http://www.maori.org.nz/ is a good site to know about Maoris. They are the best
preserved of the tribes in countries where westerners settled. They have rights
and are well educated in modern New Zealand. Note the problems faced in
Tripura- where Bengalis are now the majority in a state which was 90% Kok Bork
speaking in 1949.
Similar problems in the Chittagong Hills for the Buddhist Chakma community.
Maori Organisations Directory is a part of this site.
Set in pre European times, this story follows Kura, who is trained in the
Traditional Whare Wananga, or house of esoteric knowledge. Her story takes us
into other realms where the patupaiarehe, ponaturi, hapuoneone and many more
other beings live. A fantasy story based on the Maori equivalent to elves, etc.
Contents Prologue As the arai slowly succumbed
to the rising sun, and the Patupaiarehe retreated from whence they came, the
child smiled to herself. It was days like this that were the best; as she
watched the mauri of one world return as the mauri of another world departed.
Standing on the puke overlooking the great Oneroa a Taniwha was the best
power-house in all the world, with Tawhirimatea playfully tossing her hair
about, Kiwa endlessly chasing his children to and fro, watching Tanemahuta and
Tangaroa continuously waging war on each other was the child's idea of bliss.
Smiling contentedly the child breathed deeply, tasting the salt in the air and
pulling on the mauri of Papatuanuku. Another day had dawned, and once again she
had witnessed it. Humming an oriori to herself, she turned from the Oneroa a
Taniwha and headed down the puke. The sand hills retreated and soon the ngahere
was in view. Breathing again deeply, the fresh smell of the
damp whenua rushed into her lungs, giving that feeling of oneness with the
ngahere and all that was in it.
Moving with the natural grace of one who was in tune with the world around her,
the child moved through the ngahere, listening as the various manu recited the
karanga for the new day. Occasionally she would catch a glimpse of the kai
karanga and smile. Being able to recognise various manu from their tangi and
their reo was an important art, enabling one to learn their tohu. For the manu
were an important part of her world, always teaching, always guiding.
All around her the child felt the world embrace her, at her feet lay
Papatuanuku, having the aches and pains massaged from her weary back, the
ngahere full of life and lessons of life, always there as guidance, and
Ranginui far above, sometimes letting his sorrow show for his wahine. This was
Maori, totally, utterly and completely without influence from any other world.
Stopping by the wairere, the child glowed as she watched the children of
Aniwaniwa playfully dancing amongst the sprays. The thundering of the wairere
filled her ears, and the child sensed the hidden power and might, as yet
unleashed, all around her. Stooping to grasp the wairere, the child drank the
cool refreshing waters and was instantly refreshed totally. Moving on, the mara
came into view, and there she saw her Nana and Koro working at removing the
pesky weeds that were trying to destroy the children of Rongomatane. She
stopped and watched her Nana and Koro and opened herself to be completely filled
with the power and might of their pure aroha. Feeling it surge all around her
and within her, flowing from her Nana and Koro to her and back to them in a
continuous cycle was something that never ceased to amaze her. With that kind
of power, nothing was impossible and with enough faith and practice, anything
and everything was obtainable.
Sensing that their mokopuna was present, they paused and beckoned her to come
to them, and yet not a verbal word was spoken. They hardly bothered to waste
time with words as this was a slow and cumbersome process. Her Nana, so frail
looking and yet full of contradictions, never ceased to amaze the child. She
was like the maire and the pingao, the kakapo and the piwaiwaka, the moana and
the hau. Her Koro was the kahikatea and the karearea, the totara and the toroa,
the kauri and the kawau.
Finishing in the mara, the three moved as one into the ngahere to ako their
daily lessons of life. Often they melted from one anothers' sight, but rongo
always let them sense where each other was.
Learning from the ngahere was simple once the child knew how to read and to see
all that was around. There was so much to learn and it was a continuing
fascination to her. Just as the rakau, the manu and the aitanga a Papeke were
always growing, so were their stories. The trick was to learn to read with all
parts of oneself, not just the eyes and to read the full story, not just part
of it. Lessons these days covered many subjects, weaving in and out of each
other. One minute a manu might give a weapons display then a whanau lesson
which would compliment the tree that ia was with, as that rakau would do a
whanau lesson then a learning lesson... and so it would go on, always changing,
never stagnating. After kai, they moved onto the Oneroa a Taniwha for the
training of rongo. With the ngaru continually crashing and the manu laughing
overhead, the child had learnt how to switch off and open up at the same time,
enabling her to rongo her Nana and Koro so as not to get pa. For
the child knew, that once she could sense her Nana and Koro anywhere, anytime,
she would be able to sense anyone else without difficulty.
As the days and the years rolled by, the knowledge was passed down to the child
that only the chosen could hold. With that knowledge came the realization that
the days were numbered, time with her Nana and Koro was drawing to a close.
