The Story of Hine Kuku and Te Moananui

Te Ao Hou, March 1964, Page 51

The Story of Hine Kuku and Te Moananui by S. C. Brooking Beyond the sombre mountain range of Pukeamaru, above the waters of the Onematariki stream, there rises a dark and towering cliff. There is little now to show that an inland pa once occupied the plateau on the summit of the cliff, for today the bush has won back what man had long years before taken from it. Today there remain only the dim ruined outlines of defences, and only one memory still lives from the uncounted years. Long before the white man came, a young Chief named Te Moananui lived on the low lands by the sea, near the mouth of the Karakatuwhero river. A young man of some 20 years, he was straight, tall and of a mighty frame. He was quiet and reserved and spent most of his time alone, fishing and hunting and setting snares to take pigeons. One day, while fishing for eels, Te Moananui followed the waters of the Karakatuwhero inland. He followed its course for a long distance, sleeping beside it at night. The main tributary, the Onematariki, took him westward to the mountain range of Pukeamaru, and he found himself at the foot of a mighty cliff that rose dark and forbidding from the stream. He had not gone much further when suddenly to his astonishment he saw a maiden standing beside one of the pools, where she must have been bathing. When she heard him, she quickly turned round in fear. He called to her gently, telling her to have no fear, that he had wandered there while searching for eels. He made no attempt to come closer to the maiden, who watched him intently. She wore a korowai of beautiful pigeon and kaka feathers, and in her hair, which fell to her waist, was a crimson rata flower. ‘O maiden, tell me your name, and where it is that you dwell.’ She pointed to the summit of the cliff and answered, ‘I live with my father and his people there, and I am called Hine Kuku. From where do you come, stranger?’ Te Moananui pointed across the hills. ‘I come from my home by the calling sea. My name is Te Moananui.’ When the maiden saw his gentle manner, his great strength, and his tall stature, like that of a high stately miro tree, her heart was won. Another moon waxed and waned after their meeting. Then, in the mountains, the lone watcher on the heights called to those within the pallisades: ‘A stranger comes, he comes alone.’ Rangihau, the aged chief, the father of Hine Kuku, took up his fighting taiaha and came to the watcher's side. ‘Move back from the gateway and allow him to enter.’ Then Te Moananui appeared, boldly entering through the open gateway. He came forward to a space before the chief and stood silent. The chief looked at the youth, and saw his mighty strength. ‘Who are you and from where do you come? What do you seek among these lonely hills?’ ‘I am known among my people as Te Moananui. I come from my home by the calling sea to seek this maiden, your daughter, as my wife.’ A murmur ran through the assembled people who stood behind their chief. Rangihau was silent for a moment, then he spoke. ‘I cannot have you slain as I would wish, for you come alone and stand unarmed. But listen to my words, bold youth. When my daughter seeks a mate, one of my people will be found for her. Stranger to these hills, go back to your home by the sea. Go, for my child Hine Kuku will never sleep upon your breast.’ ‘O chief, ponder your words. I have never yet sought to wed a maiden other than Hine Kuku, and I will never do so. She alone has my heart.’ Hine Kuku stood silent among the maidens, her head bowed. The chief stretched forth his arm, ‘Go, before I kill you’. Te Moananui answered, ‘This, O chief, you have already done. I cannot but obey the

father of the maiden I love.’ He walked to the outer gate, then passed out of sight down the winding track. Then there came to those above the weird and dread fall of a lament. Hearing this sound, significant of death, the chief leant, trembling, on his taiaha. Hine Kuku stole away unseen and stood by a projecting crag a little distance from the pa. Soon, below her, following the pathway to the stream, she saw her lover. She threw down a fragment of rock in front of him, causing him to look up. Then she called, ‘Oh Moana, cease your weeping, for it breaks my heart. Do yourself no injury; live through the long years. Keep my love; my spirit will loiter and will be waiting for you at the gateway of the setting sun.’ Then, her arms outstretched to her lover, she threw herself far out from the cliff, her tender body falling on the dark rocks beside the stream. Sixty years passed. Te Moananui, gaunt and grey, his great limbs shrunken, watched for the last. There was a great content in his face. ‘Keep my love, and my spirit will loiter and be waiting for you at the gateway of the setting sun.’ ‘Hine Kuku, I go to you now, as with outstretched arms you came to me long years ago.’ When night had passed they found Te Moananui and carried him to his last resting place on a mound by the waters of the Punaruku stream (Wairata) near to the sea: while through the early mist of dawn there rose that weird and dread lament significant of death. ‘You are a half-caste Maori?’ ? The Ohinemutu marae area at Rotorua is to be replanned, and the historic St Faiths Church on the marae is to be restored and enlarged. A committee is at present investigating ways and means of replanning the area, while retaining its traditional background and function. They are considering the possibility of making Ohinemutu a centre for state and civic occasions. ? A book of colour reproductions of the paintings of Gottfried Lindauer is to be published. It is being sponsored by Mrs E. L. Clayton, of Auckland, the daughter of Mr H. E. Partridge, who collected the paintings. The profits will be given to the Maori Education Foundation. The Lindauer collection of Maori portraits, which is now housed in Auckland Art Gallery, is famous for the accuracy and detail with which it records the expressions and way of life of the Maori people at the time when they were painted (from 1874 to the early years of this century). Mrs Clayton recalls that in her childhood and early youth, most of the notable rangatira of the day visited her home in Auckland to look at the collection. Among them were Te Heuheu Tukino, the ariki of Tuwharetoa, and Tawhiao, the Maori King. Later, most of the group known as the Young Maori Party—Maui Pomare, Apirana Ngata and Te Rangi Hiroa (Peter Buck)—were frequent visitors. These famous men would sit for hours before the pictures, scrutinising every detail. Not once, Mrs Clayton says, did they detect a flaw. ‘No, your Honour, I'm a half-caste Pakeha!’