called Tawekatanga-o-te-ngakau-o-Poroumata (the place where the entrails of Poroumata hung entangled). The fishing ground was called Kamokamo (knowing glances). These names still remain. So Poroumata died, and who there to avenge his death? For the tribe was rejoicing, and ate its own food with no one to interfere. His daughters, Te Ataakura, Materoa, and Tawhipare, mourned for their father. Long was the mourning and grieving of these women for their father. Enough of that. Tumoana-kotore was also a descendent of Porourangi; he as well as Poroumata. Tumoana-kotore married two sisters; Rutanga was the elder, Rongomai-tauarau the younger. They were both of them his wives. The elder had a child, Hinemahuru. The younger had a child, a son, Ngatihau. When Tumoana-kotore died, the days of his mourning were such as befitted the mourning for a chief. They wrapped him up, and took him, and suspended him in a puriri tree near to Waiomatatini. The resting place for the bones was a little above on the mountain. When a year had passed and the flesh decomposed, they would carry away the bones to that resting place. The men who had suspended him in the tree went to return home. They had crossed a small stream when a voice reached them. They stood and

listened. The cry was repeated. They said ‘It is just as if it were the voice of our old man’. They shouted, and the voice cried from above ‘I am still alive; let me down’. His relatives returned let him down, and undid the wrappings. He looked up to the puriri and went on to say, ‘My eyes were still open, and yet you suspended me alive.’ Many years passed, then he really died. Enough of that. His son, Ngatihau, took Te Ataakura, the daughter of Poroumata, as his wife. She was still mourning for her father. She conceived and bore child, a daughter; she mourned deeply for her pains, and her hopes that it might have been a son to avenge the death of her father. She gave her the name Te Aomihia (the cloud that was welcomed); that is, the clouds which her father welcomed when he put to sea to his death. She conceived again while she and her husband were living away at Opotiki. She was still mourning her father. As she was mourning, the child moved violently in her womb. Then she uttered this saying: ‘Ah, move thou violently within me, a son, It is for thee to avenge the death of my father.’ The child was born, a son. She gave him as a name the name of his grandfather, Tumoana-kotore-i-whakairia-oratia. (Tumoana-kotore who was suspended alive). This was shortened, when they addressed him, to Tu-whakairi-ora. She cherished her child, having constantly in mind that the death of her father would be avenged by her child. The afterbirth was buried, and the place where it was deposited was called Te ewe-o-Tuwhakaairiora (the afterbirth of Tuwhakaairiora). The tohungas tended the child with their incantations—Whakanihoniho, Whangawhangai, Ihotaua, and other incantations. He grew up and came to man's estate, constantly hearing the tohungas who were tending him speaking ever of the saying of his mother. He had taken part in mock battles and sports, and had smitten his man. He had taken part also in serious engagements; he had gone into the very heat of the battle; he had gathered in a bundle and turned aside the weapons which beset him on all sides like faggots in a fire. He had won the great battle at Paengatoitoi. His fame as a warrior had gone abroad; he had acquired the emblems of bravery in battle whereby the enemy is overcome. At last he took farewell of the tribe. ‘Farewell! I go in accordance with the saying of my mother, which is still repeated, and which I still hear; it was perhaps because I was moving violently within her that she said: ‘Ah, move thou violently within me, a son, It is for thee to avenge the death of my father’. The tribe knew that the death of his grandfather, Poroumata, was the reason Tu-whakairiora was going. The tribe wished that there should be a large force to conduct him to avenge the death of his grandfather, Poroumata. He said, ‘Enough, I alone will go. There will be the tribes connected with him to conduct me! Alone he set out. The tidings of the beauty of the daughters of Te Aotaki, Ruataupare, and Auahi-kaota, had spread even to Tuwhakairiora's home at Opotiki. When he arrived at the mouth of the Wharekahika River which is at Hicks Bay, these women were gathering cockles, while the girls who accompanied them were sitting beside the fire, with the clothes lying in a heap. He questioned the children, and they told him it was Ruataupare and Auahi-koata. He called to mind the tidings which had reached him of these women. He had taken his seat upon the clothes, and the children expressed their disapproval, the women looking on from a distance. The children went and told them and they said, ‘Well, tell him that you must bring us our clothes’. When the children came he got up at once and gave them up, and sat down again. While the women were putting on their clothes, they gazed intently at him and the emblems of high birth and bravery which he bore with him. He was asking himself why he had not questioned the children as to which was Rautaupare. The women clothed themselves and the children took up the cockles. They made their way to the south end of the bay, to Nukutaharua. When they were some distance off, Tuwhakairiora rose up. He followed behind them, treading in their footsteps of the women, and saying to himself: ‘Are those Ruataupare's, or are those?’ When they turned round, they saw him doing this. When they reached the turning he turned as well, and continued following them until they were near the village. Then Ruataupare and her companions walked faster to take the news quickly to their father, and Tuwhakairiora walked on slowly. They described to their father the emblems of high birth and bravery which this stranger bore, and how he had persisted in following them. Then Te Aotaki said, ‘Ah, well, it is perhaps your cousin Tuwhakairiora; it seems so from the emblems you describe. Where is he?’ ‘Here he comes.’ Then Te Aotaki said to his daughter, ‘Adorn yourselves, and go and call a welcome to your cousin’. Then his daughters and their mother stood on the marae, to the right of the house Te Aotaki reclined in the space by the window, gazing with an intent look. The tribe with his daughters were waving a welcome. Tuwhakairiora stood on the marae and remained standing a long time. The tribe was gazing at the emblems of high birth and

