CHAPTER IV. MAORI SUPERSTITIONS.
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CHAPTER IV.
MAORI SUPERSTITIONS.
IF Maori traditions may be relied on, the people of old New Zealand had many serious dangers and difficulties to contend against in the shape of supernatural monsters called Taniwhas, which civilisation appears to have nearly driven from the colony, for except in a few instances, and those in very out-of-the-way places, they have seemingly ceased to exist. No longer as of old do taniwhas of the Hotupuku and Pekehana type decimate whole districts, although among the wonders of Taupo, dark tales are still told of the ferocity of the reptile taniwha, Horomatangi, and the cunning of his attendant spirit, the man taniwha, Atiamuri. These two water demons confine their operations still to Lake Taupo, the house of Horomatangi being described as near to the centre of the lake, not far from the small island of Motutaiko. Rarely, even at the present day, will a canoe cross the lake in a direct line from Tapuaeharuru to Tokaanu, and wisely so, if the testimony of men still living can be believed, who, taking advantage of the presence in their canoe of a great tohunga, did actually make the attempt, but who received a lesson for their temerity the tribe of Tuwharetoa will never again forget. The account, as received from one of the adventurous band, shall be given as narrated by him:-- "When we started the water was smooth and there was no wind, and we pulled swiftly towards Tokaanu; but our hearts were troubled, and as we neared the place where the taniwha lived we quickened our pace, and looked neither to the right or left, nor did any man speak a word. Suddenly the canoe stopped, and then began to whirl round and round, and a large rock appeared above the water. This we knew was Horomatangi, for taniwhas can take any shape they like. In another moment we should have been
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lost but for our tohunga, who, taking a hair from his head, and making a brief incantation over it, dropped it into the water. In a moment the rock disappeared and the water became quiet, which showed that our tohunga was stronger than the taniwha. But even then we went on our way in fear and trembling until we got into shallow water, when we again felt safe." Of late years, since the pakeha has taken to cross the lake at all hours and in all directions, the Maori also has crossed occasionally in a straight line from point to point, but never without a pakeha in the boat, for it has become a matter of creed amongst the Maoris that taniwhas have no control over the white man, and therefore Maoris in their company may take liberties they dare not when alone.
Atiamuri does not appear to be personally dangerous to the human race, his business being rather to decoy the unsuspecting traveller within the clutches of Horomatangi; consequently he is especially to be feared in the dusk of the evening, when it is his habit to paddle about in a canoe and visit the different kaingas on the margin of the lake, approaching only sufficiently near for the outline of his canoe to be seen, and so deceive the people of the village, who, hearing the measured stroke of a paddle, would turn out to welcome their supposed visitors with loud "haere mais," while the ghostly vision, disappearing in the darkness, the astonished Maoris would hear nothing but the stroke of his paddle dying away in the distance. Then it is that the people of the village know that Atiamuri has been trying to decoy strangers to certain death.
Connected with these two taniwhas, in some mysterious manner, are the two stone dogs who live on the Karangahape Cliffs, 500 feet above Lake Taupo. These dogs are never seen at the present day, but may be heard barking on thick misty mornings, and if a man sufficiently daring could be found to go in search of them, he would probably only see two large stones deeply imbedded in the earth, which the uninitiated would look upon as other stones, but which the Maori learned in legendary lore would know at once to be either taniwhas or tipuas, and as firmly believes that any insult offered to these dogs would be
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quickly revenged by Horomatangi; as, for instance, to point one's paddle at the cliff would be a dangerous insult, but to call the dogs by name, thus, "Moi, Moi," would be simply the act of a madman, unless the culprit took care never to trust himself on the lake.
Never will the consternation, the terror depicted on the faces of the Maori boatmen be forgotten by a party of Englishmen who, in May, 1869, were being paddled across the lake, as, while listening to the legend, one of the pakehas suddenly cried out at the top of his voice, "Moi, Moi!" And although I have said before there is no tikanga about a pakeha, yet no sooner had the words been uttered than the wind rose furiously, which had previously been a perfect calm. The Maoris, completely awed at the sacrilege, gave themselves up as lost. They actually turned white with fear, their teeth chattered, and some of them began to cry, so truly terrified were they. But the boat managed to reach Tokaanu after a very rough passage. On landing, the Maoris held a meeting to discuss the impiety of the pakeha and to account for their miraculous escape. Opinions were at first somewhat divided, but it was finally decided that although taniwhas might make things very unpleasant for the pakehas, they had no power of life or death over them as with the Maori.
