I did not realize that when I worked with Ohia, metrosiderous polymorpha that summer in Hawaii it would become a lifelong friend. The genus greets me in the most surprising places. When I arrived in Wellington, yet again in a new place, wandering on its foreign shore, there blossuming happily in the sun was a familiar face.

And then when I pilgrimage to see a Rata tree in the Te Ure Were country, to it turns out the towering ancient epiphyte was another relative of Ohia.

Most recently, I returned from scoping out the kite scene at Pantai Cinta Berahi ("Beach of Passionate Love") in Kelantan. Too risque for present governance, it's been changed to Pantai Cahaya Bulan ("Moonrise Beach"), however locals still refer to it by its former name or simply PCB. My friend chucked my Aussie canvas sunhat on a random bush to rinse off from his swim. When I went to collect the hat, I was delighted to recognize the unmistakable flowers of the Metrosiderous.

There is an immeasurable joy in recognizing trees and plants on my journey: donkey face anthuriums, mullen in its non invasive enviro, etc. These plants are anchors of familiarity in an otherwise foreign place and in a sense have become my international family. Despite the usefulness of scientific name, I find using the local name more rewarding. Sometimes the local name is more telling of the plants relationship to the people of the present day or past, and in this way feels more informative and meaningful. Othertimes, they are just playfully descriptive, and using that name feels more personal.

All this to wonder for me anyhow, whether I return to focus on plants after kites?

I can only speculate.

I long to know plants, their names, uses, and stories from the perspective of the indigenous.

I was surprise and honor to be invited to celebrate HariRaya with my rideshare friend and her family.

I was a bit nervouswith my limited Bahasa Melayu and concern about being invasive on aday usually spent in company of close people. Everyone was nice,shovelling manis (sweets) and local delicacies my way, "you must trythis." There were an abundance of food. My favorites included nasibiryani , with huge chucks of sauteed pineapples and curry, nasikerabu (blue rice cooked in coconut and served with ikan "fish" andcoconut stuffed local jalapeno looking pepper), dakup (desert ricewrapped in banana leaf), and ketumpat.As we made the round to each house, you were expected to sample morefood from a layout of a dishes and a dozen varieties of cookies. Onmore than one occassion throughout the indulgent day I felt my stomachwould burst.

I got back at the inn at midnight and then ushered to indoor futsalwith some new friends until the early hours in the morning. Thehighlight of the night was watching an underestimated little chubby kid kicks big boys butts: three winning goals.

Market Bazaar

Reverse Trend

While the design of the initially complex pattern Indian patang becomes increasingly simplified, the design of the wau takes on a different direction.

The traditional wau initially consisted of a few basic colors and has evolved to a multi-tissue colored tapestry of meticulously papercutted creeper motifs intricately embroidered in silver or gold. I suspect part of the reason is due to the increasing reverence of the wau for its esthetic value. Adhering to introduced motifs (i.e. wau merak from Johor Bahru can only have one of two motifs, the betel nut or pepper leaf creeper) is a requisite in design competitions, where the most intricately designed waus are brandished. Fortunately, function is not forgotten, and design competions also include the criteria of flight along with beauty.

Wau Puyuh

Wau Bulan

Kampung Kichang. Kelantan.

23 Oct 2006

Bas 10 took me to Kampung Kichang, renown for its traditional kitemakers. I arrive at the kitemaker centre to find out from' Ra' her kitemaster father has passed away a year ago. Another male (either uncle or brother) also knows how to make kites but he is not keen to continue the tradition.

I told her I would have liked to have met him and ask if she had any of his kites on display. There were none, all had been sold. The ones in the shop were predominately the manufactured non-flying souvenir types.

I returned back to the road to be punctually passed up by the bus-the driver waving off my signal comically . Not a good stopping area? Rather than waiting for another bus at the next stop, I continue to jalan jalan whereupon I stumble upon a crowd of people. Three men shuffled flaming coconut husks from one clay pot to another. They were making akok (coconut egg treat) the traditional way, using husks to heat and I was lucky as this was the last day they were doing it.

