PONGA AND PUHIHUIA

Te Ao Hou, December 1963, Page 38

PONGA AND PUHIHUIA Continued from page 24 nei moe ana maua ko Ponga i te heihei o te wahapu o te moana nei. E kore au e tae atu ki uta; nou a uta, naku te moana.’ Katahi ra ano nga tini wahine ra ka pa, ka tangi ki a Puhihuia, ka aue nga wahine ra, ka hamama te waha ki te tangi, me te tu atu ano te kotiro ra i te wai; roa noa e tangi ana nga wahine ra me te manu mai ano te waka ra i waho tata ake ano o Puhihuia. I hoe mai hoki te waka ra i muri i te kotiro ra i te wa ona i rere ra ki te wai. Hore kau he kupu a te hunga i te waka, hore kau ano hoki he kupu o era i uta, ko te tangi aurere anake o nga wahine ra, ko te pihipihi o te ngaru e aki ana ki te one i Awhitu, ara i Tipitai. Noho tonu mai te tini tangata ra i uta, ko te uhi anake o a ratou upoko ki o ratou kakahu. Ka oho ano te kupu a te tangata i a ia ra te patu pounamu nei, a Kahotea, te tangata e urungi ra i te waka ra, he mea korero noho tana korero. Ka karanga atu a ia ki era i uta, ka mea, ‘He kai e roa te tau ka hauhakea: he whakaaro, ngaki iho ano, hauhake tonu ake. E noho ana koe ki te aha? Taria koe e oho kia kitea mai nga waka o to hoariri ka ungutu nga ihu ki te take o te pa. Tena rawa Nga-iwi te whai (aru) mai nei i ta ratou kotiro i tahaetia mai nei e Ponga, a, ka noho tena koe? He aio tonu koia te tau? Hua atu he raumati, a, he hotoke; he ra e whiti ana, he whatitiri e rarapa ana? He moho koe ki te uira o te rangi, a, he kuare koe ki te karu whete me te pukana o Nga-iwi?’ Tu tonu a Puhihuia i te wai, hore he kupu, hore he korikori, hore he aha. Ko Ponga, i noho hangu tonu mai ano hoki a ia i te wa ano i pahure mai ai te waka ra i Onehunga, a, tae noa mai ano ki a ia e noho atu nei i te waka. Te tino whakatikanga o Ponga, ka tae ki nga kakahu a te kotiro ra i waiho ai ki a ia, ka mau hoki ki ona, takaia iho ki tana mahunga, ko te kakahu ona i takaia ki mua ona hei maro, katahi ra ano a ia ka tae ki te niao o te waka whakahoro marere i a ia ki te wai, ka kau a ia ki uta, ata kau marere kei maku nga kakahu e putoi ra i runga i tana mahunga. Ka u atu a ia ki uta, haere tonu atu, a, ka tae ki a Puhihuia e tu mai ra, tu atu ana a ia i roto ano hoki i te wai, i te tuara o te kotiro ra; tae atu a ia, ka tahuri atu te kotiro ra, ka titiro atu ki a ia, kahore kau he kupu a raua ki a raua. she left the canoe and jumped into the water, and swam toward the shore. First one woman in the sitting crowd rose, then another and another, until all the women who had been sitting there had rushed into the water towards her to welcome her on shore; but those in the canoe sat like people bereft of their senses, and not one of them uttered a word. Puhihuia swam till she could feel the ground with her feet, and stood in the water, which came up to her knees; but the women who swam out to meet her went back on shore and sat together in a group, apart from the group of men. Then Puhihuia called out again, ‘I, Puhihuia, stand in your presence. What I have found is mine. I am not, and will not be, amenable to the order of any one who may say, “Do this”, or “Do that”; and, if you persist in saying that I must return to Mount Eden, by the time the midnight comes to this day I and Ponga will sleep in the foam that the sea-surge makes on the bar of this harbour. I will not come on to the dry land. The dry land is yours; the ocean is my home.’ Thereupon the crowd of women burst into a loud lament, and with streaming tears they wept aloud; but Puhihuia still stood in the water. Loud and long the women wept, while the canoe floated a short distance away from the place where Puhihuia was standing. When Puhihuia had cast herself into the sea those in the canoe had paddled in and followed her; but no one in the canoe uttered a word, and no voice was heard from those on shore save the deep loud wail of the sorrowing women, nor any sound save the surging of the waves breaking on the shore at Tipitai. All the crowd sat on shore in silence with their heads covered with their cloaks. Again the young chief who had the green-stone mere Kahotea and who was steersman of the canoe spoke, while still seated, to those on shore and said, ‘It is a year before a food-crop is ripe for harvesting; but when the thoughts and plans of man are planted, the crop is ripe at once. Why, O chief and people, do you sit, and do nothing? Will you wait, and when the canoes of the enemy are seen approaching, when their prows are close to your pa, only then will you rouse yourselves to action? Even now, the warriors of Mount Eden must be pursuing their young woman of supreme rank, who has been stolen by Ponga; do you intend to sit silent and motionless? Does the year ever remain calm through al

