TE AOHURUHURU Na ko Pa-maramarama te ingoa o te pa o te hoa o Te Aohuruhuru. He koroheke te tangata nei, ko tana wahine he tutua, he mea tango mai e ia i te tangata i arohatia nuitia e tenei wahine. Ko te take i tangohia ai e ia te wahine nei he pai, he ataahua, he wahine momoho ki te mahi. Ko te mahi he taka kai, he whatu weruweru mo te koroheke nei. Otira ko tona noho, e noho pononga ana ki tenei koroheke, otira ko tona aroha pea e mau tonu ana ki te tangata i arohatia nuitia e ia. A roa rawa tona nohoanga ki tenei koroheke, a muri iho ka tahuri taua koroheke ki te hakirara i a ia. Ko te tikanga tenei o tana hakiraratanga i a ia. No to raua moenga i te po, roa rawa raua e moe ana, ka maranga taua koroheke ki runga, ka titiro ki tana wahine tamahine, kua warea e te moe. Ko ona pakikau kua pahuhu ke ki raro i te kowhananga a nga ringaringa, a nga waewae, i te ainga a te ahuru. Katahi ka tahuna e ia te ahi, ka ka te ahi, ka tirohia e ia nga pakikau, ka takoto kau ia. Katahi ka mahara te koroheke ra ki te nuinga o tona pai. Kowatawata ana nga uru mawhatu i te hana o te ahi; ko tona tinana, ngangana ana: ko tona kiri, karengo kau ana; ko te kanohi, ano he rangi raumati paruhi kau ana; ko te uma o te kotiro e ka whakaea, ano he hone moana aio i te waru e ukura ana hoki i te toanga o te ra, ka rite ki te kiri o tuawahine. Taro rawa te tirohanga o taua koroheke ki te pai o tana wahine tamahine, muri iho ka whakaarahia e ia ona hoa koroheke o roto i te whare ki te matakitaki ki te ataahuatanga o tana wahine. I a ratou e matakitaki ana i a ia, katahi ano ia ka oho. Oho rawa ake ia, koia e matakitakina ana e te tini koroheke o roto i te whare ra. Heoiti ano ka maranga te wahine ki runga, ka mate i te whakama. Heoti ano ko te rangi i pai ra kua tamarutia e te pokeao; ko te uma kakapa ana, ano e ru ana te whenua. Ka tinia ia e te whakama. Katahi ka rarahu nga ringa ki nga pakikau, ki te uhi i a ia. Katahi ka rere ki te kokinga o te whare; ka tangi, tangi tonu a ao noa te ra. Awatea kau ana, ka haere te koroheke ra ratou ko nga hoa, ka eke ki runga i te waka, ka hoe ki waho ki te moana ki te hi. A i muri o te koroheke ra ratou ko nga hoa kua riro, katahi te wahine nei ka whakaaro ki te he o tana tane ki a ia, katahi ka mahara kia A gem of delicate ancient-style Maori story telling is the legend of Te Aohuruhuru, of which the Maori version appeared in Sir George Grey's Nga Mahi a Nga Tupuna. He never translated this story into English, and this has been very sensitively done by the late W. W. Bird, whose version we are presenting here. Pamaramarama was the name of the pa in which lived the husband of Te Aohuruhuru. He was an old man. His wife, a girl of lowly birth, had been taken by him from one she loved dearly, because of her excellence, her beauty, and her accomplishments. She was skilled in all kinds of cooking and in weaving the finest mats for her old husband. But she lived the life of a slave with the old man, her heart still yearning for the loved one from whom she had been torn. She had been so living with her old husband for a considerable time when he turned to annoying and insulting her, and this is how he set about it. When they were in bed one night the old man woke and looked at his girl wife, who lay there fast asleep. Owing to the excessive heat, her garments had slipped down from the restless tossing of her arms and legs. He made a fire, and by its blaze he saw the clothes and his wife lying bare. Then he began to gloat over his good fortune. Gleaming were her curly tresses in the firelight, her body glowing, her skin smooth and pearly, her eyes fine and clear like a beautiful summer's day. Her breasts rose and fell like a peaceful sea in summer lit up by the rays of the setting sun. Such was the appearance of the girl as she lay there. After the old man had spent some time in feasting his eyes on his beautiful girl wife he awakened his old cronies in the house to share in gazing upon her lovely form. While they stood looking at her she awoke to find herself being stared upon by a crowd of old men in the house. Springing up from the bed she hung her head in shame. The beautiful summer's day had been covered by a dark cloud. Her breast quivered and throbbed as does the earth when shaken by an earthquake. She was overcome by shame and, seizing her garments to hide her body from their wicked gaze, she rushed to the furthest corner of the house and sobbed her heart out until day break. When