Lands of Red and Gold
- Thread starter Jared
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Jared, they've just started to broadcast an aborigenes free to air network here with 2 regular cooking show including one that does modern cafe fare with traditional ingredients. you'd love it.
As a teetotaller alcohol holds no real interest for me. But reading about the history of wine and new wine variations caught my interest.
Glad you liked it. I'm not actually much of a drinker either - except after 6pm on weekdays and 12pm on weeks - but alternative cuisine (including wine) interests me more.
Some would have, yes. Depending very much on what region you're talking about. Cinnamon myrtle and aniseed myrtle are both decent substitutes for cinnamon and aniseed, respectively. Lemon myrtle is a very good flavouring in itself, closest to lemon but without the sourness.
Some of the more distinctive flavours (i.e. without close modern equivalents) will also be used, particularly native ginger, which although it is somewhat reminiscent of ginger, is not really that close. Also strawberry gum leaves.
These are always fun to write.
Oh, that does sound fascinating. What's the name / channel?
Keep it up, Jared!
More is coming, as always, in a few days. Instalments are being published roughly every two weeks.
NITV which is SBS 4. The 2 shows are "cooking at jacko" and "the outback cafe" (which appear to have migrated to the lifestyle channel). It seem to have been replaced by a maori one called "Kai Ora Cooking".
Kia Ora Cooking is a show made by and for the New Zealand FTA state funded Maori TV channel. I've only seen it once or twice (Maori TV isn't easy to get in London), but it is not bad as far as such shows go and it is pretty unapologetically NZ Maori cuisine
Oddly enough, with NZ now entering the third decade of neo liberalism, the old state broadcaster that was NZBC has now evolved into a silly commercial TV operation owned by the state and only Maori TV actually has any sort of express and delivered public service goal.
mojojojo
Gone Fishin'
On a related subject how is Easter celebrated in this TL? Are there any standardized things like Easter eggs,Easter Baskets and the Easter Bunny ( or Easter Bilby )?
Well played, but subtle.
What's the French saying? "I only drink on Sundays, and days ending with 'i'."
Ah, thanks very much. I'll check those out.
I haven't given Easter celebrations too much thought, yet. This may be worth making it the subject of its own Easter special at the appropriate time of year; which would also give me time to flesh things out a bit, of course.
In very broad terms, Easter is not as divisive as Christmas is ITTL. Or, more precisely, the Congxie who rail so much against Christmas don't have quite the same objections to Easter. Congxie don't celebrate Easter much - nor do they do Christmas much, either - but they're not as virulently against it.
The reason why Congxie object to Christmas, incidentally, is because the Congxie society for centuries defined itself as being in opposition to Euro-Americans. Euro-Americans were Christians, as were their slaves (mostly). Congxie were free, and they were Plirite, not Christian. For a Congxie to become a Christian would be as good as becoming a slave again.
Together with all of the existing Plirite taboos against conversion, this made the subject of Christianisation rather a touchy one for the Congxie. For a long time (and perhaps even into modern times), a Congxie who openly converted to Christianity was at serious risk of being killed.
As far as this touches on Christmas, so many of the Christmas traditions involve interacting with others - gifts, singing, group carols, etc, etc - which in Plirite eyes is like assuming that the recipient of those is a Christian. Hence they react vehemently against the idea of being considered Christian.
Easter isn't quite the same. Yes, there's chocolates or their ATL equivalent, but there's not the same tradition of interacting with others as if they were Christian. Hence it's less of a big deal for Congxie.
Well, the various colonial dominions of the British, Dutch and Portuguese are likely to be different than OTL anyway, due to the wars between those powers in the 1630s-1650s. There's no guarantee that Ceylon ends up as Dutch ITTL.
More broadly, though, if the Genocide can be trusted, by 1600 coffee had already spread out of Ethiopia into Yemen, the Ottoman Middle East/northern Africa, and Iran/Persia. Pope Clement VIII had already declared it acceptable for Christians, and it was already spreading into places like Italy.
