The following descriptions of The Northwest Atolls, The Eastern Atolls, South and South West and The Southern Angle are by Peter H. Buck and were recorded in his book: Vikings of the Sunrise, published by Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York, 1938

The sea seethes, The sea recedes, It appears, the land appears And Maui stands upon it. -Rakahanga Chant

Te lineage goes back, Back to the period of the parent sky. The descent traces back, Back indeed to the line of Atea. Bind the knowledge securely, Let the tying be firm, Let the knotting be fast, That it hold. The lineage descends from a far-off age, From the family of Iki, From the children of Atea and Hakahotu.

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Grew up the land of Havaiki

With its king Rongonui;

Then grew up the land Vavau

With its king Toi-ane.

Then appeared the land Hiti-nui

With its king Tangaroa manahune.

- Tuamotuan Chant

I was born in the south of Polynesia, lived in the north, worked in the west and center, but had never visited islands east of Tahiti. In 1934, after I had spent two years at Yale University as Bishop Museum Visiting Professor in Anthropology, Bishop Museum sent me to join its Mangarevan Expedition. A high-powered sampan, The Islander, and a small schooner, Tiare Tahiti (Tahitian Gardenia), had been chartered to visit various island groups east of Tahiti. The sampan party, under the leadership of Dr. C. M. Cooke, Jr., Malacologist at Bishop Museum, made collections of plants, insects, and land shells from islands not hitherto explored scientifically, and gathered an amazing amount of material new to science. The Tiare Tahiti for the use of the ethnologists, J. F. Stimson, K. P. Emory, and myself, met me in Tahiti in August, but, as it had to go into dry dock for repairs, I took passage on the trading schooner Moana to join my colleagues in the eastern Tuamotu.

On the second afternoon out from Papeete we passed Kahukura, the first atoll of the Tuamotu group. Over the near horizon peeped the tops of coconut trees. As we approached, the trees seemed gradually to stand up, until finally they came to rest with their bases wrapped round by the dazzling white coral beach. Other islets appeared over the horizon, curving off to follow the round of the great reef on which they are set. On the far side of the nearer islands lay the still, green waters of the lagoon, contrasting sharply with the deep purple of the outer sea. Beyond the green waters were indistinct specks, clumps, and lines of coconut trees, indicating other islands which complete the ring of an atoll. On the next afternoon, our captain pointed to some clouds to the southeast and said, "Anaa." I gazed at the clouds and at the surface of the sea, but there was no trace of land. I did not understand how an island could be seen in the sky when not visible on the sea, nor how clouds could be tethered like a captive balloon to mark the site on an atoll.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"See that green tinge on the clouds," he replied. "That is the reflection of the green waters of the lagoon of Anaa. The lagoon is shallower than those of other islands, and the water is greener. Anaa can always be picked by the green clouds so long as the sun is shining on the lagoon and a cloud is above." I looked at the cloud. It had a green tinge. Perhaps the keen-eyed Polynesian navigators could distinguish the fainter reflections of other lagoons - perhaps even when there were no clouds. Unfortunately they have not handed on to us these finer observations that guided them to success in their early explorations. We sailed alongside Anaa five hours later and went ashore in the schooner's boats, for there is no reef opening by which the schooner may enter the lagoon. A few native men and two Chinamen gave us a tepid welcome. While the captain attended to business, a companion and I walked along a cleared road connecting the outer shore to the lagoon shore half a mile away. On either side of the road were the houses that constituted the small village of Tukuhora. Nearly all the houses were made of scraps of boards taken from boxes and roofed over with rusty corrugated iron. A few houses were thatched with plaited coconut leaves which were attached to a single set of rafters by nails driven through the midribs of the leaves. I put my notebook back into my pocket with a sigh. On the lagoon shore, my eyes brightened at the sight of some outrigger canoes, but my hopes were quickly extinguished. The canoes had a straight fore boom fastened to the float with connecting stanchions and a slender, curved after boom which bent directly down to the float. The technique had been borrowed from Tahiti, and even the pattern of the lashing of the fore boom was identical with that I had drawn in Tahiti four years before. The native technique of Anaa had completely disappeared.

The people, while not exactly morose, showed none of the cordiality so characteristic of the Polynesian people. I found out afterwards that their lack of vocal expression was regarded by the rest of the Tuamotu as being peculiar to Anaa. "What about it?" I asked. "Well," he replied, "there are no torea on Anaa." On the way to Hikueru, we called in at the uninhabited atoll of Reitoru. The atoll belongs to Hikueru, and the chief of that island, who was a passenger, gave the captain permission to get firewood for the engine. Not only did we acquire firewood, but also fish, which seemed in the lagoon, and many fledgling sea-birds from their nests in the low shrubs. In the old economic system of the Tuamotu, an atoll was allowed to lie fallow periodically, while the people migrated elsewhere, in order that the food supplies might increase on both land and sea. When we landed at Hikueru, the people lined up to greet us with the customary "Ia orana" and to shake our hands. They were clean, athletic, and good-looking. There were evidently plenty of torea birds on Hikueru. However, the houses and canoes at Hikueru were as disappointing to an ethnologist as were those at Anaa. Even the speech had been replaced by the Tahitian dialect, largely through trade and the universal use of the Tahitian Bible. The h and ng, present in the old speech, have been dropped. I created a certain amount of interest by using the Maori dialect in conversation, which was recognized as being like that of the old people who had passed away.

The chief's compound was a model of a complex household. The front wall was made of concrete surmounted at intervals with pairs of pearl shells for ornament. The side and back walls were neat picket fences. The enclosed buildings were small and simple, made of sawn timber and roofed with corrugated iron, all neatly kept and very clean. Besides the dwelling house, there were separate dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and latrines. No less than ten canoes were drawn up within the compound and carefully protected from the sun by coverings of coconut leaves and sheets of corrugated iron. The bathhouse was made entirely of corrugated iron with a spacious wooden floor. A capacious cylindrical can, open at the top and with a shower rosette attached by a short pipe to the lower end, was suspended near the floor by ropes attached to a pulley fixed to the roof. The handmaidens of the chief carried buckets of fresh water from the town cistern close to hand and filled the can. They then hauled the can upward to the requisite height, announced that the bath was ready, and departed. As a guest of the chief, I was privileged to use the shower, supplying my own towel and soap. I turned on the tap above the rosette and enjoyed one of the finest shower baths I have ever had. The towel was afterwards washed by command of the hostess. She expressed a wish to wash the clothes I had on, but as no suggestion was made as to what I should do in the interim of drying, I declined by saying I wished to watch the process of loading the boats with copra.

The copra, consisting of the dried chunks of coconut meat cut out of the mature nuts, was stored loose in various sheds. The trading schooner supplied the sacks, which were filled by the local workers and weighed in the presence of the ship's supercargo. The weighed sacks were thrown outside in a heap and were carried down to the landing about half a mile away, by natives of both sexes. The men carried a sack over their shoulder, but the women used two fairly large handcarts that carried several sacks. Two women pulled on the pole at the front of the cart and three pushed from behind. The carts rattled speedily along to the sound of laughter. It was fun and did not last long enough to become a labour. From the landing, men carried the sacks down to the boats, which were brought as close to shore as the depth of water would allow. When a boat was filled, her crew pushed off and rowed to the schooner, which tacked up and down just outside the reef.

