Chapter XXIV. The Old Priest's Death, Attendant Rites, And Abandonment Of The Settlement.

The old woman who had pressed food upon Takaho slept in front of the door of his hut, where he had remained ever since his last speech after the death of Namu and his wife.

Day was dawning, and in the twilight of the coming day the old men might be seen issuing from the huts in which they had slept, and coming to the door of Takaho's hut. They sat there until the rays of the rising sun shot up in the east, looking like a giant bunch of tussack grass, red as kokowai.¹

When all the birds began to sing, the old man who had buried Namu and his wife said, in a loud voice, “O father! who shall repeat the pihe over the dead? We cannot remain with you in this place if this is not done.” Takaho answered, “I will do what I shall do by my own power. Live, O children! Cook and eat, to be strong to live in this world. My words are ended.”

The morning meal was cooked; and while the young people laughed, and amused themselves as they partook of it, the old people sat silent all the morning, expecting the old priest to do something.

While some of the young people were engaged in a sham fight, Takaho issued from his hut, having only a small mat round his waist; his body showed how sorrow had told upon it; how slender now his once powerful legs and arms. His ribs could easily be counted, and his breath came and went quickly; his gait was not that of strength, and the droop of his head showed the weight of age resting upon his shoulders. The young people at once became quiet, and sat down.

The old priest went to the grave of Namu and his wife; he broke the fence down, and with his hands scratched away the loose earth that covered the two bodies: this he accomplished after many, many rests. He pulled Namu's corpse out first, and threw it over his shoulder, with the head to his back, and brought it into his hut, where he laid it down on the edge of a grave which he had dug in the middle of the hut. He returned, and brought in the same way the corpse of Namu's wife. He then laid Namu in the grave, with his head to the south, and his wife with her head to the north; and having covered them with earth, he laid the mats on which he usually slept over the whole, and laid himself down on the grave.

From the time Takaho had first come out of his hut until he laid himself down on the grave, the people had page 333 sat in groups, crying. Seeing the corpse of Namu, which the priest carried, the children ran into the houses, and kept peeping out every now and then to see what was to come next.

During the time he was doing this, Takaho neither spoke nor looked at the people, but when he laid himself down, the old man who had spoken to him early in the morning again spoke to him, and asked, “What are we to do?”

“Let me sleep now,” answered Takaho; “I shall depart with the sun to-day. Cease speaking to me. Live! Be brave! and do not fear your enemies. Keep your fire burning on our land. Let your arms be strong to lift the spear. Let your mana¹ be felt by all the tribes. Live, O children! and let me remain where I sleep, that I may guard the bones of my child.”

The people returned to their houses, and occupied themselves in the usual way, cooking, talking, and sleeping.

Three suns had risen and set, still the old woman sat and slept in front of the priest's hut. Day by day, morning and evening, the old man who had buried Namu and his wife went to the hut, and in a state of nudity stood in the doorway, and looked at the priest; returned, put his clothing on, and called out in a loud voice, “The sun has not gone down.”

On the morning of the fourth day he looked,

¹ Influence and power.

page 334 and called out, “The rata¹ of our protection has fallen!”

The old woman now rose, and going up to the door of the hut, she stood up and cried in a most frantic tone, throwing her arms up and down. All the people, young and old, men, women, and children, came in front of the hut; all sat down and cried aloud, excepting the old woman, who stood crying and throwing her arms up and down.

They continued thus to wail until the sun was high up in the heavens, when the old man said: “We cannot live by weeping. Our father is dead. Who can take the tapu off this place, that we may live here? Who can carry him to the sacred place? Who is so sacred that he can do this and not die? He is a chief and a priest, and did not cook his own food. Who will cook for him in Paerau? Who will go with him, and keep him from being angry? And as we cannot say the pihe over him, we must leave this place after some of us have gone with him, that those who remain in this world may not be killed because of our neglect.”

The old woman who had kept guard in front of the priest's door rose up and said, “I will go with my great relative, and will keep his anger from you. I am old, but I can work for him where we shall go.”

The chief of many wives, who had been forced to take Koko's widow and Raku for his wives, said, “No; mine is great love to my great relative. I will die,

¹ Metrosideros robusta, “the giant tree of our protection,” &c.

page 335 and let my wives weep for me when I am gone to keep death from them. If I do not go with the great chief, he will not rest until he has killed many of us for our neglect, because we did not allow some one to go with him.”

Old Raku rose and said. “No, you shall not go. I will go; and I will ask the wife of Koko to go with me. We have been called your wives; but I do not wish to live, and Koko's wife does the same.”

