The Conference Secretary, Miss Ngaio Te Rito, taking notes. (Auckland Star photograph)

THE YOUNGEST MAORI PARTY

by E. G. SCHWIMMER

There is of course one thinly veiled ambition of any Maori student group and that is to be like the Young Maori Party. The heyday of this Party is now sixty years ago and nothing so glorious and remarkable has happened since in the Maori world.

Today, the ideas of this small group of Maori students are the backbone of Maori Affairs policy. This is rather frustrating to the present generation of Maori students, for such spectacular planning cannot be done again; the main lines of policy are fixed and not seriously disputed.

What else is there to do? If one has to answer in one sentence, perhaps it is this: the students of today have to envisage the picture of the cultured Maori who can successfully live in a city. But that is far too abstract and it is better to reconstruct step by step the story of my trip to the recent students' conference in Auckland.

I first met the Wellington group at a meeting in a very large drawing room. There was a magnificent supper and the host and hostess were obviously anxious to encourage Maori student activity. The meeting was calm and during much of the time we sat in little groups peering at heaps of papers lying on the lush carpet between us. At other times we had formal explanations from senior people on things like educational grants and the workings of the Maori Trust Boards.

We also had several pages of close typing which represented a Constitution of a Federation of Maori Students, about to be formed. Mainly the brainchild of a member who was in the South Island, this Constitution could not be discussed in detail, but members agreed it was thoroughly worthy to be placed before the conference. It

would create a single nationwide body of Maori students whose activities would be planned on a national scale.

Our other important proposal was for a special tutor to be appointed to each university to look after the progress of Maori students. Some European academics were known to support this idea which looked like a good way of improving students' examination results.

So the secretary put all the papers back into her little leather suitcase and we dispersed in the dark streets of Wellington.

Journey to Auckland

Night trains are almost entirely what you make of them. In the sleepers they are formal—service, tips, deference to the peculiar, impressive guest, long polite conversations with polished cabin mates, perhaps a sly whisky. In the first class they are still subdued and demure—some people wrapped up like stuffed cabbages, others nursing their migraines in their hands, thirty-three islands swimming in a gradually deteriorating atmosphere. In the early morning the pressed pillows are empty, the crumpled faces pale and sticky.

It is quite wrong to look upon this as the effect of the train on the transportees, for these have their fate in their own hands. Ten of us boarded a second class carriage in Wellington and at once we owned that part of the carriage and we were having a party. The inevitable conference papers were briefly slipped into selected hands by our secretary; an early copy of Manning's book about the bodgie was eagerly read and vaguely discussed; the food was unending; and people tried at times to leap over our preserve, blockaded by our blankets and luggage on all sides and more especially by a big guitar case with ‘The Comets’ in white paint,—and the guitar itself was being strummed by one of our more gallant companions. There was of course the battle of the lights—everyone else in the carriage wanted the lights out and we slowly complied, one light after another and eventually even the last one. But the soft conversation and the occasional song lasted; we were far too smug to buy cups of tea at the end of rainy station platforms; we all had a little sleep too. We woke up like birds.

Our breakfast reception at Auckland University had been planned to the last jamjar on the cafeteria tables; such masterly efficiency might have left us worried and bashful had it all come off but fortunately a high functionary of the reception committee had slept in with the key and the very brief spell before order was restored made us feel comfortable and at home.

The aims of the students

The first great test was the welcome ceremony. This was in the university hall, a fine gothic chamber where cigarettes are taboo. The Aucklanders, fortified by their Department of Maori Studies and many years of experience, put on a most elaborate and traditional welcome. Wellington, lacking these resources, went bravely through the hakas and action songs; then came our orator. He stood in front of the hall in deep silence, made his preliminary incantation, and then a deep silence. For what seemed many minutes hardly a word came from the orator but then suddenly the sentences came flowing out splendidly, expressing all the appropriate sentiments, and the honour of Wellington was saved. This was the first speech he had ever made in Maori; his ancestors had not deserted him.

For the rest of the day we had lectures,—Dr Biggs, Mr Ropiha, Mr K. Robertson and several others. Most of the lectures were rather practical—scholarships, bursaries, trust board grants, jobs for the finished academic. One of the speakers was a little disappointed at the mundaneness of his carefully stipulated subject.

Yet I do not think the students have unduly limited interests. Compared to the famous students of 1897, they are of course less ambitious, but naturally so. The members of the Young Maori Party would prepare lectures on almost any subject—the history of the Maori Church, education, Maori employment, the position and influence of the Clergy, Maori politics, sexual morality, ‘a scheme of reform work among the Maori people’.

At the Presidential table were Mr John Tapiata (left), Captain of the Auckland University Maori Club, Secretary, Mr Pat Hohepa, a junior lecturer in the Department of Anthropology. (Auckland Star photograph)

The student of today, however brilliant, would hesitate to give such addresses when unlike sixty years ago, there are plenty of experts in these fields and it is natural for a student to defer to such senior scholars if they exist.

