_A MAORI WEDDING._
Bad shots as the Maoris are generally considered, they are nevertheless
very fond of sport, and are great fellows at horse leaping, running
matches, and athletic amusements of all kinds. They are a fine,
intelligent race of people, with plenty of fun and spirit in them, and
are justly renowned for their hospitality.
About two years ago, the marriage of a daughter of one of the chief
men belonging to a native village a few miles off took place; and I,
in common with all the settlers in the neighbourhood, received an
invitation to be present at the ceremony, and to partake afterwards
of the wedding breakfast. My wife told me it would be the right thing
to take some little bridal gift, and gave me a fan to present which
had a good deal of gold and colour about it. I wrapped it carefully
in some nice tissue paper, and thus accredited, rode off to the
festive gathering. During the journey, the paper in which the fan
was enveloped unfortunately became torn, and finally disappeared, and
conceiving the impression that a horseman in knee breeches, spurs, and
fan looked somewhat ridiculous, I was anxious to get rid of my present
as soon as possible. On drawing near to the village, therefore, great
was my delight to perceive the bride's father stationed at the entrance
to receive his guests as they arrived, and I at once made up my mind to
hand the fan over to him, but to my disappointment found his knowledge
of English was as limited as mine of Maori, which consisted of one
word, "Kapai," meaning, It is good.
I endeavoured to illustrate the action of the fan, and held it towards
him, saying at the same time, "Kapai." He evidently viewed it with
distrust, and appeared to think it something unholy, or a disguised
infernal machine. Whenever I held it near him he backed, and every time
I opened it he jumped. The more I cried "Kapai," the more he shied, and
we were gradually working our way into the village, my host backing at
every movement of the fan, and I leading my horse with one hand, and
with the other manipulating the wretched bridal gift. At last, just
as I had made up my mind to pitch it away, a Matakohe settler came up
who could speak Maori, and who soon altered the aspect of affairs. The
fan was accepted most graciously, and was taken the round of the Maori
belles, each one of whom, when its action was explained, had a trial of
it.
[Illustration: He evidently viewed it with distrust.]
This helped to fill up the time, until our Church of England
clergyman--who was to perform the ceremony--arrived, and we all
repaired to a structure erected by the Maoris for the occasion,
and made of Nikau palm leaves plaited together. The inside was very
tastefully decorated with ferns and cabbage palms, and really did great
credit to their artistic taste.
An "Ancient and Modern" hymn, in which the natives heartily joined,
having been sung, the ceremony was performed in Maori, and a second
hymn closed the service.
The bride and bridegroom then led the way to another construction of
Nikau leaves, where the wedding breakfast was prepared. The happy
couple took the head of the table, and the "Pakehas" (_i.e._, the
white men, literally "strangers"), were invited to first sit down, the
Maoris waiting on them. The feast was ample, and consisted of wild
pig, beef, vegetables, and plum pudding. When the Pakeha visitors had
eaten their fill of the good things, the Maoris had their innings, and
then the health of the bride and bridegroom, who still retained their
position at the head of the table, was drunk in Gilbey's Castle A
Claret, the toast being proposed by our local J.P., and translated by
an interpreter to the Maoris. The bride's father returned thanks, and
every one present shook hands with the loving pair and retired. Some
horse-jumping competitions among the natives brought the afternoon to a
close, and I returned home very pleased with my day with the Maoris.
Giving place to their Pakeha guests, and seeing them duly satisfied
before partaking of anything themselves, struck me as showing a very
keen sense of true hospitality and politeness. They have also, I
believe, a true appreciation of justice--at least I have often heard
so, and in the only case which has come under my personal observation,
the Maori concerned showed it in a marked degree. It occurred in
connection with the race for horses owned by Maoris, run at our last
meeting. The jockey of the leading horse--an Englishman--in coming up
the straight for the post, deliberately pulled right across the second
horse, thereby nearly causing an accident. A protest was entered by the
owner of the second horse, and the evidence having been heard by the
committee, it was unanimously decided to disqualify the leading horse,
the second was declared winner, and the jockey censured. The leading
horse could easily have won, and much sympathy was felt for its owner,
who had lost the race through the bedevilment of his jockey.
When I handed the money to the Maori whose horse was pronounced the
winner, I explained to him, through an interpreter, that he had won it
simply through the misbehaviour of the leading jockey, and expressed
my opinion that it would be fair to divide the sum with the Maori who
had been so badly treated. He seemed to see the justice of the case at
once, and without the least hesitation paid over half the money.
Civilisation has done, and is doing, great things for the Maoris.
Among others it has taught many to drink, to swear in English, and
to wear English slop clothes, which are quite unsuited to them and
their habits, and to the use of which, many medical men attribute the
pulmonary complaints so rife in their midst. They are constantly wading
through streams, and getting wet through by rain, and they let their
clothes dry on them (as they were accustomed to do when their skin
formed the principal part of their garb), and thus sow the germs of
disease, and hasten the inevitable day when the Maori will have been
improved off the face of the earth.
No cannibalism exists, I believe, among them at the present time,
though there are natives living who have indulged in it, and smack
their lips at the thought. They say white men are too salt to be much
good for the table, though young Pakeha children they pronounce to be
"Kapai."