Taro (roa iti) kau ano, ka whakatika te tino kaumatua o te pa nei, o Awhitu, ki runga: kite kau atu ano nga wahine e tangi nei i a ia ka tu ki runga, ka whakamutua te tangi a ratou, ka whakarongo ki ana kupu; e kore hoki e tu noa te rangatira ki runga, kia whai take e korero ai, katahi ra ano ka tu. He roa koa te one o Tipitai, a, he roa te wahi o taua one e nohoia nei e te tini tangata o te iwi nei, o Ngati-Kahukoka. Ka tu te tangata ra, ka haere, puta noa ki tetahi pito o te kapa tangata e noho i te one ra, ka tahuri mai ano a ia, ka haere mai, puta noa mai ki tetahi pito o te kapa ra, kihai i kuihi te waha, kihai i aha. Ko te mere anake i te ringa, ko te kahu waero ki a ia mau ai, ko te hou huia ki te mahunga, ko te upoko i tuoho ki raro, titiro haere ai a ia i te one e takahia ra e ia. Hoki atu, hoki mai i mua, ara i te taha ki te moana o te kapa tangata e noho ra, e haere ana a ia, me te titiro atu taua tini tangata ra ki a ia; kopiko atu, kopiko mai, me te whai tonu nga kanohi o te tini ra i a ia: ko era koa i te waka, tau tonu mai te waka, ko ratou ia, i titiro makutu mai ano hoki ki te kaumatua e haere ra, e kopiko atu ra, e kopiko mai ra, i mua o tona iwi: tae atu a ia, taua kaumatua nei, ki tetahi pito o te kapa tangata ra, ki te wahi i nohoia e te nuinga o nga kaumatua o te iwi nei, katahi ra ano ka maranga tana upoko ki runga, a ka tu a ia, ka titiro ki te kotiro ra raua ko Ponga e tu kau mai ra i te akau, i roto i te moana. Roa noa ka titiro ki te waka ra, ki te tira tini taitamariki i haere nei ki Maungawhau, katahi ra ano a ia ka peke, me te whanawhana nga waewae, ka oma a ia, a, tae noa ki tetahi pito o te pito o te kapa ra ano, ka tupeke a ia i reira, ka whana nga waewae, tutu ana te one i ana rekereke, ka hoki mai ano a ia; he ata haere mai tana haere mai, a, ka tae mai ano ki te puni kaumatua nei, katahi ra ano a ia ka tupeke ano, whana nga waewae, tutu ana te one, ka pa tana waha, ka mea, ‘Aue, aue, i a au e!’ Ka oma a ia ki tetahi pito o te kapa ra, ka tupeke, ka whana nga waewae, ka tahuri ano a ia, ka karanga, ‘Aku uri e, ka toro te ao’. Ka hoki ano a ia, me te ata haere ano, me te tuohu ano tana upoko, titiro ai nga kanohi ki te one, tae atu a ia ki te puni kaumatua ra ano, ka tu a its days? No; there is summer, and then there is winter: the sun shines, and then the thunder is heard. Are you ignorant of the lightning of heaven? Are you ignorant of the meaning of the glaring eyes of the men of Nga-iwi? Puhihuia still stood in the water; she did not say anything, nor did she make the slightest movement. Ponga also sat in silence, as he had done ever since the canoe had left Onehunga. But now he suddenly stood up; taking the garments Puhihuia had left with him he tied them round his head, and his own garments he tied round himself with a belt, and taking hold of the gunwale of the canoe he gently let himself into the sea and swam to the shore. He swam carefully, lest he should wet the garments around his head, and when he landed he went straight to where Puhihuia was standing in the water and stood behind her. When he reached her, she turned and looked at him; but neither of them spoke to the other. After a time, the head chief of Awhitu rose once more; and when the weeping women saw him stand up they ceased to wail, and listened to what he had to say. A chief does not rise for nothing; only when he has reason to speak does he stand up. The beach of Tipitai is a long one, and Ngati-Kahukoka were sitting spaced out along a considerable stretch of it. When the old chief rose, he began to walk, and when he had reached one end of the space occupied by the people, he turned and walked back to the other end. He did not utter a word. He held a greenstone mere in his hand, and wore a dogskin cloak; his head was decked with huia feathers. He kept his head bowed, looking at the sand over which he paced. Thus he paced to and fro between the sea and the sitting crowd, who watched him as he walked back and forth, following with their eyes his every movement. Those in the canoe, which was still floating off-shore, also watched, as though bewitched, the old chief pacing back and forth before his people. He had reached one end of the sitting crowd, where most of the old men of Tipitai were sitting, when he lifted his head and stood there, looking at Puhihuia and Ponga, who were still standing in the water. Then for a long time he looked at the young people who were in the canoe. Then, with a jump and a spring into the air, he ran to the other end of the crowd, then he gave another jump and sprang in the air, dashing up the sand with his heels. Again he paced back, walking in a calm and

ia ka titiro atu ki te waka ra. Ka powhiri tana ringa, ka karanga, ‘Taku potiki, haere mai; ka ora mai na koe i te mate. E rua nga kai o te ao nei, he kai ma te kopu, he kai ma te tinana; he kai te kai ma te kopu e ora ai te tinana, a, e ruaki ana taua kai, a, e raoa ana te tangata i taua kai: kai atu te tangata kia ora ai a ia, a, e mate ana. He kai ano ta te tinana. Na Tu tera. Matika (whakatika) te tangata ki te kawe i tana riri kia ea, ka kai a ia i te kai a Tu; he mate ngatatahi aua kai nei; haere ki whea, he mate, noho ki whea, he mate; ngaki i te kai, he mate, noho i te aio o te tau raumati, he mate uruta: i mate mai ano i a Maui ra ano, a, e mau tonu nei te mate. E taku potiki, ora mai koe i tena mate au, a, e tohu ana koe e kore ano koe e mate? Tena nga mate a Tura kua pa ki a koe; e noho puku na i roto i a koe te aitua; ma tou tapepa noa ka pono te aitua ki a koe. E taku potiki, he mate anake to te ao nei. Haere mai ki te kainga.’ Katahi te kaumatua nei ka tahuri, ka titiro atu ki te kotiro e tu mai ra i roto i te wai, ka karanga atu a ia, ‘E taku mokopuna tuakana, e ko, haere mai ki enei matua tupuna ou. Ehara i a koe te mate, no mua mai ano te mate. I noho tane kore hoki i ana ou tupuna wahine, a, he mea tipako he tane e te iwi mana? Nana ano raia i titiro he tane mana, koia kei a koe, nau tau i kite. “He kura pae na Mahina i kitea, e kore e hoki atu ki tana rangatira.” E ko, kahore he tapau moenga a ou tupuna ariki i nga ngaru o te moana nei; kei Mua ratou e tanu ana; waihoki e kore koe e pai kia kauhoe noa i te akau i kauria e te taniwha nei, e Kaiwhare. Haere mai ra e taku potiki ariki; ka noho tahi taua. Nau tau, a, naku tau. Kia mate ana, ko taua tahi. Haere mai e taku potiki ariki.’ Ka haere atu te kaumatua ra, ka tae atu ki te kotiro ra, ka tuku ihu, hongihongi ana, ka mutu. Ka mau te ringa o te kaumatua nei, ka arahina te kotiro ra e ia, a, ka ahu whaka te pa. Haere tonu raua, me te whai (aru) atu ano a Ponga i muri tata, mau haere ai ano nga kakahu ra i tana upoko; ko te kakahu i whatia ra hei maro mo te kotiro ra anake tana kakahu i a ia e haere nei i te kaumatua nei; ko ta Ponga kakahu i takaia ra hei maro mona anake tona kakahu. Ka haere nei taua tokotoru, a, ka puta ki mua o te kapa wahine i tangi ra, pahure kau atu ano taua tokotoru ki mua o era, ka whakatika aua wahine nei, ka whai (aru) atu i taua tokotoru, ka pukana te wahine, ka harihari mo te kotiro ra, me te deliberate manner until he reached the place where the old chiefs sat. Then he gave another jump, and again dashed the sand up in the air with his feet, crying out, ‘Oh, woe is me! Oh, woe is me!’ Then running along again to the end of the space occupied by the sitting crowd, throwing up the sand at every step, he turned again, crying, ‘O my children! the world is all in a blaze of fire’. He walked back in a quiet manner with his head bowed and his eyes fixed on the sand, and when he was near to where the old chiefs were sitting he again stopped and looked at those in the canoe. Beckoning with his hand, he called, ‘Come, O my child! you have escaped from death. There are two kinds of food in this world: there is food for the stomach and food for the body. The food for the stomach is for the body's well-being, but at times man vomits it up and is choked with it; man eats this food to give him health, but at times it makes him ill. And the body has also its kind of food, but this is of Tu, the god of war. When man goes to war to satisfy his revenge for evil done, he eats of the food of the god of war. There is death in each of these two kinds of food. Go where you will, death is there. Live where you will, death is there. Plant your crops, death is there. Live in the calm of summer, death comes suddenly upon you. From the days of Maui death has been everywhere, and still is everywhere. Now, O my child! you have escaped from death; but do you think that you will never die? There are the evils of Tura, which will come upon you. Even now there are sitting in silence within you innumerable evils, and by the mistakes you may make in our old customs evil will fall on you. O my child! all is death in this world. Come to our home.’ Then he turned and looked at Puhihuia standing in the water, and called out to her, ‘O my granddaughter, who is yet my elder in birth and rank, O young woman, welcome! We your elders, welcome you. Evil and death did not have their origin with you; evil and death are of old. Did your ancestors live husbandless, and did the tribe choose a husband for your mother? No; she found and took the husband of her own choice. How brave and how daring you are! You have chosen and determined whom you will take as your husband, and, as the lost plume of Mahina, it shall not be given back to its former owner. O my child! your ancestors have never slept on a mat laid on the foam

parare te waha o aua tini wahine ra ki te karanga i nga harihari karanga manuwhiri. Haere nei enei, ano ka pahure i te kapa tangata e noho ra, ka whakatika nga mea taitamariki, ka whai i enei, i nga wahine nei, ko nga kaumatua o te puni ra i noho, pahure kau ano nga taitamariki o taua kapa tangata ra, ka tu tetahi o nga kaumatua ra, ka powhiri ki te hunga i te waka ra, ka mea, ‘He noho aha ta koutou, te u mai ai ki uta; kia tere te haere mai, hei ope arahi i ta koutou ariki ki te pa; waiho te hiku o te tira haere ko matou, ko o koutou pakeke. “He puapua to te whainga, he hiku taki to te haere”.’ Ka u mai aua tini tamariki ra, ka mahue te hiku, ka haere ratou i muri tata o te tini tamariki i haere ra, katahi ra ano aua pakeke ra ka haere atu i te hiku. Te take i haere atu ai aua pakeke ra i te hiku, mo te kupu a to ratou rangatira i ki atu ra ki a Puhihuia, ‘Nau tau, naku tau; kia mate rawa ake, ko taua tahi’. He mea hoki, ki te puta he taua ma Nga-iwi ki a ia, a, ki te mau tonu te hiahia a taua wahine ra ki a Ponga, ma te mate ra ano o taua rangatira me tana iwi ano o Ngati-Kahukoka ka riro ai ano te kotiro ra i ana matua; koia ra te tikanga o te hiku o te haere i whakahokia mai ai e aua pakeke ra, he tohu arai atu mo te tangata tiki mai i te kotiro ra. Ka peke te tini tamariki ra ki uta, haere ake ano a ia, a ia me tana hoe, me tana hoe, mau haere ai i te ringa hei patu, a, i haere kapa tonu aua tini tamariki ra, whai atu ana i muri i te ope e piki ra ki te pa. Ko te waka ra tena, ka toia mai e nga ropa ano o taua tira tamariki ra ki uta, poua ana nga tia i te one, herea ana te waka e ratou, a, ka mau, whai (aru) atu ana ratou i te ope ra. Kua tu-a-ahiahi koa te ra, kua tata te to te ra, ka piki te kaumatua ra, me te arahi i a Puhihuia, a no ka tata ki