CHAPTER XXXII
THE MAORIS
THIS morning I stood and watched a crowd of Maori girls and boys swimming together in one of the steaming pools near my hotel at Rotorua. The pool was about twenty feet square, and in it were a dozen children as naked as the day they were born. Steam rose from the water, and in the rays of the morning sun the brown bodies shone through the mist. One of the bathers was a girl of fourteen. She was pouring water over herself with a bucket, when I threw a silver sixpence into the pool. With all the rest she dived for it, finally emerging with the coin in her mouth. As I walked on to other pools I saw here and there the heads of men and women floating, as it were, upon the water. They were Maoris, but whether they were taking this method of getting warm or merely having their morning baths I do not know.
I have been into many of the Maori houses. They are a sort of cross between an Indian hut and an English tenant cottage. About Rotorua many of them are built directly over the steaming earth, and have warm bathing pools behind them. In this part of New Zealand old Mother Earth is kind to her Maori daughters; she does their cooking for them. They never have to make a fire or put the kettle on. Each woman has a steam cooker of her own, always at the right temperature. This cooker is usually an old wooden box with the lid knocked out and slats nailed on the bottom, sunk into the earth over a steam hole. The food is dropped in, an old piece of carpet or cloth is thrown over the top of the box, and in due time the meal is cooked.
Cooking is done also in the boiling pools. Potatoes are pared and put into bags made of a network of flax, each holding a quarter or half peck. The bag is dropped into the pool and tied with a string to a stake outside. In a little while the potatoes are ready for eating. Meat may be prepared the same way or it may be put into a bucket and steamed. In fact, the Rotorua Maoris, who now celebrate Christmas in British fashion, cook their plum puddings in these petty volcanoes.
In some places all the villagers cook at one great vat, and in others, such as Whakarewarewa, all do their washing in the same hot pool, the water of which is soft and cleansing.
It is surprising how few Maoris one sees in travelling through New Zealand. According to the last census there are about fifty-two thousand of the aborigines living in the Dominion, most of them on the North Island. The race is more than holding its own, and has increased by about ten thousand persons in the last thirty years. Most of the Maoris are scattered over the country in villages situated on lands reserved for them. They are represented in Parliament by four members, and although subject to the laws of New Zealand, they are governed largely through their own chiefs. The better class dress in European clothes, both men and women affecting bright colours.
No one knows where the Maoris came from, although a number of scientists are convinced that they navigated to the New Zealand islands from Hawaii. Others believe that they originated in Tahiti or Tonga. They have light brown complexions and high cheek bones and their noses are more like those of the Anglo-Saxon than of the North American Indian. The men are of magnificent physique, being tall, broad-shouldered heavyweights, with strong necks, big hands, and big feet. They excel in games, especially in football and other contests where quickness of eye and hand is essential. Nearly all of the men speak English. They are orderly and well-behaved, and even when drunk do not cause as much trouble as do our Indians.
I rather like the Maori women. The older ones are not especially good looking, but they seem well disposed and pleasant. Some of the younger ones are beautiful and many have rosy complexions. They have luxuriant dark hair, heavy eyebrows, and liquid black eyes full of soul. Some of them are clean and nearly all are intelligent. Their beauty vanishes with years. Now and then one sees an old native woman with her chin and lips tattooed, after the ancient fashion. This was a sign of a wife’s submission to her husband. The young women of to-day do not thus mar their good looks.
The Maoris used to be experts in tattooing. In the past both men and women decorated not only their faces but most of their bodies in that way. Every great chief had his face covered with ornamental spirals and designs picturing his exploits in battle and was tattooed on the thighs and hips in patterns that often extended from his knees to his waist, giving him the appearance of having on a pair of neat-fitting trunks.