bravery: the pulmes of white crane, the crest of sparrow hawk feathers; the richly worked cloak, the dogskin cape, the decorated taiaha. The tribe and the daughters were still standing, being in awe of Te Aotaki. He was still reclining and gazing at Tuwhakairiora. Some time passed, then he rose, grasped him by the left shoulder, and took him behind the left side of the house, where they descénded together to the running stream. There Te Aotaki performed over Tuwhakairiora the tohi ritual, by which courage is gained; and when he had finished the incantations he invoked Rangipopo. It was not long before she spoke with the voice of the thunderclap to the tribes on the west side of Pukeamaru, including the tribes inland from Wharekahika, and the tribes on the sea-coast at Taungaihe and Owhiunga, the multitudes of Ngutuau. Those tribes said, ‘Eh, whoever is this man, that Te Aotaki keeps agitating the thunder-clap?’ Te Aotaki and Tuwhakairiora stood there still, and again he called to Rangipopo: ‘Old lady, old lady, arise, arise, arise; announce thy son; give voice.’ The sound of the thunders turned to the south side of Pukeamaru, over the pas at Puketapu, Kotare, Te Rangihuanoa, Tarapahure, Totaratawhiti, Okauwharetoa, and the other pas. They both remained standing. There spake the voice of the first thunder, Haruru-ki-te-rangi, and the pas were listening. When that ceased, there spake the voice of the second of the thunders, Whetuki-ki-te-rangi over the same pas again. When that ceased, there spake the voice also of the third, Ueue-ki-te-rangi. Thereupon the chiefs and the tribes in those pas said, ‘What a disturbance Te Aotaki is making, rending asunder his mountain Pukeamaru; to-morrow we shall hear the tidings.’ When all the incantations of Te Aotaki were ended, they returned; when they came, the food had been arranged on the stands. They ate the food out of doors, and a tohunga was appointed to feed Tuwhakairiora. When that was over they entered the house. Ruatapare's sleeping place was immediately beneath the window, but she went to the inner end of the house to sleep, and left her sleeping place for Tuwhakairiora. As for the old man, he was beside the fire on the narrow side of the house. After some time Te Aotaki called Ruatapere, and his daughter arose and sat beside him. After some time, when he had finished the ngunguru incantation, which is performed for marriage, he said aloud. ‘Go down to your cousin that he may stretch his feet’. Ruataupare arose and married Tuwhakairiora, while Te Aotaki went outside. When the bell birds of the early morning were singing, Te Aotaki called to his daughter to light the fire. When it was burning, he and his wife entered the house; then for the first time he saluted Tuwhakairiora. When the dawn of morning light appeared the food was ready cooked. He had already, in the evening, given orders that the preparation of food should be hastened, that the attendants might have their meal, and be ready for the guests on the morrow; that was how it came to be cooked in good time. Ruataupare also was ceremonially fed by hand by a tohunga, and the people in charge of the pa expressed their satisfaction at the marriage of Ruataupare and Tuwhakairiora. When the meal was over, he gave orders that haste should be made with the food, so that it should be ready cooked as soon as the people appeared. The sun was already high when the tribes who were summoned appeared; what a sight it was! Like the thatched roof of a house were the bearers of the dried fish which had been prepared, hapuku, shark, mackerel, maomao, and all kinds of provisions from the sea, which had been got ready be that great tribe, the Ngutuau, and the tribes of the forest and the mountains, who brought birds and other kinds of food. As they laid their burdens down, Tuwhakairiora was gazing at the magnificence of Te Aotaki and his tribe, and he said within himself, ‘The vengeance for the death of my grandfather is within my reach’. Then Te Aotaki stood up to great the tribe. That ended, he next made an address of welcome to Tuwhakairiora, and asked him the reason of his coming thus unattended. Then Tuwhakairiora stood up—he had already arrayed himself with the emblems of his birth and bravery. When he stood—what a sight! It seemed as if his taiaha would break in his hands, the blade and the butt in two pieces. He greeted the tribe, then he answered the question. ‘The occasion of my coming is the saying of my mother; it was perhaps because I was moving violently within her that she said:— ‘Ah, move thou violently within me, a son, It is for thee to avenge the death of my father’. At once the tribes understood his meaning; avenging the death of Poroumata was the occasion of Tuwhakairiora's coming. They remembered the fame of his bravery, and saw that his appearance was in accord with this fame. Then Te Aotaki sent messengers to the pas to announce that Tuwhakairiora was come to avenge the death of his grandfather. When the messengers had gone he said, ‘Up, take your food, let us get things in order in good time at Okauwharetoa to wait upon the army tomorrow.’ When the messengers arrived, the tribes of those pas said, ‘So that was the reason why Te Aotaki rent his mountain, Pukeamaru’. And they looked down from their pas at those who were going along the beach at Punaruku and the shore of Karakatuwhero, like the seadrift cast up by the storm. The pas were occupied with packing up the food, fish, birds and other kinds of food. In the morning the multitudes from those pas appeared, the meal was spread, and the battalions took up their positions, battalion by battalion, with the battalions also of Te Aotaki. Then they were chal-