te pa, ka puta mai nga ruruhi me nga koroheke kongenge, ka pa te karanga, me te tawhiri i a ratou kakahu. Haere tonu atu te tokorua ra, a, te marae o te pa, tomo tonu atu raua ki te whare o taua kaumatua ariki ra, whai haere tonu atu a Ponga. A no ka tapoko ratou tokotoru ki te whare, ka mau a Ponga ki nga kakahu e putoia ra i tana upoko, ka whakahoroa atu ki te kotiro ra, ka mau a ia ki ona, ka kakahu. Ko te kahu i whatia ra hei maro mona, unuhia ake e ia, ka mau ki waho i te whare, a, whakanoia (whakairia) ana e ia ki te pou ano ana i whakatu ai i waenganui o te marae kia maroke. Ko Ponga i haere ki te whare o ona of the waves of this sea, but they are buried near to Mua; nor would it be right for you to swim in the sea where the taniwha Kaiwhare holds his rule. Come, O my child of noblest birth! Come, and you and I will live together. You have chosen what you have chosen, and I have chosen that which you have chosen; and if death comes, you and I will die together. Come, O my child of most supreme rank!’ The old chief waded out in the water and when he reached Puhihuia he offered his nose in greeting, and they hongi'd. Then he took her by the hand and led her to the shore and toward the pa, closely followed by Ponga with the garments still tied around his head. Puhihuia was still wearing only the garment she had round her waist, and Ponga also was wearing only his short loin-cloth. When the old chief and Puhihuia had passed in front of the group of weeping women, they all arose and followed the three of them with grimaces, shouting and glaring with their eyes in honour of the presence in their land of Puhihuia, the famous one, the highest-born of the tribes. Next followed the young people of the tribe. When these had passed where the old men and women were sitting, an old man rose, and waving his hand to those in the canoe, said, ‘Why do you stay on the sea? Come quickly on shore, and go with the crowd to welcome your supreme lord to our pa, and let us, the old people, bring up the rear. “The warrior has his shield, and the rearguard has its commander”.’ The young people of the canoe landed, and took their place behind the young people who followed the weeping women; and the old people closed in at the rear. The old people took this position to indicate their willingness to follow the decision of the old chief who was leading Puhihuia, when he said, ‘You have decided and I agree, so that if we are to be killed we will die together.’ By this saying he meant that if a war-party of the Nga-iwi of Mount Eden were to attack him, if Puhihuia still wished to have Ponga as her husband, then not till he and his people the Ngati-Kahukoka had been overcome in battle would Puhihuia be taken back by her people to her home. And hence the old people brought up the rear, as a sign that any attack on them would be met by resistance. When the young people jumped on shore each one carried his paddle with him as a weapon, and all followed in line of battle

matua. Ka mau ki ona kakahu, kahuria ake, ka puta ano a ia, ka haere, a, noho ana a ia i te mahau o te whare e nohoia ra e Puhihuia. Ka ka nga hangi, ka poki, ka maoa, ka hukea, ka takoto ki te marae. Ehara i te mea he mea tuku-a-kai ma te pa; he mea tuku-a-kai ma te ope manuwhiri. Ka maoa te kai ra, ka hui te tini o te tamariki, haere ake te tane, te wahine, ka mau ki ana kai, ka pa te waha (mangai), ka hari i te hari kai nei: Ko Tu, ko Rongo. Ko Tu, ko Rongo. Paia ngo (ko) nga tahi Potehe, potehe,*The only meaning the Williams dictionary gives for ‘potehe’ is ‘short’, which does not seem suitable here. Following the Rev. Fletcher's translation (see the letter on page 18) we have translated it by ‘consumed’, but we do not know whether or not this is correct. We would be most interested to hear from any reader who could throw any light on the meaning of ‘potehe’. Tu and Rongo are of course the old Maori gods of war and peace; but the third line of the song is also obscure. Potehe te kai Ki raro ki te whenua Potehe. Ka haere mai te ranga kawe kai mai, ka takoto, takoto ake he kotahi ano te puranga. Ka tu ano taua koroheke i arahi mai ra i a Puhihuia, ka mau ki te rakau, he mea tiki e ia ki te tahora whawhati mai ai, he manga kawakawa taua rakau, ka haere a ia, ka tu i te taha o te ranga (kauika) kai ra, ka pa tana waha, ka mea,— ‘Te kai nei e, te kai nei.’ Ka patua taua kai ra e ia ki te manga o te

behind the group that was going up to the pa. The canoe was pulled to the shore by some of the slaves, and was tied there to poles stuck in the sand. The sun had nearly set as the old chief, leading Puhihuia, ascended to the pa. As they approached the pa the aged men and women who were inside came out and waved their garments and called the welcome of old. The old man went on and when they reached the marae, he led Puhihuia into his house, followed by Ponga; then Ponga gave the garments he had carried on his head to Puhihuia. She took the garment she had worn round her waist and spread it out, and hung it up to dry on a pole set up in the centre of the marae. Ponga went to the house of his parents and dressed himself, then went and sat in the porch of the house where Puhihuia was staying. The ovens were lit and covered over and when the food was cooked it was set out on the marae, not for the people of the pa, but for those