To Cast a Spear

(Fifth in a series that starts with Land of the Birds)

Wero ("to cast a spear") is a traditional Māori challenge at a pōhiri, or welcoming ceremony, to ensure that visitors come in peace. It also establishes their steadfastness, and the prowess of the challenging warriors.

Sunday, July 10:

The male members of Nikki's family took her to a Tumunu (brewery) last night, where only women visiting the island are allowed (for local women it would be considered a disgrace). Tumunu sites are in the middle of the jungle, the beer brewed and stored in the hollowed-out trunk of a coconut tree. The brew itself is fermented orange, and generally takes about a week to be ready to drink. Nikki said the beer tasted like fruit punch and she didn't drink much, worried it would be too easy to get drunk. A recording she made sounded like a noisy bar anywhere. Singing, music, laughter.

Meanwhile Jay and I accompanied my family to their Saturday evening prayer meeting, where everyone in the group was asked to share something. When it was my turn, I spoke of my pleasure to come half-way around the world and hear children singing songs I had learned as a child: "Rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham" and "What a friend we have in Jesus." I could barely keep my composure when members of the group sang a welcome song, then filed by, kissing each of us one by one and saying "I love you, in the name of Jesus." Papa Tu also read Psalm 133 in Māori: "How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity. . ." 

Mama has a very clear singing voice, and helped guide me through the hymns in church today. I was also able to follow the hymnal pretty well. She told me later that people watched my lips and were happy to know I was singing in Māori.

After church there was a meeting for women only. This involved a combination of individual responses to today's bible text and spontaneous dancing, usually started by an older woman. Mama says they call this woman, Mama Mika, their "comic." I was invited to dance, and tried to imitate the hula-like movements, which generated much laughter.

Though some Earthwatch members modeled traditional island dresses made for them by their Mamas, most of the local women wore modern dress to church. All them have brimmed hats, and Mama loaned me a white one with white ribbon trim. She had hand-woven this hat, heavy enough to withstand today's strong winds. When I commented on the winds' force, Mama said her parents were in a hurricane before she was born that was so terrible all the houses and trees were flattened. People survived only by running into the valley below.

Maru

I am slowly learning the names of the children. Today after church, 5-year-old Maru took my hand walking home. Her mother, Mama's sister, is Rongo. In addition to Mama and Papa's son Newton, their daughter is Miimetua, and they have a "feeding child" (adopted) who is actually their niece, named Ngatokorua. Other nieces are Tau and--born in New Zealand--Jennifer and Darlene.

Returning from a walk after church, I met a young woman from New Zealand as she was leaving our house. She's here to study local music in preparation for a Master's degree in music, and was seeking Papa Tu's permission to tape record his family's traditional challenge to distinguished visitors. Though she'd tried to convince him it might otherwise be lost to posterity, he would not give permission. I asked Papa about this, and he said it is a welcome greeting allowed only to his family. I've seen him willingly agree to other requests, so I know this is a real family secret.

Mama making tapa cloth.

This afternoon after lunch, our Earthwatch senior investigator Yosi Sinoto came by to find out who in Atiu is most skilled at making tapa cloth from ava bark, and Papa pointed to Mama. She showed us a photograph where she is pounding the cloth over a log. Yosi said Hawaiian Air will pay her airfare and hotel for a week in Honolulu, plus $75 a day. In return, she will present at a two-day workshop demonstrating and answering questions about this traditional method.

Papa, trained by his father in the traditional ways, answered many of Yosi's questions and is negotiating to accompany Mama. He showed us a hand-knotted fishnet used to catch flying fish in the old way. Papa is now the only one on Atiu who can make an akeikei (fish-catching basket) in the traditional manner because none of the young ones want to learn how. He also spoke of picking anani (oranges) as a boy and rowing a thousand cases at a time out to the ship, because the reef is too dangerous for ships to dock at the wharf. Mama said the pickers would climb the first orange tree, then leap from tree to tree by the branches.