THE origins of the maunga in and around Iwitea marae take us back into the mists of time. A time that preceded even our earliest tīpuna (ancestors), or habitation of the land by people like ourselves. Local historian and writer Mere Whaanga wrote a book of these maunga told to her by her father. The story tells of a tohunga (high-priest) who lived at Hereheretau (north of Iwitea), which used to be by the ocean. This tohunga was powerful, so powerful in fact that the local people were afraid to whisper let alone speak his name. He knew everything of what had passed and what was to come.

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The tohunga had in his care seven huge whales named Tahutōria, Takitaki, Korito, Onepoto, Iwitea, Tūhara and Hikunui, who was the youngest of the whales. Each day before the sun rose, the whales would awake and swim out to sea to feed and chat with all the fish in the ocean.

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Tahutōria liked talking to other whales who spoke of the creation of new lands in far-off places. Takitaki enjoyed the company of dolphins (aihe) who spoke of faraway tribes and their large ocean-going waka. Korito, on the other hand, spoke to the sharks (mango) who boasted of their exploits of war and destruction, while Onepoto ventured to the deep waters of the north to play with the swordfish (pāea) and flying fish (maroro). Iwitea probed the dark depths of the ocean gathering news from the grumbling groper (hāpuku) and sleepy John Dory (kūparu). Tūhara quizzed the snapper (tāmure) as they fed on pipi (shellfish) and in the winter would receive news from the silver frostfish (pāra) before they came ashore at night.

The youngest of the whales, Hikunui, chose to stay close to home, never venturing far, sunning himself instead on the nearby reef with the stingray (whai). He sought news from the pāua but ignored the gossip of the trailing marblefish (kehe).

This pattern would prevail day in and day out, and every evening, when the sun had set, the seven whales would return to their master and recite the stories they had gathered.

 

Exhausted from their daily adventures, the whales would then retire to a well-earned sleep in their beds at Waiatai . . . all except the playful Hikunui. Hardly raising a sweat from his daily routine, Hikunui could not sleep and one night tossed and turned to the annoyance of his older siblings. After what seemed like an eternity, Hikunui finally dozed off.

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But it wasn’t long before his brothers awoke to begin their daily sojourn to the sea. Off they went, but when dawn broke Hikunui was nowhere to be seen. Tahutōria called back to Takitaki and Korito if Hikunui was with them. Behind them, Onepoto heard and looked back to see only Iwitea and Tūhara swimming out from Waiatai, but where was the young Hikunui? Before they could answer the voice of their master boomed out over the lagoon berating them all for not reaching the ocean before the sun had risen. They did not even have a chance to respond — among blinding flashes of lightning and deafening claps of thunder, he cursed them and turned them all into hills.

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So there they all are to this day, standing exactly where they were when they were cursed while trying to fetch Hikunui. Tahutōria, Takitaki, Korito and Onepoto are nearest the sea with Iwitea and Tūhura nestled behind. And what of the playful Hikunui? He remains fast asleep in the Waiatai Valley.