1856 - Shortland, Edward. Traditions and Superstitions of the New Zealanders - CHAPTER XI

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CHAPTER XI.

AT the time of the discovery of New Zealand, its inhabitants were found to have made many of the first steps towards civilization. They lived in comfortable houses, more or less ornamented with carved work, and with scrolls delineated with red and white colours on the posts and beams which supported them. Their villages were fortified with palisades and trenches, and were surrounded by extensive gardens planted with the sweet potato, the taro, and the melon. Their knowledge of the art of horticulture was not inconsiderable; for they even employed the method of forming an artificial soil, by mixing sand with the natural soil, in order to make it light and porous, and so render it more suitable to the growth of the sweet potato. In parts of the

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Waikato district where this plant was formerly much cultivated, the traveller frequently meets with large excavations, from twenty to thirty feet in depth, like the gravel pits one is accustomed to see in England near public roads: and in reply to his inquiries, he learns with surprise that they were formed by those Who resorted there, year after year, to procure sand for manuring the ground in the manner described.

Their intelligence and industry are still further illustrated by their mode of cultivating the common potato. The spots generally selected for the growth of this plant are situated in forest lands, and sometimes in swamps, which have been reclaimed on purpose by draining. Suppose a wood is the spot selected--the first work is to cut down all the small trees and brush-wood, after which the larger trees are felled, till a sufficient space has been cleared. This is done in July. The trees and branches are left to lie on the ground till January or February of the year following, at which time, having become dry, they are set on fire. Nothing more is done till the following September, when the larger logs, only partly consumed by the fire, are split up into small pieces, gathered into heaps, and burnt. This work being finished, seed potatoes are brought to the ground and planted one by one in small holes made with a sharp-pointed wooden implement, called a ko. During the summer, the weeds which spring up are carefully hoed, but are left to lie on the ground be-

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tween the young potato plants for the sun to scorch; and in the month of February the crop is fit to be removed from the ground and placed in store.

During the two succeeding years seed potatoes are similarly planted in the same ground with the ko. On the fourth year, the ground is for the first time dug up with the spade, and the potatoes are planted in small mounds of earth, three or four seeds in each mound. These mounds are arranged with great regularity in quincunx, and give a remarkably neat appearance to the garden. The same method is followed in the fifth, sixth, and seventh years--a striking instance of the fertility of the soil. The garden is not tilled afterwards, but the residue of the crop left in the ground the seventh year produces an early crop the eighth year, which is fit to dig in the summer. For many years, however, the garden is still resorted to for the purpose of digging fern-root, which is much esteemed when growing in such localities.

The extent of knowledge possessed by the New Zealanders, in regard to the wild plants and insects of their country, has sometimes surprised me. The different varieties of the flax plant (phormium tenax,) of which there are several indigenous to these islands, are all distinguished by names; their qualities are thoroughly appreciated, and the better sorts are often cultivated. I even obtained from a native a very accurate account of the mode of growth

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of that remarkable parasitic fungus, known as the vegetable caterpillar, 1 one of the curiosities of the country, and the puzzle and wonder of many a white man.

At the present time, when the supply of Russian hemp is interrupted, the New Zealand flax must become more valuable; and the attention of merchants and others will, no doubt, be directed to the discovery of a ready and cheap mode of obtaining it in large quantities, and in a clean marketable state. Hitherto all the flax brought from New Zealand to this country has been dressed by the hand labour of natives---a very tedious process, quite inadequate to supply more than trifling quantities; and the few attempts made at different times to employ machinery to separate the fibrous from the other parts of the leaf have failed. This is the more to be deplored, because the plant grows in such abundance in the swamps, which in many districts are very extensive, and on the banks of rivers and streams, that one cannot imagine the supply being exhausted, especially if some care were bestowed on the preservation and cultivation of the plant.

The following description of the flax plant, and of the methods in use among the natives for preparing the fibre for sale to Europeans, and for their own manufactures, may possibly be serviceable to future experimenters, by giving them the benefit of

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the practical experience of an ingenious people. At the same time, as it was almost wholly communicated by a native, it will serve to illustrate further the subject of the present chapter:--

The variety of phormium tenax, found growing the most commonly and plentifully in New Zealand, is generally known by the name harakeke. This is the plant from which the flax met with in commerce is chiefly obtained, and, with one exception, it yields the best quality of fibre.

