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Chapter XXIX.
Maori Gratitude.

It has been often said that Maories have no gratitude, and that there is no word in their language to represent 'gratitude.' Both statements are libels. The word Aroha (love) is in common use amongst them, and means 'gratitude' and a great deal more. Innumerable instances have occurred within my own knowledge, where grateful deeds have been done by Maories, which might well bring the blush of shame to many a civilized Christian's cheek.

'Give nothing for nothing to nobody' is not a Maori maxim. It is rather one which many highly civilized people practise so continually, that it may be said to have replaced Christ's command, and to be one of the chief foundations upon which rest trade, commerce, banking and many other occupations and page 269transactions of daily life. It was not a Maori who said

'That gratitude was a lively sense of favours to receive.'

The Maori in the old days, certainly exacted payment for services rendered in a general way, but few were more hospitable than he. No famished wanderer—European or Maori—ever entered a Maori village and left it hungry, whether he could pay for his entertainment or not.

If a Maori Rangitira (Chief, literally 'a ray from heaven,') be a Chief, he is expected to act like a Chief. If he have a greater store of this world's goods than his neighbours, he is expected to distribute them with a free hand; to be in a very real sense, a servant of his servants. It is his duty to consider himself least and last.

Let me give an instance.

When at Matamata on one occasion, not long after my friend William Thompson Te Waharoa had made a truce with General Carey, I sent a messenger to his village, to say that I wished to see him at my house. Late in the day, he arrived, his only garment being an old blanket. On my enquiring why he had been so long on the road, he informed me, that the Chief Te Waata had been at his village with his followers; that they had lost everything in the war, even to their clothing; that his Aroha (love) was great to them for their valour; that he could not let them depart without supplying their necessities as far as he could; that he had given every man, except the Chief, page 270some article of clothing, and then had no more to give.

I asked, 'Why did you leave the Chief till last?' Thompson replied, 'Te Waata was a Chief, and it was Tika (right) that all should be served before him.'

'Did he return to his Kainga (village) naked?' I enquired.

'No,' said he, 'I was a Chief, and he was my guest, and as I had nothing else left, I gave him the clothing I wore, and took his old blanket to cover myself.'

Many instances of Maori gratitude have come under my notice. Let me give one.

A long time ago when there were few Englishmen in the Colony, a friend of mine had a number of Maories employed in cutting timber in a Kauri forest, not many miles from the City of Auckland, then a mere hamlet. One day, a large log, falling in an unexpected direction, rolled over the Chief of one of the Maori tribal parties at work. The poor fellow was so terribly crushed, that his retainers lost all hope of his surviving, and at once despatched messengers to announce his death to his far distant tribe in the interior.

My friend, being a man of ready resource, took the dying Chief in hand, but with little hope of doing him any good. Unrolling a piece of calico, he bound it tightly round and round the body of the wounded man, having first cut off his scanty clothing, and washed his bruises. The Chief was so completely paralyzed, that he could not move a muscle or feed page 271himself, or even masticate the rough food available in those rough times. After finishing the dressing and wrapping, my friend set his Maori workmen to build a rough shed over the sufferer where he lay, and appointed two Maories to attend him in watches day and night, giving him water, and, for some days, masticating the hard biscuits for the Chief to suck, or swallow as he lay.

After a week of this careful attendance, the poor fellow began to show signs of recovery. In a week more, he could turn round and sit up. At the end of the third week, he could crawl about, and it was evident he would recover.

At this stage, one night there suddenly rushed into my friend's camp, a large number of strange Maories, who proved to belong to the tribe of the wounded Chief. To their intense astonishment and joy, they found their supposed dead Chief alive and sitting up. Their wailings were turned into rejoicing. After remaining a day, and devouring nearly all the provisions in camp, they made a litter, and joyfully started on their long journey homewards, with their wounded Chief.

Before their departure, my friend, being a goodhearted fellow, provided the wounded man with a suit of clothes, a few pipes, a pound of tobacco, and paid his full wages from the day he was hurt. Maories are not very demonstrative in expressing their emotions, and, apparently receiving these good offices as a matter of course, they went their way with the usual departing salutations, page 272'Remain quietly at your Kainga' (village). To which the Maories who remained in camp, replied, 'Depart on your journey in peace.'

A curious little episode now occurred. In a few days a Maori fell sick, who was fed and attended to. Two days later two more fell sick, next day three more. My friend saw that something must be done. So he said to the Maories,

'Each sick man must pay me thirty shillings per week for his food, whilst he is sick.'

'Kahore' (No), said one and all. 'Did you not feed the wounded man for many days? Did you not get his food chewed for him? Did you not give him a pound of tobacco and three pipes? Did you not give him a blanket, Troutits (trousers), and a blue shirt? Besides these gifts, did you not pay him his full wages for all the time he was sick? Then why do you not feed and pay us when we are sick? He was a Maori, so are we. Why are you so hard now, when you were so soft (tender) before?'

My friend quietly told them that the Chief had been hurt in his service, that a tree had fallen upon him, and that it was right to be kind to him.

'Now,' said he, 'no tree has fallen upon you. You are not sick, only lazy. Therefore, if you don't work, you sha'n't eat, unless you pay for your Tuka (food).'

Without another word, every man set to work.

Late one evening, some months after the departure page 273of the wounded Chief, an old Maori woman came into the camp, and presented my friend with a small quantity of Kumaras (sweet potatoes), and a handful of Huia feathers, the usual present to a Rangitira (Chief), saying,

'You were good to the Chief, whom we heard was dead. He is now alive and well. Great is my Aroha (gratitude) to you. I am his mother.'

Then she turned to the track leading to the landing place at the mouth of the stream. At the moment of her departure she quietly said,

'If you will send to the landing place, you will find some food for your young men.'

Next morning my friend went to the landing ground, with two of his Maories, to bring up the food to the camp. To his great surprise, he found a pile of Kits (flax baskets) of potatoes sixty feet long and three feet high; together with a great pile of dried eels and Pipis; with five large pigs tethered to stakes, and a quantity of Indian corn laid for the pigs to eat. The canoes carrying all this food had departed.

On seeing this great pile of food, my friend thought that whether or no the Maori language contained a word for 'gratitude,' there was at least a princely act of gratitude unostentatiously done.