The Cult
Whiro was never worshipped, and honesty requires beginning there: no marae was dedicated to him, no priesthood served him, no offering was ever laid in his name. He is the rare figure in this catalog whose 'cult' is a system of defenses against him. What the nineteenth-century sources document is the apparatus of avoidance and exorcism that his existence mandated. The dying were never left alone: kin kept vigil through the last hours, Best records, so that the soul's journey began rightly — a misstep on the path meant falling among the powers that answered to Whiro rather than to one's own people. The sickbed was his battleground, and the tohunga's curing rites — their interrogation of which atua sent this, their incantations driving the intruder out — were the working liturgy of the war against him. A lizard in the house was an omen to be countered; night errands were hedged with caution. His worship is everything done to make him unnecessary.


