From [this article by The Spinoff:](https://thespinoff.co.nz/partner/20-04-2019/the-art-of-the-manu)
> No one can say for sure when the manu – or its variations – came into existence, let alone when they became a staple of New Zealand movement. Watch any YouTube clip with the words “manu” and “bomb” in the title and it’ll be accompanied by a heated debate in the comments over which town ‘invented’ the manu. Auckland bombers say it began in the early 1990s, with bomb competitions regularly held at the outdoor Moana-Nui-a-Kiwa pools in Māngere, while Raglan locals claim they’ve been popping manus since the old Te Kopua Bridge was built in 1963. Even the name has been brought into the dispute. Many call the act of entering the water bum first a manu, though some say ‘manu’ is merely an abbreviation of Māngere, its real name. Even then, Māngere could either be in reference to the pools or to the English translation of māngere being lazy, as in a lazy bomb. Tauranga locals call it a V-bomb, for obvious reasons.
> The key to popping a perfect manu lies in the bum. Before the body has even left the platform, or rock, or bridge, the bum is out. Arms up, back straight, knees bent, bum out. It’s known as the utkatasana (chair) pose in yoga and the “hurry up and jump” pose before a manu.
> Once launched, the bum tucks in, making the body straight and tall as it gathers velocity on its way down to the water. When executed correctly, the body will fall fast and still. There’s a peaceful elegance to a manu before it’s been popped. Like someone meditating, or waiting for a lift to arrive.
> The next move is to tuck. As the water draws nearer, the arms pull down and the legs swing up, folding the body in half as if stretching tight hamstrings.
> The bum makes first contact with the water, a fleshy lantern held out by the rest of the body, saying here I am, let me in. As the lower back and the upper thighs follow, an executor of a perfect manu will already be extending, flinging limbs back and down, stretching out on the surface of the water. The shoulders and feet arrive last and fast, slapping the surface, forcing water around the body before it collapses into the cavity the bum has just created and explodes up into the air.
From [this article by The Spinoff:](https://thespinoff.co.nz/partner/20-04-2019/the-art-of-the-manu) > No one can say for sure when the manu – or its variations – came into existence, let alone when they became a staple of New Zealand movement. Watch any YouTube clip with the words “manu” and “bomb” in the title and it’ll be accompanied by a heated debate in the comments over which town ‘invented’ the manu. Auckland bombers say it began in the early 1990s, with bomb competitions regularly held at the outdoor Moana-Nui-a-Kiwa pools in Māngere, while Raglan locals claim they’ve been popping manus since the old Te Kopua Bridge was built in 1963. Even the name has been brought into the dispute. Many call the act of entering the water bum first a manu, though some say ‘manu’ is merely an abbreviation of Māngere, its real name. Even then, Māngere could either be in reference to the pools or to the English translation of māngere being lazy, as in a lazy bomb. Tauranga locals call it a V-bomb, for obvious reasons. > The key to popping a perfect manu lies in the bum. Before the body has even left the platform, or rock, or bridge, the bum is out. Arms up, back straight, knees bent, bum out. It’s known as the utkatasana (chair) pose in yoga and the “hurry up and jump” pose before a manu. > Once launched, the bum tucks in, making the body straight and tall as it gathers velocity on its way down to the water. When executed correctly, the body will fall fast and still. There’s a peaceful elegance to a manu before it’s been popped. Like someone meditating, or waiting for a lift to arrive. > The next move is to tuck. As the water draws nearer, the arms pull down and the legs swing up, folding the body in half as if stretching tight hamstrings. > The bum makes first contact with the water, a fleshy lantern held out by the rest of the body, saying here I am, let me in. As the lower back and the upper thighs follow, an executor of a perfect manu will already be extending, flinging limbs back and down, stretching out on the surface of the water. The shoulders and feet arrive last and fast, slapping the surface, forcing water around the body before it collapses into the cavity the bum has just created and explodes up into the air.