Near Journeys End
My insides were thrashing about like some taniwha (in Maori myth these were the guardians of the river) restless beneath the awa’s surface. It started this nauseous feeling fifteen minutes into the return drive back to Whanganui city. It has all the attributes of motion sickness, something I hadn’t suffered from in years.
This Whanganui awa (river) has a particularly gory tale about a lengendary taniwha. I’m paraphrasing for brevity’s sake but the story goes that, “Tu-ariki was fishing when he caught a shark. He kept it as a pet, and put it in a pool in the river near his home. He called him Tutae-poroporo. He grew very quickly, and soon he was as large as a whale.
As the taniwha grew Tu-ariki realised his pet was no longer a shark, but a taniwha, a dragon. One day some warriors from Whanganui attacked the village and killed Tu-ariki. For several days Tutae-poroporo waited, but Tu-ariki no longer came to visit him. The taniwha left his pool looking everywhere for his master. When he did not find him, he knew that Tu-ariki was dead. Tutae-poroporo wept for Tu-ariki, and after this he set out to avenge him.
Tutae-poroporo swam down the river until he came to the sea, and there he smelled the wind. He smelled the wind from the east, west and south but found no sign of his master. But when he turned to the north, he smelt the smell of human flesh being cooked in an oven, and he knew that the north wind came from the home of the men who had killed Tu-ariki. He swam north to take his revenge.
At the mouth of the Whanganui River the scent of his master became stronger, he entered the river. Under a high cliff there was a cave where he made his home, and there he lay in wait for his enemies. He hadn’t been there long when he saw canoes being paddled down the river. As they passed him he charged out of his cave, the people fled in terror, but they could not escape; Tutae-poroporo swallowed them all, canoes and all.
Tutae-poroporo caused havoc until finally Tama, an old chief, rose up and said to the people. “I have heard of a man named Ao-Kehu, who lives at Wai-totara. He is a great warrior, and he has been victorious over many monsters. Perhaps he will help us.” Tama went to Wai-totara, and said to Ao-kehu, the slayer of taniwhas, “I have come to you because all our people have been eaten by the taniwha Tutae-poroporo. Our land is desolate and our homes are abandoned, for our people are scattered abroad through fear of this monster”.
Ao-kehu said, “Rise up, and go, for tomorrow we will come to do battle with the taniwha”. Tama returned home. Next morning Ao-kehu set off for Whanganui, accompanied by seventy of his warriors. He took with him two famous weapons, that were shaped something like a saw, with sharks’ teeth along both edges. When he arrived at Whanganui he was met by Tama and his people.
Ao-kehu ordered his people to find a log, cut out of it a box long enough to hold a man, and also to make a close-fitting lid for it. Soon the box was finished and the warrior lay inside it, taking with him his two weapons. The lid was bound down securely, the holes were filled with clay to make it watertight, and Ao-Kehu was set afloat.
The box drifted down near the taniwha’s cave, and Tutae-poroporo, smelling human flesh rushed from his hiding-place and swallowed both the box and Ao-kehu. Inside the taniwha, Ao-kehu cut away the lashings that held down the lid of the box. With his saw-toothed weapons he slashed at the insides of the taniwha, fighting so fiercely that Tutae-poroporo bellowed with pain and reared up in agony in the water. But the taniwha had no means of attacking his enemy, and soon he was dead.
Soon, the body of the taniwha drifted to the shore, the people came down from the cliffs above. They cut a hole in the side of the body, and released Ao-kehu from his prison. Inside the taniwha, they found the bones of all the people whom he had devoured. There were canoes as well, and all the weapons, the tools, and the greenstone jewellery which these victims had possessed. The people took the bones of their kinsfolk and laid them to rest in the tribal burial ground, but the body of the taniwha they left as food for the birds of the air and the fish of the sea.”
I haven’t managed to slay my own inner taniwha but by the time we reach Aramoana (the Gentle Annie) Summit again, but I’m relieved for the chance to get out into the open air once more. Aramoana in the late afternoon is quieting. Two jaunty older guys in a bright yellow Mazda sports car give us a moment of amusement as they scrape the rear bumper of their car on a wooden railing. I reckon you could have turned a bus around in the space! We’re nearing journey’s end.