A local couple making off with purchase pause to ask me about my origins. As coincidence would have it, he was wearing a Pasir Gudang international kite festival shirt. KB was as far away from PG within penn Malaysia without crossing borders. I enthusiastically told him I just came from there , drop the names of mutual friends, and ask if he was a kitemaker. "No, a seasoned flyer. But you are in luck, the best kitemaker lives right by here." In fact, after he left, the akok makers said the footpath behind the kiosk leads to his kampung "village." Seeing my eagerness, they teased I would be kidnapped if I headed that way and better stay put and extended some akok for me to sample.

I kindly decline because I was fasting like mostly everyone else for Ramadan but still much to their surprise. I got in queue to buy some famous akok for my hosts in KB meanwhile doing my best to field questions about how much Malay I know, my interest in kites, reasons for "puasa"fasting, and my experience of it. The akok crowd who greeted my initial curiosity amusingly and warily sent me off with a friendly farewell of smiles and waves. I made a mental note to arrange a proper visit with kitemaker post-hari raya and backtracked to catch my bas.

Wau Merak. The Finished Product.

Pasir Gudang, Johor Bahru. Oct 06.

rattan kepala, funny kind of signature for wau merak
Johor Bahru, Malaysia

Kite playing field and Muzium layang-layang in the distance.

Pasir Gudang, Johor Bahru. 2006.

Samsudin (kitemaster) and me. Adding the tail.

Pasir Gudang, Johor Bahru.

October 1-15, 2006

The day long search for elusive Sarawak kites ends here (Kuching).

Brunei flyers on display.

bus station, Brunei Borneo

Kadazan native readjusts the bridle on my rama-rama "butterfly" kite

Locals so far have demonstrated an uncanny ability to accurately to tie bridles and

balance the kites, hence I was surprise to find the bridle reattached to the wrong face.

Kadazan guide taking advantage of windy moment.

Mt. Kinabalu, Sabah Borneo

A Day in the Life

4 Oct 06

Out of the guesthouse, I walk into the all too familiar stickiness ofthe tropics-cough-except with the added challenge of breathing. Icould myopically make out river boats in the distant. The visibilityand air quality continues to deteriorate (already pass unhealthylevels) in Kuching due to an enveloping haze cause by the forest fires index (API) reached 800 in 1997-98. Anywhere above 300 is hazardous;currently, the levels are around 150s. I mentally add the purchase ofa respiratory mask on list of today\'s agenda.The locals don\'t seem toomuch affected; setting up hawker stalls and bustling along with theusual day to day activities.

Kuching is a varied and diverse city. While the population consistspredominately of Chinese and Malay, there are at least 26 ethnicgroups present in Kuching. According to my hosts, the dayaks arelabeled according to area of occupation and grounds of retreats fromthe headhunters. These days the indigenous societies are classifiedinto three main groups: Ibans (Sea Dayaks), Bidayuhs (Land Dayaks),and Orang Ulu (upriver people). The last includes Penan, Kayan,Kelabit, Berawan, Lu Bawang, and Kenyah. An enormous selection ofnative handicrafts are on display in the shops lining Jalan MainBazaar. If there is a chance of finding a Sarawakian kite, it would bein one of these shops.

-----A Malay guide waiting for clients on sampan jetty on the kampung(village) outskirts confidently insists trad. Kites can be found onthe main souvenir strip: easy.Except I have spent a good part of 2nd evening in town and this daycombing gift shops and art galleries to no success. The shopowners aretypically Chinese. Not only do not carry Sarawakian kites amongsttheir stock but they have never seen one. A few inform me that Ishould be able to find some by visiting the traditional longhousevillage but they are also the same ones that misdirect me to othershops.

Just when I was about to call my search off, a passing localpatron directs me down a jalan (road) leading to the mosque.Anticipating another false hope, I ask him several times to test hiscertainty. He press, "yes yes, I am sure layang layang, that means", kites lah, yeah sure lah those things you fly with la, down that way."

