Tama is about five feet ten inches in height. He is broad and square, very muscular, and without an inch of fat on him. His body is long and his legs short; the usual Maori characteristic. His face bears the elaborate moku that denotes his rank, and is without hair. The hair of his head is grizzly; but his features, the shape of his head, and the expression of his eyes, bespeak an intelligence superior to that of many Europeans who come in contact with him.
Tama visits us very frequently, and often brings his wife with him. She is a pleasant, buxom body, with a contented smile always on her face. Though not young, being probably between thirty and forty, she has not yet grown at all hag-like, as Maori women generally do. She dresses cleanly and nicely—cotton or chintz gowns being her usual wear—but she leans to an efflorescence of colour in her bonnet, and has a perfect passion for brilliant tartan shawls. I think I once saw her at the Otamatea races in a blue silk dress. But, both she and her husband have discarded all the feathers and shells and pebbles that are purely native adornments.
Astute and intelligent as Tama really is, it is, of course, to be expected that he cannot comprehend all the novelties of civilization. His deportment is always admirable, and he would carry himself through a drawing-room without any sensible gaucherie. He would be calm, composed, and dignified among any surroundings, however strange to him; only his keen and roving eyes would betray his internal wonder. Like Maoris in general, he is critically observant of every little thing among his Pakeha friends, but, with true native courtesy, endeavours to hide from you that he is so. But the extraordinary mixture of grave intelligence and childish simplicity in him is perpetually leading to very quaint little incidents.
One day, when routing among the "personals" I had brought with me from England, I discovered at the bottom of my chest an umbrella. Now, in England, I suppose most people consider an umbrella as quite an indispensable article of attire, and even in colonial cities its use is by no means uncommon; but I need hardly say that in the bush such a thing is never seen.
I brought out my relic of other days, and displayed it to the boys in the shanty. It was received with great applause, and I was unmercifully chaffed. It pleases our community to regard all the comforts and luxuries of a more complete civilization as effeminacies; and it is the received theory among us that we live the purest and highest life, having turned our backs upon all the corrupting influences of an effete, old world.
There is among us a party, headed by O'Gaygun, who take the position of ultra-conservatives; the object of their conservatism being the keeping alive of all the most primitive usages of the bush. To them anything new is an insult; the introduction of imported comforts and appliances a horrible iniquity. It will be remembered how fierce was O'Gaygun's wrath on the occasion when forks and spoons were brought into the shanty. Now, his sublime indignation was roused to the utmost at the spectacle of such an outrageous incongruity as an umbrella, in the pure and holy atmosphere of our shanty. An umbrella! Did it not convey an instant recollection of all the worst emasculating tendencies from which we had come out? Why, it was almost as bad as that acme of horrors, a chimney-pot hat!
"Smash it! Burn it!" he shouted. "Mother av Moses! f'what nixt?"
However, it was eventually decided that I should give the umbrella to old Tama, it being a handsome one, with carved ivory handle, silver mounting and crest, etc. This would ensure the removal of the obnoxious invention from the shanty; and, moreover, so O'Gaygun declared, the vile thing would be an acceptable addition to a museum of Pakeha curiosities, which, he said, Tama was collecting.
The next time that Tama visited us I formally presented him with the umbrella, giving him the minutest instructions concerning the spreading and furling of it. He had taken a strong fancy to me; and was much pleased with the gift. His first inquiry was, naturally, what I expected to get out of him by such a splendid gift. Knowing that it would be futile to attempt to persuade him that I gave the thing freely, and without expecting any return, I said that, although the umbrella was worth a merè ponamu,[6] at least, yet that I should be satisfied if he would give me a kitful of taro in exchange.
This thoroughly jumped with the old man's humour. Not only did he shake hands with me, but he also accorded me the nose salutation. The rubbing of noses is now disused; and when a Maori confers it on a Pakeha it means an extra display of feeling, almost a making brotherhood. It was the highest honour old Tama could pay me.