So I think that coffee will still make it to Europe and the Christian world, even if the details are different. The VOC may end up growing coffee in Java only, rather than Ceylon. Or the English may grow it in Ceylon, if they end up occupying that island. Sooner or later someone (probably French or Dutch) is going to introduce coffee to the West Indies, too. Coffee can even be grown in eastern Australia, if the Dutch are there and interested, although I think that Aururian products (spices, jeeree, etc) are more likely to be grown there for a while.
One point of difference is that ITTL there are three beverages competing for what in OTL is the coffee/tea market - Aururian jeeree (lemon tea) as well. It's not as though someone needs to be exclusively drinking one or the other, and as in OTL different countries will change their preferences over time, but there will now be three drinks to choose from.
Is it beer o'clock yet?
Coffee seeds were smuggled from Yeme (and Ottoman control) sometime during the early 1600`s, and were successfully cultivated in Mysore. The first Dutch situation that we know of (and also the first European) was in 1616 when they manage to transport a bush from Aden to Holland. From that bush the Dutch started growing in Ceylon in 1658 and in 1699 they started in Java (and that from there it spread in the east Indies). But coffee-houses did not really become a reality before the 1650`s (The caffè in vencie in 1683, Cafè de Procope in Paris, 1689, Jacobs in Oxford in the 1650, Vienna after the Siege, the Turks had left huge amounts of coffee, originally assumed to have been camel fodder.)
The cultivation of Coffee in the West Indies did not really start off until 1723 when an obsessed French naval officer introduced it on Martinique (the plant was a gift from the Dutch and likely an ancestor of the 1616 one.) So the contact hits in the middle of coffee rise more or less. And less coffee w. sugar would have an interesting effect on europe. (Does lemon tea have the sweet sweet kick of caffeine? it might like tea be cheaper, easier to make and not require sweetening, the edges tea had vs coffee in otl)
Lands of Red and Gold #59: In The Balance
Lands of Red and Gold #59: In The Balance
“Ki te kahore he whakakitenga ka ngaro te iwi.” (Without foresight or vision the people will be lost.)
- Maori proverb
* * *
19 May 1637
Ngamotu, Lands of the Ngati Apa iwi, Te Ika a Maui, Aotearoa [New Plymouth, Taranaki, North Island, New Zealand]
Sometimes the Balance merely involves weighing two almost equally unpalatable alternatives, Nardoo thought.
The choice to join the Dawn Hunter on its voyage to Aotearoa had been one of those occasions. There, one option had been to stay at home on the Big Island [Tasmania] and risk being levied into joining the ever more bitter war with the accursed Tjunini. With the war going on so long, the risk of conscription was great. The other option had been to accept the invitation to act as an interpreter on the voyage. A long voyage across the seas, on a smaller Islander ship and with an impossibly young captain.
Nardoo had prayed and taken counsel with his wife, the one person he could trust to keep his dilemma secret. He had not dared to seek advice even from his priest; a lack of courage was one thing he would never admit.
In time, he had decided that the sea offered a less bad choice.
So here he was, having survived the first half of the voyage, about to step foot onto a jetty in Aotearoa. Another choice of two unpalatable alternatives. Stay on the ship and be known as a coward, or step onto the land and risk the fickle hospitality of the bloodthirsty Maori.
This choice resolved itself more quickly; he did not want to admit cowardice. So he became the third member of the ship’s complement to stand on the jetty, with the captain and the priest in front of them, and Maori warriors waiting on the shore.
“Now we find out if they will welcome us or kill us,” the captain said.
Thank you for the reassurance, captain, Nardoo thought. Fear gave him enough urging to speak, though. “Remember what I have said, captain. Go down on one knee. Ask to speak to the ariki iwi [king], or his kin, to seek permission to enter his dominions. And offer your gift in recognition of his mana.”
The captain would have to say those words, too, not just let Nardoo interpret. Some Maori might know the Islander tongue.
Young the captain might be, but he had at least the rudiments of wisdom. At the end of the jetty, the captain went down on his right knee and gave his introduction. “I am Tjirubal of the Kalendi, captain of the Dawn Hunter, from the Island. I ask for the permission of the ariki iwi to sojourn in his lands, and to offer certain items in trade. In recognition of his mana, I offer this gift.”