We called at Maro-kau and landed a Chinese trader with his stock of goods at a temporarily deserted village, whose inhabitants were probably at some other islet preparing copra. The trader's goods were widely assorted, including bars of soap from New Zealand and pots of ginger labelled "The Product of China." At Tauere, the houses and canoes still followed the modern pattern. A young man took me to the marae of Ranghoa where the god Tahiri was once worshiped. A few stones marked the site, but my guide dug into the sand and produced a skull. From the ease with which he found the skull, I suspect that the temple was a show place for chance tourists. At Hao is a deep passage into the lagoon. The passage was named Kaki (Neck), and the current was so strong that the Moana had difficulty in making way against it. This was a great fishing ground for sea-birds, and the frigate hawks, like enemy aeroplanes, waited high above them. When the sea-birds obtained their catch and started for home, the pirates of the air swooped down on them. The frightened birds regurgitated the fish, and the swift frigate hawks caught the falling fish before they touched water. An old man, Te Uira, gave me the chant which the Kaki channel sings:

The Hao lagoon is one of the largest in the Tuamotu, and the islets of the far edge were but dimly seen as we sailed in to the main village of Otepa. From a distance the red-roofed houses of the village gave the appearance of a seaside resort, but on closer inspection the red colour proved to be not tiles but the rust of corrugated iron. The people of Hao were friendly and communicative and they evinced an interest in my dialect with retained the sounds k and ng which they had dropped. At Tatakoto, we picked up Emory and Stimson, and on the way to Reao to do field work, we landed at Pukerua. There the houses were made of native material. The canoes were built on a local pattern out of small pieces of plank sewn together with sennit braid. They were deep and narrow and were provided with a plank for an outrigger float instead of the usual thick timber in the round. The Pukerua and Reao people have a close affinity with each other, and in physical form they differ from the other Tuamotuans. They are shorter with short, broad faces and wide noses. It looks as if some other mixture of blood was present, but the analysis must be left to the physical anthropologists. Before reaching Reao, I received a wireless from Tahiti stating that the Tiare Tahiti would be some considerable time in dock. If we waited at Reao, the field work at Mangareva would not be done adequately, because of the lateness of the season. We changed our plans and went on to Mangareva.  Although the atolls I visited were disappointing in material things, Emory and Stimson had been able to gather what is probably the largest collection of myths, songs, and legends yet made in Polynesia. The Tuamotuans, like other coral islanders, lacked the variety of food and textile plants grown only in the fertile soil of volcanic islands. Due to the lack of economic appeal to white traders, they remained more isolated than their kinsmen on volcanic islands and retained many of the so-called "heathen customs" until a much later period. Finally missionaries and traders after copra and pearl shell invaded even these poor atolls, forcing the natives to share in the general change that has affected the whole of Polynesia. However, some of the old men interviewed by Emory and Stimson had taken part in the ancient ceremonies on the temples and could give firsthand information about many things.

Apparently the Tuamotuans, whose material culture was necessarily poor due to a lack of raw materials, developed a particular feeling for poetry and an ability to express themselves in beautiful words. Living on coral islands and watching the constant movement of the waves, they set their thoughts to the music of the surf beating against the outer reef. The age-long music was personified as Orovaru, the Gushing-murmur-of-the-waters. Throughout Polynesia one of the most popular amusements was community singing, not only at public functions but at ordinary family gatherings in the evening. Once started, a group of singers would run through their entire repertoire, the adults refreshing their memories and the young people learning new songs by a process of absorption and the desire to be able to join in the chanting. As they grew older, obscure passages were explained by their elders. Thus the transmission of ancient lore was continuous from one generation to the next. European contact and conversion to Christianity generally broke this continuity, but the music-loving Tuamotuans continued to sing their ancient chants. Although temple ritual and prose teachings were abandoned, the old fagu chants still known today give a fairly adequate picture of the myths and concepts of creation that existed in the Tuamotu Islands before European contact. In addition to the major gods possessed in common with all Polynesia, each atoll had its own local gods who were deified ancestors. The myths go back to the Kore (Void), and the period of Cosmic Night finds expression in the familiar term Potangotango. The Great Source, Tumu-nui, brought up the sand from Hawaiki, the land below the sea, and caused it to reach the surface. It became a reef and, subsequently, an island. English prose cannot adequately convey the lilt of the Tuamotuan chant as it sings of "the growing sand, the rising sand, the lifting sand, the spreading sand, the sand that expands into land." 

The great nature gods of Opoa are richly represented in Tuamotuan myths. Many of the creation chants commence with Te Tumu-nui, the Great source, and recite a number of forms of Te Tumu. He occurs as Tumu-po (Source-of-darkness) contrasted with Tumu-ao (Source-of-light). Papa (Earth-foundation) is associated with Te Tumu. Atea (Space) appears in the form of Atea-rangi (Sky-space), who is above; and Fakahotu (Fructifier-of-the-soil) is below. In one myth, Atea-rangi mates with Atea to produce the gods Tane (ruler of things above), Tangaroa (lord of the ocean), and Rongo (patron of oratory and eloquence). This arrangement follows the early pattern that emanated from Opa, except that by some confusion Atea takes the place of Papa or Fakahotu in being mated to Atea-rangi. The compound name of Atea-rangi connects in thought the Atea of central Polynesia with the Rangi of New Zealand, who are the husbands of Papa, the Earth-mother. The gods in the period of darkness called in labourers to push up the sky sphere. Atea-rangi, and to uphold him in position. The people employed were the Ngati-Ru, the family of Ru, who are alluded to as Long Ru, Short-Ru, and Humpbacked-Ru. We have seen that Ru himself performed a similar task in the Society Islands, but desisted when he became humpbacked. In the Cook Islands, Ru was successful without any bodily ill effect.

Some of the fagu chants tell in detail of a conflict between Atea and Tane in which Atea gave in. This struggle occurs in the Society Islands myths, and the story is reminiscent of the New Zealand myth in which Tane took an active part in forcing Rangi (the Sky) up into his present position. Stimson has collected information from various sources on an attempt to establish a supreme creator in the person of Kiho-tumu. The struggle for supremacy has been seen in the Tahitian elevation of Ta'aroa and will be met in New Zealand in a similar treatment by some theological schools of Io. The widespread Tiki myth is known in the Tuamotu. The Hao version records that Ahu-roa, an ordinary man, married One-rua and that they had a male child, Tiki. Tiki married One-kura, the daughter of a human couple named Mati and One-ura. In other island groups, Tiki's wife was made from earth, and her name was usually Hina-ahu-one or some variant. Traces of the more general myth are seen in the inclusion of Ahu )to heap up) and One (Earth) in the names of Tiki's parents and also in the name of his wife One-kura (Red-earth). The later part of the story follows the general pattern in that Tiki seduces his own daughter by trickery and commits incest with her. Though they had children who doubtless became ancestors, the Tuamotuan story is unique in making Tiki merely a legendary character who is not credited as the father of mankind.

