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Jon Anderson
Dunedin School of Medicine
Otago Medical School
University of Otago
Long ago, the people of this land ate the food that was provided to
them by the gods of the forests, plants, and sea. It was plain and bland,
but it was good and filling. From this variety of food, they grew strong
warriors and mighty wāhine, and they were satisfied.
Then, one day, tūārangi arrived and brought with them things that had
never been seen before: they brought food that had never been tast-
ed and items that couldn’t have been imagined. But the most stunning
of all the things they brought was a little bird, called Huka.
Compared to the other birds of the land, she was most similar to
the cheerful pīwakawaka, but she was white all over with feathers
like the kōtuku. Her song was pleasant and all the hearts that heard
it were warmed.
But, most astonishingly of all, wherever Huka went, the people’s food
became more flavoursome than it had ever been before, and it filled
them with more vigour and vitality. But the spell only lasted as long as
she was in one place, for, just like the excitable pīwakawaka, she never
sat still and darted from one place to the next.
Soon, the people became greedy, and wanted to keep the powers of
Huka’s gift for themselves, and so they devised a plan. They planned
to wait by the stream that Huka drank from when she visited, and
capture her in a woven kete created especially for the occasion.
So, the next time Huka came to visit, they hid behind some harakeke
bushes and waited for her to land. When she did, and began sipping
at the cool water, they jumped out and slammed the kete around her.
At first, she laughed, because that was her nature, but soon she be-
came afraid. They tied the kete shut with muka enchanted with their
strongest magic. Huka knew she would never escape.
That night, the men brought all their families together and had a great
feast, and it was the sweetest meal that any of them had ever tasted.
But while they ate, Huka mourned her fate and sang a song unlike any
song she had ever sung before. It was filled with sorrow and told of
her longing for freedom. As she sang, she slowly withered and died.
No one noticed that she wasn’t singing anymore: they were too busy
eating. But, rather than growing strong from the food enchanted by
Huka’s presence, they grew weak and afflicted by diseases they had
never known before. Men’s legs withered and other men lost sight.
When a young boy, who had been away at the time Huka had been
captured, returned and saw the state of his whānau, he cried, ‘Auē, auē!
What has become of my people?’ He tore at his chest and cried, ‘We
were once a strong and mighty people, and known throughout the lands
for our vitality! And now we have fallen amongst the lowest of the low.’
And then he found the old kete where Huka had died. With strength
borne from his grief, he tore open the bindings and found the remains
of the little bird, who he recognised as belonging to Huka.
‘Oh, my family!’ he cried out again, ‘How could you have been so
short-sighted? Did you not know that Huka’s gift was only sweet because
it never lasted? That her gift was only sweet because it disappeared?
Why have you cursed yourselves by casting her magic over all that you
eat? By her death, you have surely brought this ruin upon yourselves!’
And this is why the disease that Huka brings is called mate huka, which
means the death of Huka, or the disease that Huka brings.
Acknowledgements:
The staff at Te Piki Oranga, Motueka, for welcoming me so well, as
well as to the online Māori Dictionary (maoridictionary.co.nz) for clar-
ification of words, and to He Papa Tikanga course from Te Wānanga
o Aotearoa for the development of my understanding of te Ao Māori.
Correspondence:
Jon Anderson: [email protected]
Jon Anderson
Dunedin School of Medicine
Otago Medical School
University of Otago
Long ago, the people of this land ate the food that was provided to
them by the gods of the forests, plants, and sea. It was plain and bland,
but it was good and filling. From this variety of food, they grew strong
warriors and mighty wāhine, and they were satisfied.
Then, one day, tūārangi arrived and brought with them things that had
never been seen before: they brought food that had never been tast-
ed and items that couldn’t have been imagined. But the most stunning
of all the things they brought was a little bird, called Huka.
Compared to the other birds of the land, she was most similar to
the cheerful pīwakawaka, but she was white all over with feathers
like the kōtuku. Her song was pleasant and all the hearts that heard
it were warmed.
But, most astonishingly of all, wherever Huka went, the people’s food
became more flavoursome than it had ever been before, and it filled
them with more vigour and vitality. But the spell only lasted as long as
she was in one place, for, just like the excitable pīwakawaka, she never
sat still and darted from one place to the next.
Soon, the people became greedy, and wanted to keep the powers of
Huka’s gift for themselves, and so they devised a plan. They planned
to wait by the stream that Huka drank from when she visited, and
capture her in a woven kete created especially for the occasion.
So, the next time Huka came to visit, they hid behind some harakeke
bushes and waited for her to land. When she did, and began sipping
at the cool water, they jumped out and slammed the kete around her.
At first, she laughed, because that was her nature, but soon she be-
came afraid. They tied the kete shut with muka enchanted with their
strongest magic. Huka knew she would never escape.
That night, the men brought all their families together and had a great
feast, and it was the sweetest meal that any of them had ever tasted.
But while they ate, Huka mourned her fate and sang a song unlike any
song she had ever sung before. It was filled with sorrow and told of
her longing for freedom. As she sang, she slowly withered and died.
No one noticed that she wasn’t singing anymore: they were too busy
eating. But, rather than growing strong from the food enchanted by
Huka’s presence, they grew weak and afflicted by diseases they had
never known before. Men’s legs withered and other men lost sight.
When a young boy, who had been away at the time Huka had been
captured, returned and saw the state of his whānau, he cried, ‘Auē, auē!
What has become of my people?’ He tore at his chest and cried, ‘We
were once a strong and mighty people, and known throughout the lands
for our vitality! And now we have fallen amongst the lowest of the low.’
And then he found the old kete where Huka had died. With strength
borne from his grief, he tore open the bindings and found the remains
of the little bird, who he recognised as belonging to Huka.
‘Oh, my family!’ he cried out again, ‘How could you have been so
short-sighted? Did you not know that Huka’s gift was only sweet because
it never lasted? That her gift was only sweet because it disappeared?
Why have you cursed yourselves by casting her magic over all that you
eat? By her death, you have surely brought this ruin upon yourselves!’
And this is why the disease that Huka brings is called mate huka, which
means the death of Huka, or the disease that Huka brings.
Acknowledgements:
The staff at Te Piki Oranga, Motueka, for welcoming me so well, as
well as to the online Māori Dictionary (maoridictionary.co.nz) for clar-
ification of words, and to He Papa Tikanga course from Te Wānanga
o Aotearoa for the development of my understanding of te Ao Māori.
Correspondence:
Jon Anderson: [email protected]