03.02.18 — Tikikupo Marae
Tonight the moon is bright and nearly full, illuminating a thin, patchy sheen of clouds. Beyond that, stars are shining in unfamiliar constellations. I am being serenaded by the evening sounds of the New Zealand countryside. Chirping crickets remind me of home. Other noises — tweets, squawks, cries and calls — are new. I’m keeping an eye out for possums; so far I’ve only spotted a cat. The air is moist and humid, but cool on the skin; refreshing after the stickier daytime temperatures.
I’m settling in to sleep in the trailer of the van I’m driving. I was not, of course, required to sleep in the trailer. After three days in Auckland, the country’s most populated city, I was ready to enjoy the peace and quiet of a good camp out. I crave quiet places… where I can “listen hard to the sounds old Mother Earth still makes all on her own” (to quote Greg Brown). This trailer — parked in back of the rural Māori community center, emptied of luggage, back door propped open wide with a view of the semi-tropical skyline — hits the spot.
Our drive today took us from a seemingly endless series of congested stretches of road out into green, rolling hills spotted with deciduous trees that could be in Minnesota — one even turning orange, with the onset of autumn. Other foliage looked more exotic — ferns, sprawling above-ground root systems, twisting white trunks. Along the roadside were sheep, cows and the occasional horse pasture. I’ve seen a couple horse-racing tracks, apparently a popular sport. Congested four-lane highways eventually narrowed to two-lane roads and then, again, to the gravel driveway we took up to the compound where we’re staying.
My day started far too early, at 4:30am, after picking up my fellow trip leader Tom at the airport last night. He flew in from Perth, Australia. We couldn’t get to bed soon enough, since we were due back at the airport before dawn to meet our Norwegian students. Their time-zone adjustment was even more severe than ours, but walking into the terminal these Norskies were plucky as ever. I would learn throughout the coming days how energetic these kids are. They simply do not slow down!
We loaded up their bags in our van trailers and took off. After a stop for groceries we made our way up One Tree Hill in the rain. The site is filled with grazing sheep, fresh and plentiful sheep droppings, and determined joggers deftly hopscotching said droppings on their morning runs. It was overcast, unlike with the first group on Wednesday, but dispositions were sunny. Atop the hill is a tree where we stopped for a group picture (a tradition on these trips) and an obelisk monument erected at the bequest and in the name of a British knight, ostensibly to honor the legacy of the country’s pre-European inhabitants.
Next, a winding drive to a beach for a swim and a sunburn (I’ve heard the ozone layer is at its thinnest in this part of the world). Then, off to the botanical gardens to share a picnic lunch with the birds and take a walk. And after that the long drive out of the city to a morae (the word for a Māori meeting grounds). We will spend two nights at Tikikupo, the hub for the local Māori community near Waitomo, NZ.
Upon arriving we were greeted by a local leader, Huia, who facilitated some elements of a traditional ceremony of welcome (Pōwhiri) for a visiting tribe. We walked through the gate in a line, then were seated in rows, women in front, men in back. The Māori prize oratory, and are in the midst of learning and reclaiming their native tongue. He greeted us in the Māori language, and then in English, establishing that we come as friends, not foes. Then, there was a cultural exchange, each “tribe” offering up a song. The Norwegian students mustered up the courage to sing their National Anthem (“Yes, We Love”) as a group. A prayer was then offered, followed by a warm welcome. The Māori greet each-other with what I have come to know (however politically and factually incorrect) as an “eskimo kiss,” acknowledging each other with the locking of eyes and the meeting of noses and foreheads. This, says Huia, is to symbolize the sharing of breath and of ideas. Because we are strangers who have never been here before we come with our own separate sacredness (tapu), which in this ceremony we honor and then shed, to gather as friends.
The heart of the marae is the ancestral house, the wharenui, which is supposed to resemble a human body with the center truss forming the spine, the rafters a ribcage, carved panels in front the head and arms. In entering into the house members of the Māori are welcomed into the bosom of their ancestors. Paintings and photos of these deceased elders line the walls. The space is both sacred (please, no photos, we were instructed) but also functional — it had been set up with mattresses along the walls for the students to sleep on.
The rest of the compound features a ceremonial grounds, a kitchen and dining hall, an outbuilding used for meetings and sleepovers, and bathing facilities. Many activities take place here; celebrations, community meetings, classes (like the Māori language class taking place the next day) and, in this Marae, the offering of hospitality to visitors like ourselves. Most importantly, said Huia, funerals are conducted here and involve three days of grieving around an open casket, the entire community sleeping each night with the bereaved family members. Māori are allowed to bury their dead on their ancestral lands, which are kept as reserves by the New Zealand government. He pointed down a hill to where some of theirs lay.
After settling into our accommodations we were hungry. It was our first night cooking; some of the Norwegians were quick to volunteer to help make our spaghetti dinner. Tom cooked up some mushrooms. We feasted happily on a simple meal in our humble accommodations. I got a laugh out of watching the students jump as a cricket leaped onto the table from the ceiling. Nothing fancy here, but there is something about a rustic shelter made sacred by the gathering of community in love that brings more comfort to the soul than any five-star hotel ever could.
