Whiro o Pipiri – Te Tau Hou
Whiro o Pipiri, apparently it’s here. Whiro in Te Ao Māori is the name for the New Moon, Pipiri is the name of the two stars that signal the first Marama (lunar month) of the year. Indigenous cultures all across the globe usually use the New Moon phase as the beginning of the lunar month. So today, is the first day of the year.
The rising of Te Marama / Hina / The Moon, is an easy way to mark the beginning of a period of time so many of us think of as a day. When you don’t have a clock, it’s a great marker of a start, something you can keep track of over the period of a lunar month or Marama. As it rises on the horizon, its position changes noticeably each rise, whereas Te Rā, the Sun, changes it’s position ever so slowly
As the year rolls by, we see different whetū (stars) throughout the year. If you look to the heavens just after sunset and just before sunrise then you can keep a track of what part of the year you are in by which stars you observe around the horizon - usually towards Whitika (East) & Tomokaka (West). It’s actually pretty simple, it just takes a good view to the heavens and a reasonable amount of commitment.
This summer I’ve had the privilege of studying Māori & Indigenous Astronomy under the tutelage of Professors Rangi Mātāmua, Pauline Harris & Hēmi Whaanga via Massey University. We were gifted incredible knowledge from themselves and many other esteemed tohuka (scholars) from across the globe.
The differences in learning from my studies at Leeds University 3 decades ago are so vast, I’m not even going to attempt to go into those right now. What’s on my mind is the practice that’s been instilled upon me. A practice exercised not quite multiple times daily, every day, but pretty damned close. I get fixated with things for sure, but this has gone beyond that, this is bigger than a mere fixation, this feels like a key to connection I’ve never experienced before.
Kā taka o te Marama, more popularly known as Maramataka is the monitoring of Te Taiao (the environment) throughout time. It’s a cycle with a repeat of three years, split into Marama (months) of approximately 30 moons in each.
Releasing myself from the Gregorian Calendar has been hard. Trying to describe the passage of time using lunar phases and seasonal markers is unnerving and prone to errors. I’ve learnt through observation that Rākaunui isn’t always when Hina rises as Tamanuiterā sets, that varies. I need to look at Te Marama, and how she present herself to determine which phase she is in, and sometimes she rises in one phase and sets in another. It’s analogue in the most analogue of ways.
I’ve been taught to look at Te Taiao during the day, recording what I see. The wind, clouds and temperature are the simple ones, along with where and when the sun and moon rise and set on the horizon. Then we get to living things. Birds, insects, trees, flowers, grasses and the most unpredictable of all, humans. These are things many of us monitor in our day to day, more so by those of us living away from completely man made environments. Myself and many of my fellow students came to understand that when those observations were recorded, connection increased vastly - this took us by surprise in just how effective this was.
For five months I’ve been keeping a diary with varying success. I use photography to help me record what I see. I can gather data from t’Internet to tell me the time and azimuth that Hina rises, even the size that she will appear. I’ve learnt that this science doesn’t tell me everything. It doesn’t give me my perspective, from the whenua where I choose to stand.
One of the differences between Indigenous Peoples and Western Orientated Folk, that I’ve noticed, is that Indigenous Peoples and Cultures are born of the Land. Where they stand, they are supported by their ancestors, surrounded & embraced, every second of every day and night. It creates an unbelievably strong & powerful connection. Western Orientated Folk seem to have this belief that they are superior to what’s around them, not a descendant, rather a dictator. Hmmmmmmmmm. As I look around at the World these days, that doesn’t seem to be working out that well.
This past Marama has been slow, stagnant, everything for the most part has been coming to an end. We’ve had clouds. It’s been hard to see the celestial objects and that’s made it hard for me to keep track. I’m really not adept and experienced enough to keep track without seeing celestial objects to help me along my way. During summer, I got my arse kicked by just using data to keep track.
My read saw Whiro rising Thursday, potentially Wednesday morning. As it rises it’s alongside Pipiri, two whetū observed in Tokerau (The North East Quadrant), signaling the start of Takurura (Winter) and Te Tau Hou (the beginning of the year).
Seems I was out. Yesterday my feeds were stacked with posts from many tohuka that I follow and learn from, infoirmaing me that the science numbers tell the right story and that Tuesday morning is to present the rising of Whiro o Pipiri.
I was hoping to venture out on Monday evening, to photograph the forecast clear skies, but once again, true to form this marama forecasts are anything but accurate. The clouds were enough to keep me home. I ended up falling asleep much later than I’d desired with half a mind to the goals I’d set during Okoro, earlier in the Marama that I was going to observe more before sunset.
My work dictates when I usually look at the heavens. Just after sunset for me, it’s very difficult to sell a Stargazing experience beginning at 4am. Tātai ara whetū raki - The practice of reading the stars should be performed for their heliacal rising, when they rise just before the sun. In the depths of summer I’ve managed this as it’s becoming light as I finish work, so short are the nights. In the winter, I’m hoping for just enough hours of sleep to allow me this opportunity.
My alarm stirred me around 5am. It took a bit to swing my legs out of bed, but find the floor they did and by 05:45 I was standing on the slopes of Pā Hā Raki regretting not wearing thermal trousers. The wind was strong enough to bite deep, coming from Raki (North). Kõpu (Venus) was standing bright and proud in Tokerau, Pareārau (Saturn) further along the ecliptic another 5 or so degrees higher up.
In Whakararo (The North West) Rehua stood proud, distinctly washed out orange and stable. Te Matau-a-Māui - Māui’s Fish Hook / Scorpious descending vertically towards the horizon. Puaka (Rigel), Hine Takurua (Sirius), Matariki (Pleiades) & Pipiri, nowhere to be seen. Did I mention how cold it is?
As I shivered, I captured images toward Whakararo to put together late. I observed. Whetū in the lower 30° were shimmering, those higher stable - this I note to myself and I’ll place my bets on a fine-ish day to come, some cloud but settled. Towards Whitika, whetū were appearing and disappearing more prominently to those in Tomokaka - I’m yet to understand in this tohu, but know it’s worth noting.
Then comes Atutahi in Marakai, presented with varying colour. I was hoping I was observing Pipiri, however, the whetū were certainly not as prevalent as I’d expected. With my eyes watering from the wind, and wanting to keep artificial light to a minimum, Stellarium on my phone eventually informed me I was indeed drawn towards Rī Ta (Menkar) & eta Cari. Rī Ta was exhibiting the most beautiful colour fluctuations and was by far the whetū demanding my attention. I don’t know the specifics of this whetū, but this presentation, alongwith Atutahi, is telling me to place my bets on a reasonable frost forming, lasting a while into the morning.
The Zodiacal light was visible to the naked eye, brightening the atmosphere along the ecliptic. The ground around me was becoming clearer and clearer. Whetū were disappearing by the second, and still no sign of Puaka. My toes told me it was time to go home.
Feeling tired yet surprisingly motivated, my first few cups of coffee didn’t warm me through. Sifting through my images, pulling them together ramped up my motivation to finally get on with end of year accounts. I’m not sure whiro is the best moon for this per se, but in the spirit of ending and beginning, it was good to finally tick that one off the seemingly never ending list.
As the morning passed, the wind eased, a fairly heavy frost lingered until almost midday and cirrus and cirostratus adorn the beautiful pale blue sky. The bird song is beautiful yet light. Animals seem to be settled. Now I’ve got these thoughts out of my head, it’s time to take a trip around the garden to photograph what I notice.