who had been to Mount Eden. When they brought the food before them, the boys and girls of the pa carried it in small baskets; and in taking it from the ovens where it was cooked to where it was placed on the marae they went in a group formed in lines of three or four deep, singing in chorus the song,— It is Tu, it is Rongo, It is Tu, it is Rongo, Paia and Ngatahi. It is consumed,* The food is consumed under the earth, It is consumed. They placed all the food in one heap. Then the chief stood up with a twig in his hand, a branch of kawakawa which he had gone out of the pa to take from a neighbouring shrub, and went and stood near to the heap of food, and called out, ‘This food, this food!’ and struck the heap of food with the branch of kawakawa which he held in his hand, and again said, ‘This food, this food!’ Once again

kawakawa e mau ra i tana ringa, ka pa ano te karanga,— ‘Te kai nei e, te kai nei.’ Ka patua ano te kai ra e ia ki taua manga rakau, katahi ra ano a ia ka tahuri, ka titiro ki a Puhihuia, ka pa tana karanga, ka mea,— ‘Te kai nei ma Nga-iwi katoa, puta atu ki hea, ki hea.’ Ka hoki mai a ia, ka noho, ka whakatika atu a Puhihuia, ka mau te take rarauhe i kitea e ia i te marae e takoto ana, whatiwhatia ana e ia, ka mau ki aua whatiwhati rarauhe, ka haere, a, ka tae ki ko mai o te kai ra, ka poua aua whatiwhati rahurahu ra ki waho mai o te kai ra, a, ka hoki mai ano a ia ki te taitamaiti i a ia te patu pounamu nei, a Kahotea, a, ka toro tana ringa, ka tangohia mai taua mere ra i te ringa o taua taitamaiti, a, hoki ano a ia ki te kai ra. Ka whiu te patu ra ki mua ona, ka oioia te patu ra, ka pa tana karanga,— ‘Te kai nei e, ma Ngati-Kahukoka, ma ia hapu ma ia hapu, puta noa i ona rohe; ma ona mohio e kite nga wehewehenga nei, i poua nei e au ki te whatiwhati rarauhe.’ Ka hoki te kotiro ra ki tana nohoanga i te mahau o te whare ra, noho tahi ana i te taha o Ponga, a, nana i tuku a Kahotea kia kawea ano e Ponga ki te tangata i tukua mai ai taua patu ra ki a ia e te matua o Puhihuia. Ka tu ano te kaumatua ra, ka tae ano me tana manga kawakawa ki aua kai ra ano, ka patua e ia tetahi wahi o aua kai ra, ka pa tana waha, ka mea,— ‘Te kai nei, ma Puhihuia te kai nei.’ Hiko atu he wehenga ano no aua kai ra, ara, nga wehenga o aua kai nei, kei waenga o aua aruhe ra i poua e Puhihuia, ka pa ano te patu a te kaumatua ra, ka karanga ano,— ‘Te kai nei, ma Ngati-Kahukoka i Awhitu.’ Hiko atu, ka pa ano tana patu, ka mea,— ‘Te kai nei ma Ngati-Kahukoka i Waiuku, puta atu ki Te Akau.’ Ka pa ano tana patu, ka mea,— ‘Te kai nei ma Ngati-Kahukoka i Waikato, puta noa i ona rohe.’ Ka pa ano tana patu ki tetahi wahi ano o aua kai, ko te wehenga mutunga o taua rarangi kai, kua oti katoa hoki etahi wehenga e ia te karanga, a, ko te mea mutunga tenei, ka mea a ia,— ‘Te kai nei, ma Ngati-Kahukoka o ia wahi o ia wahi o te ao nei.’ Ka hoki mai a ia, ka noho, ka whakatika atu nga tangata ma ratou aua kai, ko o Awhitu tangata na ratou i mau nga kai ma era i he struck the heap of food with the branch and said, ‘This food is for all of the Nga-iwi, wherever they may be’. He came back, and Puhihuia rose, and took a fern-stalk which she found lying on the marae, and broke it into short lengths, and stepped up in front of the heap of food and stuck the pieces of fern into the ground on the far side of the heap. Then she went to the young chief who had the greenstone weapon Kahotea, and putting her hand out, took the mere from his hand, and went back and stood near to the heap of food. She made sweeping movements in front of her with the weapon and then, making it quiver in her hand, called out, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka (the people of Awhitu), for each of the sub-tribes within its boundaries; and let the learned of these tribes know for whom this food is intended by the pieces of broken fern I have stuck up before this heap of food.’ She went back to the place she had occupied in the porch of the house, and sat beside Ponga; she then gave the greenstone weapon to Ponga, who carried it back to the young chief to whom her father had given it. The old chief rose again, and took his kawakawa branch and going to the heap of food struck one part of it, saying, ‘This food is for Puhihuia’. Striking another portion, which was marked off from the other food by the fernstalks stuck up by Puhihuia, he said, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka of Awhitu’. Striking another portion, he said, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka at Waiuku, including those at Te Akau’. He struck another portion, and said, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka of the Waikato, and for all of them who live within the boundaries of that district’. Striking the last portion, all the other portions having already been named, he said. ‘This food is for those Ngati-Kahukoka who may be in any other place whatsoever’. He came back and sat down, and the people to whom the food was allotted stood up; those appointed from Awhitu took the portion allotted to the Awhitu people, and the Waiuku people took the portion which was for them. The food dedicated to the men who were related to those of Awhitu, but were now residing at Waikato, Pokeno, and Tamaki was taken by their Awhitu relatives. There remained the food apportioned out for the Nga-iwi (Mount Eden) people; but Puhihuia, as representative of that tribe, did

