From Birth to Death

AS he passed through this world from his birth to his death, the ordinary Maori commoner was little troubled by ceremonial observances. With the chiefly boy or girl, however, the case was very different. Ceremonial began with his birth. Tapu prohibitions surrounded the confined mother. She was segregated from the ordinary life of the village and lived in a temporary hut attended by her female relatives. A priestly expert might be called in to assist her with his incantations. And when a child of high rank was born a big celebration was held. All the members of the sub-tribe came to­gether bringing gifts of food. They assembled at the village meeting ground and sang chants of greeting, welcoming the child to the world of light. A boy child of rank was baptised ceremonially by the priests. He was taken to the nearest stream and sprinkled with water, while his name was pronounced and he was dedicated to Tu, the Maori god of war.

Maori childhood was a happy-go-lucky time. It was a time for fun and play. But many of the youngsters’ games were imitative of the adult activities. Thus the Maori child learned the customs and skills of his tribe in a natural, effort­less way. And his grandfather, resting comfortably in the sun, would amuse the child with tales of tribal history and recite once again the genealogy of famous names that traced the tribe back to the beginning of the world. Then for the adolescent, boy of chiefly rank there was the Maori university. He attended this school of learning for winter after winter until he had well committed to memory the, lore of the living and the lore of the gods.

When the time for marriage arrived a mate was found within the tribe. Elders made a practice of arranging the whole affair, taking care, however,: that bride and groom were not too closely related. Sometimes this family arrangement was celebrated by a feast, but there was rarely any ceremony of I marriage as we know it. Only chiefs had more than one wife. And this was more for show than any­thing else. It proved to the tribe that the chief was really a great chief if he was wealthy enough to provide for two or more wives.

Death came for the Maori as it comes for every mortal. Although the Maori had no fear of the afterworld, he was fearful of sickness and of death itself. The sick person was highly tapu. He was removed from his house and placed in a temporary house of death. His relatives and friends gathered to listen to his last words. Then when death closed the sick one’s eyes, they wailed and chanted fare­wells from the land of the living. The corpse lay in state for days. It was dressed and adorned in fine clothes, surrounded by precious gifts and the sorrowing of fellow-tribesmen.

The body was buried only to be exhumed after some years. The bones were cleaned and taken to the village. There was feast-making and speech-making. With a final farewell, the bones were hidden again in hollow tree or swamp or sand dune. One more life had run its appointed course.