OUR NATIVE NEIGHBOURS.
A great friend of ours, and a near neighbour, is Tama-te-Whiti, the old Maori. He is not the chief of the Ngatewhatua, but as he comes of the royal stock he is a chief. He belongs to the caste styled tana, or chieftains, a degree above that of rangatira, or simple gentlemen-warriors. In the old feudal times—for the ancient Maori system may be so designated—Tama would have held a delegated authority over some portion of the tribe, just as a Norman baron did in the elder world.
Now the tribe is very small, having been almost exterminated by the Ngapuhi fifty years ago. Three or four families form the section over which Tama presides. But civilization and European colonization have abolished the old order of things, so that even a head chief's authority is now more nominal than real.
In his youth Tama was a warrior, having taken part in the battle which ended with the affair at Marahemo, as described in the previous chapter. A fugitive from his own district, his hopes of one day becoming a lordly ruler over some large kainga of his own being shattered by defeat, he fell in with Samuel Marsden, and by that Apostle of New Zealand was converted to Christianity.
So now, in his old age, Tama is a worthy exponent of the new dispensation. Born to warfare, he is now an ordained deacon of the Anglican Church; instead of cannibalism, he has taken to thrifty farming; instead of fighting, he preaches among his countrymen; instead of leading a ferocious taua, he finds himself the venerated pastor of a little community of earnest Christians.
Tama's place is some seven or eight miles away, down the Arapaoa. He has a very comfortable little kainga, a fenced-in enclosure, wherein are raupo wharès built in the best styles of Maori architecture, with little verandahs in front of them, and curiously carved doors and fronts.
Here reside Tama and his wife, and one or two others; while just across the river is a larger kainga, where live the remainder of Tama's flock. Round about his wharès is a plentiful clearing, whereon are to be seen pigs and poultry, a few cattle, and a horse or two. On a well-selected hill-side close by are his cultivations—some few acres of maize, potatoes, kumera, melons, taro, fruit-trees, and so on, surrounded by a strong stake-fence. A few yards below the kainga is the beach, where a capital boat shows that Tama prefers Pakeha workmanship to the native article—a canoe that also lies near. Nets and other matters prove that he reaps a harvest in the water as well as on land.
A very "comfortable" man is our Maori friend, for he has a claim over many hundred acres of good land around, some of which has already been sold to the Pakeha. Much of this is heavily timbered with valuable kauri and puriri. Bushmen cut on his land to a small extent, and pay him a royalty of a pound per tree. We often say, jokingly, that the old fellow must have a tolerably well-filled stocking somewhere.
Tama is amazingly industrious. He and his wife together get through an immense amount of work. The produce of the farm is amply sufficient to provide them with all necessaries. More than that, the surplus produce probably pays for all the groceries, tools, and clothes required by the family. His seventy years weigh lightly on him. He is as strong and active as most men of forty, and is never idle. He fully understands the duty that devolves on him of setting an example to his flock, as well as of preaching to them.
Tama's ordinary costume is much the same as ours, except that he prefers to go barefooted. On Sundays and occasions of state he dons the black cloth and white choker of an orthodox clergyman; but even then he avoids boots. Only on very special occasions, such as when there is a grand gathering at the township, or on the rare occurrence of an English clergyman's visit, only then does Tama put on boots; even then he brings them in his hand to the door of the place of meeting, puts them on before entering, and takes them off with evident relief directly he feels free to go.