The Maui myth is recorded with much detail and local variations. Ataranga married Hava and produced Maui-mua, Maui-roto, Maui-muri, and Maui-taha. He then married Huahenga and had a son named Maui-tikitiki-a-Ataranga, the mischievous culture hero of Polynesia. This last Maui snared the sun, bested Mahuika, the god of fire, killed Tuna (Eel from whose head grew the coconut) to retake the woman Hina, and created the first dog. The dog story is interesting, for it indicates that though the Tuamotuans did not have the pig and the fowl, they had some knowledge of the dog. Briefly stated, Maui was married to Hina, who proved faithless by conducting a love affair with a handsome stranger named Ri. Maui found out, and one lazy afternoon he beguiled Ri into delousing each other's heads. As Ri lay comfortably stretched out on the ground with his head on Maui's knees, he fell asleep. Maui then applied digital traction to Ri's nose, ears, and spine. When Ri awoke he was not only anatomically transformed into a quadruped but he was evidently mentally transformed as well, for he became the ancestor of dogs. The myth naively continues that many people came to see the wonder Maui had performed. Maui and his four older brothers set out on a fishing expedition in an outrigger canoe named Taitai-arohia. Maui baited his hook with the crimson feathers that are usually associated with high chiefs and gods. It is little wonder that he hooked a marvellous fish. As he hauled in his line, he sang a vaunting song describing each item in his fishing tackle and the canoe equipment, which are given proper names. With the last haul, he chanted the final verse:

 

The Tuamotuan Maui myth has affinity with the New Zealand myth in that Maui, moved by the sight of his wife's gray hairs, sought to gain immortality for man. He was told that he could prevent death if he exchanged the stomach of Rori, the Se-slug, for his own. He sought out Sea-slug in the shallow waters near the shore, but that obdurate individual refused to make the exchange. Maui thereupon seized him and, by squeezing his body, he made Sea-slug's stomach protrude. He vomited up his own stomach and commenced to swallow that of Sea-slug. The esophageal end of the stomach was just about to disappear when Maui's brothers, who had secretly followed him, called out, "Look at what Maui is doing." Sea-slug's stomach was ejected, and Maui replaced his own. The quest had failed. This was the last adventure of Maui-of-the-thousand-exploits. The most noted lineages of the chiefly families commence with a chant termed nanao ariki (to grope for the chiefly source). One of them runs as follows:

 

Hiro, the great navigator of the thirteenth century, is a well-known ancestor. From him, twenty-six generations ago, the lineage is easily carried down to the present day. Some of the old chants are composed about individual atolls and indicate the affection of the inhabitants for their homes. The following poem collected by K. P. Emory is about the atoll of Raroia:

 

Many chants have been poetically translated by Stimson, but space forbids further quotations. In the wealth of myths and chants, there are a number of different versions of the same story and different explanations of obscure points. Even in ancient times, the learned people realized that the version of the ancient lore (vanaga) and the given explanation (korero) might not coincide. This doubt found expression the following verse:

 

The chant at the head of this chapter shows that the Tuamotuans were acquainted with the islands of Havaiki, Vavau, and Hiti-nui. The fact that Hiti-nui is associated with the king Tangaroa-manahune, whom we have already met in Tahiti under the name of Ta'aroa-manahune, indicates clearly enough that Hiti-nui is Great Tahiti in the Society Islands and not a name for Fiji. Religious rituals were conducted on open courts with a raised stone platform at one end behind which was a row of spaced limestone slabs, somewhat similar to the religious structures of Tongareva. On the court itself were other erect limestone slabs that formed backrests for the principal chief and priest. The side and front boundaries of the court were not defined by any curb, as they were in Tongareva. The principal ceremony conducted on the courts was in connection with turtle feasts. When a turtle was caught at sea, a piece of the breast bone was immediately detached and offered with an incantation to the god Tangaroa. It is thus seen that Tangaroa maintained his position as god of the sea and of fishermen, as he did in the Marquesas and New Zealand. The turtle was taken onto the court and a ritual conducted during which the throat of the turtle was cut. A piece of raw flesh from the side was hung on a forked stick erected in front of the platform. Then the whole turtle received a first cooking in an oven near the court, after which it was returned to the court. It was cut up, and the principal chief and priest ate the heart and a flipper of the turtle on the marae. The cut-up turtle then received a second cooking after which the male population feasted near the court. Women were not allowed a share, as turtle meat was prohibited to them. As it was taboo and could not be taken back to the dwelling houses, any meat left over after the feast was placed upon a wooden platform near the cooking fire. If turtle were plentiful and much was left over, the men returned the next day and feasted on the surplus.

After completing my field study in Mangareva, I returned to Tahiti by the steamer Toia, which fortunately went through the Tuamotu by a northern route, introducing me to new islands. The Tuamotuan archipelago is extensive, stretching a thousand miles from Rangiroa in the west to the atolls near Mangareva in the east. In fact, the Mangareva group is usually included in the Tuamotu Islands, although they are of volcanic origin with a culture distinct from that of the Tuamotuan atolls. At Fagatau I had an experience which, though inconsequential, may serve to illustrate the genuine friendship of the Polynesians for all men, but particularly for those of their own race. We landed on the beach, and I shook hands with the usual group of people watching our landing. Among them were some old men, but I did not venture any speech beyond the Tahitian greeting of "Ia orana." The supercargo set off for the village a few hundred yards away, and I followed in his wake. A tall, handsome Tuamotuan of middle age fell into step beside me. As we walked along, he kept glancing sideways at me with a puzzled look. He was trying to diagnose what stock I belonged to, but he dared not ask a direct question in case I should happen to be Polynesian. No Polynesian of any birth can ask the question, "Who are you?" The person questioned might be a high chief, and the questioner would be overcome by shame for his own ignorance. In the Tuamotu, the old people might quote the following, which would have necessitated a genealogical recital in the old days:

In order to break the suspense, I pointed to a tree and asked, "He aha te ingoa a tera rakau?" (What is the name of that tree?). The effect upon my companion was more striking than I had hoped it would be. He fairly jumped. His mouth opened, the name of the tree came forth, but his mouth remained open and his eyes bulged. Why? No matter how well a foreigner may learn a Polynesian dialect, he generally misuses a vowel or misplaces the emphasis on consonants. My companion knew that I came from the same stock as he did, but the problem was: Where from and who? After enjoying his surprise sufficiently, I said, "I am Te Rangi Hiroa." I knew that both Emory and Stimson had told some of their tuamotuan informants about me and that possibly this man might know the name. He seized my hand with a crushing grip and then dashed back toward the old men on the beach, shouting, "Fariua, O Fariua, here is Te Rangi Hiroa." An intelligent-looking old man detached himself from his fellows and hurried toward us. He shook hands very heartily and said, "Why did you not tell us you were coming?" I did not tell him that I had forgotten the particular atoll upon which he lived, though I did remember that he had given a wealth of information to Emory and Stimson on their previous visits. We went to Faariua's house and sat on his veranda talking. His daughter, who had also been an invaluable informant to my colleagues, sat with us. When the time approached for leaving, Fariua issued an order. A small boy disappeared and then reappeared with two live fowls. They were Fariua's gift to a kinsman from a distant land. We marched down to the boat landing with the boy carrying the fowls behind us. I said to Rarius, "Come out to the ship for a trip." I knew that the ship had brought cases of bananas and mangoes from Mangareva that were sold at the various atolls, where fruit, other than the coconut, did not grow. When the last boat left the ship, Fariua was accompanied by a case of mangoes and a case of bananas, which were my reciprocal recognition of his hospitality. We do not usually talk about these things, and I hope that Fariua will never see this book. Yet it seems to me that such minor personal incidents indicate clearly the spirit of Polynesian hospitality. Give and receive, receive and give, not for the material benefit but for the sake of one's honour.

