The Maori Loved his

Land and His Tribe

IT is easy to tell of Maori life from the outside, as it were; to tell of Maori games and weapons, of fishing and cultivation. It is hard to recapture the life of the old-time Maori who did Maori things and thought Maori thoughts. For there was a flesh-and-blood Maori man and woman, in spite of all our books—human beings like ourselves who lived and laughed and loved or worried and grieved in the little village by the seashore, or in the hamlet of houses that clustered together for protection from the dark, encircling forest. Children pondered then as much about life as children do to-day. Man and woman planted and harvested, danced and sang, worried about their children and generally enjoyed life as much as they could, just as adults do today.

Hospitality was an old Maori ideal and so were generosity and friendliness, courage and bravery. Except in times of war life was pretty well bounded by one’s tribal lands and by one’s fellow tribesmen. With the people of his village the Maori co-operated on all large-scale economic activities—for one of his ideals taught him that it was better to work in company and for the common good rather than to work selfishly for his own individual interests.

And democracy in a general way was also one of his ideals. In tribal meetings all the adult men of the group had a right to their say before any important matter affecting the welfare of the tribe was decided. The chief was a man of great power and prestige. In a sense, he was the executive head of the tribal corporation. But he would not enter upon any course of action unless he were assured that he received the full-hearted support of all his people. Tribal independence was an ideal that meant much to the Maori. He loved his land. He loved the village of his birth. These were the things that gave him security in a world which was not always kind or friendly to him. And for these things the Maori was prepared to fight when the white man discovered his country and wished to take from him that which he loved and cherished. According to the white man’s ideas many Maori customs may seem absurd. Some of them may even seem horrible. But the white man who cannot conquer war or economic insecurity or starvation, and the white man who has lost much of the natural freedom and joy of living, cannot afford to throw stones at the Maori glass house. For the Maori, life was generally pleasant, vigorous, and happy. He was natural and open-hearted over it, enthusiastic and hard-working. Where his descendant to-day does not always meet with the white man’s approval, we can but reflect that one hundred years of intense white pressure have broken up his old way of life and not yet given him a fully satisfactory new way—and in this reflection we can find place for tolerance and understanding, if for nothing else.