The Hangi

Tu Tangata, Issue 34, 1 February 1987, Page 37

The Hangi

PAKIWAITARA

Written and illustrated by Kingi McKinnon

It was the Christmas holidays and Tama was excited. This would be their first Christmas in their new home on the farm, and his father decided they would have a hangi.

At eight years old, Tama didn’t know what a hangi was. He had lived all his life in the city. He knew it must be nice though because his mother had smiled and said “Ka pai! It’s been so long since we’ve had one”.

Three days before Christmas, Tama and his older brother, Mutu and their cousin, Rewa, watched as their father butchered one of their pigs. It took a long time but at last it was hanging in the big willow tree behind the house. Then later they helped catch one of the sheep. Soon, that too was hanging beside the pig.

After lunch the horses were hitched to the old sledge, and the boys went to gather firewood. Long lengths of manuka were piled on and chained down tightly so they wouldn’t slide off. Tama had to sit on top of the manuka and steer the two horses because he was the lightest. When that was unloaded, they drove to the river to gather large stones. Soon they had enough, and the stones were dumped alongside the firewood. Tama was very curious, and wondered what would happen next.

What did happen was, they had tea. After tea, Tama, Mutu and Rewa, read comics. Then they went out to the bach where they slept. It had been a long day and soon they were all asleep.

Next morning after breakfast Tama’s father called “Haere mai you boys!” And out to the hen pen they went. “Now catch those two white hens, the black one and that speckled one,” they were told. It was fun chasing them around the pen, then into a corner and pouncing on them.

These were plucked and cleaned and taken inside for the women to stuff. They all loved their mother’s stuffing. Later on their father decided to add two of their ducks to the menu. “There are a lot of people coming”, he told their mother.

“All the family will be home, and relatives always turn up at Christmas.” “Ae, tino pai,” their mother said. “You know what you’re doing.”

That very afternoon, people did indeed start turning up. Older brothers and their friends, an older sister and her friends, Rewa’s parents and sister, uncles, aunties, cousins. Everyone was

happy and laughing. Soon the big marquee was put up, and hay was spread on the ground to provide sleeping quarters for the kids. Then the meat was cut up ready to go into the hangi.

That evening the boys watched as the hole was dug for the hangi. The manuka was cut and placed neatly criss-crossed on top of it, ready to be lit. The stones were placed on top of them. Tama watched in wonder. There was a big drum of rain water against the bach, and the boys were told to cut some sacks in half and put them into it. After tea that night their father said “Okay you boys. Haere kite moe! I

want everyone up early in the morning.” They were far too excited to sleep. They’d seen the women making trifles and jellies, seen the crates of soft drinks and tins of fruit, and smelt the cakes freshly baked in the kitchen. So they played and laughed until the early hours of the morning. It seemed that they had just closed their eyes when they were being shaken. “Time to get up,” said their older brother Hui. “Yes,” they mumbled and were soon asleep again. “Kia tere!” called their father and they suddenly remembered it was Christmas day. Soon they were wide awake.

Hurrying inside to wash, they could see smoke already rising from the hangi. Their mother and sisters were stuffing the poultry and peeling potatoes, kumara, and cutting up pumpkin. The boys ogled the jellies and creamcovered cakes and trifles.

“Don’t touch!” warned their mother. “Go and see if you can help your father. The smell of smoke drifted into their nostrils. The fire was really burning well now, and already stones were falling down into the hole. The boys noticed that father was twisting wire netting into shapes and wondered why. Then when he had finished one, he began to make another. “One’s a basket to hold the meat,” Hui told them. ’’And the other is for the vegetables.”

“Oh!” they said, but still weren’t any wiser. Soon everyone was awake. The men drifted out to the fire, and the women stayed inside. By now the firewood had nearly burned out and the stones were red hot. The food was nearby and looked good enough to eat as it was. The men had brought buckets of water from the house, and Tama’s mother called him from the house to come and fetch a clean white tablecloth. This was left to soak in one of the buckets. “Well,” said their father, “I think it’s ready.”

All the men agreed. They began to scrape the ashes off the hot rocks with shovels and rakes. Tama watched wide-eyed as water splashed onto the hot rocks which steamed and hissed. “Kia tere!” said Uncle Wati, “or we’ll lose all of our heat.” “Haere atu e Tama, you’re right in the way!” You kids keep back!” Then the baskets of food, which had also been made wet, were put on top of the steaming rocks. The soaked table cloth was used to cover the food, and the wet sacks topped it all off. The boys couldn’t believe their eyes when the men began to throw the dirt on.

Before long, all that showed was a mound of dirt. Every so often a puff of steam would force its way through. This would be quickly covered with more soil and stamped down. Then it was ready. The boys were told to stay and watch that no more steam escaped. The other children came to watch, so Mutu and Rewa picked teams, and they all played long ball.

Sometime later, the women and girls began to lay the tables. The food looked delicious and by now everyone was hungry. No-one had bothered about breakfast that morning as they knew there were better things to come. The children eyed the goodies on the tables and their mouths watered. They were all told to go into the sitting room. Time to give out the presents. Tama’s father was to be Santa Claus. There were so many people but, somehow, there seemed to be a parcel

for everyone. At last all of them were opened, and everyone was happy. Even the old people smiled and got into the spirit of things.

“E kare,” Tama’s mother said to his father, “how much longer will the kai be? Everything else is ready.” “It should be ready now,” he replied. “Ae,” agreed Uncle Wati. “Time to dig it up.”

Tama, Mutu and Rewa raced out to the hangi well ahead of the others. They didn’t want to miss anything. At last the men arrived and began to carefully remove the soil. Soon they could see the sacks and the light steam rising from them. These were peeled back, and so much steam gushed forth that Tama could barely see who was on the other side. The first basket containing the vegetables was removed and then the meat. The aroma of cooked food followed. Delicious! “Ae, ka pai e hoa!” Uncle Wati breathed, and Tama’s father nodded in agreement. The meat was placed onto a spare table in the marquee and the men began to carve it. Equal quantities of meat and vegetables were put in dishes and placed all around the tables. It was

so mouthwatering. Pieces of chicken, pork and mutton, steaming hot and perfectly cooked. Then everyone was seated. The children fidgeted and squirmed impatiently until Tama’s father had said the karakia. At last they were allowed to eat, and Tama took his first bite of hangi. It tasted more delicious than anything he had eaten in his life. The meat was so tender and easy to chew and, though he had never really cared too much for pumpkin and potatoes, cooked in a hangi they were something else again; they remained firm, and the faint taste of wood smoke gave them a taste of their own. The ooh’s and aah’s coming from everyone else told Tama that he was not the only one who thought so. Usually Tama and Mutu had preferred the jellies, trifle and puddings, or the sweets and nuts; even the cakes. But now, they ate so much hangi that there was no room left for anything else.

A long while later, they left the table too contented even to play. When everyone had finally finished, the remaining food was covered with table cloths, and Tama’s father said that if anyone was hungry they were to help themselves. But for now, more food was the last thing on anyone’s mind. However, a few hours later, some of the family were back to pick again. Even cold, the hangi food was delicious. Tama’s last thought that night, when he, Mutu and Rewa were snuggled down for the right, was ‘I wish that we have another hangi next Christmas.’