Polynesian Mythology · The Legend of Tāwhaki (2/2)

Then she replied, “But what made her go to the skies?” and Tāwhaki answered,

“Her mother came from heaven. She was the daughter of Whatitiri-mātakataka.”

The old lady then pointed to the tendrils, and said to them, “Up there, then, lies your road; but do not begin the ascent so late in the day; wait until tomorrow, for the morning, and then commence to climb up.”

He consented to follow this good advice, and called out to his slave, “Cook some food for us.” The slave began at once to cook food, and when it was dressed, they all partook of it, and slept there that night.

At the first peep of dawn Tāwhaki called out to his slave, “Cook some food for us, that we may have strength to undergo the fatigues of this great journey;” and when their meal was finished, Tāwhaki took his slave, and presented him to Matakerepō, as an acknowledgement of her great kindness to them.

His old ancestress then called out to him, as he was starting, “There lies the ascent before you; lay fast hold of the tendrils with your hands, and climb on; but when you get midway between heaven and earth, take care not to look down upon this lower world again, lest you become giddy, and fall down. Take care, also, that you do not by mistake lay hold of a tendril which swings loose; but rather lay hold of one which, hanging down from above, has again firmly struck root into the earth.”

Just at that moment Karihi made a spring at the tendrils, to catch them, and by mistake caught hold of a loose one, and away he swung to the very edge of the horizon, but a blast of wind blew forth from thence, and drove him back to the other side of the skies; on reaching that point, another strong land wind swept him right up heavenwards, and down he was blown again by the currents of air from above: then just as he reached near the earth again, Tāwhaki called out. “Now, my brother, loose your hands; now is the time!” and he did so, and, lo, he stood upon the earth once more; and the two brothers wept together over Karihi’s narrow escape from destruction. And when they had ceased lamenting, Tāwhaki, who was alarmed lest any disaster should overtake his younger brother, said to him, “It is my desire that you should return home to take care of our families and our dependants.” Thereupon Karihi at once returned to the village of their tribe, as his eldest brother directed him.

Tāwhaki now began to climb the ascent to heaven, and his old ancestress, Matakerepō, called out to him as he went up, “Hold fast, my child; let your hands hold tight.” And Tāwhaki made use of, and kept on repeating, a powerful incantation as he climbed up to the heavens, to preserve him from the dangers of that difficult and terrible road.

At length he reached the heavens, and pulled himself up into them, and then by enchantments he disguised himself, and changed his handsome and noble appearance, and assumed the likeness of a very ugly old man; and he followed the road he had at first struck upon, and entered a dense forest into which it ran, and still followed it until he came to a place in the forest where his brothers-in-law, with a party of their people, were hewing canoes from the trunks of trees; and they saw him, and little thinking who he was, called out, “Here’s an old fellow will make a nice slave for us.” But Tāwhaki went quietly on, and when he reached them he sat down with the people who were working at the canoes.

It now drew near evening, and his brothers-in-law finished their work, and called out to him, “Ho! old fellow there! you just carry these heavy axes home for us, will you?”10 He at once consented to do this, and they gave him the axes. The old man then said to them, “You go on in front; do not mind; I am old and heavy laden; I cannot travel fast.” So they started off, the old man following slowly behind. When his brothers-in-law and their people were all out of sight, he turned back to the canoe, and taking an axe just adzed the canoe rapidly along from the bow to the stern, and lo, one side of the canoe was finished. Then he took the adze again, and ran it rapidly along the other side of the canoe, from the bow to the stern, and lo, that side also was beautifully finished.

He then walked quietly along the road again, like an old man, carrying the axes with him, and went on for some time without seeing anything; but when he drew near the village, he found two women from the village in the forest, gathering firewood, and as soon as they saw him, one of them observed to her companion, “I say, here is a curious-looking old fellow, is he not?” and her companion exclaimed,

“He shall be our slave;” to which the first answered,

“Make him carry the firewood for us, then.” So they took Tāwhaki, and laid a load of firewood upon his back, and made him carry that as well as the axes. So was this mighty chief treated as a slave even by female slaves.

When they all reached the village, the two women called out, “We’ve caught an old man for a slave.”

Then Tangotango exclaimed in reply, “That’s right; bring him along with you then. He’ll do for all of us.” Little did his wife Tangotango think that the slave they were so insulting, and whom she was talking about in such a way, was her own husband, Tāwhaki.

