Irāwaru was married to Hinauri, the sister of Māui. Most tellings remember him as a good fisherman, steady, patient and good company on the water. This is his side of a story more often told from Māui's.
One day the two brothers-in-law went out fishing together. The fish came to Irāwaru's line again and again. Māui's line was quieter. In several tellings Māui had used a barbless hook, or Irāwaru's lines tangled with his. However the day went, by the end of it Irāwaru had the better catch, and Māui could not bear it.
When they reached the shore, Māui asked Irāwaru to lie down under the canoe's hull as they hauled it up, or to rest while he worked. Then he fell on him. He trampled and stretched Irāwaru's back until it was long, pulled at his ears and limbs, and drew out a tail. By the time he had finished, the man was gone. In his place was the first kurī, the dog.
Hinauri came looking for her husband. Māui told her to call out, and when she called, a dog came running. She understood what her brother had done, and her grief was so great that she walked into the sea. Her story goes on from there, and Kupurā tells it separately.
The kōrero is not kept as a proud moment for Māui. Even those who love his cleverness admit that this is where cleverness became cruelty. Irāwaru had done nothing wrong except have a good day. A friendly rivalry had been turned into a loss nobody could undo.
That is why Irāwaru is remembered. Whenever a kurī (dog) comes running at a name, there is an echo of a good man, and of what envy took from him.
Hei whakaaro (reflect / thought): when someone near you does well, notice what that stirs in you before you act on it.
Hei whakaaro · something to sit with
Kāore he hē a Irāwaru, engari i huri te hae o Māui hei mate.
Envy can turn an ordinary good day into a loss nobody can undo.
When someone near you does well, what does it stir in you?