lenged—a battalion would rise to its feet and take its position; all the battalions were challenged, and took their positions in their thousands. In front of them was Tuwhakairiora, watching the manoeuvres of each battalion. He pointed with the butt of his taiaha: ‘I will have that battalion, and this, and that yonder: let all the rest of the battalion stay. But all braves and the warriors of those battalions must gather round me as a battalion for me’. Then the chiefs stood up and called out, ‘Let the divisions of the army be very great to form a suitable bodyguard; for the tribe yonder is Ngati-Ruanuku, with its powerful clans—Hore, Mana, Te Pananehu, Te Koreke, Te Moko-whakahoihoi, and Te Pohoumauma.’ Such also was the opinion of Te Aotaki: ‘Let the divisions of the army be great to form a suitable bodyguard: their multitudes yonder are like the hair plucked from a rat, or like ants’. Then Tuwhakairiora gave his opinion: ‘Stay, stay, till I have given my opinion. With a multitude counsels are confused; we wish the discussion to be heard. Let the braves of the battalions yonder gather round me as a battalion for me; though the enemy may come in his many thousands, he is but food for the weapon. Well do I know the omens’. He turned the blade of his taiaha upwards, and shook its tuft of dog's hair so that it opened out; he explained the omen—fallen raupo leaves were his omen, and the long sea wave. They would scatter and become food for the weapon; he himself would bear them down, trample on them, smite them. Then he turned the butt of his taiaha upwards, the tuft of hair dropped over the neck of the taiaha, where the left hand should grasp it; he shouted to the battalions, ‘It is a good omen: the enemy cannot break it. When Te Aotaki performed incantations over me he neither displaced a word nor faltered; and the war songs of the thunders of Haruru-ki-terangi, Whetuku-ki-te-rangi, and Ueue-ki-te-rangi are omens of valour, omens of success; to-morrow, at break of day, you will hear of it. There is no question but that they will be destroyed; there will be the pa overthrown, the army slaughtered in the one day’. He was gesticulating before the battalions as if the taiaha would break in pieces in his hands. The battalions kept saying, ‘How could the fame of his bravery be great and the signs of that bravery be small?’ That ended, he greeted the tribe, and the tribe him, and the tribe expresed its satisfaction that Ruataupare had married him. Then came the news that all the enemy pas on this side of Whareponga were assembling in their chief pa at Tokoanu. The tribes on the south side of Whareponga River gathered at Kokai and Tokatea. When the army of Tuwhakairiora was ready, and the provisions for the expedition, they started. To look at them a single glance took them all in, but they went in high spirits under the good omens of Tuwhakairiora. The plan of the pa had already been carefully explained to him. When they reached the beach at Tirau they were sighted by the scouts of the enemy, and the report was being spread among their many thousands, ‘We shall not each get a share to taste, some will have to be content with earth to-morrow’. When the army reached Paepaenui it was evening, they were still saying, ‘A single glance covers them all; there will not even be a taste for the mouth’. In the morning, while it was still dark, the battalions of Tuwhakairiora took up their positions in three divisions; there was the main battalion, the Whare; the Puarere, the battalion which was to effect an entrance into the pa to burn it; and the Patari, or battalion of warriors and braves. The battalions of the enemy were already descending, taking up their positions, battalion by battalion, an immense multitude. There were visible the garments of the chiefs and braves, various patterns of dogs'-skin capes, black and white, cloaks of kiwi and pigeon-feathers, and handsome flax cloaks, and the adornments of the battalions in their positions—the plumes on their heads resembled terns upon a sand-bank. Then Tuwhakairiora gave his orders to his orders to his army, to the three battalions. ‘This is good fortune: if they had remained in the pa we would have had a long business; but now they have come forth they will soon succumb, your hand will ache with the slaughter.’ Then he said to one of the battalions, the Puarere, ‘The object of your attack is the pa; as for the battalions in position facing, you trample them under; when you have gained the position, give a shout and advance in column. When you get in the pa, set it on fire. When I call you, jump to your feet.’ He then gave orders to the main battalion, the Whare-o-te-riri, and some of the braves whom he had chosen to accompany him. He turned the butt of his taiaha upwards, and shouted out, ‘Gather round me; when I call for you to stand up, let your uprising be like the sun rising from the depth. When I rush to the front with my corps, raise a shout, and let the column charge the centre of the battalion; it is the Whare of their battalion which we must reach. When I raise the red crest of my taiaha aloft, then the battalion will break: give vent to your fury, when the battalions of the enemy break’. He called to the battalion of braves, that is Patari, ‘Up! attack this battalion and that to hasten the rout’. When his instructions were ended, he sat down, and called to his feeder, ‘Bring the remains of Continued on page 43