For some reason, I was chosen out of a bus load of people to serve as the “tribal leader” at a Maori dinner/concert/festival.  I believe I was given this honor because I’m strong, virile, and clearly a man among men.  And perhaps also because I was the only one wearing no clothes except for some animal skins and a whale bone necklace.

I am surprised that I was chosen, though.  The tour guide could have chosen a leader from many other countries--Britain or Germany, for example.  Isn’t everyone sick of American leaders?  I’d expect the New Zealand bus driver would be all, “Hey, they want to back out of the Kyoto treaties, that’s their business.  But they better not expect to be chosen as tribal leader when they come around playing their tourist games.”

I represented our “tribe” by being greeted by a Maori elder, who also greeted four other hearty leaders from various buses.  The elder tested our mettle by sticking out his tongue, grimacing, and cavorting madly.  We were carefully told before this not to laugh, although the Maori greeting looks a little funny to our eyes.  To laugh would be a great offense.

I stood stock still.  I watched in complete solemnity as the elder danced and hit his chest and made his eyes bug out.  But once he was satisfied, he made a peace offering and the evening’s festitivies got underway.

Afterwards, Tuan said “I’ve never seen you look so serious.” It wasn’t any big deal.  I go through the same ritual every time I ask our I.T. department at work for a memory upgrade.