Off the Beaten Track: Matariki, the Maori New Year

Our guest today is Kate McWiggins, an expat American enjoying life in small town New Zealand. An escapee from corporate life, she spends her days trying to craft the perfect mystery novel, tending her garden, and expanding her vocabulary of "kiwi" English.

Seven hundred years ago the ancestors of the Maori arrived on the shores of New Zealand from Polynesia. As early mariners, an understanding and knowledge of celestial objects was critical to their survival. They traveled across the Pacific in their mighty carved waka (war canoes) with only the aid of the stars for navigation.

Early Maori banded together in small tribal groups and developed their own unique culture based on Polynesian customs and social structure. In addition to navigation, the heavens were critical in determining time and the change of seasons. Until the arrival of Europeans in the 18^th century, Maori had no written language. This fostered a rich tradition of story telling and oral histories to pass on customs, beliefs and myths. Wood carving, weaving and tattoo art were also used to communicate custom and history. The use of Maori tattoo (moko) to convey status was seen from ancient times, a person without a tattoo was considered to be of the lowest social status. As the head was considered the most sacred, facial tattoo adorned all those of high rank.

As Matariki (Pleiades star cluster) rises above New Zealand in the winter sky in early June, it heralds the Maori New Year. In ancient times, a lookout would be posted to watch the predawn sky for the rise of the star cluster on the northeastern horizon. At the rise of Matariki, celebrations began for many tribes, while others would begin to celebrate at the sight of the new moon. In the southern hemisphere, Matariki is aligned with the winter solstice. It arrives when the sun travels north on the shortest day of the year.

The Pleiades figures in the legend of many cultures. In Greek myth, the Pleiades seven stars represent the seven daughters of Pleione and Atlas. Matariki translated from the Maori language means “tiny eyes” or “eyes of the God”. In Maori legend, the father of the sky, Ranginui, was separated from the earth mother, Papatuanuki by their children. This angered Tahirirmatea, the god of the winds, who then tore out his eyes and hurled them into the sky, creating Matariki. Other legends describe Matariki as the Mother surrounded by her six daughters, Tupu-ā-nuku, Tupu-ā-rangi, Waitī, Waitā, Waipuna-ā-rangi and Ururangi.

Traditionally, Matariki was a time for remembrance, to honor those who had died in the last year. The Maori believed that the stars held the souls of the departed. But Matariki was also a time for celebration. Coming at the end of harvest, it allowedfor feasting from the bounty of harvested crops and the gathering of seafood and local birds. Predictions for the coming year were read in the stars of Matariki. The success of the next year’s harvests was tied to the visibility of the star cluster. If the stars were bright, it predicted early warmth for the growing season and bountiful crops.

Matariki celebrations brought families together for feasting, singing, dancing and competitions.  Competition among Maori springs partly from the warrior culture that developed in the 15^th century.  Continuing warfare among tribal groups (iwi) evolved into a number of rituals including the Haka, a ritualized war dance. It is likely that the Haka would have performed at Matariki celebrations. Rugby World Cup viewers around the world saw the New Zealand All Blacks team perform the ka-mate Haka prior to each match. The Haka is not solely a war dance; different forms are used in welcome, as a challenge or in celebration of important occasions such as Matariki.

Matariki celebrations began to decline in the 1900’s with some of last festivals held in the 1940’s. However, with the current revival of interest in Maori culture, Matariki is again celebrated among Maori and with public events through museums, schools and cultural organizations.

One of the customs gaining popularity from the revival of Matariki is the flying of traditional Maori kites. Kites were thought to provide a connection between heaven and earth and were part of the ancient festivals. The making of kites was considered a sacred art and only priests or highly respected elders were allowed to create them. The original kites were constructed of wood and bark cloth and decorated with shells, feathers and colored patterns drawn with red and black pigments. The kites of current Matariki festivals are varied and colorful and often display traditional Maori designs. The modern celebration of Matariki continues to grow in popularity, incorporating both ancient and modern customs.

History of a Beer Snob

By Beth Green

I have a confession to make. I’ll eat anything. I’ll go anywhere. I’ll try most things if they won’t put me in the hospital or in prison.

But I won’t drink bad beer.

In a pinch I’ll sleep in an airport or a train station—even (at least that one time) on a park bench. I’m not choosy about what I wear or the company I keep.

But I am a beer snob.

Beer is my particular snobbery.

I blame most of the reason for this on my parents, who in my formative years took an interest in home brewing when we visited New Zealand on our sailboat. I was 12, and years away from drinking beer myself (obviously), but I was intrigued by the whole madcap science of it—the strange giant tins of strong-smelling hops, the crazy jerry-can and tube set-up my dad tinkered with.

