Plume of the Arawas

VI. The Hill-of-Farewells

VI. The Hill-of-Farewells

And yet they were but savages who stood
On Moeatoa's Hill, above the scene—
Mere savages! They knew not yet the road
To reach the standard of their better selves,
Yet they were men in all save this—brave men,
With patriots' hearts, for as they stood and gazed
O'er fair Kawhia's bush-clad hills and vales
That stretched into the sea, o'er which their sires
In ages past sailed from Hawaiki's shores,
The tears ran down their tattooed cheeks, and sobs
Welled from their bosoms, for they loved the land
With all the love intense a Maori feels
For childhood's home. The caverns held the bones
Of those from whom they'd sprung. Their legends wild
And weird traditions chained them to the place,
And ere they burst those links of love they gave
A last sad look on each familiar spot
And wailed above Kawhia's lovely vale.

F ollowing upon the death of Te Moana the Wise, and at the end of the customary period of mourning and talking and feasting, a striking ceremony took place on the marae, a ceremony by which every chief who was in the pa made formal and public acknowledgment of the fact that Tuwharétoa was the Ariki and Paramount Chief of all Te Arawa. Ah! A bitter moment it was for the head chief of Hikurangi when his turn came to perform the act, but, with the eyes of all upon him, he did not dare hold back.

Yet at the close of the ceremony the visitors made one matter clear before they departed for their homes. In respectful but quite decided terms that met with the cordial approval of Tuwharétoa, their spokesman reminded the ariki that the Arawas were a free-born people and that each and every section of the tribe had full liberty of action in all matters. Therefore, in the matter of Taupo, let the ariki move slowly, move carefully, move only by himself and with his own followers for the present, and maybe ere long he would find section after section of the tribe supporting him willingly in a war of conquest in the south.

Then they departed; but no sooner had they gone than Taréha proceeded to ignore the views of the tribal council and to deal with the matter of Taupo as if it affected Hikurangi alone.

Determined to oppose Tuwharétoa to the last, he called the elders together at the meeting-house, and reminded them of the danger of defections from the pa. With apt proverb he pointed out that, once a stone had been cracked and a piece had fallen out, there would always be room for another piece to fall out. So it would be with Hikurangi. Piece after piece would fall out if the elders should fail to support the head chief now in his efforts to keep the strength of the pa intact.

But when he proceeded to urge the use of force to compel the return of the warriors who had already gone, and the use of force to prevent further departures from Hikurangi, he met with opposition even from among his own followers. Force against the ariki? No! No! Thrice no! And one elder who belonged to a different section of the people was openly suspicious about the motive underlying that threat of force. Said he, as he sniffed the air:

“Ha! I scent the breath of anger felt from ancient times, times of Tama-te-kapua and Ngatoro. Ha!” And he sniffed again.

Annoyed at being opposed by his own people, and exceedingly angry over the matter of those sniffs, Taréha stalked out of the building, and the meeting broke up at once.

The rest of the day was marked by three events which caused much stir among the people.

First of all there occurred, on the flat below the pa, a challenge fight in which Rata inflicted terrible injuries upon his enemy Kahu. Treachery avenged!

Later there was the formal announcement that the ariki would be leaving Hikurangi within two days' time, and would be taking with him Te Puku and Niwareka, as well as Rata and Marama.

And finally there was the taking down of the sacred carvings that adorned the dwellings of the ariki and Marama, and the removal of those carvings for burial in a hidden spot.

Now of these three events the one which caused the most stir was the last. Throughout the pa it was discussed and re-discussed until very late that night. Aué! Was the ariki about to leave Hikurangi for ever?

………..

Tuwharétoa and Marama devoted the following day to a round of sad farewells.

Soon after sunrise they were at the Pink and White Terraces near Tarawera Mountain and Lake. Ah! The lustre, and the sparkle, and the gorgeous colouring of each terrace in the morning sunshine! Alas! To have to leave such beauty—for ever! Tenderly, reverently, they moved from place to place, caressing with loving hands the smooth warm walls that bound their favourite bathing - pools; they wept as they whispered their farewells.

