And the Sky and the Earth Parted

The Maori are the native islanders of New Zealand. Originating from the Pacific islands, they made New Zealand their home, many hundreds of years ago, before the European settlers arrived in the seventeenth century. They called their new home Aotearoa (land of the long white cloud). The Maori have a unique culture and a distinct identity. This is their version of how the world came to be.

In the beginning, there was only Te Kore, the Nothingness. From this Nothingness came Rangi, the sky god, and Papa, the earth goddess. They loved each other so deeply that they were locked in a tight embrace.

Refusing to let go of one another, even for a moment, they were joined together so closely that there was no space for Time to slip between them. All earth was in darkness because no light could pass through.

Rangi and Papa had a hundred children. There was Tangaroa, god of the sea, Tāne, god of the forests, Tūmatauenga, god of war, Tāwhiri, god of the winds and storms, Whiro, god of darkness, and many more. But it was not a happy childhood for them. Trapped between their parents, they longed to break free and wanted to escape. Every day they tried in vain to push their way out.

The children talked about what they should do. ‘We can’t spend all our lives suffocating like this. I think I’ll try to separate our parents,’ said Tāne. Whiro, the dark god, became even darker with anger. ‘You? You can’t decide what to do! I’m the eldest, I’ll decide what is to be done,’ he said.

‘Leave them alone,’ said Tāwhiri. ‘Can’t you see they love each other and are inseparable?’ He cared for his parents and didn’t wish to cause them harm. With so many brothers and sisters and so many voices, he knew that they were never going to agree on anything.

‘I think we should just kill our parents!’ All the young gods were shocked to hear the determined voice of Tūmatauenga. ‘Well, what do you expect from him? He is the war god,’ said Tangaroa as the others looked on, stunned that their brother would dare suggest anything so cruel.

Enough was enough, they thought, the discussion was taking a dangerous turn. So it was agreed that they would allow Tāne to go ahead and separate their parents. Tāne got hold of four poles. He put two of them by their parents’ heads and the other two by their legs. He then began to push his parents apart as his siblings watched. It was no easy task. He pushed for years and years.

Finally, Rangi, the sky, and Papa, the earth, were separated as we see them today, the sky above and the earth below. Rangi’s blood, which spilt when they were torn apart, coloured the sunset red, while Papa’s blood became the red clay of the earth.

Light came into the world at last and all the children moved to the four corners and began to create the world. Tāne created the trees and plants and the earth became green and beautiful. He put a sun and moon up in the sky.

But there was one person who was unhappy at this turn of events. It was Tāwhiri, the wind god. He became very angry at what had been done. Pained by his brother’s gory deed, his anger grew and grew. After all, he had never wanted this. He tore out his eyes and threw them into the sky where they became the first two stars. Next, he turned on his brothers and sent forth tornadoes, cyclones, hurricanes, tsunamis and typhoons. His anger had no end.

As for Rangi and Papa, they were heartbroken at their separation. They missed each other so terribly that they cried and cried and cried. Rangi’s tears became the oceans, rivers, lakes and dew on the grass. The mists that rise from the ground, they say, are Papa’s sighs of loneliness—huuuuuh!