Many cultures tell of the origin of the world as a separation: light from darkness, the waters above from those below, the sky from the earth. Among the Māori of New Zealand this idea takes the form of one of the most beautiful and intense myths of the Pacific: the story of Ranginui, the Sky Father, and Papatūānuku, the Earth Mother, joined in an embrace so tight that their children lived in darkness, until one of them decided to separate them.
Before the world: Te Kore and Te Pō
Māori traditions describe the beginning as a succession of states, often recited in the form of genealogy, that is, whakapapa. First there is Te Kore, nothingness, the void charged with potential. Then comes Te Pō, the night, divided into many successive nights: the long night, the deep night, the night of groping. Finally comes Te Ao Mārama, the world of light, in which human beings live.
This scheme shows an important feature of Māori thought: the origin of the world is not an instantaneous act but a genealogical process, a chain of generations linking the primordial void to the people of today.
The embrace of sky and earth
Ranginui and Papatūānuku lay pressed against each other. Between their bodies there was no room for light, and their many children lived crushed in darkness, unable to grow. Weary of this condition, the children gathered to decide what to do.
There were various proposals:
- Tūmatauenga, god of war and of human beings, proposed killing their parents;
- Tāne Mahuta, god of forests and birds, proposed instead to separate them, leaving the sky above as a stranger and the earth below as a nurturing mother;
- Tāwhirimātea, god of winds and storms, was the only one to object.
Tāne separates the parents
Several brothers tried to separate sky and earth, without success. It was Tāne who accomplished the feat: lying on his back, with his shoulders against his mother and his feet against his father, he pushed with all his strength until Rangi was raised on high. For this reason, in the Māori imagination, the trees of the forest, children of Tāne, are like legs holding the sky apart from the earth.
With the separation, light entered the world. The children could at last grow, and each took possession of his own domain.
The children and their domains
| God | Domain |
|---|---|
| Tāne Mahuta | forests, birds, the making of the first woman |
| Tangaroa | the sea and fish |
| Tāwhirimātea | winds, clouds, storms |
| Rongo | cultivated plants, especially the sweet potato, and peace |
| Haumia-tiketike | wild food plants, such as fern root |
| Tūmatauenga | war and human activities |
The traditions vary from tribe to tribe, both in names and in details, but the general structure is shared.
The rage of Tāwhirimātea
Tāwhirimātea, who had not accepted the separation, left the earth to join his father in the sky. From there he unleashed his anger on his brothers: storms that felled Tāne's forests, waves that churned Tangaroa's realm, rains that forced Rongo and Haumia to hide in their mother's bosom.
Only Tūmatauenga stood firm. To take revenge on the brothers who had not helped him, he learned to master their children: to catch birds, fish, cultivate and gather. This is why human beings, children of Tū, can feed on the creatures of all the other gods, provided they respect the rites and tapu that govern these activities.
The pain of separation
The myth does not forget the parents' grief. The rains are Rangi's tears for his distant wife; the mist rising from the valleys in the morning is the sigh of Papatūānuku reaching up toward him. In some versions the children, moved to pity, turned their mother face down so that she would not have to see her husband's face every day.
A myth that grounds respect
The story of Rangi and Papa is not only an account of origins. It grounds a worldview in which the earth is a mother, trees, seas and winds are relatives, and every human activity enters a network of genealogical relationships. Even today many Māori introduce themselves by naming their mountain, their river, their ancestral canoe: a way of saying who one is by placing oneself within the great whakapapa that begins with sky and earth.
In short
- Māori cosmogony moves from Te Kore, nothingness, through Te Pō, the night, to Te Ao Mārama, the world of light.
- Ranginui and Papatūānuku, sky and earth, were joined and their children lived in darkness.
- Tāne Mahuta separated them by pushing with his feet, opening the world to light.
- Tāwhirimātea rebelled, unleashing storms on his brothers; Tūmatauenga stood firm.
- Rain and mist still recall the grief of the separation between sky and earth.