Students consider that getting degrees is their prime responsibility. They also see the importance of having a Maori professional class and their conference concentrated on promoting such a class. Most of them take anthropology and Maori Studies and their thinking about general problems affecting the Maori is influenced by this study. Developing Maori language and culture seems to them a most important objective. Many discussions, and exactly half of the twenty remits, aimed at strengthening the Maori content of our educational system.

Perhaps the most impressive thing at the conference was the maturity of outlook where so many young Maoris in the city are confused and do not know what role they should play. To be sure, this confusion can be overcome by clear thinking about the position of the modern Maori in society and it is evident that among students in Auckland much discussion and clear thinking, helped by the anthropological discipline, has been going on. Even if anthropology is not one of the most practical career subjects, its value in developing the personality of the young Maori is remarkable.

By the time we had the ‘formal dinner’ or ‘banquet’ at 6.30, the atmosphere had brightened considerably. Then came the dance at the invitation of the Auckland Community Centre and a splendid private party for all the students (at least sixty) at the home of Mr Koro Dewes.

MAORI BATTALION REUNION

by ELSDON CRAIG

The spirit of the Maori Battalion lives on; memories of those things for which the unit stood in wartime have not been dimmed by the passing of the years. That was the impression left by the meeting in Auckland earlier this year to form a 28 (New Zealand) Maori Battalion Association.

It was as if the spirit of Sir Apirana Ngata himself had descended on the gathering. His immortal words, “an asset discovered in the crucible of war should have a value in peace,” were recaptured by the 40 former members of the unit who ranged themselves around the little room in the Community Centre in Fanshawe Street. They knew that as leaders they still had a significant part to play in the grim battles of peacetime.

For an hour before the meeting they listened while the Rev. Rangi Rogers reminded them of their duty and responsibility to their comrades who were not with them on that day. This, and the thought that as members of a unique military unit they were entrusted with the job of preserving the identity of the Maori people, remained with them throughout the afternoon.

In that way firm and lasting foundations were laid for an organisation dedicated to holding the ground in the New World which the battalion won for the people on the battlefields of the Old World. Not a man was not conscious of what he could do to build for the future by guiding and assisting the young generation which is launching forth into an even newer world.

Most of the men who attended the meeting took part in the Dawn Parade on Anzac Day when the formation of a battalion association was suggested. The spark which set off the movement was a breakfast provided for them at the Community Centre. Here they were reminded of the comradeships which were forged in the battalion itself. They recalled the receptions which were given the men coming back after the war when they ate the same sort of food and talked about the same things.

Then why not preserve those cherished associations? The suggestion was enthusiastically supported. A meeting was convened by Monty Wikiriwhi, now welfare officer in Pukekohe. The former intelligence officer has lost none of the calm efficiency which he demonstrated in the battalion. The way he dealt with the persistent demands to get on with the job of appointing a president testified to his diplomacy and patience.

The tribute paid Monty Wikiriwhi by electing him president was a sincere one. He had a worthy opponent for the important office in R. Rautahi. Also, the gathering rejected the offer of a secret ballot and elected Mr Wikiriwhi openly on a show of hands by 20 votes to 14. There was no division in installing Mr Rautahi in the responsible office of secretary.

With the two key positions filled, the meeting settled down to business. Mr Wikiriwhi had something worthwhile to say about the purpose of the new association and where it stood in relation to existing bodies. He made it clear that the new body would not cut across the Maori Returned Services League. This was reassuring, particularly to Kahi Harawira, who had been padre with the battalion, but had also been wounded on Gallipoli in the First World War. Like many other 1914–18 veterans, he valued his association with the league.

However, Mr Wikiriwhi was definite in pointing out that the weakness of the league lay in limiting its membership to Maoris. “We had a lot of Pakehas in the Battalion,” he said, “but they could not become members of the League. If we set up a unit association all our fellow Pakehas will be able to join.”

A long discussion followed on the question whether the association should be a New Zealand body or purely an Auckland organisation. It was decided to invite battalion members throughout New Zealand to join. More than 1800 men—both Maori and Pakeha—who served with the unit were to be circularised and it was announced that already names and addresses of more than 1000 had been obtained.

The election of a patron was no problem. Everybody was in favour of Colonel G. Dittmer, the first commanding officer of the battalion. There were those who remembered him respectfully as a strict disciplinarian. Others, no doubt, recalled his fast talking on their behalf after a farmer's pig had found its way into the battalion hangi on Salisbury Plain. The C.O.'s reply to a letter asking him to accept patronage of the association re-

vealed his typical modesty and his abiding affection for the battalion. One could visualise his delight at being asked to renew a direct association with the men whom he had commanded.

In selecting vice-presidents, the choice fell on genial Roy Te Punga, former adjutant and intelligence officer and now senior probation officer in Auckland, and Matiu Te Hau, who has scope for his efficiency as an Adult Education tutor. The purse strings are being held for the association by H. G. Lambert who agreed to accept the post of treasurer although his time is fully taken up with his new appointment as lecturer in Maori studies at Auckland Teachers' College.

The executive was headed by a former officer in I. Harris and a non-commissioned officer in G. Harrison. Other members elected were T. Marsden, S. Royal, H. Harding and E. Emory. E. Reweti, who is with the Lands and Survey Department in Auckland, was installed as honorary auditor and the recently ordained Rev. Maori Marsden, of Frankton Junction, as honorary padre.

