Old New Zealand: A Tale of the Good Old Times: And a History of the War in the North against the Chief Heke, in the Year 1845Maning, Frederick Edward
History
Old New Zealand: A Tale of the Good Old Times: And a History of the War in the North against the Chief Heke, in the Year 1845
Maning, Frederick Edward
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Social life and customs; New Zealand -- Description and travel
might, without the use of hands; and at night, tightening his greasy
rags around him, he would crawl into some miserable lair of leaves and
rubbish, there, cold, half-starved, miserable, and dirty, to pass, in
fitful ghost-haunted slumbers, a wretched night, as prelude to another
wretched day. It requires, they say, all sorts of people to make a
world; and I have often thought, in observing one of these miserable
objects, that his or her's was the very lowest ebb to which a human
being's prospects in life could be brought by adverse fate. When I
met, or rather saw, a female practitioner, I fairly ran for it; and
so, believing my readers to be equally tender-hearted, I shall not
venture on any more description, but merely say that the man
undertaker, such as I have described him, would be taken for Apollo if
seen in one of these hag's company.
What will my kind reader say when I tell him that I myself once got
_tapu'd_ with this same horrible, horrible, most horrible style of
_tapu_? I hold it to be a fact that there is not one man in New
Zealand but myself who has a clear understanding of what the word
"excommunication" means, and I did not understand what it meant till I
got _tapu'd_. I was returning with about sixty men from a journey
along the west coast. I was a short distance in advance of the party,
when I came to where the side of a hill had fallen down on to the
beach, and exposed a number of human bones. There was a large skull
rolling about in the water. I took up this skull without
consideration, carried it to the side of the hill, scraped a hole, and
covered it up. Just as I had finished covering it up, up came my
friends, and I saw at once, by the astonishment and dismay depicted on
their countenances, that I had committed some most unfortunate act.
They soon let me know that the hill had been a burying-place of their
tribe, and jumped at once to the conclusion that the skull was the
skull of one of their most famous chiefs, whose name they told me,
informing me also that I was no longer fit company for human beings,
and begging me to fall to the rear and keep my distance. They told me
all this from a very respectful distance, and if I made a step towards
them, they all ran as if I had been infected by the plague. This was
an awkward state of things, but as it could not be helped, I voted
myself _tapu_, and kept clear of my friends till night. At night when
they camped I was obliged to take my solitary abode at a distance,
under shelter of a rock. When the evening meal was cooked, they
brought me a fair allowance, and set it down at a respectful distance
from where I sat, fully expecting, I suppose, that I should bob at it
as Maori _kai tango atua_ or undertakers are wont to do. I had,
however, no idea of any such proceeding; and pulling out my knife
proceeded to operate in the usual manner. I was checked by an
exclamation of horror and surprise from the whole band, "Oh, what are
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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