And when at last they tore themselves away, they left behind a promise, a promise that their love for the Beautiful Ones of Tarawera would not be withered by the heat of the Taupo sun but would be kept moist by the tears from their eyes.

………..

By midday they were at the secret burial-cave “Te Atua-reré-tahi” in the rocky hills of Kawérau, and there Tuwharétoa performed a leave - taking ceremony over the bones of his ancestors. A strange place, and a strange scene!

Finally, on their way back to Hikurangi, they visited places in the forest and along the river that teemed with memories of happy childhood days! Aué! Their grief as they cried “farewell” again, and yet again!

Many meetings were held within the pa that night, the last night which Tuwharétoa would spend on Hikurangi Hill.

On his return with Marama from the river, he had found the people waiting for him, his own followers on one side of the marae and the rest of the people on the other.

He had been asked by the elders to say plainly whether he was leaving Hikurangi for ever, and he had replied that he was. Yes; by the very roots he was tearing up his life so that nothing might hold him back from Taupo. Yes; he could say it with grief—he was leaving Hikurangi for ever.

And immediately, amid the wailing of women, one of his own followers had moved forward and had said that the giant totara tree grew not alone in open country but always in the forest. Therefore, as the ariki was that totara tree, and his followers were the forest, the forest should move with the tree to Taupo.

Considerably embarrassed, Tuwharétoa had counselled patience. Taihoa! The land around Taupo would need to be prepared before it could take a new forest. A little later the forest would move. Better to stay at Hikurangi for a time! Therefore, taihoa again! At which advice the head chief had smiled a mirthless smile, and had made some obscure remark about a cracked stone.

Yes, many meetings were held that night, and from each meeting departed elder after elder who waited on Tuwharétoa in person and begged him, even implored him, not to forsake Hikurangi for ever. But always was the answer of the ariki the same: “ Kua mutu! Finished!”

At last, and shortly before daybreak, the anxious elders made their final effort to persuade the ariki from his purpose. Gathering together, they approached Tuwharétoa now standing beside a fire in front of his dwelling. He listened to them as they pleaded with him. But at the end, he seized a blazing brand, and with it he set his dwelling on fire in several places. The leaping flames soon fired the thatch. Another moment, and the whole building was doomed.

Then in front of her dwelling close by appeared Marama. She too held a blazing brand. Hurriedly she applied it to the sides and to the roof, and soon her dwelling also was a mass of flame.

“Ha!” cried Tuwharétoa. “For me there can now be no retreat. See! Ka kotia te taitapu ki Hawaiki. The track to Hawaiki is cut off.”

………..

Upon the hill at the head of the valley, a hill ever afterwards to be known as the Hill-of-Farewells, occurred the final scenes.

Hand in hand stood Te Puku the Fat and Niwareka, weeping together and comforting each other as they cried their laments.

A little apart stood Rata and Marama. They too were weeping, and sharing each other's grief. They too were joining in sorrowful farewells.

And by himself at the very top of the hill stood the ariki, tight-lipped, dry-eyed—waiting, waiting.

But presently he called to the others, and bade them hasten. Aué! How the tears streamed down Te Puku's cheeks as he raised his hand in silent greeting to the loved rock on the marae! And how the tears came unbidden to the eyes of Tuwharétoa himself as he raised Pahikauré on high, that it might send a mute farewell to the distant pa!

Then the grief of all as they chanted the final dirge:

“Hikurangi! Remain!
Valley, river and hill,
Take our tears and our sighs,
We are going away.
Hikurangi! Remain!“

Aué! The grief of all!

But a little later, as they moved down the southern slope on their way to the island in the Waikato, a new joy began to stir in their hearts, and soon Te Puku put that joy to words in song. Gaily he chanted:

“We are the Children of Forest and Fern,
Of Raupo Hut and Carved and Plumed Canoe.”

“Yes, and of Hawaiki!” cried Tuwharétoa, as he drew out from beneath his cape a carved casket, black with age.