The captain held out a small cast bronze figurine of the Rainbow Serpent.
A disrespectful choice, that. Not for the Maori themselves, whose lust for bronze was legendary on the Big Island. But a poor choice all the same, because the figurine would not be properly revered. The Maori valued bronze too much, and they did not know the true faith. They would melt down the figurine and use its bronze for some other purpose. The captain should know better; he was a good Plirite from the Island itself.
No-one showed any signs of understanding the captain’s words, so Nardoo translated.
One of the Maori warriors took the figurine. “Your gift is accepted, in the name of ariki iwi Arapeta. Who is the other man who stands behind Tjirubal?”
When that was translated, the priest said, “Tell them that I honour the mana of Arapeta son of Naeroa, whose name and deeds are known even across the sea in Toka Moana [Australia].”
Nardoo said, “They have asked for your name.”
The priest smiled. “Tell them to call me Nameless.”
“Are you mad?” Nardoo asked, shock pushing him to show discourtesy even to a priest. “You would insult the Maori king by refusing to give your name?”
“Do not translate it, then. Just use the word,” the priest said.
What makes the priest take such a risk? Like any good Kurnawal, Nardoo found an unsolved puzzle something that nagged at him, but he did not have time to consider this one. In the Maori language, he said, “This is Bana [Nameless], a priest of the Sevenfold Path.” He translated the rest of the priest’s words.
The Maori warrior appeared unoffended. Fortunate. “Come. We will bring you to the marae.”
About half of the dozen or so Maori warriors started to walk ahead of them into the town. Nardoo, the captain and the priest followed them, and then the rest of the warriors took a position behind.
Maori crowded the town of Ngamotu: men, women and children, young and old, high and low status. Nardoo had met plenty of Maori traders when they visited Dabuni [Hobart, Tasmania], and had believed he knew what they looked like. Light-skinned, usually armed, faces tattooed with swirling lines, and usually decorated with pendants or other artefacts of their favoured greenstone [jade].
Now, he saw more. Only a few Maori they passed had tattooed faces; mostly men, and those were the ones who were armed. They had more decorations too; not just greenstone, but feathers in their heads, or ornaments of bronze or, in one case, gold. The other Maori were dressed in simpler clothes: skirts or kilts and cloaks woven from that marvellous kind of flax which grew on Aotearoa, but with fewer patterns or colours to mark their rank.
The warriors led them up a sloping road, until they arrived at a large open area paved with stones, bordered with wooden posts, and surrounded by large buildings on three sides. Nardoo had an impression of strange figures carved into the front of each building, but returned his gaze to the single man waiting for them in the centre of the open space.
A Maori chieftain; that much was obvious. The man’s only item of clothing was a kilt belted around his waist, with no particular decoration. He wore ornamentation, though: a large carved pendant and earrings of greenstone, and gold bracelets on each wrist. More than his ornamentation, though, his bearing was that of a man used to being obeyed.
Nardoo kept behind the captain and the priest as they stopped in front of the chieftain. One of the warriors handed over the serpent figurine, then the chieftain said, “I am Riwha Titokowaru, kin to ariki iwi Arapeta. Why have you come to the lands of the Ngati Apa iwi?”
The captain went down on one knee. “I am Tjirubal of the Kalendi, captain of the Dawn Hunter, from the Island. I have come to sojourn in the lands of the Ngati Apa, if it please the ariki iwi. I wish to talk of many things, of this iwi and its deeds, and to trade in gemstones and dyes and other items, if it please the ariki iwi.”
“Many have come from your Island before and seek to trade,” Riwha said. “Few have been permitted to remain. These are the lands of the Ngati Apa, where we honour our ancestors, and we have this land in our bones [1]. Why should we allow you to stand on our land?”
“While many may have come to trade, I have brought gems and dyes from far away. They cannot be found in the Cider Isle or any of the places in Toka Moana where the Maori visit to trade.”
The priest added, “And because I wish to hear more of the deeds of Arapeta son of Naeroa and his ancestors, back to Ruatea who came in his great canoe from Hawaiki.”
The chieftain was silent for a long moment after Nardoo translated. Eventually, he said, “Tell them I am ready to show my choice.”