Warariki 2 and mangaeka 3 are names of two other varieties less common, but of about equal value with the last.

That which produces the best fibre of all is called rongotainui. 4 It is not found growing plentifully in the wild state; but is cultivated to a moderate extent.

Motuorui 5 and awanga 6 are varieties yielding an inferior flax, of no value whatever. The latter is distinguishable by its variegated leaf.

In selecting leaves for the purpose of obtaining their flax, the natives always reject those growing outside, the tops of which are dead, because they have lost strength from long exposure to the weather: these waste leaves are named pakawka. Within them grow the leaves always chosen for their flax: they are called muka. Lastly, within the

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muka grows the rito, the middle shoot or heart of the plant. When the rito comes to maturity it separates into four leaves, and a fresh rito shoots up within them, and so on. But when the plant is old, instead of a rito separating into leaves, a stalk grows which produces flowers. This stalk is called korari, and when it has done flowering no fresh rito or korari grows from the centre, but new shoots sprout from the sides of the root of the old plant.

The flax-dressers go to some swamp where the plants grow in plenty, and having cut as many of the leaves called muka as they please, bind them up in a bundle and carry them home. They next cut the under and more fleshy surface of the leaf, at the distance of a few inches from its point, completely across with a sharp ngapipi (a small bivalve shell), so as to divide the fleshy portion without injuring the fibres which lie immediately beneath. They then draw the leaf briskly between the finger and the edge of a muscle shell, beginning at the severed part. This operation, called takiri, (drawing out) or haro, (scraping) removes most of the fleshy part, and leaves the fibrous portion partially cleaned. When a sufficient number of leaves have been thus treated, they are tied in small bundles, and hung up to dry in the sun.

The flax offered for sale to Europeans has seldom more care bestowed on it than this: and as the operation of drying is generally imperfectly per-

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formed, and the flax packed in a damp state, its strength must be materially injured during the long voyage to England. This, added to the careless way in which the leaves for dressing flax for sale are selected by the natives are, no doubt, the chief reasons why it has lost the reputation it first acquired in the European market, when it was more carefully cleaned.

The flax used by themselves in the manufacture of their own cloth has much more labour bestowed on it: for after being scraped and dried in the sun, it is steeped in water for a certain time, and then taken out and beaten with a wooden instrument. After being again dried in the sun, it is well rubbed together in the hands to free it from the parakoka, or dry fleshy part of the leaf which adheres to the fibres. These various processes are repeated three or four times, if it is desired to clean and bleach the fibre thoroughly; for the juices of the plant are of a very glutinous nature, causing the dry fleshy parts to adhere firmly to the fibre, and it is only by these repeated washings and rubbings that they can be got rid of. Traders, however, cannot pay enough to tempt the natives to prepare flax in this way for sale, particularly now that the latter have many other ways of employing their labour more profitably to themselves.

The same process of scraping the leaf with a muscle shell is employed to obtain the fibre from

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all the above-named varieties. But there is another variety called oue or tapoto, worthy of especial notice on account of the peculiar quality of its flax. If the leaf of this plant is scraped with the shell, the flax yielded is stiff and brittle: while if the fleshy substance covering the fibre is stripped off by the hand, which can readily be done, it is soft, and almost resembles silk. From this circumstance, it is generally called tihore, a word signifying "to strip off." The flax, however, although in appearance vastly superior to any other sort, has two important defects. Its fibres are shorter and more feeble; and it is, therefore, only used for making cloaks, and ornamental strings or tassels.

The oue is not a common variety in the wild state, and it differs also from all the former in its habitat, not growing as they always do in moist and swampy places; but preferring a rich and deep soil, moderately dry. It is much cultivated by the natives; and is so highly prized by them that, if any one cuts the leaves from plants belonging to his neighbour, the act is resented as any other case of theft would be.