I head through the Little India, transverse pass the numerous hawkerstalls that have since increased since the morning selling foodstuffsto those breaking their fast at sunset, continue pass langsat stands,toyshops, and then, beginning to suspect another dead end yet hangingon to an inkling of hope, I spotted there hanging outside an ice creamcafe, were layang-layang. Not one, but 4 types-I practically flipped.

Aside from the wau, there were 3 other distinctive shapes.The wau consisted of three basic colors and noticeably absent of anelaborate template seen on those in KL\'s central market. I tried todetermine the origins. The shopkeeper guessed they were fromIndonesia. He consulted neighboring shopkeeper who said they werelocal.

I asked if they might be from India. "ah yea sama sama...kindof same but different." a 3rd generation India stated. Soon it becamea full blown public debate, passing locals joined in to offer theiropinions.

There is no kitemaster; making kites such as these are commonknowledge. The trick is adjusting the bridle. A local dubbed"computer" by his friends disappeared and came back with string whichhe then handed over to me. He described how the apex of the bridletriangle where line attached had to meet corner to corner.He then made off directly into traffic with the kites laughing widesmiled. I laugh too but frightened by how oblivious everyone was tothe oncoming traffic I suggested we go across the street to waterfrontstrip.

Computer agreed it was a good idea and said he wanted to comealong to accompany me.I was excited to finally play with the kites. As it turns out computerwas equally eager. There was hardly any wind. I quickly learn that thekite did not need much to leave the ground.
Quick pacing generated just enough wind to lifet the kite. I watch as computer ran back and forth all giggles and childlike, watching the kite tail behind him. It made me smile and eager to feel the kitestring in myown hands. Computer handed it over briefly but soon dominated againwhen the kite came down. Later he thanked me for stopping by for hehas not fly the kite for awhile and started back towards the roti (eggpastry eaten with dahl) cafe.

I walked him back to the shop, picked up another kite and hurried backto the waterfront to set it in flight in the dying hours of light. I ran in circles back and forth along a stretch on the waterfront tryingto keep the kite in flight as the locals cheered on. For the first time, I did not notice the haze (neither the perspiration running),absorbed in wheeling string out and keeping the kite up.

Wau Trading Post, Central Market, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Funny as the perspective widens

the scopes of those we relate with, truly relate with

appears to narrow

or is that an optical illusion

within the confines of what I believe

defining modifying what it is I see

experience.


much to he entertainment of dendrictic neurons---

On a bus ride to Melacca, a neuroscientist explains to me how optical illusions are really, simply put, covariate biases. the technical jargon stimulated oldies in the brain. And i grasp. yeah, believe it.

I am sitting in front of mother of all rata trees-800-1000years old.

what do you know, as a hunch from appearance, its a Metrosiderous, a relative of "Ohia", Hawaiian for Metrosiderous polymorpha.

Guess what else, he or to follow previously say she was once an epiphyte.
cahoots!

I hear the unmistakeable sounds of a woodpidgeon.

Perhaps, I can check to see how far I can go up Ngamoko track (closed because of the snowdamage.)

Moments later.

Crazy blue, he almost left me to start a close track at nightfall when I first arrived in this part of the country. It would have been 5 hours to the first shelter, and that's during daylight hours on a clear trail.

After experiencing the gruelling section of the Ngamoko, gruelling for the maze of treefall,...I realize to have follow Blue's suggestion would have been a test of orienteering (without proper maps) and even survival. At one point, he had me convinced it was a shame that I had not agree to do it.

Catching a ride to the lake of legend in the early hours of dawn

It is a trying task to get out of sleeping bag and strap cold clothes on but I do it. as it turns out, that is the most difficult part. a familiar excitement stirs. I grab my daypack and head strong out on the empty unsealed roads. It is a shame I have not taken up to early mornings days prior. I am enjoying my trek immensely to B and S's house, where I hope to catch a ride into the park . Trees and ----- are shrouded in the morning mist thick coats, sights such as these cast away doubts that these people truly came from the mist. Light arises faster than expected. I find myself missing the fading bluish tint of dark, curtain of mystery. I had awaken with renewed strength ready to confront fears, encountering haunts of history hidden in pockets of land.

