The NZ Maori came from Japan on whaling boats in 1937, chopped down a few flag poles and ate all the Eskimo inhabitants.
Twenty years later, Leprechauns from the Republic of Ireland invaded, using potato guns and the unequalled power of Guinness to subdue the fierce warrior tribes.





Maori is a cool language. You get to say the “F” word all you want. Well, it’s actually the “WH” word, but it’s pronounced “ffff”.

For example:

“Whakapapa” loosely translates as “genealogy”. You recite your whakapapa at important gatherings, so people can determine how inbred you are.

And if someone comes up to you and says “Whakapapa?”, it is customary to reply “Whakayopapa!”. Then run.

For some reason, Maori are often mistaking me for one of their own. Probably because I have a big nose.
In recent times I have discovered that I might actually be the mistaken one in assuming I was white. But that’s another story…

Anyway. It seems that every time I’ve been to a tribal gathering, purely in an observational role, I’ve been roped into performing certain duties.
Such as singing traditional Maori songs. The most popular translates roughly as:

“I have a band of men and all they do is play for me
They come from miles around to hear them play a melody
Beneath the stars my ten guitars will play a song for you
And if you're with the one you love this is what you do

Oh, dance, dance, dance to my ten guitars
And very soon you'll know just where you are
Through the eyes of love you'll see a thousand stars
When you dance, dance, dance, to my ten guitars “.

Beautiful.

I’ve also been forced to lead the speeches for the visiting party.
The first time this happened, I was unprepared and just rattled off the first Maori words that came into my head:

“Ka puta te kahe ngawhere o te hoiho ma tona tou, ko to te kau, ma te waha!”

Which means: “The horse releases digestive gasses through its butthole, whereas the cow does so through its mouth!”

For some reason, they found it quite funny. As soon as all the official ceremonial stuff was out of the way, a couple of old Maori ladies came shuffling towards me. They wanted to know where I was from.
I told them and one of them got really excited.

“See, I told you!” she said to her friend.

She had assumed that because I had identified my hometown, that I was a member of its local tribe. I had to point out to her that I was in fact a honky.

“Oh,” she said. “We just spent the past 10 minutes arguing about which tribe you were from. My friend here said that you sounded like you were from her tribe, Ngapuhi. But I pointed out that you were good looking, so you must be from my tribe, Ngati Whatua!”