With the different kinds of flax we have described, the New Zealanders make a variety of garments. The best specimen of their skill in weaving, the kaitaka, is an ample flowing toga, with a border six or eight inches wide, ornamented with a neatly devised pattern in black and brown, on a ground of the na-

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tural colour of the cloth. The koroai is a very pretty mantle, worn only by females, and the black tassels with which it is thickly studded suit very well the dark complexion of the wearers. The garment most valued is made by fastening in an ingenious manner narrow strips of dog's skin on a ground of coarse canvas of their own fabric, in the same manner precisely as furriers make ladies' tippets. All these manufactures are done by women, who use a rude sort of frame, on which their work is stretched. To dye the flax, some of the bark of the hinau 7 is pounded with a mallet till reduced to a sort of pulp. This, together with the flax to be dyed, is thrown into a wooden bowl, and a sufficient quantity of water is added. After remaining a whole night in the water, the flax is taken out and dried, by which time it has acquired a reddish brown colour. If it is desired to dye it black, it is then rubbed over with a particular kind of black mud, 8 common in various parts of New Zealand, and when thoroughly dried and cleaned its colour is a deep jet black, remarkably permanent. Of the mechanical skill possessed by this people, we have evidence in the structure of their houses and canoes, many of the latter being ornamented with elaborate carvings, and large enough to contain from 70 to 80 persons. Their favourite tool, the

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adze, corresponded nearly in shape to that used by our carpenters, the blade being a stone 9 both hard and tough, and capable of being ground to a tolerably good edge. They now substitute the iron taken from a plane for the stone, using, however, their own fashioned handles, which they much prefer for light work; for all heavy work, however, they employ the European adze. They are remarkably skilful in the of this tool, and will cut a shaving from a plank with it nearly as finely as can be done with a plane, is really astonishing how with their former stone adze they could have hewn all the plank required for their houses, and for the top sides of the canoes. And when it is borne in mind, that only one plank as obtained from a single tree, often nearly two feet diameter--for each side of the tree was cut away till the plank was reduced to the required thickness --no one can help admiring their industry and perseverance. It may here be noticed, that the New Zealanders tie a knot which is unknown even to our sailors; at least, on trial, neither the boatswain, nor any one on board H.M.S. North Star had ever seen before; it is admirably suited to tie firmly two slippery ends, such as of flax. Many other proofs these qualities might be mentioned: as, for instance, the immense size of the seines used for the sea fisheries, and also the size and stability of the weirs erected with solid posts in the rivers, and with

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earth embankments in the swamps, for the purpose of guiding the eels into nets placed at certain outlets. These works, and many others requiring great and continued labour, have been often cause of wonder to foreigners, who were surprised to find a savage people able to accomplish them.

The term savage, however, is very indefinite in actual signification: for if all savage nations and all civilized nations were separated into classes, there would, no doubt, be observed as great a distinction between the highest and lowest states of savage condition, as between the highest and lowest states of civilization. The New Zealanders and the Polynesians generally stand on the confines of the savage and civilized states; which is evident from the readiness with which they abandon their more objectionable savage practices, and adopt the customs of the civilized nations with whom they come in contact.

Like the rest of the Polynesians, the New Zealanders appear to have been ignorant of the use of the bow and arrow. But to supply the want of this weapon, they had some very ingenious methods of catching birds. The following was the most common. A sort of perch was tied to the extremity of a long slender rod, along which a string passed from end to end, like the line of a fishing rod, and a noose at its extremity was so placed that a bird could not alight on the perch without putting his feet within it. The perch was ornamented with some fruit and

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flowers likely to be attractive, and the fowler, carrying this weapon to the nearest grove, concealed himself in some convenient spot by covering himself with the spreading branches of the tree fern, and then, pushing his rod up gradually between the branches of the trees, began to imitate the call of the bird he wished to catch. The instant a bird alighted on the perch, the string being pulled, it was caught by the leg. This weapon is much more destructive in the hands of a skilful person than a gun, as it causes no alarm among the birds, which will even continue to hop about in the same tree after several have been taken. When a bird is caught, the rod is gently withdrawn, and, the bird being secured, is again elevated to its former position ready to deceive another.