When Tāwhaki saw Tangotango sitting at a fireplace near the upper end of the house, with their little girl, he went straight up to the place, and all the persons present tried to stop him, calling out, “Ho! ho! take care what you are doing. Do not go there; you will become tapued from sitting near Tangotango.” But the old man, without minding them, went rapidly straight on, and carried his load of firewood right up to the very fire of Tangotango.

Then they all said, “There the old fellow is tapu; it is his own fault.” But Tangotango had not the least idea that this was Tāwhaki; and yet there were her husband and herself seated, the one upon the one side, the other upon the opposite side, of the very same fire.

They all stopped in the house until the sun rose next morning; then at daybreak his brothers-in-law called out to him, “Halloa, old man, you bring the axes along, do you hear?” So the old man took up the axes, and started with them; and they all went off together to the forest, to work at dubbing out their canoes. When they reached them, and the brothers-in-law saw the canoe which Tāwhaki had worked at, they looked at it with astonishment, saying, “Why, the canoe is not at all as we left it; who can have been working at it?” At last, when their wonder was somewhat abated, they all sat down and set to work again to dub out another canoe, and worked until evening, when they again called out to the old man, as on the previous one. “Halloa, old fellow, come here, and carry the axes back to the village again.”

As before, he said, “Yes;” and when they started, he remained behind; and after the others were all out of sight he took an axe, and began again to adze away at the canoe they had been working at; and having finished his work, he returned again to the village, and once more walked straight up to the fire of Tangotango, and remained there until the sun rose upon the following morning.

When they were all going at early dawn to work at their canoes as usual, they again called out to Tāwhaki, “Halloa, old man, just bring these axes along with you;” and the old man went patiently and silently along with them, carrying the axes on his shoulder. When they reached the canoes they were about to work at, the brothers-in-law were quite astonished on seeing it, and shouted out, “Why, here again, this canoe, too, is not at all as it was when we left it; who can have been at work at it?” Having wondered at this for some time, they at length sat down and set to again to dub out another canoe, and laboured away until evening, when a thought came into their minds that they would hide themselves in the forest, and wait to see who it was came every evening to work at their canoe; and Tāwhaki overheard them arranging this plan.

They therefore started as if they were going home, and when they had got a little way they turned off the path on one side, and hid themselves in the thick clumps of bushes, in a place from whence they could see the canoes. Then Tāwhaki, going a little way back into the forest, stripped off his old cloaks, and threw them on one side, and then repeating the necessary incantations he put off his disguise, and took again his own appearance, and made himself look noble and handsome, and commenced his work at the canoe. Then his brothers-in-law, when they saw him so employed, said one to another, “Ah, that must be the old man whom we made a slave of, who is working away at our canoe.” But again they called to one another and said, “Come here, come here, just watch; why he is not in the least like that old man.” Then they said amongst themselves, “This must be a demigod;” and, without showing themselves to him, they ran off to the village, and as soon as they reached it they asked their sister Tangotango to describe her husband for them; and she described his appearance as well as she could, representing him just like the man they had seen: and they said to her, “Yes, that must be he; he is exactly like him you have described to us.” Their sister replied, “Then that chief must certainly be your brother-in-law.”

Just at this moment Tāwhaki reappeared at the village, having again disguised himself, and changed his appearance into that of an ugly old man. But Tangotango immediately questioned him, saying, “Now tell me, who are you?” Tāwhaki made no reply, but walked on straight towards her. She asked him again, “Tell me, are you Tāwhaki?”

He murmured “Humph” in assent, still walking on until he reached the side of his wife, and then he snatched up his little daughter, and, holding her fast in his arms, pressed her to his heart. The persons present all rushed out of the courtyards, for the whole place was made tapu by Tāwhaki, and murmurs of gratification and surprise arose from the people upon every side at the splendour of his appearance, for in the days when he had been amongst them as an old man his figure was very different from the resplendent aspect which he presented on this day.

Then he retired to rest with his wife, and said to her, “I came here that our little daughter might be made to undergo the ceremonies usual for the children of nobles, to secure them good fortune and happiness in this life;” and Tangotango consented.

When in the morning the sun arose, they broke out an opening through the end of the house opposite to the door, that the little girl’s rank might be seen by her being carried out that way instead of through the usual entrance to the house; and they repeated the prescribed prayers when she was carried through the wall out of the house.

The prayers and incantations being finished, lightnings flashed from the armpits of Tāwhaki; then they carried the little girl to the water, and plunged her into it, and repeated a baptismal incantation over her.11