Call of te waiata
Creative writing
Art / Tara Griz
Haere mai, haere mai, haere mai ra...
Te waiata o tōku tūpuna fills the air and it is sweet and heavy and quivering with light,
I don’t remember learning the words but they have always been there
Woven into a kete of poetry and love and waiata.
The silence of the morning light is broken by my voice as I softly sing.
My voice is not alone, it sings in harmony with the chorus of a thousand years.
“Ko Hineruhi koe, nāna i whakatū i te ata hāpara."
“You are Hineruhi, the one who brings about the dawn.”
The dawn bleeds in and it is a symphony, and the sun sings along as it rises above te maunga
The call of te waiata rises over the mountains as gentle and yet enrapturing as the mist
Hiki ake te kohu e
Raupō threads through the breath of the forest, and poi soar and leap through the air, spelling out stories in words I cannot understand
Tipu ake, e te puāwai — it grows and blossoms
Like the pōhutukawa
A path only once travelled
“E rere, e te wairua, e rere”
“Fly oh free spirit, fly.”
The wairua in the air vibrates against my voice, the earth spins as I wiriwiri
As my hands dance through the air, whispers of my tupuna whoosh past me,
carried by the wind and weight of my words
Though they have already followed the path taken by the moa – te haere o te moa
I am surrounded by the voices of my tupuna,
their voices soothing in a way I cannot understand and they dance and I breathe and te whenua hums
The sun breathes into the air and it is warmth rising as Tānerore dances once more.
Shimmering, trembling, the air and the words of the haka are one.
I breathe it in.
And exhale the call of a warrior.
A puha pierces the air and suddenly I can hear the cries of kairākau and feel te whenua shift with their power.
Their call to arms waits to be answered, chanting fiercely in wait, voices in the shadows of te maunga and propelling the current of te awa.
Messages carried along the current of the words, lyrics a vessel like the waka that once carried the stories they were built upon
Words weighted with dreams, prophecies, commands — heavy as they are, they are passed gently down to me, and I to my tamariki
A hongi — the breath of life, passed down through a song
Through the haka I am a chief, warning the power of my people and our land as we rush into battle and I listen.
Through oriori, I am a taitamaiti again, safe in the arms of my mother as she speaks of the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the rain and the whispers of the wind and I listen.
Through waiata tangi, the tears for my father and for his before him are mixed in with te moana, and they are speaking softly with the stars and I listen.
Through waiata aroha, the arms of a familiar embrace envelope me and every word is sweetly tainted and the mouth that sings them is warm and I listen.
It is a language of a thousand words, a thousand lifetimes, a thousand voices
The tears of a mother, the mist over the mountains, the cry of unity.
Karanga mai, karanga mai, karanga mai ra.
Glossary
Haere/karanga mai: A welcoming call often used at a pōwhiri
Te waiata o toku tupuna: The waiata of my ancestors
Kete: Basket
Te maunga: Mountain
Hiki ake te kohu e: As the mist rises
Wiriwiri: To tremble or to quiver
Tānerore: The personification of shimmering air, of the haka
Puha: A war cry used to call to arms
Kairākau: Warriors
Te awa: River
Oriori: A lullaby
Taitamaiti: A child
Waiata tangi: A lament
Waiata aroha: A love song
Tōku Tūpuna: Ancestor, grandparent
Raupō: A tall, summer-green swamp plant
Wairua: Spirit/Soul