Their mode of catching the wild parrot is equally curious. Tame parrots are trained as decoys. Taking one of these with him, the bird-catcher selects some place in a wood frequented by the wild birds, and then builds with green boughs a shed just large enough to hide his person. Seated in this, he fixes two sticks firmly in the ground in front of him inclined at an angle thus, \ /. The decoy, having a string tied to its leg, is placed on the ground between the two sticks. Immediately the tame bird begins to screech, flapping his wings and running up and down the sticks. After awhile the air resounds with the cries of the wild parrots lured by the familiar

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sounds. They constantly fly nearer and nearer, till at length the boldest of them perches on the extremity of one of the sticks. As the tame parrot retreats he pursues it, till, having reached the ground, he is seized in the grasp of the bird catcher. More follow, and are caught in the same way, so that during a day one person is able to secure as many birds as he can well carry away with him.

The inhabitants of the villages on the upper part of the river Wanganui are celebrated parrot catchers, and keep great numbers of tamed birds to be used as decoys. About the month of June, a great part of the population migrate to the immense forests lying between their river and the more central parts of the island, for the express purpose of catching parrots. Every evening, the birds taken during the day are roasted over fires, and then potted in calabashes in their grease, for they are very fat. Thus preserved, parrots and other birds are considered a delicacy, and are sent as presents to parts of the country, where they are scarce: and in due time a return present of dried fish, or something else not to be obtained easily in an inland country, is received.

This was the sort of barter formerly most in vogue in New Zealand. One man sent another a present; but he always expected a present in return, and often gave a hint what he wished for. To admire or speak in praise of anything belonging to the other was quite hint enough. I have

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frequently had a thing given me which I inadvertently admired; but I never failed, sooner or later, to receive such a hint, if I had not in due time given something considered of equivalent value to the donor.

In my more inexperienced days, a present was once actually forced on my acceptance, in order that the donor might found thereon a claim to something in return which he desired, but knew no readier mode of obtaining. The circumstance amused me at the time, and I now relate it in illustration of what I have been saying, and for another reason to be mentioned in the sequel.

Te Awhe, the chief of a powerful tribe, who lived at a distance of some sixty miles from Auckland, had a great desire to see all the reported wonders of the white-man's town; but, like many of his class in the early days of the Colony, had some hesitation to undertake the journey, except under escort of a person who belonged to the place. One day he made known his wish to me, and as I had on different occasions benefited by his friendliness and hospitality, I consented to take him. Several months afterwards, as I was returning to Auckland I again visited his village, which was situated at the highest point where the river Thames (Waihou) is navigable for small vessels. And on the same day a half-decked sailing boat belonging to the Colonial Government, formerly the pinnace

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of H.M.S. Buffalo, came to meet me there. I requested Te Awhe to be ready early in the morning, so that we might drop down the river soon after daylight. His son and five others were to attend him. When the morning came, however, he did not make his appearance. And after waiting rather impatiently till between nine and ten o'clock, I began to doubt whether he had not changed his mind. At length the inhabitants of the village began to assemble, seating themselves in groups on the bank of the river: and every now and then came a man driving a pig before him, which he tied to a stake fixed in the ground just opposite to the boat. When seven or eight pigs had thus been collected together, last of all the old chief arrived. He showed no haste, however, to come on board, but very deliberately seated himself on the ground near the pigs. Something was evidently going forward that I did not comprehend. The mystery was explained, however, by my friend rising and intimating to me in a formal speech, that the pigs were designed as a present for myself. The present was not a welcome one, and I refused it, saying that we had no room for pigs in the boat. Te Awhe seemed much disconcerted by my refusal, and at last, finding he could not persuade me to accept his present, candidly explained that, when he reached Auckland, he should no doubt see many things to admire;

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but that if I refused what he now wished to give me, he should be ashamed to ask me to give him any of the things that might strike his fancy in my country. I then referred the matter to Thomas Duder, an old man-of-war's man, who had charge of the boat; and as he seemed to think that three or four of the pigs might be stowed away in the stern-sheets of the boat without causing much inconvenience, I finally consented to accept some of them. One I gave to the two boatmen, who forthwith killed and shaved it, and then hung it up to the mast; and of the others, I believe, four were taken on board alive. A few baskets of potatoes were also brought by the chief and his men on their own account.

