Chief Harry

By Harry

“Who wants to be chief?” our host at the Mitai Village asked us.  No one raised their hand.  Disappointed he asked again, “Who wants to volunteer to be chief.”  Thinking hard he went a different route, “Whoever is chief gets to eat first!” My stomach gurgled, I was famished.  Half begrudgingly I rose my hand, “If I get to eat first I’ll be chief.”  Smiling our host claimed me “Chief Harry.”

For those of you who are wondering, “What is a Hangi?” A hangi is a traditional Maori meal.  Like the Hawaiians Luau, it involves cooking large quantities of meat and vegetables underground, thus my excitement and interest in the hangi.  This one was small because it was winter and not the tourist season.  I stared with a slight disappointment when I saw no pig underground.  Instead chicken and lamb juices sizzled.  “I guess it will do,” I thought to myself hungry and willing to eat my left arm.  It wasn’t dinner yet.  First a lesson or two.

I could eat that myself...

Traditionally the Maori’s arranged a hangi for two tribes to meet.  They wanted the tribes to be at peace with one another, rather then in pieces.  So, the women of the tribes strategized a very simple solution.  “Full belly = Happy Maori,” men didn’t want to fight when their bellies were full.  The women of the tribe figured it out.  If only they could keep the men’s belly full all the time.

Display

We walked down the forest path to the stream, where we met the Maori warriors.  Their faces were painted to scare the enemy away, but traditionally these would have been a full facial tattoo called a moko.  They beat their chest and opened their mouths wide to intimidate us.  A loud yell in Maori jolted my nerves.  I knew it was a show, but even I was a bit concerned I was about to get attacked.  I was chief, so no fear could be shown.  I exchanged the wide mouthed facial expression.  It felt silly, but also quite fun.  I passed the test and now our tourist tribe was off to meet the chief.

The chief wasn’t a small man.  He could have been a bouncer for a vegas strip club.  I performed a ritual of accepting a peace offering and touched my nose to his nose, a traditional Maori exchange called a hongi.  I couldn’t help but think he was going to head butt me.  Luckily he was feeling nice and rubbed his nose on mine and cracked a smile.  “Aren’t you glad we speak English?” He said getting out of character.

The Big Chief

The tribe performed warrior tactics, exercises and dances for about another hour.  I had hunger pains I was so hungry.  I even looked over at Bruce at some point and thought he looked like a chicken.  I was ready to eat.  The show was awesome but it wasn’t enough to distract me from my hunger.  Finally, the last dance/song was performed and we proceeded to the dining hall.

Mmmmm….Lamb, salad, chicken, potatoes, steamed veggies.  I indulged in the Hangi buffet and made sure I got our moneys worth.  Three full plates was enough to turn my hunger pain to a full belly pain.  There really was nothing like NZ Lamb.  Grass fed and pasture raised, they were as happy as sheep could be.  And now I was happy to have my belly full and my brain equipped with a little Maori culture.

He wasn't smiling when I met him