CHAPTER XXXII. A GREAT CANOE RACE
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CHAPTER XXXII
A GREAT CANOE RACE
AND SOME FURTHER REMARKS ON MAORI CHARACTER
IN the early days sports of every description seem to have been more enjoyable than in recent years. While making allowance for the natural decrease of appreciation attendant upon increase of summers, one feels such to have been the case. In those good old times everyone appeared to be happy in the thought that all were deriving pleasure in an equal degree.
The hurdle and flat races held on Te Aro--now the most populous and active centre of business in the Empire City--were the fetes of the year. As we were then in a semi-civilised state, only one or two meetings were held each year; but the fun at these, with their hundred and one side-shows, made up for their limited number.
Successful racers then were horses that could carry their owners forty or fifty miles a day over very rough country and be fresh at the end of the journey. The programmes embraced three-mile hurdle and flat events, and other distances--all weight-for-age.
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I don't think the word handicap was then known to half our enthusiastic sportsmen. Many an exciting struggle has been witnessed on the Te Aro and Burnham water-courses at Wellington between the progeny of such grand old sires as Riddlesworth and Figaro.
Wellington's carnival of two or three days was not restricted to sports on shore. Her magnificent land-locked harbour--an expanse of some twenty thousand acres, with Ward's and Soame's Islands standing out in bold relief against the dark green background of the mountains, which tower above Lowry Bay and Waiawetu at the northern extremity --was a yachting Elysium, where, on Anniversary Day (22nd January), the anchorage would be dotted over with the canvas of the small coasters, or of an occasional pleasure yacht, waiting to try conclusions in their various classes. The somewhat discoloured and patched sails of the coasters bore evidence of many a perilous trip to the Sounds, to the coastal sheep stations, or to Auckland, the northern emporium for that peerless timber, the kauri pine. There would also be whaleboats with their motley crews composed of the pick of the hardy ship's company, and canoes beautifully carved by aboriginal artists, their occupants all eager for the fray.
The Maoris were by far the most interesting combination, the crews numbering between twenty and thirty each, being all in full warlike rig. Their costume on these occasions consisted of the loin-mat made from the native flax, treated in various ways.
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the inner part being composed of the softly dressed fibre tightly platted with long drooping ends that were of a mottled shiny black colour, in appearance resembling inverted porcupine quills, and hanging in such profusion that with one of the larger kind the Maoris, apparently, had as little fear of the stormy elements as a paradise duck.
Natives from all quarters assembled in Wellington for these fetes, each hapu endeavouring to outshine the other in decorative display. The appearance of these for the time being peaceful savages going to do battle with each other was a sight not easily forgotten. There were seldom more than two first-class war canoes present at these competitions, but these were really such works of art that to do anything like justice to them in description would necessitate the infliction upon the reader of a whole chapter. They were generally made from the totara, on account of its imperviousness to the attack of the terrible teredo, an insect which completely honeycombs nearly every other description of timber in a very short time when exposed to the sea. Some of the war canoes were eighty feet in length, the bottom part composed of a single tree, dug out. The raised bulwarks of tougher wood were secured by innumerable inter lacings of prepared flax, and caulked with leaves of the raupo. The artistic work, the carving, was exhibited in the prominent stern-post and figure-head, slightly curving aft and forward respectively, with lattice-like work beneath. Some of these were extraordinary specimens of talent.
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more remarkable for fertility of design than beauty of expression, the principal feature invariably being the representation of a Maori figure, with hands folded across the stomach, lolling tongue, and staring eyes of pawa shell, the whole figure having an ogreish expression of contempt and defiance, apparently an object-lesson for the young in that most essential of aboriginal accomplishments, the war dance.
When we consider that in the construction of these magnificent evidences of ancient handicraft the carvers had nothing better than a stone adze, a shell, or a shark's tooth to hew and carve with, the result achieved is simply astounding.
When a canoe race was on the tapis, the interest in other events dwindled into insignificance; the excitement was great, but especially so amongst our dark brothers.
Just previous to starting, the chief or leader, without any preconcerted plan, but evidently upon the impulse of the moment, would jump up shaking his tao or mere in the air, accompanying the action with a long-sustained note in the upper register, then suddenly dropping his voice and terminating in a sort of grunt, in which all of his tribe--men, women, and even children--joined with the accuracy of clockwork. The men kept time to the staccato music of the haka by the stamping of feet, while extended in the right hand was the paddle, spear, or gun--peaceful or warlike, as the case might be-- their feet striking the earth exactly at the first beat
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of a three-four time measure, the other two notes being made in the act of inhalation, and thus producing a very coarse and guttural sound. The women contented themselves by acting a kind of accompaniment with the vigorous but, to European eyes, not over modest contortions of their bodies, at the same time rolling their eyes so that the whites alone were visible, and opening their mouths to the utmost extent, which was sometimes considerable. Thus with lolling tongues--in crimson contrast to their dark skin--and the white, perfectly formed teeth glistening like pearls in the light of the sun, the whole movement, but especially that of the gentler sex, at first sight was likely to give the impression that they were trying to accomplish the impossible task of reversing the order of nature by turning the other side out.
This part of the entertainment was always looked forward to with eagerness, as it was a noticeable trait in connection with their national dance that money alone does not procure its thorough performance unless there were circumstances attached calculated to bring out the true savage, such as the demise of an illustrious person, a victory, the beginning of a fight, or trial of prowess.