SOUTH AND SOUTHWEST

 I asked an old man with gray hair and a wrinkled face, a question about the Polynesian idea of creation. He gave me a modern version based on Genesis. I tried to lift him over the intervening years by saying, "Yes, that is what you and I think now, but what did your ancestors think before the Bible was introduced?" With a deprecatory shrug of his shoulders, he replied, "How can you and I know what the heathen thought about?"

The early missionaries laboured to destroy belief in the Polynesian concepts of the world and the origin and power of the local gods. In this they were helped by the natives themselves who, eager to accept and adopt new ideas, broke almost completely with their old religion. Frequently when a chief accepted Christianity those who had opposed his temporal rule remained with their old faith. Bitter wars were waged for political as much as for religious reasons, and the converts took keen delight in destroying the temples and gods of their enemies. Priests and scholars who had accepted the new teaching refused to pass on the concepts and the legends of their old cult. This the continuity of oral transmission was broken. When questions were asked in after years, only scattered, dislocated fragments could be recalled. Many European missionaries recorded the principles the old religion, perhaps to show the church at home from what they were rescuing the heathen. Wherever white missionaries were stationed, a certain amount of information has been saved from the wreck. Ellis and Orsmond in Tahiti, Gill in Mangaia, and Laval in Mangareva are notable examples of missionaries who recorded invaluable information that would otherwise have been lost forever. However, native converts and pastors had no outside world to which to report and ruthlessly destroyed material objects and suppressed teachings which to them had no intrinsic interest. Hence it is that little information concerning the past has been preserved on islands which were converted by native missionaries and teachers. Extremely little is known of the myths and early traditional history of the Austral Islands, presumably because of the complete break in continuity that followed early proselytizing.

The Austral Islands - Rimatara, Rurutu, Tupua'i (Tubuai), and Raivavae - lie about 400 miles south of Tahiti. These islands are volcanic and continue the chain of the Cook Islands toward the southeast. Between Mangaia, the most easterly of the Cook Islands, and Rimatara is the small uninhabited atoll of Maria (Hull Island) which may have served as a landmark and resting place on voyages between the Austral and Cook groups. These volcanic islands with fairly high mountain ranges and fertile valleys were fit lands upon which the early settlers could develop the culture they brought with them. All the cultivable food plants, including the breadfruit and coconut, were introduced. From what little we know, it appears that the westerly islands, Rimatara and Rurutu, were influenced from the Cook Island and that the easterly islands, Tupua'i and Raivavae, had more contact with Tahiti in the north. The European navigators who first visited these islands toward the end of the eighteenth century reported a large and healthy population. They saw large double canoes, as well as outrigger canoes, made of split planks sewn together, also carved. The canoes were decorated with sea-birds' feathers held under the lashings of the topstrake in apparently the same technique as in New Zealand war canoes. They also had streamers of feathers hanging from the stern and bow pieces. The Raivavae paddles are often erroneously attributed to Mangaia in the Cook Islands because they have some decorative motifs that are similar to those on Mangaian ceremonial adzes. However, the Mangaian paddles are of quite different shape. Circles, curves, and female figures which occur on the Raivavae paddles were never used in Mangaian art.

Another extraordinary "curio" that is common in museums is the fully carved object labeled as a food scoop. It is made from a single piece of wood with the body shaped like an elongated bowl and the long handle shaped and carved like a paddle shaft. The manufacture of these scoops is probably post-European, for in the old Polynesian culture there was no use for a food scoop and such objects are found nowhere else in Polynesia. The method of cooking in the earth oven did snot permit of the making of the soup or stews. A friend has suggested that the natives got the idea for a ladle from visiting foreign ships, and, by combining a bowl and a paddle handle, produced as article which was popular in the European market. There is less recorded information about the Austral Islands than about any other inhabited group in Polynesia. In order to supply a serious want, the Bishop Museum's Bayard Dominick Expedition of 1920-22 included the Austral Islands and Rapa in its scope of investigation. Owing to irregularities of schooner service, the two western islands could not be visited but Robert T. Aitken was landed at Tupua'i and J. F. G. Stokes at Raivavae. Though valuable information was obtained by both field workers, the material relating to myths of creation and early settlement was found to be meager.

In Tupua'i, Hiro, the navigator so well known in Tahiti, the Cook Islands, and New Zealand, is mentioned as a visitor and an ancestor. In Raivavae, Hiro is an ancestor called Hiro-mata-atua (Hiro-of-the-divine-face) who married a woman named Evari'i, the daughter of the god Tane, by whom he had a son named Maui. In order to trace the relationship of Austral Islands gods and heroes to those in other parts of Polynesia, it is necessary to digress for a moment to mention the changes in the language and the local use of glottals. In the Australs the k and ng are dropped as in Tahiti. In Rurutu the h also is dropped as in the Cook Islands. Evari'i, through fusing two vowels and dropping a k, is really Eva-ariki (Eva-the-high-chiefess). Eva is the Austral Islands form of Eve, and I suspect that the name has been borrowed from Genesis to replace a Polynesian lady whose name had been forgotten. When the great demigod Maui can be given such a unique parentage, anything may have happened in the period of mental aphasia that followed the desertion of the Polynesian gods. Maui, in spite of his new lineage, was credited with several deeds belonging to his full list of accomplishments. In Tupua'i a fragment refers to Maui's building a temple, to his fishing up of various islands, and to his introduction of fire. He likewise snared the sun, but the tale is quaintly distorted.

Maui and his mother had no means of cooking their food so they put out their ration of taro for the sun to cook. The sun, however, travelled so quickly across the sky that when evening came the food was still uncooked. Maui and his mother ate it raw with the result that their mouths and throats were irritated. Chemists tell us now that taro contains crystals of oxalic acid which irritate the mucous membrane but which are broken down by cooking. Maui, irritated both mentally and physically, proposed to snare the sun with a strong rope and tether it until their food was cooked. His mother advised him to consult her father Tane, who lived somewhere in the upper spaces. Maui visited his grandfather and retailed his grievance and his scheme of snaring the sun whereby their food might be cooked. It will be noted that in many myths the story has been composed backwards. We naturally wonder how Maui knew that their food would be rendered more palatable by cooking. Perhaps the food had been cooked by the sun in the long days of summer and had not been in the short days of winter. The "perhaps" is mine, for the myth does not offer this suggestion. Tane, who had usurped the invidious position of Mahuika, god of fire, said, "Your scheme is altogether impracticable because the sun cannot be snared. The solution to your problem may be solved by a way other than that of attempting the impossible. I will show you." 