Nardoo said, “The chieftain has decided. Take position for their challenge, and remember what I told you: remain on one knee for the entire time. Hand over your knives, hilt first, when the challenge is finished. A warrior will take them. If the chieftain hands them back hilt first, you are under the king’s protection and may rise and be welcomed.”
“And if we are not welcome?” the captain asked, as he went down on one knee.
“He will drop your knives on the ground and withdraw. If he does, he says that the only way you can remain here is by force of arms.”
“So be it,” the captain said.
The Maori warriors took places around the chieftain. Twelve warriors, standing in two rows. Three on each side of the chieftain in the first row, with the remaining six in a second row behind, spaced so that all of them could be seen.
The warriors began the haka, the challenge [2]. Thirteen men moving in rhythmic unison, chanting words of ritualised challenge. Arms were folded and unfolded, placed into several positions, accompanied by regular stamping of booted feet onto the stone. All of the men moved at the same time, even when not performing exactly the same movements.
All designed to be intimidating, Nardoo knew, and with good reason. If the captain and the priest were intimidated, though, they did not show it. Also good, since showing weakness now might make the chieftain decide against admitting them, even if he had previously been minded to grant them permission.
The warriors moved slowly forward, stamping their feet as they came. Two of them, either side of the chieftain, stepped forward as one to take the knives which the Islanders held out. They stepped back, then with one final shout, all of the warriors brought their legs together and stood motionless.
The chieftain took the knives from the two warriors beside them, stepped forward, then held them out to the Islanders, hilt first.
“You are under the protection of ariki iwi Arapeta.”
* * *
[1] Riwha is speaking literally here: the Maori word iwi literally means “bones”. Its use derives from the fact that the Maori bury their ancestors and honour their bones.
[2] Nardoo does not quite understand the Maori word here. Haka is the Maori name (both historical and allohistorical) for a number of ritualised dances, not all of which are challenges. Haka can be used as acknowledgements, as formal welcomes, for funerals, and for other purposes besides challenges.
* * *
Thoughts?
“Ki te kahore he whakakitenga ka ngaro te iwi.” (Without foresight or vision the people will be lost.)
- Maori proverb
* * *
19 May 1637
Ngamotu, Lands of the Ngati Apa iwi, Te Ika a Maui, Aotearoa [New Plymouth, Taranaki, North Island, New Zealand]
Sometimes the Balance merely involves weighing two almost equally unpalatable alternatives, Nardoo thought.
The choice to join the Dawn Hunter on its voyage to Aotearoa had been one of those occasions. There, one option had been to stay at home on the Big Island [Tasmania] and risk being levied into joining the ever more bitter war with the accursed Tjunini. With the war going on so long, the risk of conscription was great. The other option had been to accept the invitation to act as an interpreter on the voyage. A long voyage across the seas, on a smaller Islander ship and with an impossibly young captain.
Nardoo had prayed and taken counsel with his wife, the one person he could trust to keep his dilemma secret. He had not dared to seek advice even from his priest; a lack of courage was one thing he would never admit.
In time, he had decided that the sea offered a less bad choice.
So here he was, having survived the first half of the voyage, about to step foot onto a jetty in Aotearoa. Another choice of two unpalatable alternatives. Stay on the ship and be known as a coward, or step onto the land and risk the fickle hospitality of the bloodthirsty Maori.
This choice resolved itself more quickly; he did not want to admit cowardice. So he became the third member of the ship’s complement to stand on the jetty, with the captain and the priest in front of them, and Maori warriors waiting on the shore.
“Now we find out if they will welcome us or kill us,” the captain said.
Thank you for the reassurance, captain, Nardoo thought. Fear gave him enough urging to speak, though. “Remember what I have said, captain. Go down on one knee. Ask to speak to the ariki iwi [king], or his kin, to seek permission to enter his dominions. And offer your gift in recognition of his mana.”
The captain would have to say those words, too, not just let Nardoo interpret. Some Maori might know the Islander tongue.