Awhitu, ko o Waiuku tangata na ratou i mau nga kai ma era i Waiuku, ko te tau tangata manuwhiri nei ki Awhitu ki Waikato, ki Pokeno, ki Tamaki, na ratou i mau nga kai ma nga tangata noho manuwhiri o aua wahi i Awhitu. Toe ake ko nga kai ma Nga-iwi, kihai a Puhihuia i whakatika ki te tiki i era; a, he mea whakatika tu ano e ia, e Puhihuia, i te wahi i nohoia ra e ia i te taha o Ponga, ka pa tana reo, ka mea, ‘Kei hea ia nei te tangata whakatuturi ki te kawe wai ma tana ariki, ma Ponga? Tu mai kia kite atu au.’ Ko te iwi o te pa ra, i te wa ano ka hukea nga hangi, ka hui katoa mai, te iti, te rahi, te rangatira, te tutua, te koroheke, te ruruhi, te wahine, te tane, te mea ora, te turoro, te hake, te haua, poto anake mai ki te marae o te pa nei kia kite i a Puhihuia, a, i te whakahoronga ano hoki o te kai nei, e noho nui ana aua tini ra i te marae, kapi katoa te marae, heoti ano te wahi i atea ko te wahi i te kapa i te kai ra. Ka tu te pononga o Ponga, te mea e uia nei e Puhihuia, ka tu a ia ki runga, ka karanga atu a Puhihuia, ‘Ko koe ia nei i whakatuturi ki te wai mo to ariki?’ Ka ki atu a ia, ‘Ae’. Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘He aha te tino mau a Wahine-iti?’ Ka ki atu te ropa ra, ‘He wai’. Ka ki atu a Puhihuia, ‘Na te aha i toko ake te hiainu?’ Ka mea atu te ropa ra, ‘He kai’. Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘Ae, a, na te ahu whenua ki te mahi tetahi. Nau au i kitea mai ai ki konei, nau i whakatuturi koia au i kawe wai ai ma to taua ariki; na taua wai ra i kawea ra i kitea ai te whakaaro a Ponga ki a au, me taku ki a Ponga; nau tena he; e ai he mate mo taua, na “Te mau o Wahine-iti” te take o to taua mate. Mau e karanga ta taua kai e kiia nei ki toku ingoa.’ Ka tu taua ropa ra, ka haere ki taua wehenga kai i karangatia nei ki te ingoa o Puhihuia, ka pa tana karanga,— ‘Te kai nei e, ma Ponga te kai nei. Te kai nei e, ma te tini rangatira tamariki i hoe nei ki Maungawhau te kai nei.’ I noho puku te iwi e pae i te marae nei, a no ka taka ki aua kupu a te ropa nei i tukua nei te kai nei ma taua tini tamariki, katahi ra ano ka puta te umere, ka mea ratou, ‘He tika, he tika koia kei a koe; tukua te kai ma Ponga ki ana hoa, na ratou tahi hoki te kahurangipounamu o Maungawhau i kawe mai ki konei; koia kei a hoe.’ Katahi ra ano aua tini tamariki ra, te not rise and take it away, but rose and stood where she had been sitting at the side of Ponga, and asked, ‘Where is the slave who was deaf to the call of Ponga when he called for water? Stand up and let me see you.’ At the time when the earth ovens were being uncovered, the people of the pa had all gathered on the marae, chiefs and commoners, men and women, both old and young, the healthy and the sick, the crippled and the lame and the maimed; all had gathered on the marae to see Puhihuia, and when the food was laid out this great crowd was sitting on the marae covering it all, the only unoccupied space being the place where the food was heaped. Ponga's slave, having been requested by Puhihuia to do so, stood up. Puhihuia asked, ‘Are you the man who was deaf to the orders of your lord?’ He answered, ‘Yes.’ Puhuhuia asked, ‘What was considered by Wahineiti to be the most important food?’ He answered, ‘Water.’ She asked, ‘What causes thirst?’ He said, ‘Food.’ She said, ‘Yes; but industry is also another cause. And it is through you that I now find myself here. You turned a deaf ear to the commands and requests of your lord for water, and I had to go and fetch water for our lord, and by that act of mine in fetching water for Ponga I discovered his love for me and mine for him: it was your fault; and if any evil befalls you and me it will be on account of “the delicious morsel of Wahineiti” (water). It is for you to distribute, in my name, the food that has been allotted to me.’ The slave stood up and went to the portion of food which had been named for Puhihuia, and called out, ‘This food is for Ponga. This food is for the many young chiefs who paddled to visit Mount Eden.’ Not a voice had been heard from the crowd on the marae, but when Ponga's slave proclaimed that part of the heap apportioned to Puhihuia should be given to the young chiefs who had visited Mount Eden, a loud chorus of voices said, ‘Right, right! you have acted nobly. Give the food intended for Ponga to his companions who helped to bring the nobly-born one of Mount Eden to our home. You have done nobly.’ The young people, men, women, chiefs, and slaves, rose and took the portion allotted to them, and spread it out on the marae before