He took a piece of dry wood and broke it into two pieces. Leaving one piece stationary on the ground as the 'aunoti, he rubbed the sharp point of the other piece until a long groove was worn by the pressure. As the groove deepened, the fine particles of wood were collected in a little heap at the forward end of the groove. The movements increased in rapidity and the heat caused by the friction made the heap of wood dust smoulder and smoke. Tane quickly turned the lighted dust onto a bunch of dry fiber that he had in readiness and, by waving the bunch to and fro, the fiber caught alight and blazed into flame. The lighted kindling was laid on the ground, small pieces of wood were deftly placed over it, and then larger pieces were added. Before Maui's startled eyes, the first fire he had ever seen blazed merrily. Take took hold of his grandson's hand and placed it briefly over the flame to instruct him in the properties of the new element that had been stored in the growing trees by the sun. Thus by the ritual of "Burnt fingers" Maui was instructed in the method of producing fire by means of the Polynesian fire plow. Tane proceeded with his instructions. He dug a shallow hole in the ground, built a fire within it, and placed stones as large as a closed fist above the wood. By the time the wood had burned down, the heat had been relayed on to the stones which became red hot. The stones were levelled to form a bed for the uncooked food which was placed upon them, and the whole was covered over with leaves. After some time, the leaves were removed and the food was found to be cooked. Thus was demonstrated the simple form of cooking oven that spread throughout Polynesia. Maui's problem was solved.

Tane said, "Return to the lower world and tell your mother how fire may be made and how food may be cooked."

Tane took pity upon Maui because of the long journey before him, so he placed Maui in a sacred coconut which he threw down from the upper sphere. The coconut sped swiftly through space and alighted at The Mahara on the island of Raivavae. It split open, and Maui emerged safely and returned to his mother, to whom he imparted the knowledge he had gained. Somebody is bound to ask why Maui's mother had not learned how to make fire from her father, Tane. The answer is simply that in the disruption of the ancient culture, the names of certain legendary characters have been displaced. By analogy with other Maui legends, it is clear that Maui's mother was not the daughter of Tane and that Maui could not learn the secret of fire from the great god Tane. Another fragment from Raivavae states that Tibauone married Hinahuone, the daughter of Tuareva, a king of the Underworld. Tihauone is a confused form of Ti'i-ahu-one (Tiki-ah-one) and is a distorted memory of Tiki, who is associated in the richer myths with the creation of the first women from earth. The first woman made from earth was Hina, and her name is usually qualified with the worlds ahu (to heap up) and one (earth). The Raivavaean name of the wife of Tiki is Hina-ahu-one, which is proof positive that the old myth of human creation was once known in a fuller and richer form than is indicated by the abbreviated records. The names of Ta'aroa, Tane, and Ro'o occur at the beginning of genealogy lists but Tu is curiously absent. 

The temples of Raivavae, as described by Stokes, are numerous and unique in structure. They had the orthodox rectangular court, but the boundaries were marked by single lines of high basaltic slabs set close together. The middle slabs at the ends were ten to twelve feet high. On the outer side of the slab walls was a neat low curb formed usually of the red tuff. Between the curb and the wall, images of red tuff were set in the ground facing outward. Smaller subsidiary courts were built at the back of the main court. In the most elaborate temples, there was a long paved avenue, flanked on either side of basaltic pillars set at regular intervals, which led to the middle entrance at the front of the main court of the temple. When the temples were being used, they must have been an impressive sight, but unfortunately we have no information as to the form of ritual observed or even as to the names of the gods who were in residence. In all the temples examined by Stokes there was no evidence of any raised platform altar such as we have come to regard as a necessary part of the Polynesian structures. There is one exception, however, at the reputed earliest temple of Te Mahara, the place which served as a landing field for Maui in his mythical flight. It may be that this oldest temple retains an element of an early technique which, in the course of time, was abandoned for what became a local pattern. If people could evolve a local form of paddle design and carvings, why shouldn't they change the architecture of their temples?

In the other three islands, the temples are not only fewer but they do not seem to have reached the standard attained at Raivavae. There are no stone images definitely recorded from the other islands, but on Raivavae several images of red tuff have been found. These are female forms, similar in technique to those carved on the paddles, and may have been more ornamental than religious. Macmillan Brown, in his work already quoted, figures two large images, one 11 to 12 feet and the other 8 to 9 feet high, standing on their original site. The French warship Zelee tried to remove them but failed. Later the images were carried to Tahiti and erected on either side of the path leading to the Papeete Museum. There, in 1935, I was studying them on the morning that the round-the-world tourist ship Stella Polaris berthed at the Papeete wharf. Two American women who had been to the Museum paused to look at the images. One said, "They are similar to the Easter Island images." The other remarked, "I wonder where they are from?" I volunteered the information though we had not been introduced. The first lady transferred her attention from the images to me. With that admirable unconvention acquired by travel, she said, "You are a New Zealander."

"Guilty," I replied. With growing conviction, she pursued, "You are a Maori."

"Guilty again," I admitted.

She continued, "I heard a lecture in New York that was given by a New Zealander and he was a Maori." I ventured a guess and said, "At the English Speaking Union."

"Yes," she answered. "He was a doctor and his name was Doctor Buck."

"Is still is," I apologized. And so New York and the Antipodes were introduced to each other in Tahiti by a stone image that came from Raivavae.

 

The lack of images from Rimatara, Rurutu, and Tupua'i does not mean that they never existed. In 1836, a mission boat from the London Missionary Society's headquarters in Ra'iatea returned from Rurutu laden with "the gods of the heathen." They were publicly exhibited from the pulpit. One, named Aa (Ha), was the chief god of Rurutu. It was carved from wood in human form, four feet high, and the body and head were hollowed out and provided with a lid at the back. The cavity was found to be full of small gods. The missionary, John Williams, stated that no less than twenty-four were taken out, one alter another, and exhibited to public view. What happened to these works of art may be readily guessed; the souls of the wicked were burned in the Underworld, and the wooden gods of the Polynesians were burned in the upper world. So far as I know, the large image of Aa was the only one saved, and it now had sanctuary in the British Museum under the name of Tangaroa-upao-vahu. The image is ornamented with small human figures cut in the solid on its face, body, limbs, and lid. Some of the figures have been carved with the head downward and present a somewhat ludicrous appearance. They remind me of the two tall panels in stone on either side of the entrance to Bath Abbey in England, which represent Jacob's ladder with the angels ascending and descending. The descending angels are upside-down like the inverted figures on Aa. Rapa, on the southeast radial from the center, is the most southerly island in tropical Polynesia and is sometimes included in the Austral Islands. Like the Austral Islands, Rapa had been so neglected that Stokes who went there from Raivavae, found the myths and traditions scanty and confused. The few fragments that were gathered are interesting as remnants of a richer oral literature that was not committed to writing by the early native missionaries who were preoccupied with spreading the new theology.