Wild horses, white band of frost runs across the bottom of their manes constrasting to shaggy dark winter coats. I smile in delight. Deers gazes on the hillside draw my eyes to them. I cannot make out more stoic silohuettes in the distance yet I know their attention is frozen on me ( testament to mind-matter energy?).

It is not til I near the general store that I see my first car. A local, he kindly stops to see if I need a lift to school, where I have been routinely spending my days. I kindly pass asking him instead to pass a message. Hopefully Asha delivers my other msg to Blue, crazy Blue, what a misfortune for missing the opportunity to tramp (kiwi lingo for hiking) together...the-crazy cracker from the likes which I could have learn. People who deviate from the norm refreshen me in unusual ways and well it's been a while since I've met anyone like that. the conversation with Blue day before makes me realize how before I head out, I should put in an extra effort to see the trees ,now that my kite construction activities are completed .

At last I am at B&S's, they are lovely and eager to share and laugh, people like them make it all the more difficult to leave. 1080-sodium fluoroacetate comes up into conversation. 1080 is dropped by DOC to combat possums in the Te Ure Were forests. Apparently, it was in the Taupo news, the curiosity about how its use is banned in the US, yet sold by the US to NZ.

The Maori's I encounter were not happy with 1080. I was curious about B's stance, how he coped in a position caught in conflict as he is of Maori descent and works for DOC. Also, how he felt about DOC going against disapproval of local iwis.

B states that DOC (Dept of Conservation) does not proceed without approval of local iwis (tribal family).

"Doe", a representative on the conservation trust had informed me differently. According to policy, DOC only had to consult local tribes. The iwis largely disapprove of aerial dropping of 1080, and were willing to have 90% of 55,000 hectares by ground control (trapping and poisoning) and the 5% (steep areas) permit the aerial dropping of 1080.

S states that 1080 dissolves harmlessly a few weeks time in water. This is what is told by those promoting its use. " 1080 doesn’t remain in soil or water, but breaks down harmlessly into natural substances. "

Consider 1080 getting consumed by a deer, how long would it take a deer carcass to decay ( a few weeks), and those feeding upon the carcass?

I vocalize my doubts, knowing how chemicals bioaccumulate/biomagnify up the food chain (reminded of the effects of DDT in the US, Silent Spring). Its misleading, encultured myth whatever you want to call it that 1080 will just disappear, it'll continue on to affect life elsewhere. DDT cotinues to be found in human tissue and food after years of its discontinued use.


Hunting dogs have died horrible convulsive deaths from consuming the chemicals. This is evidence of indiscriminate effects of 1080. But common sense entertains an extensive range of effects, for the fact, that nature is not a simple, isolated system (not close laboratory experiment), but rather complex, interrelated, interactive system.


[discussion cont in separate blog]


I note the quiet, and it didn't seem B&S wanted to confront the controversy further, and sign with, "conservation is a tricky issue." B& S laugh to the understatement.

----We transverse through breathtaking bush, towering kahikatea trees, moss hanging thick from their limbs.

I look at this beauty, and I feel at once awed and outraged, at the decisions of the federal custodians of this national heritage.

When I venture into Te Ure Wera I felt my spirit strenghthened and renewed from the ills of modern world. In many ways, it has proved to be medicine for me. For the Maoris living with Te Ure Wera forest, although the dependency has declined, they still obtain food and medicine from the forest. As it is one way for this Maorito engage with the land as their ancestors had, foraging for food and hunting is of special importance for the Tu Hoe today, as a nation struggling to keep alive old traditions and practices.

On my visit to Te Ure Wera affected by 1080 (an extensive tract), I felt wary and skeptical on spending days or venturing even out in the bush, knowing that I would have to rely on rivers (potentially affected by 1080) for source of water. The presence of 1080 changed my relationship to the forest. The Maoris have shared with me that since 1080 is use they no longer take their dogs hunting, and are discouraged from using medicinal plants, as research has shown that their medicinal plants also absorb 1080.