“Yes,” said Koko's widow. “Let no one speak after I have done. I will not live any longer; and it is better to be the slave of a priest in Paerau than to be the wife of a man of many wives in this world. I ask you to send us with our father, that our love to you may be seen. If we go with him, his anger will not rise to kill you; but if we do not go, our want of love to him will cause the death of many. Live in this world, O man of many wives! and do not try to stop us two who were called your wives, but on whom you have not even looked. Do not say when we are gone that we have eaten of your food; and cease to mention our names, or one of us may, in our time of leisure, come back to look at you.”

She went to her hut, and put on a new mat which she had made, stuck some feathers in her hair, and returned, and sat down in front of the door of the hut in which Takaho's body lay. Raku had done the same; but hers was a mat of greater beauty, and her head was covered with the feathers of the huia.¹ Thus sitting,

¹ Vide ante, p. 90.

page 336 they called upon the young men to help them to go along the road with the great chief.

Tupu rose and said, “If you will die, let four men make the ropes and act at once, for we must all depart while the sun looks at us.”

Four young men rose and took some flax-leaves, which they plaited into ropes about a fathom long. Two of them (having only a small mat round the waist) put a rope round the neck of Koko's widow, and while one of them pulled it as he pressed his foot against her chest, the other put his foot against her back and pulled the rope tight until she was dead. The two other young men did the same to Raku. When both were dead, the young men tied the garments of the dead to them with the flax ropes. The people sat silently looking on until the two were dead; after which all the old women, while they wept, cut their faces, arms, and chests with pieces of tuhua (obsidian), until they looked like living bodies that had been cut to pieces and put together again.

While the women did this, the people sat with their heads covered.

The old man rose and said: “We do not know how to repeat the karakias and the ceremonies for the dead. Tupu has said that we must leave the settlement, and the body of our father here unburied; but we must not depart until we have shown our love for him, by cutting the hair off our heads, as an offering to place on his grave.”

As with one voice the people answered, “Yes! yes!”

All was now animation; men, women, and children running hither and thither into the various houses of abode, collecting tuhua with which to cut their hair off their heads. While searching for the tuhua, which was kept with the various nicknacks, and to make the most of their time, the houses were cleared of all movables, such as mats, fishing-nets, spears, war-clubs, baskets, preserved heads, calabashes, lines, hooks, and children's toys. Such as these might be seen in front of every house, where the old women were making as much noise as they could, and the children and young people were turning the various things over and over, and shifting the various articles, to the consternation of the old women, who were trying in vain to make them into bundles, to be carried on the back when emigration took place.

In the midst of this confusion, an old man called attention, and asked, “Who shall cut our hair?”

The woman who had kept guard at the priest's hut rose and said,” Let the men cut the hair of the men, and let the women cut the hair of the women; let the father cut the hair of his boys, and the mother of her girls.”

At this command the people again collected in front of Takaho's house, and sat down in lines of odd numbers, from five to seven in each, when a man or woman, holding a piece of mata tuhua¹ in the left hand, took a lock of hair with the right hand, and cut it off. The edge of the tuhua being very sharp, cut it clean, and as

¹ Obsidian.

page 338 each lock was cut, the operator threw it towards the door of the house. Yet now and then a few hairs would not be cut, and in the sudden jerk the operator gave to cast it towards the door, the uncut hairs were dragged out by the roots, causing the person operated upon to make the most dreadful wry faces. But not a sound of pain could be heard, for fear of showing disrespect, to Takaho's spirit, who was supposed to be present, and taking note of the value of the offering, which was estimated by the quantity of hair cut off. These wry faces could be seen in every line; and as the persons operated upon sat some facing one way and some another, they appeared to be acting a farce, the plot of which consisted in making the most horrible grimaces at each other.

When the hair of any person was all cut off, he or she rose and went to the front of his or her house, made a bundle of some of the articles lying there, and put them on his or her back, and sat down, waiting for the order to depart. Others of them would first be called by a father or mother to help to hold a child, who, without making any noise, kicked and struggled so as to prevent its hair being cut, so that often four or five persons would hold a child until the operation was finished.

If the hair of any child was too short to be held so as to cut it with the tuhua, the father or mother would take a firebrand, and while the child was held by five or six persons, would singe the hair close to the skin. A boy or girl had to blow the firebrand, often causing page 339 a spark to alight on the skin of the singed child, who would open his or her mouth (but no sound issued from it), and glare with fury at those who held him or her down. The hair-cutting was all done, and the four young men had, with long sticks, pushed the hair into the door of Takaho's hut. They then dragged the body of Koko's widow to the door, and laid her across it, then, with their long sticks, rolled her over and over until she was close to the old priest's body. They did the same with Raku.