 

The Reverend Davies, who visited the island in 1826, stated that the religion of Rapa was the same as that of Tahiti but without the parade and show. There were no regular religious structures, but a few stones were regarded as sacred shrines with magic power. No images in stone or wood were found, but the gods Paparua and Poere were represented by material objects. Paparua, neatly made of coconut fiber in the form of a miniature cask two to three inches long, was consulted in war and sickness and was appealed to for turtle. Poere, a stone about one foot long planted in the ground, promoted the fertility of food and the maintenance of spring-water supply. He was evidently the god of artisans, for he was invoked at the launching of canoes and the building of houses. Offerings of fish were made to him to promote recovery of the sick. It may be that Paparua was reminiscent of Papa, the great Earth-mother, and that the Rapa people combined two Papas into the single god, Papa-rua (Papa-the-two). The Rapa dialect differs from that of the other Austral Islands in retaining the k and ng sounds but dropping the h. It has been so affected by late Tahitian contact that one wonders whether or not the god Poere should be Po-kere and thus mean "Dark-night." If so, the name may be a memory of the Cosmic Night that occurs in the creation myths of other islands. Certain it is that Te Tumu, Atea Fa'ahotu, and the great major gods - Tane, Rongo, and Tangaroa - are missing in Rapa.

 

There were a number of minor family gods, and the expression of their wishes or, perhaps, of the wishes of their human mediums conforms to the regular Polynesian pattern. there was apparently no organized priesthood, which may account for the meager mythology. The widely spread terms tohunga and taura, as applied to priests, are lacking in the dialect, and the local term of tangata-kai-pure (man-who-ate-prayers) seems an apology. Human origin, though abbreviated, in interesting. The first man to appear on Rapa was Tiki, who came from 'Avaiki. He married a woman of Rapa, who gave birth to two daughters. In the Biblical story of human creation, we learn that the primary couple had two sons, Cain and Abel. When Cain slew his brother, Abel, it seemed that the end had come, but Cain took unto himself a wife from the land of Nod, whereby the human species was continued. I have no explanation for the presence of a woman on uninhabited Rapa, unless Rapa may be a Polynesian form for the land of Nod. Tiki's two daughters, while stooping to gather clams, were touched by the burrowing organ of a clam, which represented the phallus of Tiki. They both became pregnant, and one gave birth to a son, the other to a daughter. The son, named Tama-tiki (Son-of-Tiki), married his cousin, and from them the people of Rapa were descended. In my creation myth that stops short at a single male and a single female, incest must occur. The Polynesians recognized this biological fact and, in the creation myths of most island groups. Tiki commits incest directly with a daughter. Rapa departs from the pattern in that the incest is cloaked through the medium of a clam. On Rapa, as in Rarotonga and the Austral Islands, we might expect to find a mention of the great navigator, Hiro. Although the local form 'Iro occurs, it is without clear detail. There seems little doubt, however, that Hiro was one of the outstanding navigators of the thirteenth century and that from the Society Islands he sailed to the various islands lying to the east, southeast, south, and southwest. Though he never reached New Zealand, his fame was carried to that far-off land by his descendants who emigrated from central Polynesia in the fourteenth century.

 

Though the myths and traditions of Rapa have been so poorly transmitted, it is comforting to find that Vancouver, who rediscovered Rapa in 1791, has a word of praise about material things. He was greatly struck with the canoes of that island, which carried crews of twenty-five to thirty men. They had carved stern pieces which were raised, and Vancouver wrote, "The mind is filled with admiration at their ingenuity and persevering industry" - rare words of praise to fall from the lips of a non-Polynesian. Rapa is too cold for the breadfruit, coconut, and plantain to grow. The pig, dog, and fowl were somehow left behind by the early discoverers, but the ubiquitous rat managed to stow away in some early ship. The food plants present include the taro, banana, sweet potato, yam, and mountain apple. Taro, fermented in pits in a manner similar to that used for breadfruit in the Marquesas, is the staple food. The fermented taro is cooked in wrapped-leaf packages in the earth oven and then pounded into a paste with stone pounders. The smooth paste is wrapped in ti leaves in bundles that look very like Christmas puddings. The bundles are hung up in the native trees and are a familiar sight in the village landscape.

 

The women outnumber the men and do most of the hard work, tending the cultivations, carrying home the supplies of food, and cooking. They even wait on the men at meal times and put the food into their mouths. Macmillan Brown, on seeing this usage, came to the conclusion that the men were taboo and could not touch the food with their own hands. This interpretation was evidently influenced by his acquaintance with a New Zealand custom in which individuals, owing to religious sanctions, might place themselves under taboo for a certain time. During this time, the taboo person could not touch food with his hands, as food was common (noa). He, therefore, had to be hand fed by a male or female attendant until the taboo period expired. In Rapa, however, the men were not taboo, as Brown stated, but were simply waited upon by their womenfolk, according to a usage that had been established locally. A similar usage existed in Mangareva. Rapa has suffered as much, if possible, from European contact as have the Marquesas. The island is small, being but 5.7 miles from north to south and 5 miles from east to west. It is indented by fifteen bays, of which Tairirau Harbour, on the east, penetrates beyond the middle of the island. Vancouver, in 1791, estimated the population at 1,300, and missionary Davies, in 1826, estimated it at 2,000. But the ship that bore the gospel to Rapa in 1826 also carried the germs of epidemic diseases. Moerenhout, who visited Rapa in 1834, stated that the population had been reduced to 300, as the result of introduced venereal and epidemic diseases. As if their cup was not full to overflowing, in 1863 smallpox and cholera broke out aboard a ship that had been chartered to return people taken from Tonga, Tokelau, and Manihiki by a Peruvian slaver. The captain, to save his own worthless life and that of his equally valueless crew, dumped his sick freight on Rapa. The Rapa people died like flies, and when Hall visited the island a year later, the surviving people of Rapa numbered only 130.

 

In the halcyon days before European contact, the people of Rapa had adjusted themselves successfully to their peculiar environment. The cultivable lands were fully utilized in the growing of taro, and by the system of preserving the taro in pits the people were enabled to provide reserve supplies. The early families had developed into groups which became tribes and subsequently divided into subtribes. The tribes were named after specific ancestors with the prefix Ngate (Ngati) and Nai, on the same pattern as prevailed in New Zealand. As the population increased, conflicts occurred, as has happened the world over. The people built fortified villages on commanding ridges and mountain peaks, not only for defense but in order that they could overlook their cultivations and watch the neighbouring tribes. The razor-backed mountain ridges with steep subsidiary ridges leading up to them were ideal positions for defense, because they prevented a massed attack on the a wide front. A ridge with a peak was selected and the summit was levelled off to form the topmost terrace. The sides were cut down with digging implements of pointed wood and rude adzes of dyke basalt, until a second terrace could be formed of sufficient width to accommodate houses. The military architects of the day continued the plan of successive terraces which necessitated high walls at the back. The razorback on the ridge leading to the peak was levelled off and the sides were cut to increase the steepness against assault. Deep ditches were cut across the main ridge on either side of the citadel to improve the defenses. On the secondary ridges leading up to the main fort, further terraces were dug to provide house accommodation and outposts for defense. The back walls of the terraces, particularly near the citadel, were further reinforced with stone slabs carefully built in to protect the earth face against the detrition of wind and rain. Projecting stones formed footholds by which the defenders could retreat from terrace to terrace. Within the fort itself were hollows to catch rain as reserve water supply in event of attack. Each fort, however, had some near-by spring on the lower slopes, which were guarded.

