Thursday, January 31, 2013

The Maori Creation Myth

In the beginning, there was Te Kore, The Nothing.  From Te Kore came Te Po, The Night.  There were many nights. The last Night joined with Space and there came into being two thoughts.  These thoughts were called Rangi, the Sky Father, and Papa, the Earth Mother.  They were so much in love that they held each other tightly and refused to let go of each other. Thus the sky and the eath were joined solidly together.  There was no light on the earth as Rangi and Papa’s tight embrace prevented it.  There was not even enough room for Time to slip between them.  Papa and Rangi gave birth to over 100 children; some of the children were Tangaroa, god of the sea, Tane, god of the forests, Tumatauenga, god of war, Whiro, god of darkness and Tawhirimatea, god of the winds. They were all trapped between their parents and could hardly move. The children talked about what they should do.  Tane suggested that he would separate their parents.  Whiro, was angry with Tane, because he was the eldest, and he should be the one to do this. Tawhiri wanted their parents to be left alone. Tumatauenga thought they should just kill the parents. But in the end, most of the children agreed that Tane should push them apart. Tane, god of the forests, carried four poles with him.  He placed one of the poles by his parents’ legs and one by their heads. He then pushed his parents apart. He pushed for years and years and years.  Rangi the Sky and Pap the Earth were separated became the sky above and earth below as we know them today. The blood from Rangi became the red of the sunset. The blood from Papa became the red clay earth. Light came into the world at last. The children moved to the four corners. But Tawhiri was very angry at what had been done. The anger grew in him until he couldn’t bear it any more. Tawhiri ripped out his eyes and threw them into the heavens, where they turned into the first two stars. He then turned his blind fury on all of his brothers. He blew hurricanes, tornadoes, cyclones. He made tsunamis and huge storms. His anger had no end. Papa and Rangi were unhappy. They missed eachother so much that they cried and cried and cried. Rangi’s tears became rivers and oceans and dew on the grass. The mists that rise from the ground are from Pap, sighing with loneliness.

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