My parents got progressively involved and sophisticated with their brewing once we returned to the USA (Mom even took home a prize a few years ago for her Blonde Beaver Pale Ale at the Great Alaskan CraftBeer and Homebrew Festival in Haines, AK.). But I was still a few years away from being a beer snob. In college, perhaps making up for my nontraditional upbringing, I made sure I embraced the all-American university culture of drinking copious amounts of the cheapest beer available, occasionally utilizing household objects, such as funnels, for the consumption thereof.

But everything changed when, during my junior year of university, I went on academic exchange to Spain. I spent months beforehand reading up on wine, assuming in my naivete that that was pretty much all sophisticated Europeans drank.

So it was a complete surprise when I realized all that information I’d been absorbing about wines had actually made me appreciate beer more. I started noticing the metallic taste of canned brews, the nuances in flavor between the stouts, the hefeweizens, the lagers. One weekend trip to Madrid my friends and I ran into two Irish people in town for a rugby match—they introduced me to Guinness while my other friends chose cider or wine spritzers.

The author and her mother in the Czech Republic in 2004.

But even with this newly defined interest, I wouldn’t have called myself a snob of anything. Until, a few years later I moved to the Czech Republic, which, (at least in the

biased opinion of 10.5 million Czechs) is the world’s best place to live if you like beer.

And, boy, the Czechs like it. In 2010, they drank 132 liters per capita, according to the Kirin Institute Food and Lifestyle Report. Think that’s a lot? Well, that amount is down 21 bottles per person from the year before, in part to improved public awareness about the dangers of alcoholism and the creeping realization that too much of a good thing gives you liver problems.

If you ask a Czech, they invented the stuff—pilsner (a type of pale lager) is named, after all, after the city of Pilsen. Now, while their neighbors to the west, the Germans, have their own firm opinions about who truly invented the drink, the Germans haven’t put their money where their mouth is, only consuming a piddling 107 liters per capita per year. Does that give the Czechs the right to call themselves the inventors of modern beer? After a few glasses, I’d say so.

Fresh beer.

In the Czech Republic, beer has a cultural significance I’ve found no other beverage to hold in any other part of the world. In China, tea still reigns—but Chinese people don’t love their 茶 the way Czechs cherish a pivo. The French, Spanish, and Italians bicker over who has the best wine—but their pride in viticulture is shadowed by the Czech mania for beer.

Within the Czech Republic, I soon learned, there are factions of beer lovers. You choose a beer brand to support like in other countries you’d choose a football team. In fact, for Czechs, choosing a beer brand may influence your later choice of brew-sponsored soccer club.

Budvar, the brew from České Budjějovicky which has been involved in convoluted tradmark disputes with American Budweiser beer and is sold in the US as Czechvar, has a certain crowd. Pilsner Urquell, the most famous of Czech beers internationally, is drunk by tourists and certain Pilsen-loyal Czechs. Staropramen is a favorite among native Praguers. The list is long, and the tasting and choosing a laborious, though delightful, process. At long last, I chose Gambrinus.

Image from www.gambrinus.cz.

Gambrinus, made by the Pilsner Urquell brewery and owned by SAB Miller, is a clean, light-colored beer that a non-beer snob could probably quaff as easily as they would drink any other Czech beer. It’s sold in brown bottles to keep the flavor from turning skunky, but tastes best from the tap of a busy pub. After three years of trying the various brews around the country, I realized I could do a blind taste-test and always name Gambrinus as the superior drink. The SAB Miller web page describes it as having a “distinct and refreshing ‘bite’ which does not compromise its soft beer flavour.”

Watching Czech films or reading Czech literature will provide a small insight into the importance of the beverage in daily Czech life. One of the country’s most celebrated and respected authors, Bohumil Hrabal (1914-1997), was a famous beer lover. The brewery Hrabal’s stepfather managed, Pivovaru Nymburk, has Hrabal’s portrait on their Postřižinské beer label. The beer is named after his novel Postřižiny, translated into English as Cutting it Short.

Image from www.postriziny.cz.

Beer is a happy pleasure, a luxury in China (where I now live). Of course China has its own beers, not all of them bad, but none of them as good as a wet, frothy glass of Gambrinus.

So, what’s your secret snobbery?

It’s A Long Way To The Top – Sir Edmund Hillary

Sir Edmund Hillary 2004 - Photo by Mariusz Kubik

I’ve always been interested in firsts when it comes to history – the first person to discover an uninhabited land, first person to cross the Antarctic, the list could go on. Milestones are reached everyday; sometimes the achievements are our own, while others go on to obtain milestones that will go down in the annals of history. For me, Edmund Hillary, mountain climber and philanthropist extraordinaire, is someone who never stopped achieving milestones – both personal and professional.

