Island of Shattered Dreams

Ō’muara’a parau

Nā tamanui

Nā tepaiaha

Nā teuruari’i

Mā’ohi nō inanahi

Mā’ohi nō ananahi

Mā’ohi nō a muri a’e

’A tai’o i tō pehepehe

’Ia ite ’oe i tō ’ā’amu

’Ia riro teie ’ite ei papa pāpū

Fa’ati’ara’a i te hō’ ē ao ’āpī nā ’oe

Ao ’āpī nā tō tama

Ao vī ’ore nō te nūna’a vī ’ore

Ao tura nō te nūna’a faatura

Ao ti’amā no te nūna’a mā

Ao mure ’ore nō te nūna’a mure ’ore

Ao mā’ohi nō te nūna’a mā’ohi

I noho maoro na o Ta’aroa

I roto i tōna ra ’apu.

Mai te huero mau ra i te menemene.

E tē ta’aminomino ra i roto i te aore

Mai te pō tinitini mai ā.

’Aore e rā, ’aore e marama.

’Aore e fenua, ’aore e mou’a.

Tē vai ’are’are noa ra.

’Aore e taata.

’Aore e pua’a, ’aore e moa.

’Aore e ’urī, ’aore e mea oraora.

’Aore e tai, ’aore e vai.

Ia tae rā i te hō’ē ra tau,

Tē patapata ra o Ta’aroa

I tōna ra pa’a i roto i tōna nohora’a iti piriha’o,

’Afā a’e ra, pararī a’e ra te huero iti,

’Ua unihi a’e ra o Ta’aroa,

Tū noa atu ra i ni’a iho i te pa’a

E ’ua pi’i atu ra :

«’O vai tō ni’a na ē ?»

’Aore reo i te paraura’a mai.

«’O vai tō tai na ē ?

’O vai tō uta na ē ?»

’Aore reo i te paraura’a mai !…

E vevovevo ana’e nō tōna iho reo

E ’ati noa a’e,

’Aita atu.

Ta’u atu ra o Ta’aroa :

«E te papa ē, ’a ne’e mai !»

’Aore rā e papa i ne’e atu.

’Ua ta’u atu ra :

«E te one ē, ’a ne’e mai !»

’Aore rā e one i ne’e atu.

Riri atu ra i te mea ’aita ’oia i fa’aro’ohia mai.

Huri iho ra i taua pa’a nō na ra.

Fa’atia iho ra i ni’a

Ei au nō te ra’i,

Topa atu ra i te i’oa, o Rumia.

Rohirohi atu ra, e i reira noa iho

’Ua unihi atu ra i te hō’ē pa’a hou

Nō te vehi iāna iho

Rave iho ra ’ei papa ’e ’ei one.

’Aore ā rā i māha tōna riri.

Rave atu ra i tōna tuamo’o ’ei pana’i mou’a.

Tōna ’ao’ao ’ei puro’u mou’a,

Tōna manava ’ei pāti’i ata mārevareva,

Tōna toāhua ’e tōna ’i’o ’ei pori fenua,

Tōna rima ’e nā ’āvae ei fa’a’eta’eta nō te fenua,

Tōna mai’u’u rima ’e te mai’u’u ’āvae ’ei ’apu e

’ei poa nō te i’a,

Tōna huruhuru ’ei rā’au, ’ei nana’ihere,

’E ’ei rā’au tāfifi, ’ia ruperupe te fenua,

’E tōna ’ā’au ’ei ’ōura’e ’ei puhi nō te vai ’e te tai.

E ahu atu ra te toto o Ta’aroa,

Māreva atu ra ’ei ra’i ’ute’ute ’e ’ei ānuanua.

’Ia ’apuhia te fenua, mai iāna iho

E ’apu ho’i tō te mau mea ato’a nei.

E ’apu te ra’i, ’oia te aeha’i,

I fa’anahohia e te atua te rā,

Te marama te tua ta’a,

E te hui tārava a te atua.

E ’apu te fenua nei nō te ’ōfa’i,

Te vai,

’E te rā’au e tupu mai.

Tō te tāne ’apu, o te vahine īa,

Nō te mea nō reira mai ’oia i te ao nei,

E tō te vahine nei ’apu, o te vahine iho īa,

Nō te mea nā te vahine ’oia i fānau.

E ’ore e hope i te tai’o te ’apu

O te mau mea o te ao nei.

When God began to create the heaven and the earth, the earth was without form, and void and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the surface of the waters.

And God said, Let there be light! And there was light, and God saw that the light was good. God divided the light from the darkness, and he called it ‘Night’. And the evening and the morning were the first day.

And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters! (…) He divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament. And it was so. And God called the firmament Heaven (…). And the evening and the morning were the second day.

And God said, Let the Earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind! And it was so. And God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the third day.

And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night, and let them be for signs, and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth. And it was so (…). And God saw that all this was good (…). And the evening and the morning were the fourth day.

And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven (…). And God saw that it was good (…). And the evening and the morning were the fifth day.

And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind, cattle and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after his kind! And it was so (…). And God saw that it was good.

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and let him have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

And so God created man in his own image

In the image of God created he them:

Male and female created he them.

And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth and subdue it (…).

And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat (…). And it was so. And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.

And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them.

And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made.

And he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made.

And God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made.

These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created.