If someone travels on the treeless North Island, and able to see and experience Te Ure Wera, the last old growth of its kind, they would realize how unique and special it is. Actually on this planet, old growth in general is unique and special.

----- The river winds below in the plummet of the valley. The road continues like this for the next 90 km and then we are there, the legendary Lake Waikaremoana-sea of rippling waters.

September 2006

I went in for a consultation
got talked into whirlwind extraction
jaw ache
where wisdom tooth last stood

Comparison:

First World Country-upright extraction : 4 minutes $US150
Third World Country- oral surgery: 1.5 hr $20

Highlights in no respective order

kite-related
1. Adlib intellectually stimulating conversation about peak oil and Derrick Jensen with kitemaker Ted Howard, who later show me his chooks and permaculture garden
2. Kitelady Julie reopening her shop so I can take a look at various specimens while she combs her database and books for information and contacts that would be of help to me
3. Finding raupo.


culture-related
1. After missing a hitching point and returning once again to Rotorua confounded, I stumbled into someMaori kids from the bush and got invited to their village. I had foresaken "assumingly farfetched" interest in seeing that part of the country and people who still subsisted on the bush (not even knowing they really existed) . After letting go to discouragement, I found my enthusiasm revived.


2. Sheepfarmer, spiritual therapist, free lance photographer, McDonald's manager, journalist, schoolbus driver, ex-thai boxer, violin teacher, child psychologist, family doctor, pacific islanders, teacher, travelling salesmen, jewelery artisans, bee balm makers, post office driver, dept of conservation workers, maori locals, builder...others who have offerred me rides, invited me into their homes, played tour guide, and entertained me with their funny kind of humor and generosity, from all whom I have gain insightful eye into kiwi life. Some random occassions I can recall: a heart pulse treatment from a lady returning from a workshop in the alternative therapy, treated to hokey pokey ice cream from a bus driver remembering a happy salmon dinner in the Pacific Northwest, ...

3. Experiencing traditional Maori food, both in preparation and palette as well as ceremony at birthday hangi. Peeling bush vegetables the day before and seeing the Maori appetite for sweets the day after(diabetes is high amongst Maoris ). Some of the most interesting food include rotten corn ( left fermenting in sugar bags in a running stream for months), wild boar, Maori yeast bread, raw fish in coconut juice, steamed stuffing and bread pudding, and crab salad.

4. Listening to the haunting melodies of Tu Hoe songs sang by the schoolchildren

5. Playing with the kids of Ruatahuna (exchanging scary haka faces, basketball, netball) and placating their endless curiosities and telling them for the upteenth time I'm not Japanese and no I don't know Yoko (a Japanese man fluent in Maori who made origami with the kids several years ago).

6. Venturing deeper into the ancient Te Ure Were bush to say hello to a rata tree (which resembles very much my old friend Metrosiderous polymorpha "Ohia")

7. Teaching a child and Tu Hoe elder how to play mancala.

8. Turning my hosts on to pumpkin gnocchi.

9. Eating Marmite spread on toast with cheese-thick slabs of real butter.

10. Trying the various fish and chips. i.e. pineapple fritter, snapper, groper, blue cod, kumara chips ...

11. Buggying through streams.

12. Discovering a place where horses and rivers still roam wild.

13. Finding out the best places for certain foods. Best oven baked muffins serve with fresh cream at little known govt cafeteria. And the most amazing falafel with tabouli sauce at Kebab diner.

14. Watching a special screening of 'As In Heaven' after closing time.

15. Shoc-Chocolates. dark organic chocolate in various flavors: lime, paprika, strawberry and black pepper.

16. Kia Ora! Be Alive! My two favorite Maori words.

17. Reading the stories of Pukenui ("puke=stomach" nui=big) and his adventures (inc. that of kitebuilding) in Wellington and Rotorua's library Maori children section.