 

On the topmost terrace of the citadel peak, the high chief resided. In war he was the commanding officer. An attacking party could advance by one ridge only, and from his vantage ground the chief could call up his forces to concentrate on the section attacked. Fighting was hand-to-hand, and thus the citadel which commanded all points of the compass was the ideal position for the commander of the defenses. The hill forts of Rapa, termed pare or pa, were qualified by maunga (mountain) or tamaki (war). It may be that the peculiar geographical formation of Rapa suggested this unique development of fortification. In principle the Rapan forts resemble the pa forts of New Zealand. Had it been my fortune to visit Rapa, I might, perchance, have sensed an affinity that personal contact may convey with more subtlety than the written words of others. The hill forts of Rapa were the material expression of a warlike people. the highest fort of Karere was at an elevation of 1,460 feet. A perfect model of defensive engineering was Te Vaitau at the height of 840 feet. I dreamed a dream about a stone stadium in the Marquesas, but I dare not dream again. Look at the picture of Te Vaitau, people its terraces with armed warriors, harken to the shell trumpets calling defiance, and dream of Rapa for yourselves.

THE SOUTHERN ANGLE

My mother was a full Maori of the Ngati-Mutunga tribe of North Taranaki in New Zealand. She had the arresting name of Ngarongo-ki-tua (Tidings-that-reach-afar). I hope for the sake of her memory that, by gathering tidings from afar, I may be worthy the honour of being her son. She was the first-born of the senior family of the Ngati-Aurutu subtribe, and I absorbed pride of race from her. Her only brother was named Te Rangi Hiroa after an ancestor who had lived two centuries before. I was told that Hiroa was a contraction of Ihi-roa and that the name meant the Heavens-streaked-with-the-long-rays-of-the-sun. My uncle became seriously ill during a visit to a distant village and commanded that he be moved in order that he might die at home. Unfortunately he died on the way, and I was given my first name of Te Mate-rori (Death-on-the-road), a wretched name because "rori" is the modern Maori form of road. I was greatly relieved on reaching my teens to be given my adult name of Te Rangi Hiroa in more classical memory of my uncle.  My father belonged to a north of Ireland family that lived in Armagh, so I am entitled to his family name. I am binomial, bilingual, and inherit a mixture of two bloods that I would not change for a total of either. I mention this brief family history to show that from my birth I was endowed with a background for the study of Polynesian manners and customs that no university could have given me. My mother's blood enables me to appreciate a culture to which I belong, and my father's speech helps me to interpret it, inadequate though the rendering be at times.

My maternal grandmother was a wonderful old lady. She had lived so long that she had acquired more wrinkles than anyone I have ever seen. She had seen many of our tribe die, and she had mourned over them all. It used to be the custom when wailing over near of kin to incise the skin with a flake of obsidian so that the flow of blood and tears might mingle to the fullest expression of grief. Sometimes charcoal was rubbed into the cuts and left indelible marks. My grandmother's breast was covered with such grief marks, and for her very dear ones, she had made the record on her cheeks. I was particularly proud of her tattooing. She had the orthodox pattern for women on both lips and her chin was covered with an artistic curved design. But in addition she had beautifully executed double spirals on either nostril and short curved lines on her forehead that arched upward from the inner angles of her eyes. When I was chastised at home for some error in conduct, I ran away to the Maori village and took refuge with my grandmother. She told me tales of happenings in her girlhood, and I learned tribal history from her as well as from my mother.

When I went to Te Aute College after my mother's death, I spent some of my vacations with my tribe. In spite of the protestations of my relatives with houses of sawn timber, I insisted on sleeping beside my grandmother on the earthen floor of her native hut with its walls of tree-fern slabs. She grew her own tobacco outside her hut, and, as she smoked her pipe beside her charcoal fire in the evenings, she told her college grandson stories that it was a privilege to hear. She had been an eyewitness of so much that had passed that she belonged to another age. With each parting, she wept the longer, and we both realized that the end of our companionship was approaching nearer and nearer. She has passed away to join her daughter in the Polynesian spirit land, and I would that our myths of that land were true. Her name was Kapua-kore which means Cloudless, an apt name for one who in her long life brought no cloud of sorrow to any living soul.

After graduating in medicine in 1904 and spending a year as a hospital interne, I obeyed the call of my blood and joined the Government service as a Medical Officer of Health to the Maoris. I visited various villages and was received in all with the courtesy that still takes the form of old time ceremony.  The people gathered in the open space before the village assembly house, and tears were shed for those who had recently passed away. The Maori tangi (weeping) and the Irish wake are similar in fundamental principle, and on such occasions my two halves could unite as one. Species of welcome couched in archaic form were made by the local chiefs to which I replied as best I could. Five years' study at a medical school with a year in hospital had made a serious break in the continuity of my Maori education. My Maori words unconsciously flowed along an English channel of grammar, and I was horribly conscious that I was talking to my own people like a foreigner. The speeches were followed by the ceremony of pressing noses with all and sundry. This form of greeting, at one time universal throughout Polynesia, now survives as a regular custom only in New Zealand. It says much for our generation that we never tried to evade the custom because we did not wish to give pain to our elders. After these nasal contacts, the taboo of the stranger was lifted and one could mix freely and talk informally.

The visitor was the guest of the village, and the best food was provided for him during his stay in the tribal guest house. Different districts have local foods which are a great asset to the people not only for their own sustenance but for the entertainment of their visitors. Fish, crustaceans, and shellfish in the coastal districts, eels and whitebait in the river regions, pigeons and parrots in the forst areas; all had their particular season when they were at their best. My own district was famous for the lamprey eels in June or July. The sea eggs (echinoderms) were fat at Te Araroa when the golden flowers of the kowhai blossomed in spring. Sharks came into the fishing grounds off the Taranaki coast when the new growth of bracken fern began to straighten out its curled shoots. I learned to know the food seasons of the various parts of the island, and I tried to make my visits of inspection coincide with the native food calendar, not only because I liked native foods but because native hosts were so genuinely pleased to lay before their guests the foods for which their district was noted. Economic embarrassment was avoided, and host and guest shared a common satisfaction. 

