The Push/gouge method creates certain effects when used with tutu. These include:
- A naturally round ‘grown’ hole with a straight, slightly tapered bore.
- Though this bore is ‘straight’, it has a natural, ‘grown’ curve or ‘bend’ to its form. - Vertical trench-like striations (‘squaring’) particular to tutu branchwood.
- A slight ‘pinch’ on one side of the bore while the other side keeps a straight line. - This ‘pinch’ indicates working from both ends, and meeting in the middle.
- Rough bore surface.
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Construction – Kōauau Poroporo:
There are several important points to consider when using poroporo (Solanum aviculare, Solanum laciniatum) for the construction of kōauau. The first of course is toxicity. While it is appropriate to be wary of any species that registers with levels of toxicity it should be noted here that poroporo probably poses a low risk when used to construct kōauau. Solanaceae is a diverse plant family and characteristically ethnobotanical, being extensively utilized by humans globally as an important source of food and medicine. It may even be the most widely ethnobotanicised plant family on the planet (Solanaceae, Wikipedia, 2010). Often rich in alkaloids, toxicity to humans and animals within the plant family can range from mildly irritating to fatal in small quantities. Most edible members of the family have an aspect to them that is toxic to humans (Solanaceae Source, 2004-2010). Riley notes that with the New Zealand commercial trials, extraction was from the leaves and not the berries or stems (1994: 364), and the ESR report indicates that the toxic principles of poroporo are “present in all parts of the plant in varied concentrations” (Turner, 2005: 146).
In regard to wider ethnobotanical uses by the Māori there were many. The plant was grown in plantations “for the value of their fruit” and the leaves were used upon the stones of the hāngī and in particular were used when cooking moa for their “pleasing flavour to the meat”. The berries were used by colonial settlers in jams and pies (Riley, 1994: 361). Riley notes that it was the ripe berries of the poroporo that the tohunga of Tūtānekai was caught eating under a tapu restriction prior to the baptismal rite. It was this incident that led to his being put to death by drowning and that from the arm bone of this tohunga the famous kōauau “was made, which in later years Tūtānekai was to use to
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charm the beautiful Hinemoa” (1994: 361). I note this as synchronistic to the research; that the most famous of all human-bone kōauau holds, at the least, a symbolic connection with poroporo.
Riley also lists a number of external uses. One use that repeats is that of poroporo soot being used in the process of tā moko/tattooing, whereby it was used to sketch designs prior to being tattooed (1994: 361-363). This was also the case with tutu (Riley, 1994: 486). Again, as in the discussion of tutu, the making of soot from poroporo may in some way bear relevance to the making of kōauau and the use of flutes within pain rituals such as tattoo, though this discussion is more appropriately located in chapter 5.
Kōauau Poroporo was constructed very quickly and very easily. The main tools used for this particular piece were modern yet even so, the principles used in construction were based in tradition. The simplicity of this flute’s construction was upheld by the maker as an important tenet of traditional method (Flavell, 2002).
It is relevant to make reference here to a point raised by Richard Nunns, on more than one occasion, regarding the possibly temporal nature of some instruments. He postulates that at particular times the making and use of kōauau may have been something that was done only when required. Once used, the instrument would then be disposed of, either because it was very quick and easy to make, and was no longer needed, or that because cultural or tapu boundaries restricted the transit of the instrument into other geographical areas or cultural zones. An instrument would be quickly constructed, the transitional ritual purpose for which it was made would be performed, and the flute would be discarded or destroyed so the journey could then continue (Nunns, 2002 - 2012). From what I understand this idea of ‘single-use’ is
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hypothetical, whereby the expert has intuitively extrapolated his vast experience and knowledge, seeking to broaden the boundaries of understanding in regard to the cultural usages and restrictions of such instruments. It must be emphasised that Richard Nunns has great mana and is highly respected because of his expertise and experience in these areas of understanding, particularly in regard to the cultural relationships of geography and the transport of resources and information, and the roles that music, song and ancient knowledge perform in these fields.
When choosing a poroporo branch the internodes are important and literally define the length of the flute. If a longer flute is desired, either the internode must be plugged up in some way, incorporated as wenewene, or the outside nature of the flute must be left undisturbed and unworked as much as is possible so that the meeting pith cavities do not undermine the flute bore, creating unplayable or disruptive holes along the barrel of the instrument. One highly respected maker I spoke with told me of self-sown poroporo growing wild on a property that were fed with a high nitrogen fertiliser causing it to stretch and elongate, creating longer spaces between the nodes (Flintoff, 2001-2012). I have noticed that trees that grow against buildings develop longer nodal spacing on branches that are on the building side of the tree, as do branches that are shaded from the sun for whatever reason. Longer spaces between nodes means longer flutes with a wider tonal range. Poroporo develops thicker walls with less pith the older it gets. I personally have found very mature trees to be difficult to work with, and prefer plants under a year old for their pith to wall ratio.
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Function – Kōauau Poroporo:
The finished flute, Kōauau Poroporo, plays well with a quiet and breathy tone. Made quickly, its function is good for the short time it took to complete. The wenewene all play successfully, though in the reversed, “southern-style” designated by the maker. Without too much fuss in the making of the flute, or in the sizing or spacing of the wenewene, Mr Flavell was immediately able to play a waiata that he knew, first playing, and then singing.
In more recent experiments, I have been successful in constructing kōauau from poroporo that have a clearer, brighter and louder tonal quality. This was obtained by spending more time and effort and working with more intent upon the surface of the bore with sandpaper, and even hot pokers, making it smoother. Working a bore though can be tricky and time consuming, and there is no doubt that a fluffy (shaggy), less smooth bore gives an indefinably traditional quality to the tone of the sound produced: one that is quieter, more gentle, evocative and mournful. I uphold this flute made by Mr Flavell as very special to my learning process as it demonstrated well how very little effort was required to produce a strongly traditional kōauau. Ever since, poroporo has been a favourite resource of mine.
The evidence presented by this experiment is strong in regard to construction and function. While there is clear evidence in ethnography relating specifically to poroporo, the physical proof in museum collections seems less obvious. With the appearance of the artefact 19xx.1.2076 in the Canterbury collection, the validity of this resource/method combination is confirmed more.
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