Life Without Arthritis

To people in the West the name ‘Maori’ conjures up images of a tribal society. Not quite so widely known, however, is the fact that this race tends to live to a great age – by and large unhampered by ill health or the traditional diseases now accepted by us as being an unavoidable consequence of growing old. For even among the Maori elders there is usually no sign of rheumatism or arthritis. Indeed, there is little evidence to suggest that these conditions have ever existed in their culture.

In Life Without Arthritis Jan de Vries shows how the dietary management of the Maori people is the major source of continued good health – and that is a diet now widely available in Western society. He shares the treasures of the Maoris and explains how, by following their example, there can be life without arthritis or rheumatism.

LIFE WITHOUT ARTHRITIS

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ON 1 APRIL 1970 we opened our residential clinic on the west coast of Scotland, called Mokoia. It was housed in a beautiful mansion overlooking the Clyde and the Isle of Arran, beyond which the Irish Sea could be seen. I doubt if anybody could express in words the beauty and full glory of a sunset viewed from Mokoia and do it justice.

When I opened the clinic in Scotland, I was ignorant of the meaning of the name. I asked around and checked with libraries, but I didn’t really know where to start. What did the name ‘Mokoia’ mean? From various sources I was given different interpretations. The explanation I liked the best originated in New Zealand and related to an island in the New Zealand lake district which, according to Maori legend, was often referred to as ‘the Island of Love’.

The legend comes to us from the unwritten records of a highly cultured people. The island of Mokoia is surrounded by a lake in Rotorua, an area that is famous for its thermal lakes and is steeped in legend, history and culture. Rotorua is a land of romance. Every hill and valley, every geyser and boiling mud pool, every lake and island and indentation of the shore was known by name and loved by the Maori people. Many of these places were immortalised in fable and story, and this is not surprising. A region of violent thermal activity is an obvious setting for tales of mystery and magic, many of which have been handed down from the distant past.

‘I kapi i be cangata,’ the Maoris used to say of the island of Mokoia, which means ‘covered with men’. It is only a small island, about one mile square, rising in proud isolation 500 feet above the level of the lake and protected by its waters. It has a history that can be traced back more than a thousand years. The island of Mokoia was originally inhabited by an indigenous tribe who were conquered by the Arawa people. Te arawa means ‘the canoe’. About six centuries ago, some of the more adventurous people from Tahiti set out on exploratory journeys: in a fleet of canoes they sailed southwards, where they eventually settled at Maketu in the Bay of Plenty. From there the Arawa people spread inland and eventually conquered the indigenous tribes of the Hot Lakes district – the guardians of the fascinating thermal region of New Zealand. It is in this area that the island of Mokoia is to be found.

In their legends we read about Ngatoro – ‘the fire-bringer’. It is claimed that upon finding dry valleys he stamped his foot so hard that springs of water gushed forth. It was Ngatoro who first visited the mountains and placed on them the mysterious white-skinned fairy people; legend also had it that it was Ngatoro who was the cause of volcanic fire, spouting geysers and boiling mud pools.

The early name of Mokoia was Te Mokotapu-a-Tinirau, meaning ‘the Sacred Isle of Tinirau’. Its later name, Mokoia, is a curious example of a native pun. Many years went by before the original inhabitants were finally exterminated or absorbed by the Arawa tribe. One of these aboriginals was Arorangi, a tribal chief, who had killed and eaten a dog belonging to an Arawa chief. As a result, a battle was fought and Arorangi was killed by the Arawa chief. He was struck over the eye with the sharp point of a ko, which is a digging implement. The wound was made where his face was closely tattooed. When news of this spread, it was referred to as the battle of Mokoia, which means tattooed, and is also a play on the words moko (tattooed) and ko (digging implement). The name of the battle was afterwards transferred to the island.