A number of men now came up, bringing bundles of sticks, with which they made a fence all round the house, closing the door with mats. Then, with the assistance of the old woman, they painted the fence and the mats red.

The old woman who kept watch at Takaho's door had in the meantime lighted a hangi, into which she placed five round stones, which, when heated, were taken close up to the painted fence, the four young men and the old woman each taking one. Then, while standing in a row in front of Takaho's hut, each threw the stones for some time from one hand into the other, and then threw them in front of the door of the hut. They then went to their garments, and put them on.

While this was being done, the people remained silent, looking on; but as soon as the four men threw the hot stones away, an old man rose and said: “We have some distance to go. As we have not been able to repeat the karakia used when hair is cut, nor have we page 340 burnt some of the hair, Maru and Tawhaki¹ may cause us to be rained upon, during our journey. If we are overtaken by thunder and lightning and rain, let your hearts be brave; it is only that the gods are angry because the hair has not been burnt and offered to them. But how could we help that? We do not know the whole incantations repeated on such occasions, nor the ceremonies used. It is better to hear the thunder, and see the lightning, and be wet through by the rain, and keep pur lives, than to be killed by the gods for making a mistake, or forgetting a word of the incantations while repeating them.”

Tupu now rose and said, “Kopere taua.”²

The people, who had been careful not to pull down or break anything, and to leave all the doors open, now rose with a loud groan, and stood, every one having a bundle on the back; the younger children in charge of the dogs, which they were to lead by a piece of flax tied round the dogs’ necks.

Tupu, who was the first to move, said, “O father! sleep in your home with your slaves and children. This home is now too sacred for us common people to live in. Live, O great chief! in your mana of the gods, while we go and live yonder, where we can cook our food to live on, and not insult you and the gods. Sleep, O father, sleep!”

He went along the road leading to the interior, sobbing and weeping as he walked; but he did not

¹ Gods of the elements.

² Vide p. 196, commencement of chap. xii.

page 341 turn round to look back. Next followed the old men, then the young warriors, next the boys, then the old women, then the young women and girls, followed by the mothers who carried infants; the naked children, leading the dogs, brought up the rear.

As they passed up the valley, their wail echoed from valley to valley, rising and falling like the boom of the sea on the seashore. They went on and on until they had gained the top of the last rising ground from which Takaho's hut was visible.

As each gained the top they sat down, keeping their bundles or children on their backs, and wept, hiding their faces in their hands. The children who led the dogs, and who had been amusing themselves by playing with them, followed the example of their elders, and in feigned sorrow hid their faces in their hands, but continued to peep through their fingers at each other and at the dogs, who did not seem to understand why they were tied; and every now and then one of them would jump up and down in the vain attempt to get free, causing the naked child who held him to roll over and over. Still the group of dog-leaders suppressed their laughter, although the heavy breathing, wry faces, compressed lips, and laughing eyes of the children showed that they enjoyed the fun.

Thus they sat till the sun began to decline, and black clouds gathered and covered the heavens. The whole of them now faced towards the spot where stood in the distance the hut and its dead occupants. Louder and louder grew the noise of wailing, shriller and page 342 shriller whistled the rising wind through the fern-trees which covered the hill on which they sat. A low rumble of thunder sounded in the east, and stray drops of rain now and then fell on the unwashed, blood-besmeared bodies of the old women, who had cut themselves on the death of the old priest; but every one sat, with a bundle of baskets, spears, fishing-nets, children's toys, mats, or preserved heads, on their backs, apparently lost in a flood of sorrow.

The dogs had become quite exasperated by the restraint put upon them; but at last, through sheer exhaustion, they sat quiet.

An old woman, in the midst of the noise made by the weeping crowd, pitched her voice somewhat higher than the rest, and it became a dismal howl. For a moment the dogs turned their heads first one way and then the other, in an attitude of intense surprise and attention; then they turned up their noses in the air, and with accord gave that death-omen, a prolonged howl, which dogs alone can give.

It sent a thrill of dread through the crowd of mourners, who at the instant resumed possession of all their seeing faculties, sprang up, and staring around with wild-looking eyes, moved silently on.

Now might be seen the close-shaved head of an old, staggering woman, with deeply-wrinkled face, and stick-like, half-bent legs, starting at a quick step, uttering as she went a half-stifled groan; then a man of noble frame, his short-cut hair standing up like the burnt stalks of a rush bush; then a dog pushing on to page 343 the front of the crowd of mourners, held by a singedheaded, naked child.

Thus descended from the hill of their last look this motley crowd of mourners, seeking for a new home for the future.

The End.