Young the captain might be, but he had at least the rudiments of wisdom. At the end of the jetty, the captain went down on his right knee and gave his introduction. “I am Tjirubal of the Kalendi, captain of the Dawn Hunter, from the Island. I ask for the permission of the ariki iwi to sojourn in his lands, and to offer certain items in trade. In recognition of his mana, I offer this gift.”
The captain held out a small cast bronze figurine of the Rainbow Serpent.
A disrespectful choice, that. Not for the Maori themselves, whose lust for bronze was legendary on the Big Island. But a poor choice all the same, because the figurine would not be properly revered. The Maori valued bronze too much, and they did not know the true faith. They would melt down the figurine and use its bronze for some other purpose. The captain should know better; he was a good Plirite from the Island itself.
No-one showed any signs of understanding the captain’s words, so Nardoo translated.
One of the Maori warriors took the figurine. “Your gift is accepted, in the name of ariki iwi Arapeta. Who is the other man who stands behind Tjirubal?”
When that was translated, the priest said, “Tell them that I honour the mana of Arapeta son of Naeroa, whose name and deeds are known even across the sea in Toka Moana [Australia].”
Nardoo said, “They have asked for your name.”
The priest smiled. “Tell them to call me Nameless.”
“Are you mad?” Nardoo asked, shock pushing him to show discourtesy even to a priest. “You would insult the Maori king by refusing to give your name?”
“Do not translate it, then. Just use the word,” the priest said.
What makes the priest take such a risk? Like any good Kurnawal, Nardoo found an unsolved puzzle something that nagged at him, but he did not have time to consider this one. In the Maori language, he said, “This is Bana [Nameless], a priest of the Sevenfold Path.” He translated the rest of the priest’s words.
The Maori warrior appeared unoffended. Fortunate. “Come. We will bring you to the marae.”
About half of the dozen or so Maori warriors started to walk ahead of them into the town. Nardoo, the captain and the priest followed them, and then the rest of the warriors took a position behind.
Maori crowded the town of Ngamotu: men, women and children, young and old, high and low status. Nardoo had met plenty of Maori traders when they visited Dabuni [Hobart, Tasmania], and had believed he knew what they looked like. Light-skinned, usually armed, faces tattooed with swirling lines, and usually decorated with pendants or other artefacts of their favoured greenstone [jade].
Now, he saw more. Only a few Maori they passed had tattooed faces; mostly men, and those were the ones who were armed. They had more decorations too; not just greenstone, but feathers in their heads, or ornaments of bronze or, in one case, gold. The other Maori were dressed in simpler clothes: skirts or kilts and cloaks woven from that marvellous kind of flax which grew on Aotearoa, but with fewer patterns or colours to mark their rank.
The warriors led them up a sloping road, until they arrived at a large open area paved with stones, bordered with wooden posts, and surrounded by large buildings on three sides. Nardoo had an impression of strange figures carved into the front of each building, but returned his gaze to the single man waiting for them in the centre of the open space.
A Maori chieftain; that much was obvious. The man’s only item of clothing was a kilt belted around his waist, with no particular decoration. He wore ornamentation, though: a large carved pendant and earrings of greenstone, and gold bracelets on each wrist. More than his ornamentation, though, his bearing was that of a man used to being obeyed.
Nardoo kept behind the captain and the priest as they stopped in front of the chieftain. One of the warriors handed over the serpent figurine, then the chieftain said, “I am Riwha Titokowaru, kin to ariki iwi Arapeta. Why have you come to the lands of the Ngati Apa iwi?”
The captain went down on one knee. “I am Tjirubal of the Kalendi, captain of the Dawn Hunter, from the Island. I have come to sojourn in the lands of the Ngati Apa, if it please the ariki iwi. I wish to talk of many things, of this iwi and its deeds, and to trade in gemstones and dyes and other items, if it please the ariki iwi.”
“Many have come from your Island before and seek to trade,” Riwha said. “Few have been permitted to remain. These are the lands of the Ngati Apa, where we honour our ancestors, and we have this land in our bones [1]. Why should we allow you to stand on our land?”
“While many may have come to trade, I have brought gems and dyes from far away. They cannot be found in the Cider Isle or any of the places in Toka Moana where the Maori visit to trade.”
