HOW WE LIVE IN OUR KAINGA.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 15, Issue 765, 28 February 1870, Page 4

HOW WE LIVE IN OUR KAINGA.

|t£om the -weekly news.] {Concluded.] £)ne of our chief nuisances is dogs — £urs rather. They abound in our fcaihga, are inveterate thieves (and if we kill one there is a deuce of a shine), and growl, snap and bark at all hours; they have made us pass many a sleepless night. We have spent an exhilarating day in doing pothing. Times being slack, perhaps, we have sold a few shillings' worth pf flour and tobacco j we have nothing to read and we have talked over every possible topic ; so we have gradually smoked ourselves to sleep, thankful that there is at last some occupation. AH of a sudden a yelp is prised by some dreaming cur, and from ever) corner, from under the eaves of our whare, and every hole about* an answering chorus arises, prolonged in a hundred distinct howls; gradually this sinks, and just as we are thanking our lucky stars it's all all over, some morose and discontented cur gravely stalks into the open, and jealous of the repose enjoyed by his friends opens his jaws and gives vent to a melancholy howl. Instantly commences the universal charivari, which is only quelled by leaping out of wharedoors, and, with many an "Ah ta" and anathema, discharging sticks and stones at the brutes. Talking of puhare- doors, I don't think, now that I have lived in a Maori kainga, that I shall ever wonder at the phenomenon of the reel in the bottle. I dislocated every joint in ray backbone before I properly understood the method pf getting into a Maori whare You first of all drop down and bend forward, loosening your spinal process ; you then put y< ur right hip out pf joint advancing it into the whare, at the same time giving your neck a prick; you then make a violent shoot forward, and, if the whare 's nig* l ("jough, spring up, and hear all yoiu joints clicking back into their normal position. On one occasion Jack and I were given a shake-down in a big whare. By chance I took up my berth underneath the window (an opening with a sliding wooden shutter). By-aml-bye men and women flocked in, and a fire was lit; thi3 was bad, but, us I resisted every attempt to close the window, it was endurable. I went to sleep, and had troubled dreams. I remember fancying I was in the Black Hole of Calcutta ; then I imagined myself in a still hotter place; and, lastly, I awoke with a choking sensation, perspiring at every pore, and panting for breath. All was dark, and the thick mephitic air was stifling. As I regained partial consciousness, I felt for the shutter—it had been closed during my sleep. Hastily I slid it back, and thrust my head out. The best claret-cup I ever drank after a long innings on a hot day, was nothing as compared with that delicious draught of pure mountain air. We have among us a few half-castes, chiefly girls, who speak English very well. Two of them were educated in Auckland, but prove the old saw of "What's bred in the bone" They • are as much Maori as the oldest ivahine the only advantage they derive from their education being the doubtful one of being able to translate for ignorant visitors the very quesable conversations and songs going on. For we are by no manner of means a moral people, though outwardly most religious. Eve/y morning, at daybreak, I am roused by the tinkle of the bell summoning the pa to Protestant and Catholic worship, and every evening the ceremony is repeated; while, on Sunday, the bell rings so often that I am reminded of the saturnalia of clangs ou an Oxford Sabbath But, those religious attendances notwithstanding, our talk and morals are pf the loosest, with the exception cf the married women, who are rarely known to break their vows. Not far from us exists a military post, but, notwithstanding that we have much traffic with it, we are much too lazy to do any thing to the road, though it leads by staircases up and down two high ranges. If a tree falls across it, we round it even though it entails a steep ascent ; but we don't pare; its only our horses who suffer. Poor beasts! we saddle them at two years old, ride them at lull split along Vhe level, push them up the steepes. Jdll, and never consider a sore back.

