The Hineruru

A little girl, no more than seven years of age, sat on the knees of her Kuia, her grandmother. Her head was tucked under her Kuia's chin, patiently waiting for her favourite part of the day, story time. A fire crackled, the smell of smoke drifted, and her Kuia hummed as she rocked her granddaughter. The combination of smells and sounds settled little Maia into a drowsy, satisfied mood.

"Do you know what you mean to me, e ipo?", her Kuia asked, as she enveloped her in her arms, pulling her closer, deeper, relishing the warmth of the littlest member of her family on her lap. Maia wriggled in anticipation. Story time always started with the same question.

"No Kuia", she replied, as always, loving all the different versions her Kuia would come up with on a daily basis.

"You are my most precious mokopuna. My granddaughter. See, I even tell the world - this special part of my tattoo is just for you!" She pointed to her chin where the tribal pattern swirled, her 'moko kauae', flicking out a little curling scroll, a baby fern, that had been added only a few years prior straight after Maia's birth. "This part here, says you are my whanau, my family, and I will always be proud of you and forever protect you.

Little Maia reached out a chubby finger and stroked the baby fern her Kuia pointed to, the soft skin of her grandmother interrupted with the raised lines left behind by the traditional tattoo.

"Where is mummy?", she asked.

"I tell the world about your mummy here", Kuia gently responded, moving Maia's fingers over another curling scroll on her chin, before pausing, "but she lives in here", she said, holding her hand over her heart. "Just like she lives in your heart too", she added, resting her hand over Maia's little chest.

"Can I tell the world about you and mummy too?", Maia asked, poking at her own chin, "does it hurt?", "when can I have one?", her infinite curiosity multiplying along with the lines furrowing on her brow as she thought about the tattoo.

"You can have your own story tattooed on your chin later, e ipo, when you have lived your own story to tell. It might hurt a little, but your name, Maia, is a good name. Your mother named you before she had to leave us all those years ago, because she wanted to give you all the extra mana, or power, we could give you to face the world.

Maia means 'brave', so even if it does hurt, I know you will be brave and you will make all your whanau proud, Kuia tapped Maia on the tip of her ski jump nose. "Now stop frowning like that. You remind me of the Hineruru and I won't tell you a story with that kind of face staring up at me."

Eyes sparkling with curiosity, Maia looked up at her Kuia, "the Hine what?"

"The Hineruru. The owl woman. When your brow frowns like that", her Kuia scrunched up her own brow dramatically, and opened her eyes wide beneath them, cocking her chin to the side making Maia laugh, "you look like an owl, what we call a ruru." She continued to tilt her head this way and that, looking at her granddaughter from all angles in a distinctly bird like way, eliciting more giggles from her tiny audience member. "The all seeing eyes of the owl woman; The Hineruru story it is then." Satisfied she had captured Maia's attention, Kuia softened her glaring eyes and, swaying gently, began to tell her granddaughter of the Hineruru.

Stories pass from generation to generation of course; mashing and mixing and changing. A story is a woven tapestry of legend, lies, half truths and wishes that the story teller embellishes along the way, braving the wrath of the gods who inspired them to make each tale their own. For Kuia, she had gathered many stories in her lifetime, and many versions of the tale of the Hineruru, but her soul settled on telling the version of the tale she knew could serve her mokopuna best.

The legend goes, that there was once a powerful wahine. A woman, a mother, who lived for the service of her people. She was strong, kind and beautiful; and she balanced her duties to her whanau and the earth mother, Papatuanuku, and the sky father, Ranginui, so perfectly that even the gods let her be in peace."

"Just like mama?", Maia interrupted.

"Yes, just like your mama. Her village grew and grew, and all those who lived with her flourished in prosperity and happiness. Her fields were always bountiful and the fishing baskets overflowing. All her people were so grateful to her and she bore many precious children."

"Yay!", Maia cheered. Fish was her favourite.

"But not all was well", Kuia continued, hushing Maia's cheer, "for one of the grandsons of the earth mother and sky father, a son of Tu-kai-tangata, a demigod of sorts, named Tu Puhaehae became jealous. He did not like that a mere mortal could be so successful, bathed in sunshine and without suffering. He was jealous as he and his father had suffered in darkness for years at the dawn of our earth. To make things worse, he had tried to win the heart of our wahine, and she had turned him down as she could plainly see how selfish and filled with jealousy his heart was.

So, on one bright and sunny day, when there was no cloud in the sky and she was gathering food for the village, Tu Puhaehae killed our precious wahine in a fit of jealous rage. Her spirit was taken to Rarohenga, the underworld, to be watched over by the goddess of death and night, Hine-nui-te-po".

Her little chest rising and falling a bit quicker now, Maia's frown returned full force and her eyes lined with silvery tears, "can we change the story Kuia?" She asked timidly.

"No Maia. You will be brave", Kuia said, but tightened her arms around her granddaughter all the same.

Grief tore at Kuia for losing her only daughter, but it scored twice as deep, feeling the loss for her granddaughter, growing without a precious mama who had been stolen from them all too soon. Breathing deeply, she continued on in her story, pulling at the threads of the tale she knew her granddaughter could bear to hear. "This wahine, she loved her whanau so deeply, nothing, not even travelling to the spirit world, could distract her from wanting to serve her village. She grieved for many moons and sang laments through all the nights, her broken voice disturbing the heart of Hine-nui-te-po. Hine-nui-te-po understood the treachery that the demigods and their kin could wreack, and over time softened to the pleas of the wahine for stories of her home and people.