My bookshelves bow from the weight of mountaineering and adventure books I’ve collected over the years, and I’m very proud of my extensive Edmund Hillary collection. As a kid, I read about adventures in far off lands where humans battled extreme elements and their own psyche in order to obtain their dreams. Tenacity and undying passion are what pushed these amazing adventurers along, and Edmund Hillary was no different.

Born in New Zealand in 1919, Edmund Hillary finished primary school two years early and moved on to high school. He didn’t fit in very well, so turned to books and at the age of 16, undertook a school trip to Mount Ruapehu. His passion for climbing was awakened and a few years later, he climbed another mountain in New Zealand, Mount Ollivier, with his brother, Rex. Their desire to climb every winter meant they needed a well-paying summer job, so they entered the bee keeping business.

Over the next few years, Hillary undertook other climbs in New Zealand and in 1951, managed to gain a place on an expedition to Everest, led by Eric Shipton, a renowned Himalayan climber. After a failed attempt in 1952 to reach the summit of Cho Oyu, a mountain that borders Nepal and Tibet, Hillary joined the 1953 Everest Expedition led once again by Shipton.

At this time, the Tibetan route up Everest had been closed by the Chinese, and Nepal only allowed one group of climbers per year up the mountain from their side. The expedition involved 4,000 people, including 362 porters, 20 Sherpa guides and 10,000 pounds of equipment.

In March, the climbers set up base camp and slowly worked their way up the mountain, setting up camps intermittently. The expedition rock stars, Tom Bourdillon and Charles Evans, were slated for the first attempt at the summit but turned back when Evans’s oxygen system failed. They were only 300 vertical feet (91 metres) from the summit. Hillary was paired up with a successful Nepalese climber, Tenzing Norgay, and the men quickly formed a strong team.

Tenzing and Norgay were next in line for the summit bid and on 28 May they headed up the mountain. When Hillary woke the next day he found his boots had frozen solid, and he spent two hours warming them before they started their ascent. With climbing, every minute counts, and late starts can make all the difference between success and failure and, literally, life or death.

Mount Everest - Photo by Pavel Novak

Just below the summit, the pair came across a rock face that is now known as the “Hillary Step”. The men successfully scaled the difficult section and a short time after, they made history. Both Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay reached the highest point on earth – 29,028 feet (8,848 metres).

After years of planning and training, the men spent only 15 minutes on the summit. They took the obligatory photos, but as Tenzing had never used a camera before, the photo didn’t turn out. Hillary left a cross he’d been gifted and Tenzing left chocolates on the summit in respect for his gods. Hillary took additional photos to prove they’d made it to the top and just achieved one of the most amazing milestones in history.

Fame followed and not long after that, controversy. Many people, especially the media, said Tenzing made it to the top first, but Hillary always maintained they stepped on the summit together. Although Tenzing, in his biography, The Dream Comes True, said Hillary had taken the first step.

Both men participated in other expeditions and Hillary documented many of them in his books, including an adventure along the Ganges river, From Ocean To Sky. After hitting such a monumental achievement in Nepal, Hillary devoted much of his time to helping the Nepalese through the Himalayan Trust – an organization devoted to improving the lives of people living in the Himalayas. The trust has built a hospital in Kunde, undertaken a forestry program in various parts of Nepal, and also built a school in Khumjung. Hillary was also an Honorary President of the American Himalayan Foundations, as well as Mountain Wilderness, a company dedicated to protecting mountains around the world.

With all the wonderful milestones Hillary has reached, his private life has not been devoid of tragedy. In 1975, Hillary’s wife, Louise, and his daughter, Belinda, were en route to meet Hillary and help build a hospital. But the plane carrying his wife and daughter crashed near Kathmandu shortly after take-off. Hillary remarried many years later.

Hillary’s son, Peter, followed in his father’s footsteps and became a climber, summiting Everest on the 50^th anniversary celebration. And to top things off, so to speak, Norgay’s son, Jamling Tenzing Norgay, was also part of the expedition. In 1990, Peter and Edmund Hillary became the first father and son duo to ascend Mount Everest successfully.

Edmund Hillary passed away in 2008, and the outpouring of love and respect for the man was felt throughout the world. A true adventurer, Hillary touched the lives of many. He used his milestones and engaging public persona to raise funds for communities that desperately needed assistance.

The legacy this adventurer has left behind is legendary. His charity work still lives on, increasing awareness of the plight of poor communities in the countries he travelled to, as well as inspiring climbers of the past, present, and future. Edmund Hillary showed the world that a young, gangly boy with a big dream can achieve monumental milestones. All it takes is determination and passion.

Statue of Edmund Hillary overlooking Mount Cook, NZ. Photo by Johnathon Keelty