We are good riders, too —vith a strip of flax for a bridle, without any girths, with the stirrup iron grasped between the toes, we go at full gallop, and turn corners which would under the same circumstances shoot many a foxhunter out of his seat. On these rough ponies of ours we are pretty expert at galloping after young' stock catching their tails, and twisting them over. On one occasion, when they were getting in some beasts for us, the Maoris got a heifer in this manner and tied her feet together. When we returned, she was dead. So Jack Maori immediately said he would eat her, as meat would make him very maroro (strong). There was an old tin box at hand, and on this pieces of flesh were singed in the flames and hastily devoured. Two white men were passing through that day, and on our return to the pa they thanked U 3 for the fresh beef we had sent them, Jack looked at me and I at Jack. •« But," said one of the fellows, "I don't think it was properly bled; it tasted queerish." We saw at once what it was, and, as soon as we could for laughing, told them they had partaken of a dead heifer. They rushed off, and in a quarter of an hour came back with very pale faces begging for a tot. It is a very curious sight to see us performing hakas. We, the Kaitunas, consider ourselves the best hakamg tribe on the coast, and we are constantly practising. Two or three young women or girls cannot sit down without presently going through the pantomimic gestures. Sometimes a Government swell visit us, and we give him a treat. Of course we have the war dance first of all after the inspection of arms, and this is more easily imagined than describe J. In fact a genuine war dance is enough to shock the feelings of anyone. I have seen dances which would disgust the most enthusiastic praiser of the noble ravage. The haka is of course in many cases as bad; but in many others it simply consists of songs of the deeds of departed ancestors, chorussed with a series of guttural intonations accompanied by contortions of the body, quiverings of the hands, and distortions of the features. Many a time have I smoked my pipe in a large whare full of young fellows squatting down stripped to the waist, the perspiration pouring off them with their exertions; every muscle quivering, and every motion of the head, body, and the arms carried to such precision that the whole seemed moved by one wire. In the claps of the hands, which is a frequent feature, the ear could distinguish but the one sound. One pretty haka they have in which each performer holds a ball with a piece of string attached, and the different motions given to it with great rapidity ami perfect time form a pleasing accompaniment to the monotonous singsong recital. At times the voice seems to proceed from the boots, it is v) deep. As a rule we are a graceful race in our gestures, and as we have a language of signs, we hardly ever speak without an amount of gesticulation which would delight a Frenchman. Nothing can be more imposing than to see a tall stout elderly chief, robed in blankets and flowery shawls, which add so much dignity to the human figure, impressing his ideas on his audience. Occasionally as he gets excited and wishes to collect his thoughts, he runs forward a few paces., gives a series of leaps, re peating his last words, and then stalks back to his starting place to go on again. The worst of it is that, once speechifying begins, it goes on almost for ever, and the dignity and grace-of the speakers is forgotten in the excess of freedom. Only the other day old Hakaraia came to Jack with a very grave face. It seems the garrison near us were getting up games, including a canoe race, and had sent down to us for subscriptions. "I don't mind jutting my canoe in," says Hakaraia, " and paythe entrance fee ; but, if I subscribe to the races, and my canoe does not win, will my subscription be returned?" I have just been reminded of one period of our existence when it rained for a fortnight. We had but two books—an old arithmetic and a Maori grammar ; but there were lots of eggs. So all we had to do was to beat up an egg in nun, drink it, and smoke aad sleep for a few hours, and

theu repeat the dose. After a week we could not stand it, and tossed up who should take a holiday; I won, and when I came back I found my cousin looking like a ghost. He swore he wouldn't pass such a tim again for all the profit to be made out of the Maori nation. On the whole I must say that the days we spent in our kainga passed away miserably slowly, as the only sport was pigeon or duck-shoot-ing, both tume work as the ducks have to be stalked, and twenty pigeons can be got without stirring from a tree. In the season they are delicious eating, especially when feeding on Jcowai bexries, when they have a peculiar aromatic flavor. They are beautiful birds to look at, with their green and gold plumage, and they are nearly twice the size of the home pigeon. The red- billed pukeko makes very good soup, as rich as hare soup; and curlews in winter form a capital dish. We tried a shag once, burying the bird for three days, and it wasn't so bad. Our best fish are the tara kihi, patiki or sole, and whitebait. in June and July we devour them by thousands, although we lack lemon, the brown bread and butter, and the iced cup. I never could bring myself to shoot the pretty tui (parson birds), though pakeha-Maoris aver them delicious; neither could I ever relish the brown kaka, the New Zealand parrot. Altogether our sport was very limited, and our existence something like that of Cowper's traveller —" remote, melancholy, slow."