I had the honour of being elected chief of my tribe(部落)．With the title came great responsibility. It was my job to make peace with the Maori Tamaki tribe, whose village we visited. Their soldiers jumped from a canoe and faced us down with fierce crying, sticking eyes and much noise of sticks. They laid a palm leaf on the ground and, as head, I was forced to accept this peace offering by picking it up, then touching noses with their chief. “Kia ora，” he said, welcoming us into the woodland home of his people.
My “tribe” was my New Zealand coach tour group, who had forced me into being their leader. We’d been warned that the ceremony was a serious occasion and that to laugh or even smile would be considered rude to the Tamaki. After that it was non-stop fun as they demonstrated their ancient customs and I received instruction in performing the haka, the war dance immortalized(使不朽) by the All Blacks rugby team.
Then they pulled our dinner of lamb, beef and vegetables out of the ground. It had been slow-cooked in the heat just below the surface in the geothermal(地热的) area of North Island, a Maori tradition known as a hangi that goes back an extremely long period of time.
Obviously, this form of it is put on for tourists but it was hugely enjoyable. The journey back to the hotel was alone worth the effort, our elder Maori driver being deserving of his own television show. “The wheels on the bus go round and round，” he got us singing, while he circuited a round about three times.
A couple of days from the end of our trip, there was still something missing, a New Zealand icon I wanted to see to make my grand tour complete. Riding over a ridge, there it was—Aotearoa. The Maori name for New Zealand translates as “the land of the long white cloud”. Can I say “Kia ora, Aotearoa？” You bet I can.
