The story of the Trees that was told to me by my Grandmothers.
By Erika Wood and shared by Raymond Tekorako Ruka,
Son of Waitaha – The Water Carriers
We did not arrive here through happenstance.
Rather, we were led here, carried by the tides of our seers instigations and a belief that the breast of an ancient dream was waiting somewhere beyond this protective, roiling tribulation of thunderous wave and surf to suckle us – her children. We felt calm internally, each in Oneness understanding that the love of this gigantic sea, was merely a Mother’s protective screen to shield herself against the fear that would have to be experienced and then exorcised, if these interlopers were indeed the ones who they claimed to be!
Our Priest, his arms clasped behind his back, fingers of each hand entwined by the other, straddling this calamity akimbo at the prow of our gigantic waka/canoe, speaking directly into the ferocity of the wind from what must have appeared a thin bobbing spindly stick cast adrift amidst the chaos of it all, called out from above the thunder of the waves, “Mother, we are your children Waitaha, coming home. Enough is enough, stop your Motherly nonsense! We are indeed who we say we are. We are your children returning home to the womb of your safety after having journeyed after having journeyed across the entirety of your bodily magnificence.”
“Enough!”
We imagined peaceful behavior was the only kind of behavior there was, common, ordinary. We were held to standard of excellence, and we believed that, in all things being equal, excellence for the sake of excellence was being mirrored throughout the Natural living world and that maliciousness was to be called out whenever it raised its unsavory tentacles, as did our Priest have no compunction in calling out the Mother Sea herself for these nonseasonal patterns.
And the call of our Priest was heard for what it was, a statement of truth, and the sea flattened, and we were given safe passage to beach our flotilla of gigantic craft. We had arrived at that place, where in time, our descendants, would forevermore, call home.
We arrived at these Tree-laden Islands in the Southern Pacific Ocean millennia ago. We soon realized we were not the 1st for the sacred
Patupaiarehe had been here since the formative process. They could in another tongue, be compared to the Fairies and they were born from the virgin wisps and turmoil of the Beginning. Its Creative Force. The sole Remnant.
In a time to come, we would name these Islands, Waitangi ki Raro, The Crying Waters Beneath Us. In our minds, a replica of the intonation that the unimaginable pristine sea serenaded us with when yielding passageway to the hulls of our huge, seafaring wooden craft, welcoming us. Caressing our senses, among the first ever of humanity, to hear such natural orchestration of sound.
This Sacred Land knew the truth and would forever more, hold it sacred.
Our Elders had instructed us “To tread softly and do no harm,” for in such a garden as this, permission to even walk upon the land and to bathe in its waters was to be treated as a baptismal event.
The Trees, what a cacophony of welcome they extended to us.
The unique trees, their bark, their sap, their leaves, were to be used for healing purposes. We came with our very own specialized Tohunga/Doctors and their assistants, highly specialized in each of their particular fields.
Hundreds of years later, in the 1700’s, another set of sailors arrived and renamed our sacred lands, New Zealand after Zealandia, a Dutch province in Holland. A name that would cover over our own, which we didn’t mind at all, for we understood the temporal nature of our time here.
Guardians, that’s all we ever saw ourselves as.
We never dug under and took from or interfered with the Root System of the Tree because “Underground” was another totally highly organized interwoven communicable, living system. Even today the tree system of communication is more evolved that that of the human space communications networks. The Tree system of communication, is a living, breathing inter-connected system and the human one, a fragile, openly dependent on a multiple of extraneous variables. Human behavior endangers the Tree systems and as a result, because we are all dependent on the creative, regenerative forces of the tree to purify the oxygen of our life dependent systems – humanity, if it continues on its merry way, will indeed, like everything temporal, will itself, become an endangered species.
That’s the legacy we will leave our children. A compromised future.
So very sad.
As well, in those times that our ancestors lived, due to the type of natural diet and the lack of sugary content combined with the demanding outdoor lifestyle, the illnesses from diseases prevalent today, were non-existent in those times. Life spans of 150 years were commonplace.
The trees were all considered sacred. We were taught as children to revere and keep a respectful distance from certain ones because they belonged to the animals and the insects.
The birds are the messengers, and they have free passage. Meaning, they may visit where they may. We also have a native bee in New Zealand who our people also accepted as having free passage. Now, sadly because of the international honey market we have imported species of bees that has in turn, attracted other unintentional pests/species that have arrived to our shores because of international travel.
New Zealand is considered a clean-green environmental country and we send our produce almost everywhere overseas. We also have a highly prized Milk and Cream product because of our Clean Green National policy. Sadly, all this increased production has required more land to farm for production and less for trees.
In a world that measures things in monetary terms, Trees have become some of those innocent victims. Doing nothing but standing in one place all day, taking up valuable space!
The forest is a sacred place, consequently when my ancestors first arrived in Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa (original name for New Zealand) millennia ago the land was covered exclusively in trees.
New Zealand is also called Aotearoa, The Land of the Long White Cloud. A newer name.
To my earliest Ancestors, the greenery of the lush trees covering Papatuanuku (Earth Mother) were considered, her clothing and so the people were forbidden (punishable by makutu/curse, resulting in severe illness and even death) to take anything away from the landscape as that would be seen/compared to, undressing the mother.
The sea was to be their major provider of foods, supplemented by the kumara/sweet potato that they had brought with them from the old lands/country of South America that they would plant together with the wild vegetation that grew in abundance in this new land.
The only time they would fell a tree was when they were ready to make a canoe, but that only came after long exhaustive prayer and reflection. They became known as the guardians of the trees and because of that role, became peacemakers for hundreds of years until the arrival of the warrior nations.
Looking at the forest from the eyes of those ancient ancestors of mine, they only saw a sacred, silent congregation reaching their arms out to the stars inviting the light of the Star family, to embolden their bodies.
In the late 1600’s and 1700’s we were “discovered” by the European seafaring world which began the beginning of the ending of our dream-time and the beginning of the nightmare.
Milling of our Native trees began in earnest with the arrival of the European Visitors for the overseas markets almost, completely destroying our Native Tree Populations.
As a result, exporting of exotic Pine has become one of New Zealand’s biggest industries and earner of incredible income for the country along with fishing and agriculture. However, a price must be paid for everything, and with the lucrative earnings has arrived the pollution of our once pristine streams and river-ways. So sad that our once peaceful paradise has turned into this frightening nightmare.
We the Waitaha/Maori people have sadly become like every other Indigenous peoples. An unwilling participant in this tragic global statistical race to see who will be the loser by finishing first and it will probably be the only race our peoples world-wide, will ever win. Of course, we will win it, the odds are stacked in our favor!
No wonder they call us the 1st Nations, not in precedence, but in expediency!
So sad…
Our thanks and solemn gratitude and prayers to Erika Wood and Raymond Tekorako Ruka. And to the trees, seas, plants, two and four legged and thousand legged, shelled and feathered and human peoples of New Zealand. Stephen W Emerick PhD