Overall travel 1. coincidences 2. how things can work out so perfectly 3. how just being open to the possibilities leads to realities that defy doubts and discouragement 4. intimate connections and exchange of stories, having someone who initially seemed unfriendly warm up to you, to learn that more often than not the wariness stems from shyness 5. a full on discussion about 1080 to a physician from time he gave me a lift to when he dropped off, we're still debating through window as he is driving off 6 . running into old friends 7. finding my way into the heart of strangers and them into mine 8. the raw pure magic of being absorbed in a moment so endorsed with beauty

An Unexpected Treat

In my continued search for kite making materials, I found myself welcome into community of Tu Hoe, relatively isolated community ofMaori. The Tu Hoe are the among the very last people who still speak fluent Maori and actively engage in select traditional customs. It was in the Te Ure Wera Valley, when I was holding out for slim possibilityof retrieving raupo from a storehouse in Rotorua that it appeared coincidentally. As it turns out, the most elusive of kitemaking materials, raupo grew in abundance at the creek adjacent to my sleeping quarters. Upon collecting the other essential ingredients, I set out ot make my first manu taratahi.Upon its completion, I bestowed it to my hosts as it is tradition among Maoris (as also practice by Cowichan of Canada) to give their first away. Such tradition encourages the creation of a second serving to affirm memory through practice.

me, with my first manu taratahi (three point kite) inside wharenui "big meeting house"

Te Ure Were Valley, New Zealand Oct 06

note accompanied the kite gift
Manu Taratahi, raupo, toetoe, harakeke

The art of Maori kitemaking had been lost and has only recently seen light again. Kites are a symbol of freedom, hope, and youth for me and I fancy taking part in their construction. The beauty of traditional Maori kites lies in their natural simplicity.

The coincidental discovery of 3 essential ingredients all growing in Ruatahuna brought my kite making dreams to reality. The raupo (bullrush), used for covering has eluded me since my arrival in New Zealand. was found in abundance at a creek in Meriam's and Richard's property. Toe toe (native pampass grass) used for framing proved unusually difficult to find here. I did not realize how lucky I was to stmble upon some lone stalks on a hillside in the dark. It would be many miles in the next morning light til I spotted more near the school grounds. With the harakeke (flax) to bind, I set out to make my first manu taratahi-three pointed kite.

During my stay, the days have been windless or filled with force 5 gales, not the idela conditions to test the fragile kite. I am confident however, with correct bridle adjustments, the kite can grace the sky-fly. I hope others will be encouraged to make manu taratahi, it is a great way to play and dance with Tawhirimatea.

construction of second kite for schoolchildren at Ruatahuna

Tu Hoe elder attempting to cast kite to wind

Te Ure Were valley, New Zealand

Taingi

My Maori friend tells me that one of the best way to experience the culture is to attend a taingi “funeral”-that’s when all the tidings and people come out. Of course you cannot plan one of those and one would not hope.

Who knew that during my time in New Zealand, I would witness the proceedings of one of the most significant taingi in Maoridom, the passing of the Maori Queen. The Tu Hoe gathered their elders and with the neighbors in the surrounding valley started the pilgrimage to pay their respects. I would learn later they waited in line amongst thousands before sunrise and did not reach the podium until almost midnight.

Mer stated:

"Men like 'Rich' are a dying breed. Men who are soft-hearted, yet better not cross them, you'd be in trouble. I know, if anything happen to us, if we did not have any money, we'd be ok, cause he would go out to the bush and fend for his family."

The truth in her comment about these dwindling breed of people and their rare skills struck me in a sad way.

During my brief time living with the Tu Hoe, I have come to admire the self sufficiency and resourcefulness of people brought up in isolated surroundings. There are still those living amongst the Tu Hoewho can spend weeks on end carrying on in the bush without rations, navigate their way without fancy compasses and maps, use horse hair to sow up wounds inflicted upon their hunting dogs by wild boars, distinguish types of native wood by how it burns, know the best type of fire to construct for different purposes, i.e. cooking boar meat, smoking fish, radiating light, or heating,- but they are few.