So Hine-nui-te-po called upon a clever ruru, an owl, to check upon the wahine's whanau, and bring back stories of the village to her. Each evening, as the sky turned red with the sunset, heralding Hine-nui-te-po's night, the ruru would fly to the wahine's village, collecting information, and then return at the lightening of the sky each morning. The ruru would then spend the daylight hours in the safety of Rarohenga, regaling our wahine with stories of her village."

"Did the stories make her feel less sad?" Maia looked up at her Kuia hopefully.

"Yes and no. You see, the knowing of anything can be both a blessing and a curse. With the many seasons that had passed, her whanau had moved on and were learning to live without her among them. One of her daughters had grown into a strong young woman and was also incredibly beautiful. Our wahine was so proud of her little girl that had grown while she was away to be of such service to her people, but fearful for her too, for she had also caught the attention of Tu Puhaehae."

"NO!" Maia cried, "he can't do it again!"

"Well, thats very much what it looked like was going to happen, our ruru reported. Our wahine begged Hine-nui-te-po to be allowed to return to her people to bring them guidance and to warn her daughter of the dangers of Tu Puhaehae and of the jealousy of man. Alas, Hine-nui-te-po was wise and knew that allowing her to return would only bring confusion and suffering to the hearts of the villagers that had already healed from the loss of our wahine so she denied her desperate pleas."

"But I thought Hine-nui-te-po was kind?" Maia wailed, her eyes still full of hope for the lost wahine.

"Sometimes. But she is also a goddess, and even the most kind can be unfeeling towards the plight of mere mortals and we are unwise to rely on them. So our wahine hatched a plan, and made a bargain with the clever ruru that had been visiting her village every evening. In exchange for letting her share the ruru's body and allowing her to visit her whanau in the village she would forever join the ruru and keep it company. For the ruru had lost it's life mate years ago and had lived in solo servitude to Hine-nui-te-po ever since.

The very next evening, while Hine-nui-te-po was busy watching over the night, the ruru and our wāhine became one. Our wāhine was no longer bound to the realm of Rarohenga. She was able to escape and fly into our world to visit the village she had left so many years ago and appear to her elders, the kaumatua, as the owl woman. The Hineruru"

"Didn't they recognise her?" Maia asked.

"No, e ipo, for she was no longer the same wahine that left them all those years ago. Her spirit only joined the ruru, her body was long returned to the earth. She told them of the great danger that Tu Puhaehae posed, and that their village was vulnerable to those that wished them harm. The kaumatua took the Hineruru's advice and promised her that they would take steps to protect all their villagers from the dangers she warned and made sure their warriors were prepared to protect their people."

"We have warriors too."

"We do. Warriors are still only men. Tu Puhaehae was the grandson of a god. He was sneaky and powerful and fuelled with all manner of ugly emotions like jealousy and rage. So our Hineruru knew she had to be smart to protect her village. Instead of returning to Rarohenga, she tucked into the trees along the edge of the forest that bordered the village and waited to see what kind of measures it would take to finally scare away Tu Puhaehae for good.

The next day, the chief could be seen speaking with the other villagers ensuring they had their young men with keen eyes on alert for dangerous visitors. What they did not know, was that Tu Puhaehae was already among them."

Little Maia didn't know if she could bear it. "Noooo", she moaned, fearing the worst, looking about as if Tu Puhaehae had snuck into her Kuia's home and was hiding amongst the crockery.

"As her daughter was tending to the pigs that were held in the sty not far from the forest, Tu Puhaehae passed right by where the Hineruru was hiding. He was sliding in and out of the shadows, sticking to the rim of the forest, slinking closer and closer to her daughter, not once averting his eyes from his target at the sty."

"Kuia, stop him!" Maia begged, her eyes boring into her grandmother, round as opals as Kuia's story quickened.

"Our Hineruru moved through the darkness of the trees, racing Tu Puhaehae to her daughter, swifter than she ever had moved as a mortal. Right as Tu Puhaehae lifted his blade she burst from the trees with a deafening scream. In the bright light of day though, sharing her form with the owl, the Hineruru was blinded! She missed striking Tu Puhaehae, instead stumbing into him. He turned his attention on her, ready to send her soul back to the underworld once more, swollen in anger. But the scream of the Hineruru had alerted her strong and courageous daughter. Her daughter came running and holding her club high, struck Tu Puhaehae down in one fell blow."

"In just one blow?"

"In just one blow. You see, the Hineruru's daughter was strong and smart. She already knew that those who are jealous can be dangerous and had dealt with the loss of her mother all those years ago on her own. She already held all the strength and bravery she needed to be able to protect herself and her family. All the Hineruru needed to do was give her a little warning and she could do the rest all by herself".

"I'll bet Tu Puhaehae never came back", Maia said smugly, already imagining herself as a warrior princess, defending her village with a club raised high and the Hineruru at her back.

"I'll bet not either, e ipo", chuckled Kuia, tracing the line of her granddaughters cupid's bow with tip of her finger, calming Maia back down from her imaginary victory circuit of the village.

"So now you know. When you see the Hineruru, she is there to warn you and protect you. You must always listen to her, for she represents the wisdom of all your ancestors before you and she will always do her best to guide you and keep you from harm, just like the rest of us", Kuia finished, pinching her granddaughters chin between her thumb and forefinger for emphasis.

"Ok Kuia", Maia mumbled, her affirmation softened with impending sleep, her breathing deepening as her chest rose and fell in gentle waves.

"Goodnight, e ipo." Kuia carried Maia over to lie down on her sleeping pad, and softly stroked back her hair until she felt her drift off into dreamland. "I love you."

Sitting in the branches, deep in the darkness and shielded from the firelight, a small ruru watched Maia drift off into slumber and clicked her beak in gratitude at the loving Kuia. A rodent scurried across the forest floor but the ruru never looked away from her tiny sleeping charge and instead loosed a long, soft, heart rending cry into the night.