The priest added, “And because I wish to hear more of the deeds of Arapeta son of Naeroa and his ancestors, back to Ruatea who came in his great canoe from Hawaiki.”
The chieftain was silent for a long moment after Nardoo translated. Eventually, he said, “Tell them I am ready to show my choice.”
Nardoo said, “The chieftain has decided. Take position for their challenge, and remember what I told you: remain on one knee for the entire time. Hand over your knives, hilt first, when the challenge is finished. A warrior will take them. If the chieftain hands them back hilt first, you are under the king’s protection and may rise and be welcomed.”
“And if we are not welcome?” the captain asked, as he went down on one knee.
“He will drop your knives on the ground and withdraw. If he does, he says that the only way you can remain here is by force of arms.”
“So be it,” the captain said.
The Maori warriors took places around the chieftain. Twelve warriors, standing in two rows. Three on each side of the chieftain in the first row, with the remaining six in a second row behind, spaced so that all of them could be seen.
The warriors began the haka, the challenge [2]. Thirteen men moving in rhythmic unison, chanting words of ritualised challenge. Arms were folded and unfolded, placed into several positions, accompanied by regular stamping of booted feet onto the stone. All of the men moved at the same time, even when not performing exactly the same movements.
All designed to be intimidating, Nardoo knew, and with good reason. If the captain and the priest were intimidated, though, they did not show it. Also good, since showing weakness now might make the chieftain decide against admitting them, even if he had previously been minded to grant them permission.
The warriors moved slowly forward, stamping their feet as they came. Two of them, either side of the chieftain, stepped forward as one to take the knives which the Islanders held out. They stepped back, then with one final shout, all of the warriors brought their legs together and stood motionless.
The chieftain took the knives from the two warriors beside them, stepped forward, then held them out to the Islanders, hilt first.
“You are under the protection of ariki iwi Arapeta.”
* * *
[1] Riwha is speaking literally here: the Maori word iwi literally means “bones”. Its use derives from the fact that the Maori bury their ancestors and honour their bones.
[2] Nardoo does not quite understand the Maori word here. Haka is the Maori name (both historical and allohistorical) for a number of ritualised dances, not all of which are challenges. Haka can be used as acknowledgements, as formal welcomes, for funerals, and for other purposes besides challenges.
* * *
Thoughts?
I kind of feel ashamed now. I'm still only at Chapter 30 and can't, for the life of me, finish it. I'll post my thoughts once I wade through the second half to this latest chapter.
Incidentally, from all the hints about the Congxie you've given us so far, it seems like the modern iteration of their nation is pretty intolerant and totalitarian in its practices when compared to other majority-Pliirite nations. I can understand the historical grudge they hold against surrounding North American nations (though even that seems to be a bit too long-lived), but what weirds me out is that they actively provoke their neighbours with terror bombings for no reason at all than to just show them the middle finger because of a difference in beliefs. Their society must be pretty radicalized, especially its leaders or ideologoues... I wouldn't be surprised if they were viewed as a pariah state by most of the world during the 20th century (possibly kind of like an NK/IR of Iran hybrid of some sort).
I'll post my thoughts once I wade through the second half to this latest chapter.Incidentally, from all the hints about the Congxie you've given us so far, it seems like the modern iteration of their nation is pretty intolerant and totalitarian in its practices when compared to other majority-Pliirite nations. I can understand the historical grudge they hold against surrounding North American nations (though even that seems to be a bit too long-lived), but what weirds me out is that they actively provoke their neighbours with terror bombings for no reason at all than to just show them the middle finger because of a difference in beliefs. Their society must be pretty radicalized, especially its leaders or ideologoues... I wouldn't be surprised if they were viewed as a pariah state by most of the world during the 20th century (possibly kind of like an NK/IR of Iran hybrid of some sort).
Kaiphranos
Donor
Interesting--so the priest is here to learn about the Maori stories of the voyage from Hawaiki? Given that the Islanders have strong religious and seafaring traditions of their own, I wonder what his game is. Perhaps he's trying to determine whether Hawaiki is a real place that the Nangu could potentially reach (for conversion and/or trade?)
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