wahine, te tane, te rangatira, te pononga, i haere katoa i a Ponga raua ko Puhihuia, ka whakatika, ka mau ki taua kai, ka mahora ki te marae, i te aroaro o Puhihuia raua ko Ponga, a, kai tahi ana ratou i aua kai ra. Kai puku ai nga taitamariki tane, o nga rangatira o taua tira i haere nei ki Maungawhau, ko etahi o ratou, ko nga ropa me nga wahine i kata; kai ai me te korerorero; te noho puku o etahi he hae ki a Ponga e noho tahi ra, e kai tahi ra i a Puhihuia. Ka po te ra, ka taki hokihoki te iwi i te marae ra ki te whare manuwhiri o te pa, noho nei, noho nei, a, ka roa, ka mea atu etahi o ratou ki etahi ano o ratou, ‘Me aha te waka e tau i tatahi ra?’ Ka mea atu etahi, ‘Me to ano ra ki uta’. E pari ana te tai, a, kua tutuki ki uta, ka puta tetahi o aua kaumatua ra ki waho ki te marae, ka karanga, ‘Me huri taua ki tatahi ki te to i te waka ra ki te urunga’. Ka maranga te pa nei, kihai i roa kua aua noa mai te waka ra te to ki uta. Ka hoki mai tera i te to i te waka ra, ka puta te tangata nana ra i arahi atu a Puhihuia ki te pa, ka mea, ‘E huri taua ki te whare manuwhiri’. Ka ka te rama kapara i roto i taua whare, ka poto katoa te iwi ki roto, ka mea taua kaumatua, ‘He aha he whakaaro mo taua, nei hoki te manu nei a te pipiwharauroa, kua tae mai ki to taua puni, e ki ana, “Whiti, whiti ora”. Ko wai ka hua, ko wai ka tohu, ae, he ora? Nei pea te tamariki o Maungawhau te tu nei, kia penei rawa ake apopo, tu ana i o taua aroaro. E ngaro ianei, ka hae pea ki ta ratou mahuarangi ka riro mai nei ki a taua noho ai. Heio ano te wa e kiki kupu ai taua.’ Ka tu he tangata, ka mea, ‘Naku hoki i tiki, i to mai te mokopuna a Hotunui, i wehi ai au i tena tamaiti, ana haere mai me tana patu?’ Ka mea tetahi, ‘Nana ano ra a ia i haere mai ki konei, mana taua e hauhake’. Ka mea atu te tamaiti i a ia ra te patu pounamu nei, a Kahotea, ‘Nei te patu a te matua a Puhihuia i homai ai ki a au hei maunga rongo taketake ki a koutou ko aku tupuna. Te titiro a Ponga ki taua tikanga, pikitia ana e ia ki te tikanga kohuru ana, i tahaetia mai nei e ia te kotiro puhi o taua pa. Kahore kau aku whakaaro ki te taua e haere mai nei; Puhihuia and Ponga, and ate together in their presence; but the young chiefs of the party which had gone to Mount Eden ate in silence; others, the slaves and the women, laughed, chattering among themselves as they ate. The young chiefs were silent because they were jealous of Ponga, for sitting beside Puhihuia and eating with her. It was now dusk, and the people began to leave the marae and go the house set aside for the visitors, where they sat and talked over many subjects. When they had been sitting there for a long time, some of them asked the others, ‘What shall we do with the canoe floating there off the beach?’ Some said, ‘Let us go and drag her up high and dry.’ The tide was coming in, and an old man out on the marae called and said, ‘Let us all go to the beach and drag the canoe up to the landing place.’ A crowd went, and it was not long before the canoe was hauled far up on to dry land. When the canoe-draggers had returned, the old chief who had led Puhihuia up to the pa called and said, ‘Let us meet in the visitors' house;’ and when the kapara torches had been lit in the house, and all the people had assembled inside it, the old chief said, ‘What must be our policy? The pipiwharauroa (shining cuckoo) has come to our home, and is singing, “Shine, shine to life;” but who can say, who can predict, that it be life? The young men of Mount Eden may now be roused to anger, and tomorrow they may stand in our presence; and certainly they have every reason to be jealous, as the nobly born one has come to live with us. This is the only time we shall be able to hold a council.’ One rose and said, ‘Was it I who went and dragged the granddaughter of Hotunui to this place, that I should fear the weapons of those young men? Let them come with their weapons.’ Another said, ‘She has come here of her own accord: then let her harvest our crop (lead us in battle).’ The young chief who had the greenstone weapon Kahotea said, ‘Here is Kahotea, the weapon of the father of Puhihuia, that he gave to me to bind firm the peace which is between them and you, my elders: but Ponga did not heed this token; he ignored it by acting treacherously towards me, and stole the daughter from her parents and brought here—she who was the most noble of that pa. I do

he kotahi au, ara, he patu ano taku, noku te he, ae, tena, no tau tangata ke, hei aha au i mate noa ai?’ Ka whakatika tetahi tamaiti ariki ano o taua tira i haere nei ki Maungawhau, ka mea, ‘Ki te mea ka moe matou ko aku hoa i roto i te Wharekura, a, ka tikina mai matou ka pokea e te atua, e kore te mea kotahi e rere; i poke te mea kotahi, ka poke katoa; waihoki ko te kotiro na, e kiia nei na Ponga te ngakau ki a ia i rere mai ai i a tatou, kua pokea a Ponga e te aitua, a, kua pokea katoatia tatou, te iti, te rahi, te wahine, te tane o taua tira i haere nei ki Maungawhau.’ He roa noa atu te korero a te iwi nei i taua po, he tangata i pai, he tangata i kino ki te mahi a Ponga, otiia i noho puku a Ponga, waiho noa te whakapae mona kia korerotia e taua iwi nei. A no ka poto katoa nga kaumatua te whai ki, katahi ra ano a Puhihuia ka tu ki runga, i te taha tonu ano a ia o Ponga e noho ana, ka mea atu a ia, ‘E aku tupuna, e aku matua, he aha kei a au kei te ware, na koutou te mana, ma koutou te kupu; ehara i a Ponga te he nei, na koutou, i tuku ake i a Ponga ki te pa i aku matua, te titiro koutou ki te pai o ta koutou tamaiti, a, ka pupuri ki konei noho ai; te tukua ake ko etahi anake o a koutou uri rangatira, kia tono mai ratou i a au kia haere mai kia noho i konei. Penei e kore au e whakama te mea atu ai au ki era, “E kore au e tae atu”. He uri rangatira ratou, a, he aha hoki au, te whakapaea ai e au na koutou au i kohuru; tukua ake ana te tino tangata o Ngati-Kahukoka ki taku aroaro, a, pai noa taku ngakau ki a ia, a, haere mai nei au i a ia. Ehara i a ia te take, ehara i a ia te kupu; naku ano i kitea mai ai au ki konei; na koutou tenei he, te waiho ai a Ponga ki enei whenua, kia riro ana i te kotiro a etahi ano o koutou; nei koe, whakaaria ana e koutou ki a au, a, rere noa au ki a ia. A, ka tahi nei ranei te wahine ka rere ki tana tane i pai ai, ko au nei anake? E pai ana te kupu a te tini o koutou, he ahakoa, he wahine au, penei rawa ake apopo pukana ana aku kanohi ki tena taua e kiia na, ahakoa taku kotahi, ahakoa te kotahi o Ponga, a, me noho puku koutou, ka aha, ka hoki au? E kore, e kore, ko taku rironga tenei i a Ponga, a, Paerau atu ana.’ Ka whakatika te kaumatua o te iwi nei, ara, te tino ariki o Ngati-Kahukoka, ka mea, ‘E pai ana e te iwi, kua puta a koutou kupu, e pai ana, nana maua ko taku kotiro ka patua, ka mate, e taea hoki koa te aha. Nana ka not make any account of the war-party that is coming here; I am only one of many, and I have but one weapon. If the evil had originated with me, it would have been incumbent on me to take part; but, as it has come on us by the act of a distant one (that is, one of low rank), why should I be killed for nothing?’ Another of the young chiefs who had visited Mount Eden rose and said, ‘When I and my friends sleep in a wharepuni, and one of us is visited by a god and is infected by him with a disease, he is not the only one who is infected, but all in the house suffer from the same infection. Even so, in regard to the young woman who, it is said, was invited and brought here by Ponga: if Ponga is to bear the consequences for an evil act, all we who paid a visit to Mount Eden must be implicated, the small and the great, the men and the women.’ The discussion continued far into the night. Some of the speakers approved and others condemned the acts of Ponga, but Ponga himself kept silent, leaving the accusations against him to be discussed by the tribe. When all the elders of the tribe had spoken, Puhihuia rose from where she was sitting at the side of Ponga, and said, ‘My elders, why take such notice of me, who am of low birth? As the power is yours, you have the right to speak. The evil of which you speak (my having left my home and come here to live with you and to take Ponga as my husband) did not originate with Ponga; you were the cause of my acting as I did. You allowed Ponga to visit my parents’ pa. Why did you not see the beauty and noble bearing of Ponga, and keep him here with you, and allow only the other noble young chiefs of your tribe to visit my people? If these others had asked me to come back here with them to live, I should not have hesitated to say to them, “I will not go with you.” They are of high birth; and what am I? Why should not I charge you with being the cause of the evil that has been done to me? You allowed the most noble-looking man of the Ngati-Kahukoka to come into my presence, and my heart approved of him, and I accompanied him to this place. ‘He did not cause me to do this, nor did he give me any advice; it is by my own decision that I am here. It was you who brought about this evil. You should have kept Ponga in this land where he could have taken one of your own daughters; but as you held him up

huri atu koutou, a, ka mahue maua hei kai ma te patu a Nga-iwi: haere atu ra ki Waiuku, haere atu ra’. Ka mutu te korero, he mea hoki, e kore te whare korero, e puta he kupu ma tetahi tangata i muri i te kupu a te tino ariki. Ka hokihoki te iwi nei ki o ratou whare moe ai, na te kupu a te kaumatua ariki nei, e penei ai te ki a etahi o te iwi nei, ‘He tika te ki a to tatou ariki, na te kotiro nei i pai mai ki a Ponga, kati me awhina e tatou, a nana ka parekura, e pai ana: kia toa’. to my gaze I loved him, and shall take him as my husband. Am I the first and only woman who ever chose for herself the husband she desired? I approve of what most of you have said; and, though I am a woman, if tomorrow the war-party of which you speak rush into this pa I will dance the dance of war; and though I am but one, and though Ponga is but one, and though you sit still and keep silent, what then! Do you think I shall return to my home? No, no! I am bound to Ponga, even to the world of the spirits!’ The elder who was head chief of the Ngati-Kahukoka rose and said, ‘It is well, O people! You have spoken; and if I and my daughter are killed it cannot be helped. If all of you turn away from us two, and we are left as food for the weapons of Nga-iwi of Mount Eden, who can say it should be otherwise? Yes, go, depart to Waiuku!’ Thus ended the conference that night. And, as was the custom, no one might speak after the supreme chief had spoken. Those who were assembled there went to their different places to sleep; and as they went, some of the tribe were heard to say, ‘The words of our lord are just. If the young woman likes Ponga, let us support her in her decision; and, if war does follow, let us be brave.’ In the grey dawn each warrior bound on his war-belt and took his weapon, for each knew the meaning of the words of their lord and leader when he said, ‘If I and my daughter are killed, it cannot be helped’. He meant that he would not allow Puhihuia to be forced to abandon that on which her heart was set, and if a war-party came to take her away he would not allow her to be taken, and the Ngati-Kahukoka must be brave to keep her. The last installment of ‘Ponga and Puhihuia’ will appear in the March issue of ‘Te Ao Hou’.