One of the many things for which the island was noted was the kumara god to be found there. The kumara is a type of sweet potato which formed part of the Maoris’ staple diet. The kumara god was portrayed on a stone emblem and venerated as the god of fertility. It stood about four feet high and was brought over to Mokoia by an Arawa canoe. For many years the stone emblem was kept in a tiny wooden building, which could almost be described as a miniature temple. In the planting season the tribes of the district would make a pilgrimage to Mokoia, carrying seed-kumara. They would touch the sacred effigy with the seed to ensure the fertility of their crop. In the warm, volcanic soil the god protected the plantations against blight and frost. ‘Kia tu tangatanga te aro ki Mokoia’ (‘Let the way be open to Mokoia’) was a local saying which recognised the power of the kumara god.

In the year 1823 the islanders suffered severe losses against a northern tribe led by the redoubtable chief Hongi Hika. At this time Hongi was the most feared man in New Zealand. Three years earlier he had set sail for Britain, where King George IV granted him an audience and presented him with a suit of armour, among other gifts. At Sydney, on his way back to New Zealand, he exchanged many of these presents for muskets and ammunition, and on his arrival at the Bay of Islands he lost no time in achieving his ambition – becoming overlord of all the tribes. The local tribes were helpless against warriors who were armed with the weapons of the white man, and Hongi’s raids became a bloody procession of victories. It was in the early part of 1823 that Hongi set out with a flotilla of canoes and an army of bloodthirsty fighting men to subdue the Arawa.

The people of Rotorua, aware that Hongi would have to march overland to reach their settlement, considered themselves impregnable in the fortress of Mokoia, with the vast moat of the lake as their protection. But Hongi was better armed and more cunning than his opponents. His canoes were paddled up the river and then hauled overland, from where he reached the lake. Early one morning, while the mists still lay heavy on the lake, the Arawa tribe slept peacefully. The sentries were on watch, but could see nothing through the mist. Suddenly, the Arawa people were alerted as the gulls screamed overhead and they rushed to defend the beaches. Ever since that ill-fated morning, the watchful gulls of Mokoia have been held in reverence by the Arawa tribe, who will allow no one, Maori or white man, to molest the sacred birds, in whose bodies, they say, still live the spirits of warriors who died in battle.

Hongi was cunning and for three days his canoes encircled the island. A few of the Arawa people managed to escape by swimming to the mainland by night. Then came the time that Hongi’s men opened fire and made their bridgehead on the northern shore, from where their guns were used to mow down the opposition. From that point they soon gained possession of the whole island, although many lives were lost on both sides. Eventually, a truce was negotiated between Hongi and the Arawa chief and Hongi returned home, taking many prisoners with him.

With some knowledge of the history of the island of Mokoia you may be able to appreciate the fantastic legends of its people so much better. One of their best-known and best-loved legends is the love story of Hinemoa.

The young chief Tutanekai lived with his parents on the island. On a tribal visit to the lakeside village of Owhata, Tutanekai saw and promptly fell in love with the beautiful young chieftainess of Owhata. Young women of Hinemoa’s status were closely guarded and Tutanekai had no opportunity of telling her of his love when it was time for him to return to the island of Mokoia.

Hinemoa had seen the way that this young man had looked at her and although he had not been able to express his intentions, she had understood. Each night, as the story tells us, Tutanekai stood on the verandah, thinking of Hinemoa. He would play his nose-flute, hoping that his message would find its way to Hinemoa’s heart. The days and nights dragged slowly until at last another visit was made to Owhata by the tribe of Mokoia.

While the dancers of Owhata entertained their guests, the lovers stood outside in the shadows. Hinemoa promised her suitor that she would come to him, but warned him that she had to come alone, without telling anyone. Then she asked, ‘How shall I know when you will be ready?’

Tutanekai promised that the next evening he would again play the flute and when she heard the music she was to come quickly down to the beach, take a small canoe and paddle across the lake, where he would be waiting for her.