A tale

So, it is just me and Kouro left to fend for ourselves when the familyleaves to pay their respect to the royal family at the Hamiltonpalace.

Kouro with his braided long hair reminds me of a wizenedIndian chief. I am not the first to make this observation. He couldappear intimidating for his daunting size. However, I know the better.I remember two amusing occasions, one, catching Kouro bunny hoppingafter his mokapuna "granddaughter" and another stumbling into himcolliding through the doorway a flustered boyish grin on his face andeyes filled with delight, sticks and leaves strewn in his hair anddown the back of his fleece, apparently he had been chasing wild boarwith his dogs in the bush. On top of these observations, he hasexhibited gestures evident of immense consideration andthoughtfulness.

On typical nights past, we just band by the fire and Kouro tells meabout how you can tell the type of wood by the way it burns or the proximity of a wild boar by the different traces it leaves at different season. Sometimes he talks about his adventure tourism venture and the interesting array of visitors over the years including native americans on a spiritual pursuit and German building apprentices who overused concrete. I recount the places I visit during the day in search of kite materials, some energetically strange. To the last bit, he smilesknowingly, not commenting much further than saying that I stumble ontoa tapu area and something about prophets. Other than that, kites don't usually make it into conversation.

Most nights, we all juststare at the fire for hours after dinner until sleep starts todescend; whereby I bury the embers the way Kouro has shown me so they' restill good in the morning. Tonight, I am occupied with weaving.Tonight Kouro seem lost in thought. He cannot sleep and misses hiswife. I am criss-crossing flax around raupo, making progress on themanu taratahi by the manuka burning fire. I am comfortable in the silence.

Kouro voice breaks through it. He says he misses his mom. This confession takes me by surprise...images of Maoris as fierce warriors trumpet through my head. My brief time with theTu Hoe have already overrided many preconceptions. I pause my weavingto give Kouro my full attention. And he begins to tell the story ofhis mom, of how she only had one good arm, he demonstrated how sheplayed the guitar strumming with one and manipulating the frozen oneinto chord positions on the bridge. How as a kid, he use to sleepbeside her holding his mum\'s paralyzed cold arm in hopes of keeping itwarm.He had a song he wanted to dedicate to her. He started to sing andstrum the guitar on his lap, beautifully.

Speechless, I let it be,... before trying to inadequately express tohim how beautiful, so touchingly beautiful that was.I listened intently as he continued to talk about the injustices tohis mom, how she died so young, so strong and stubborn, and how tothis day he still misses her. He\'s never stop. I love my mom, he saidsimply.

I sat in silence afterwards, still feeling deeply touched by the poetry of his words so full of feeling from his heart. I felt tremendously honored but grately pitied that there was not more others around to hear or some mechanical device that could capture a story told so eloquently.

The dedication and love he felt for his mom I also felt for my mom. So I began to tell him her story, her struggle and her journey home.

By the end of it all, we were both in tears staring at the fire. The tears quickly turnd to tears mixed with sniffling laughter upon realizing how silly we looked.

I often think back to this moment with absolute amusement and a genuine warmness of heart. Raw. Open. Beautiful. The feelings wrought forth, I will never forget it.

Te Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu

My Maori friend tells me that one of the best way to experience the culture is to attend a taingi "funeral"-that's when all the tidings and people come out. Of course you cannot plan one of those and one would not hope.

Who knew that during my time in New Zealand, I would witness the proceedings of one of the most significant taingi in Maoridom, the passing of the Maori Queen.

The Tu Hoe gathered their elders and with the neighbors in the surrounding valley started the pilgrimage to pay their respects. I would learn later they waited in line amongst thousands before sunrise and did not reach the podium until almost midnight.

July 2006

surprise kite stumble awaits
Takaka, NZ





ornamental manu tukutuku
made by local marae
in Takaka, NZ

carbon fiber-teflon reinterpretation of birdman kite

Ted Howard of Rainbow flight, Nelson, New Zealand