Prologue

It is a magical moment. Tetuamarama, the moon, with her long silver hair, is spreading her sequined carpet above the world. Tetuamarama, goddess of the night, faithful companion of all lovers, offers the shining caress of her light to Ruahine, the Land sanctified by the blood of her sons. Moanaurifa, the bountiful sea, stretches herself voluptuously over the sand, bursting into a glittering spray, lulling all souls with her immortal music. The birds have tucked their bright feathers beneath their wings. The fish have smoothed their shining scales beneath their fins. Even the gods in the heavens have suspended the fate of man, waiting for the music of the words to be spoken.

On the distant headland, Ruahine’s sons are silent. Sitting on pe’ue finely woven by the work-worn hands of the women, they are waiting.

It is a magical moment.

Now rises up the deep voice of Tematua. Voice of the eternal Land. Voice of the immortal Fathers. It rises up from the depths of the night come down through the ages of man. Bearing life and love. Echoing light. Echoing eternity. Song of love and pain. Song of my People. Song of my Land. Song of Ruahine.

‘They will come on a boat with no outrigger, these children, these branches of the same tree that gave us life. Their bodies will be different from ours, but they will be our brothers, branches of the same tree. They will take our Land for themselves, they will overturn our established order, and the sacred birds of land and sea will gather to mourn.’

A clear-sighted prediction that no one wanted to hear. The Word cast on deaf ground.

They did come one day, on their boat with no outrigger, proving the old forgotten prediction was right. We welcomed them, these strange brothers come from a strange land, as it was foretold long ago. We loved them, these unknown branches of the tree, these children of the One and Only Ta’aroa.

We shared our land with them, the great house created by Ta’aroa so that all his children might grow up in its shelter. We welcomed them, these strange brothers from another place, whose coming was long foretold. We offered them our love. Our trusting love, that made us forget the rest of the old prediction. Our boundless love, that turned to pain and tears.

They took our land for themselves, with the help of some of our own people, thirsting after undeserved power. They shattered our established order, forcing their world upon us.

Oh my People, what was predicted has come to pass, and now we weep.

We told ourselves then that their spirit must be as luminous as their skin. White, the colour of light, and therefore of intelligence. Brown, the colour of darkness, and therefore of lack of intelligence.

The old prediction said ‘branches of the same tree’, and so that it would be right, we convinced ourselves they were the upper branches and we were the lower ones.

Everything was as it had been foretold. The old prediction was true.

Divinely true.

So we submitted to these strange brothers, distant branches tossed for months on this ocean they didn’t understand, washed up by chance on our shores and putting down roots on Mā’ohi land.

Just like the mārara that wash up in clusters on the fine sand of our beaches, more and more of them set off, fleeing their old world in decay.

These pale men, with their different bodies, with their white skin, looked upon our women.

Vahine Mā’ohi, golden-skinned woman

Daughter of the sun

Daughter of the moon

Your long black hair tumbling down

Like waterfalls cascading down the mountains

Your great dark eyes

Like the sea and its infinite depths

Vahine Mā’ohi

Ray of sunlight

Stardust

Moonbeam

Mystical by day

Magical by night

Made by love, made for love

Most beautiful amongst women

Dream of white men

Always desired

Sometimes loved

Vahine Mā’ohi

Envy of white women.

These men dreamed then of our women and thought they possessed them.

Their women, pale, abandoned, with their different bodies, with their white skin, began in their turn to look upon our men.

Tāne Mā’ohi, with your powerful body

Son of the sky and the sea

Shining in the firelight of the gods

Heaven’s gift to love

Tāne Mā’ohi

Desired by women

Loved in the darkest night

In the fare ni’au

On the powdery sands of our beaches

In the seaspray crowning the distant headlands

In the ferny nest of the deep valleys

Tāne Mā’ohi

Wild and beautiful

Like a storm out to sea

Dream of white women

Always desired

Sometimes loved

Tāne Mā’ohi

Envy of white men.

These women dreamed then of our men and thought they possessed them.

The dream became a reality in the fare ni’au, like bubbles suspended outside the time of men. Bodies entwined, discovering each other, different and yet so much alike in the eternal wonder of love’s pleasures. A sin in the civilised world of white men. A hymn to love in our world, the immortal cycle of nature, created by the heavenly gods, a celebration of body and soul.

To protect themselves against this Mā’ohi nature, so strange and wild beside their worn and weary world, they called on their Tahu’a to exorcise sin and evil. So now ministers disembarked from more boats with no outrigger, messengers of their Lord, Tahu’a come to convert us, bearers of the only divine word. They believed they had come to the end of the world, to hell.

Wild Mā’ohi Land

Too many fine days, no winter

Too much sun, no snow

Too much heat, no cold

Too much to eat

In the sea and on the land

No one starving

No wandering beggars

Too much communal living

Too much helping one another

Too much sharing

A real hell.

These men and these women

These splendid naked bodies

Making the others’ pale bodies

Tremble with rising desire

These dances, an invitation to love

To the rhythm of the pounding drums

This singing, revealing the bright soul

Waves breaking on the reef barrier

A real hell.

Oh Lord God who art in Heaven

Lead me not into temptation

But deliver me from evil.

And so they proclaimed their Law on Ruahine. A new Law. A civilised Law. The Word of the One True God, their God. Behold the Law. Behold the Word. Respect these commandments:

1 – Thou shalt dress soberly

Thou shalt wear ample garments

Long dresses with long sleeves

Trousers and long-sleeved shirts

So that thy body shall no more be an object of desire.

2 –