The next evening, when Hinemoa heard the music, she crept down to the beach, only to find that all the canoes had been pulled well up the beach, behind protective boulders and into the bush. She did not have sufficient strength to drag even the smallest canoe across the boulders. Sadly, she returned to her sleeping house. The next night she hurried down in the darkness once again, but the canoes were still out of reach. She then knew that her plans had been suspected, for some of the canoes had been used during the day and they would not normally have been pulled up into the bush.

Night after night went by and her heart seemed to call out in desperation as she heard the flute’s song but could not leave the island. Eventually, she decided to swim to her lover. Secretly, she prepared six empty gourds, tying them together with flax. On the first moonlit night she went down to the beach and tied the gourds firmly round her body. She swam with all the strength and courage she had, listening to the music for her directions, until eventually her knee struck sand. Overcome with relief, she staggered up the beach, half dead with cold. When next she listened, the music had gone, for it was late and Tutanekai had given up hope.

In the dark Hinemoa felt her way carefully until she touched some rocks which felt strangely warm. There was a smell of sulphur-laden steam and a few moments later she lowered her body cautiously into the luxurious warmth of a hot pool. She knew then where she was, for this was the pool known as Waikimihia, which lay directly beneath Tutanekai’s hut. As her body gratefully absorbed the warmth, she became aware of her nakedness and felt ashamed. It was then that she heard footsteps on the path leading down from her lover’s hut and she hid behind the boulders. Disguising her voice to sound like a man she asked, ‘Who are you?’

‘I am filling a calabash for my master, Tutanekai,’ came the reply. When she heard this she asked for the calabash and when the slave passed it to her she hurled it against the rocks, where it smashed into a dozen pieces. She then sunk out of sight behind the rocks. When the slave asked her why she had done that, he received no answer. He returned to Tutanekai’s hut and confessed to his master what had happened. Tutanekai had been tossing restlessly on his sleeping mat, wondering whether Hinemoa had changed her mind. He instructed the slave to go back and not to drop the calabash again. At the pool the story repeated itself and again the slave returned without water to Tutanekai. Tutanekai sent his slave to the pool a third time, with the warning that he would regret it if he returned without water. Meanwhile, dawn was about to break and at the first sound of the deep, male voice the slave fled back to his master’s hut and told Tutanekai that he was not to blame.

There was no reply, for Hinemoa had sunk down so deep that her hair floated like seaweed on the still water. Tutanekai circled the pool until his eyes became accustomed to the subdued light and then he put down his hand and grasped her hair. Slowly, Hinemoa stood upright in the light of early morning, facing her lover with an uncertain smile. As they embraced, Tutanekai understood that Hinemoa’s love for him was greater than many waters and that nothing had been able to stop her coming to him.

I feel a great affinity with the Maori people, particularly because I have been able to give my patients at Mokoia clinic in Scotland some of that health and happiness with which the Maoris were blessed. It was at that same clinic that, one morning, a lady from a neighbouring town came to see me, having recently returned from New Zealand. I had been treating her for many months for rheumatoid arthritis and she had followed my instructions to the letter. She had indeed made some progress but nowhere near sufficient to even hint at a cure. On this visit, soon after her return from New Zealand, she informed me that she had made the most fantastic recovery while she had been away, and all because she had been introduced to the green-lipped mussel extract. She claimed that this had changed her life and described how this extract, which is obtained from the gonads, or sex glands, of the green-lipped mussel (Perna canaliculus) had provided astonishing relief from her pain.

I remembered how gnarled this lady’s fingers had been and was amazed to see how they had straightened out. Of course, I was fascinated by her story. I decided to make every effort to find out what was so special about this remedy which, she told me, was gaining great popularity in New Zealand.

All this took place quite a few years ago and since that time I have prescribed the green-lipped mussel extract to many of my patients. Nowadays I regularly prescribe other products in combination with it – always to the benefit of my patients.