I early realized that to gain the interest and support of chiefs and leaders older than myself, I must overcome the handicap of youth by an exhibition of Maori scholarship that would not only earn their respect but indicate clearly where my sympathies lay. I commenced an intensive study of Maori mythology, legends, traditions, and the details of customs, manners, and etiquette. I learned the pattern of ceremonial speech and the forms of metaphor and simile that went with it. The more a speech is illustrated with quotations from myths and ancient traditions, the better a Maori audience likes it. Old songs and incantations with an apt bearing on the subject matter are necessary because a speech is regarded as incomplete without them. I was never good at rendering songs, but I acquired a host of chants and incantations to illustrate speeches. I combed the printed literature, and I learned at first-hand from the experts of various tribes who were only too pleased to impart their knowledge to an appreciative student of their own blood. With others of the younger leaders, I became a homemade anthropologist - not to obtain a university degree, but to gain an inner understanding of our own people in order that we might the better help them through the problems and trials created by civilization.

In the Maori houses of learning, the creation of the world was recorded in evolutionary stages in genealogies which were recited and taught by experts. Such teaching was referred to as the Kauae-runga (Upper-jaw), in contrast to knowledge of things terrestrial termed Kauae-raro (Lower-law). Things celestial commenced appropriately enough with the Void (Kore) and went on to the unknown, personified as Night (Po). Elsdon Best, in describing this early period, says, "The unknown aecons of time before the heavens, earth, and heavenly bodies came into being was the Po-intangible, unknown, unseen, unknowable. "The quotation sums up the position, but the Po period cannot be dismissed lightly by one general term. It was drawn out to a count of ten Nights or given various descriptive terms, such as Po-tangotango, Po-kerekere, and Po-tinitini, names that were used by the philosophers at Taputapu-atea in central Polynesia. The Unknown was followed by periods of growth that were expressed in terms of plant and human development. The botanical evolution was personified as the Tap-root, Side-roots, Rootless, Stem, Branches, Twigs, and Leaves. Human evolution was personified as Conception, Swelling, Birth, Mind, Thought, and Desire, which preceded the two primary parents, the Sky-father and the Earth-mother. We have already met the primary father under the name of Space rendered as Atea, Vatea, and Wakea. In New Zealand, he appears as Rangi (Sky) which nevertheless is Space. The primary mother retains her original name of Papa (Earth-stratum) which is qualified as Papa-tu-a-nuku, the Stratum-which-assumed-the-form-of-land.

Rangi and Papa clave together and children were born to them. Some recitals list no less than seventy children who were confined between the bodies of their parents, and the closeness of Rangi to papa precluded space and light. Some of the children, led by Tane, planned the separation of their parents in order that they might stand erect and that light might be admitted into their world. The plan was bitterly opposed by Whiro, who led the first conservative party in the South Seas. Tane's policy received the majority vote and was carried into effect. The Maoris seem to have lost Ru, the Propper-up-of-skies, so the task of pushing the Sky-father up into his present position devolved upon Tane. He tried pushing with his hands in vain, and then stood on his head and pushed with his feet. Trees, which are the children of Tane, represent the position of their parent, for Maori myth says that their heads are down in the ground and their feet push upward. By Tane's effort, the Sky-father was raised on high, the Earth-mother remained below, and light came flooding in the space between. The tears of Rangi fall as rain upon the bosom of the Earth-mother, and Papa's grief at their separation rises as mist. Some of the children of Rangi and Papa became the major gods of the Maori pantheon, as they were in other parts of Polynesia. Tane, the most powerful, presided over forests and bird life. Tangaroa was the god of the sea and fish. Tu had the portfolio of war. Rongo directed horticulture and peace. Raka gave way to the local Tawhirlmates as director of winds and rain. A department of uncultivated food to include the local fern root was created, and Haumea was placed in charge. Whiro, who led the opposition against the separation of Earth and Sky, went off in a huff to the Underworld to abide in the darkness that he preferred. The characters Te Tumu and Fa'ahotu, who were associated with other cosmogonies, are missing in New Zealand. Like their island kinsmen, the Maoris defied certain ancestors and created lesser spirits from family abortions and miscarriages as need arose. 

The creation of man was associated with the god Tane and with Tiki. In some myths, Tiki was the first man, but in others he was regarded as a personification of the procreative powers of Tane. Tane, having hung the stars in their places and given the sun and the moon their appointed courses, sought for the human element to people the earth. With the advice of his colleagues, he molded some red earth at Kurawaka into the form of a woman. The figure was vitalized into the first living woman and named Hine-ahu-one, the Earth-formed-maid. Ancient chants deal with the primary ignorance of the sexual act, but ignorance was eventually overcome and Tane took the Earth-formed-maid to wife. A daughter named the Dawn-maid, on learning that Tane was her own father, retired to the Underworld where she exercised a beneficent care over the souls of mankind who ultimately sought that place of abode. The evolutionary pattern described is simple and straightforward. It appears to have been the version evolved by the priests at the religious seminary at Opoa in Ra'iatea at the time that the Maori ancestors left the central area. But, just as the priests of Opoa later changed their theology to make Ta'aroa the Creator, so some of the schools in New Zealand also elaborated their beliefs to include a creator of all things. This exalted personage was Io, who created all the processes of nature and caused the already existing gods to be. He was given various titles of which Io-matua-kore (Io-the-parentless) indicates that he himself was the very beginning. The old theology had a sky of ten successive levels, but the new version added two more and placed Io in residence in the highest heaven. He was provided with a house named Rangiatea, and the assembly place before it was named Te Rauroha. A staff of Celestial Maids (Mareikura) was provided, and Guardians (Pou-tiriao) were appointed to the different floors which were given individual names. Messengers were engaged to carry on communication between the upper sphere and the major gods.

As the name Io has some resemblance to the Hebrew form of Jehovah, some have thought that the cult of Io was evolved after contact with Christian teaching. However, references to Io occur in the native literature that was composed before the Old Testament was introduced into New Zealand. An example is the lament of an old chief, composed over two hundred years ago for a favourite grandchild, in which he directs the path her soul should take:            

     Grasp with thy hand the guiding vine

     By which the god Tane ascended to the highest heaven,

     That thou mayest be welcomed by the Celestial Maids

     Assembled on the courtyard of Te Rauroha

     And so enter within the palace of Rangiatea.

     Then and only then shall all desire for this world cease,

     Ah little maid of mine.

In Tahitian myth there is an account of a war between Tane and Hiro. The Maori theologians have introduced this contest into the myth of Io. Tane set out to obtain the three baskets of knowledge from Io in the twelfth heaven, but Whiro by an alliance with Tawhiri-matea arrayed against Tane the forces of rain, hail, winds, and intense cold. He also let loose the various forms of disease grouped together under the name of Maiki. Tane overcame them all and so the knowledge of good, of evil, and of ritual were brought down to this world of ours and transmitted to mankind through the ancient houses of teaching. Passing on to the period of legendary heroes, we have the widespread story of the Maui family and the fishing-up of Mauri brothers. The youngest Maui by magic art caught his hook in the land beneath the sea. In spite of the protests of his brothers, Maui hauled up a huge land fish. The fish was the North Island of New Zealand, and the canoe was raised high on a protuberance that became Mount Hikurangi. Maui's hook is represented by the curve of the coast line of Hawkes Bay between Mahia Penninsula and Cape Kidnapper. The fish, termed the fish-of-Maui (The Ika-a-Maui, was likened in shape to a sting ray. The southern end represents the head, the western extension of Taranaki and the eas