With this cargo we arrived at Auckland the next morning, and my guests, seven in number, remained there eight or ten days under my roof. Te Awhe did not forget to tell me what he most wished to have as presents, and all I shall say is, I believe he returned home not dissatisfied. As may naturally be supposed, he and his men ate no small share of the pigs he had given me, besides a sufficient quantity of flour, rice, sugar, &c. which were provided at my own expense.

I will now give the other reason why I have been thus particular in relating the tale. A day or two after our arrival, a paragraph appeared in a newspaper, called the Southern Cross, accusing me of

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carrying on a trade in pigs and potatoes with the natives. Whoever penned the paragraph must have known perfectly well that what he was telling the public was false. And I felt so confident that little credit would be given in New Zealand to any remarks which appeared in a journal notorious for representing the acts of the officers of the Colonial Government in an invidious light, that I took no notice whatever of it. But the proprietor of the Southern Cross has since written a book on New Zealand, in which the following passage occurs, evidently, as it seems to me, a reproduction of the libel which had its origin in his own paper:--"One of these gentlemen (Protectors of Aborigines) used to carry on a regular trade in pigs and potatoes with the natives, telling them that he would purchase all their pigs, and the Officer administering the Government would buy all the land, and that the settlers were only slaves. In consequence of this, the settlers complained that they could not carry on their usual trading with the natives, and the circumstances were taken notice of at the time in the public prints." 10 It is only a few weeks ago that I accidentally met with this book, and was not a little surprised to read a statement which, as regards myself, is utterly untrue--and which I believe to be so with regard to every other person to whom it could apply.

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The foregoing illustrations of the early state of civilization of the New Zealanders have been selected as much as possible from examples of their everyday life, likely to have escaped the notice of writers who had not opportunities of continued personal intercourse with them. I shall conclude the present chapter with some account of their astronomical knowledge, and of their manner of dividing time, part of which will probably be new to the reader.

Like ancient European nations, the New Zealanders regard the morning and evening star as different planets. Tawera is their Lucifer, and Merimeri their Hesperus: and under these two names the beauty of the planet Venus is frequently celebrated in their poetry. They divide the year into moons, the first being determined by the rising of the Pleiades, called by them Matariki.

According to Mr. Ellis, the Society Islanders divided the year into two seasons--"the first commenced when in the evening the Pleiades appeared on the horizon; and the half year during which, immediately after sunset, they were seen above the horizon was called Matarii i nia (Pleiades above). The other season commenced when at sunset these stars were invisible, and continued till, at that hour, they appeared again above the horizon. This season was called Matarii i raro (Pleiades below). 11 The Pleiades would be on the

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meridian of the East Cape of New Zealand at midnight; or, which is the same thing, would there be seen on the eastern horizon at sunset about the 15th day of June. This agrees very well with the season of the commencement of the New Zealanders year: and on examining the comparative table of the dialects of the New Zealanders and the natives of the Society Islands, it will be seen, that the latter drop the k, and therefore pronounce the word Matarii.

The Sandwich Islanders also, and the other Polynesians, as we gather from reliable authorities, 12 have the same mode of measuring the year, commencing it with the rising of this constellation. 13

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Frequently, instead of denoting the seasons of the year by moons, some regular natural phenomenon, as the ripening of a fruit, is referred to. Thus, Te weronga o te karaka (the time of the fruit of the karaka being red-ripe) is commonly used instead of the eighth moon.

The following comparative table of the months of the New Zealander with our own may be useful:--

CALENDAR.

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The time of day is denoted generally by some expression referring to the clearness of the light, or the height of the sun in the sky. Thus--

In computing time, the New Zealanders reckon by nights, and not by days as we do. Thus, instead of asking a person, "How many days were you on the road?" they would say, "How many nights were you on the road?" 14