We can thank the Maoris for quite a few things and, although their diet is not one of the healthiest, whether or not a diet is balanced is the crucial factor and this could well give us a clue as to why rheumatism was unknown among the Maoris. Could we perhaps learn a lesson from them? I certainly believe so!

Over hundreds of years, before the arrival of white settlers in the nineteenth century, the Maoris created a complex and sophisticated society with a flourishing artistic tradition. However, with the introduction of European diseases, weapons and values, many aspects of Maori traditional culture were degraded.

Nowadays, after more than a century of colonisation, intermarriage, etc., there are still over 300,000 Maoris in New Zealand, accounting for approximately ten per cent of the total population. Given their rich history, it is not surprising that Maoris are eager to reclaim their land, their heritage and their culture. Many of them are involved in a reassessment of their society and they are striving for an opportunity to return to the harmonious loving way of life they once enjoyed.

The Maoris, who have been strongly influenced by the Polynesian peoples of the Pacific through colonisation and intermarriage, traditionally followed a rural lifestyle. The rapid growth of the population in recent times has created a young society and one that is continuing to grow faster than might have been expected. It is encouraging to see that Maori communities are determined to hold on to their social customs. They have revived communal gatherings for tribal discussion and many old ceremonies and traditions are still maintained. I have great admiration for their efforts to hold on to some of their traditional values, customs and rituals so as to ensure that their heritage will not be lost.

It is also interesting that, traditionally, the Maoris were experts at raising plants like the kumara, or sweet potato; they had a sound understanding of soil conditions and cultivation techniques. Captain Cook was impressed with their fighting abilities, the culture of their tribal civilisation, bird-snaring and fishing. Their diet was heavily reliant on the availability of seafood and this is a recurring theme in their legendary tales and traditions.

Sir George Grey, who was Her Majesty’s Governor of New Zealand for two periods during the latter half of the nineteenth century, was awed by the Maoris’ sophistication and even considered the Maori chiefs to be a superior race of men. However, as a result of colonisation and its side effects, Maori society became degraded, demoralised and depressed, while the people’s health suffered due to foods introduced by the westerners. Then two young men stepped in, Maui Pomari and Peter Black, who were medical officers and two truly brilliant figures. They were determined to help the Maori people to return to a more natural lifestyle and so regain their health. I am delighted to learn that, according to reports from the New Zealand Department of Health, it is their aim to support the Maori people in their efforts to achieve the highest possible level of wellbeing. Moreover, the programme that has been drawn up recognises emphatically the holistic philosophy of health traditionally embraced by the Maoris and many other people in the Rotorua area.

The new government-backed health schemes aim to re-establish and strengthen the Maoris’ cultural and tribal traditions, and to promote a positive outlook among the younger generation. The Department of Health has made a major step in the right direction by recognising the importance of the Te Taha Weerua – spiritual well being – in its programme and they are also encouraging the Maori people to implement their own health projects.

Originally, the Maoris tended to grill most of their foods and use gourds for preservation. Coastal dwellers were familiar with many kinds of shellfish and would generally eat these raw. The many wild plants provided them with an ample supply of edible fruits, pith, shoots, leaves, fruits, flowers or pollen, and the most important of these was fern root – aruhe – which served as the staple food for most Maoris. Aruhe is grown in most areas and can be dug up at any time of the year. The Maoris regarded this root as their most reliable food source, as is clear from one of their proverbs:

Sweet potatoes, taro and yams were cultivated for domestic use, while gourds were also used to provide calabashes, or containers, to hold water. The sweet potato – kumara – grew prolifically in the wild and was also cultivated, and this too was a favourite and important source of food, and one which certainly provided the Maoris with a good intake of minerals and trace elements.

Maori culture has been described as having a complementary or holistic pattern. When we compare the complementary nature of their relationships and methods with those of our own society – with technology constantly reaching new heights of sophistication – we too would be wise to return to nature and learn a lesson from the Maoris. Let us consider how they regained their health and happiness when once it seemed that it was all but lost.