And now the canoes are placed in position, their crews, splendidly shaped men, and in the pink of condition, but with features disfigured by a dab of red and black here and there, giving a rather hideous expression to their otherwise manly type of beauty. The chiefs stand erect in the bows, confronting the
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determined and vicious-looking faces, their heads dotted with white feathers stuck through the woolly hair. Some of the ears and necks are adorned with carved greenstone or shark-tooth ornaments; the handsomely worked mat drapes from the waist, the upper part of the body being bare.
The race is a struggle for supremacy between two rivals of many years' standing--Te Puni, one of the first friendly chiefs hailing from Petone; and Wi Tako, the young and handsome chief of Te Aro. This, like all classic races, is generally keenly contested, and with varying results. Everyone is breathlessly awaiting the start; the crews are being harangued in true Maori fashion, something to the following effect: Let your flight be like the bound of the porpoise through the sea, the rush of the torrent, etc., ending in "Kokiri! Kia tere, kia tere rawa!" (or, Drive ahead quick, very quick).
The pistol is fired and off they dart, the headman --who, by the way, is sometimes a woman--giving the time by flourishes of the spear, and indicating each stroke of the paddles by graceful inclinations of the body, at the same time shouting, "Tena! Tena! Toia!"
The course is round a flag-boat off Ngahauranga, two miles distant. There appears to be very little advantage gained by either till nearing the winning point on Te Aro beach, when an unearthly yell announces victory for Wi Tako.
The winners, despite their four-mile spin, immediately spring from their canoes, which have been
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driven up on the sandy beach, and treat the onlookers to another but more furious dance than before.
As the prizes given on these occasions were pretty substantial, some of the successful competitors for weeks afterwards might be seen wearing fanciful tokens of victory, purchased by themselves for the purpose. These were various and wonderful in the taste displayed. The officers of the 65th Regiment, or of the Pandora or Calliope warships, were the beau ideal to the native mind in the way of dress; and some of the lords of the soil constantly adopted the naval gold band and braid, or as near as they could get to full dress. Others wore it only on state occasions, when their gorgeousness was amazing; at first they looked extremely happy, but later on the tattooed faces would gradually assume an expression of anxiety, caused not by fear--they never experienced the feeling--but through an overpowering desire to retire to the refuge of the 'pah and get rid of their highly polished Wellington boots. One old celebrity made a point of regularly jogging into town upon the 24th May and honouring her Most Gracious Majesty's natal day by singing through the streets, with loudest warlike voice and action, his version of "Rule Britannia": "Ruree Paritania, Paritania ruree te wafe, Paritania, nawa nawa nawa, hara pe harafe." I must add that Paora Kaiwhatu was one of those friendly diplomatic chieftains who never betrayed his intimate knowledge of English, except on such
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occasions, and even then only after loyally toasting Her Gracious Majesty's health several times.
An instance of the kindly, sensitive disposition of the Maori women that occurred on one of these gala days is perhaps worth relating. In the latter part of that exceedingly troublous decade, ending in 1870, there resided in a prosperous little town of the North Island a certain tradesman. Though a young man, he was an early colonist. His better half, however, was a recent arrival. Their place of business was a favourite resort of the natives for refreshments, a private sitting-room being provided, to which the better or cleaner class were invited to retire. Mrs. To Moana, the wife of that splendid young chief who was afterwards a member of the House of Representatives, came one day carrying an infant in her arms, accompanied by her Maori servant-girl. Making her usual salutation she ordered some refreshments, and went to enjoy the privacy of the inner apartment where the proprietor's infant son was quietly slumbering in his little bassinet, its mother being engaged in household duties elsewhere. Mrs. To Moana, womanlike, must see and compare; the little aboriginal, although about the same age, happened to be twice the size of the infant -pakeha, and the chieftainess, in astonishment, exclaimed, "Au e! Katai ano, ka paku " (or. Oh, my! How very small). The father explained the reason, premature birth, and consequent absence of the natural maternal nourishment. She still contemplating the cradle's occupant, the
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father left her to attend to his shop, but shortly returned to find that Mrs. To Moana had taken the baby from its cradle and was nursing it instead of her own, her good-natured countenance wreathed in smiles, while her bright hazel eyes sparkled with amusement and delight. Waving the parent away in a playfully authoritative manner, she said tell Meri (Mary) that he is all right. The mother, coming into the room just at this time, stood as if riveted to the spot, amazement and fear being depicted upon her now pallid face. She had a sincere regard for the Maori lady, but this new and startling development in their friendship she had never anticipated. With the keen powers of perception peculiar to her race, Mrs. To Moana saw at a glance the conflict of feelings in the European mother, and by many signs of endearment made her sit beside her while the husband interpreted. However, the appearance of satisfaction which gradually spread over the face of the diminutive child, together with the spotless cleanliness of the aboriginal mother's habiliments, seemed to have the effect of allaying the maternal nervousness, and thus another and closer bond of love and sisterhood was established between the Maori and pakeha mothers.
The last words of this estimable and voluntary wet nurse before taking her leave, expressed the tender feelings of her sympathetic nature. "My sorrow is great that my residence is far away, or I would often return to see your little son"; (correctly prophesying) "he will be a big man yet."
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I have occasionally heard disparaging remarks concerning the virtue of Maori women, but give myself credit for never allowing such to pass unchallenged, and have invariably found these ignorant maligners to be of the class pictured eighteen hundred years ago as those "whose glory is their shame," etc.
Numberless instances could be cited of most heroic fidelity on the part of the native wahine, to her Maori or pakeha lord, which, occurring amongst Europeans, would be considered romantic in the extreme, but in their eyes were quite matter-of-fact incidents. A long experience has convinced me that by far the greater part of such laxity as does exist in this respect may be traced to the debasing example and encouragement of the white savage, and that prior to his advent it found scant favour with the Maori people.
THE END
