Whakarewarewa

I forgot to mention in the last post that there was a beautiful local story at the heart of the cultural performance that I attended, the story of Hinemoa and Tutanekai. Hinemoa was the daughter of a chief, and her tribe lived on the shores of Lake Rotorua. Hinemoa was destined for a politically advantageous marriage, and any such match would be chosen for her by her tribe. Tutanekai was the illegitimate son of the wife of chief of the village on Mokoia Island, which is in the middle of Lake Rotorua. Tutanekai was adopted by his mother's husband, to be raised with his older half-brothers. During his dedication ceremony, the tohunga (priest) stumbled over the words - a fatal mistake, as such an insult could not be tolerated. The tohunga was killed, and his arm bone was carved into a flute as a gift for the baby. Tutanekai grew up handsome, strong, and a skilled musician. His elder brothers asked for Hinemoa's hand but were denied, so Tutanekai knew he had no hope of his own. But he and Hinemoa quietly and secretly fell in love when the two tribes would meet for social occasions. Hinemoa would sit on the shore and listen to Tutanekai play songs on his flute. Eventually, they decided that she should run away and meet him on the island. Her tribe, sensing that something might be up, pulled all of the canoes out of the water, and they were too heavy for one person to put back into the water. Not to be dissuaded, Hinemoa shed her clothes, tied gourds together, and swam the 2.5 miles (4 km) to the island, following the sound of the music. Once on the island, she hid herself in a hot spring to recover from her swim and to warm back up. As luck would have it, about this same time Tutanekai sent his servant to fetch water. From the shadows, Hinemoa deepened her voice and asked the servant for whom he was fetching water, and when he responded that it was for Tutanekai, she grabbed the calabash from the servant and smashed it. This happened several more times, until Tutanekai came to the spring to see who was so insulting him and his servant. Joyous to find his love, he gave her his cloak, and the lovers returned to Tutanekai's house. The next morning, Hinemoa's family came to the island, and Tutanekai's tribe feared that there would be a war. Fortunately, though, the families could not deny their children's happiness, and there was peace.

The history of Mokoia Island was not always peaceful, unfortunately. There was one story that I learned about at the museum that I particularly liked. In the early 19th century, Māori chief Hongi Hika used the import of European firearms to reignite some old battles. Much of this is documented here: http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/1966/maori-tribal-history/page-2. When Hongi Hika was headed for Rotorua, the local tribes retreated to Mokoia Island. This wasn't enough to save many of them, but it just so happened that the wife of one of Hongi Hika's generals was from the area, and she begged for mercy for her people. Hongi Hika told her that she could save as many people who could pass between her legs. She was a clever and quick thinking woman, so she climbed to the top of a nearby building, sitting on the top and straddling the gables. Many were saved when they ran into the building, as she had technically met Hongi Hika's terms.

Looking out over Lake Rotorua toward Mokoia Island.

Returning to my adventures, I came back in to town to go to Whakarewarewa, a Māori village in Rotorua. The full name of the town, as seen below, translates to "The gathering place for the war parties of Wahiao."

The thermal village wasn't built as a tourist destination, it is a neighborhood in which people still live. Houses can only be handed down through families. My guide on this particular day does not still live in the village, but her Grandfather did. This was the house he lived in - it is currently uninhabited, as  steam from the springs has eaten through the floorboards. It will be rebuilt.

This stream runs along the outside borders of the village. In the old days during the summer tourists would throw coins from the bridge and children from the village wold dive in after them. The kids could each make $60-80 a day. (Things I did not think of when taking this picture - it's much deeper right below me...)

A scaled down model of what the original dwellings in the village would have looked like.

The Earth's crust is thinner here, to the point where you can actually feel heat coming out of the ground. This makes growing food a little bit difficult, so any farming is done in raised boxes so as not to burn the roots of the plants. ...rather than a picture of the gardens, here's a picture of two beautiful black cats who were patrolling the area, with a corner of said garden box.

There are outdoor baths cut into the rock, fed by hot springs in the center of the village. (I did not take pictures of the baths as if felt vaguely disrespectful, as they are used every day by the residents). The color of the springs is stunning.

Our guide told us that there was an Auntie in the area who had been a celebrated guide of the village and other areas around Rotorua. She would bathe every day, and she lived to be 99 years old. When she died, her body was held in state for five days. For those five days, for the first time in living memory, the springs dropped so low that the water would not flow into the baths. Once the woman was buried, the water levels returned to normal. If she couldn't have her daily bath, no one else could, either!

After the tour I was free to wander around the area for a bit, which also has a geothermal walk and some bubbling mud. Bubbling mud is exactly what it sounds like, but it is still a pretty cool sight.

Much of the geothermal walk was closed due to repairs on the raised platform that keeps folk from getting toasted/wandering into certain sulphury doom on said walk. But the part that I did see was quite lovely.

There's a geyser on the other side of the village, and I happened to catch it while it was going off. 

I stopped for lunch at a cafe in the village and had another hangi meal. This was even better than the one I'd had the night before, it was incredibly moist and tender. The corn is cooked directly in one of the springs!

 

After my delightful wander through Whakarewarewa, I hopped in my rental car and headed to Hobbiton, which I'll cover in the next blog.