In asking Mr S. C. Clarke to accept the office of honorary solicitor, Mr Wikiriwhi said: “Mr Clarke has been with us in the Tokerau Land Court and knows us better than we do ourselves.” Mr Clarke represented the Auckland Returned Services' Association and with officers from other unit associations pledged support for the new organisation.

“We mean what we say,” said Mr Clarke. “The support offered is real.” He congratulated the association for appointing an honorary padre, adding: “One of the things which struck us as judges in moving around among the Maori people was how very rarely Grace is not said in Maori households and how rarely it is said in the Pakeha household.”

BAY OF ISLANDS ELECTRIC POWER BOARD

There is a vacancy for an Assistant to the Accountant in the Board's Office at Kaikohe. Preference will be given to a Maori young man over the age of 20 with at least some subjects in the Accountant's Professional Examination and with a genuine desire to complete the examination. There are excellent prospects in the Power Industry for future promotion to Executive positions.

For further details, apply to:—

WALLACE S. THORPE, SECRETARY, P.O. BOX 243, KAIKOHE, NORTHLAND.

VALUES OF A
MAORI
BOARDING SCHOOL

by TIWHIA

Last December (1957) I said a sad farewell to a college that had been my home for the past six years. Looking back, I regard those years not merely as “old school years” but as years of moral, cultural and educational moulding. I have been left with a new sense of responsibility and a desire to work always for the good of this country and the people in it.

First let me assert that I am just another old boy of the college—no one worthy of more attention than any other old boy, in fact what I say here may have been said before and has probably been in the minds of hundreds of men and women from Maori church boarding schools over New Zealand. I do not wish you to think that I am a person of great responsibility or high position; neither do I wish to sound as if I am just boasting about my own school—I am merely pointing out some of the benefits that I personally have received over the past six years and the advantages that a Maori church boarding school has over the ordinary day schools.

I come from the West Coast of the North Island—from a predominantly European locality—and my primary school days were spent with Pakeha youngsters. I must confess that although I am a half-caste Maori, I hardly knew the real meaning of the word “Maori”. I was completely oblivious to the proud heritage into which I had been born. I knew nothing of Maori culture and had the greatest difficulty in pronouncing Maori place names, let alone in speaking the language. I was to all intents and purposes a “Maori pakeha.”

Then in February 1952, I started as a 3rd former at Te Aute Maori Boys' College in Central Hawkes Bay. I was barely 13 and had never been away fom home for more than a few weeks at a time. It was the start of a new life in many ways—my pals were now all Maori youngsters, I was living in a Maori community away from parental care, I was just one of a large family and had to do my share (small though it was) towards the life of the college. At the same time I was beginning to realise that I was a Maori and that it was just about time for me to wake up and be one.

Fortunately, Maori was a compulsory subject and at last I was able to set about learning the language of my forefathers—a language which up till then I had scarce heard about. I also found the opportunity to join the Maori Culture group which taught members old Maori games (such as “whai” and “ti ringa”) as well as old and modern action songs and hakas. A pleasing feature about the culture group was that it was conducted entirely by senior boys who were ever so keen that these treasures of Maoridom should be preserved by lads like ourselves. In addition to the above we were fortunate in having in our library a special section on New Zealand history and literature and it was with an increasing interest that I delved into books by such writers as Buck. Kohere, Best and Ramsden. Wistfully I looked back on my early childhood days regretting the fact that I had been content to let such an inheritance slip carelessly away.

Meanwhile I was beginning to see a better conception of Maori ways and was able to appreciate the differences between European and Maori social life. Here we were—about 120 young Maori boys from all sorts of homes in all sorts of places, thrown together for 40 weeks of the year. Together we played, laughed, and worked and each was able to contribute something that was new to the others: a new phase of culture, a tribal characteristic, a new haka, stories about “home”—all went to unify us. From our midst leaders were arising to be given positions of authority—prefects, rugby captains, house captains — indeed those who had powers of leadership were given every opportunity to develop them.

As far as scholastic work itself went the facilities were all that could be desired. No outside distractions to drag one away from lessons prevailed; the nightly two hours compulsory prep., at first irksome, was later sincerely appreciated and following the example of others, I used much of my spare time to do still extra study. Numbers of us have reaped the benefits from this in the

School Certificate and University Entrance Examinations.

Another credential to our boarding schools is the useful way in which spare time is utilized. Whereas at a day school the pupils are free when school is out, at a boarding school organised sport and games are arranged and leisure time may be profitably spent—not in hanging around town, attending every new film or dance (as is so often the case today), but in physical exercise or mental stimulation in a well stocked library. Associated with sport (rugby in this instance), the senior boys used to make a tour in the winter vacation. I was included in one of these around the East Coast and have never regretted the experience. It was wonderful to be able to meet the Ngati Porou people, to exchange items and to witness Maori hospitality in its true form.

Apart from meeting Maori elders we were also given the opportunity to meet the better types of Pakeha adults. The staff at a Maori boarding school always seem so willing to do more than just instruct pupils—they become friendly with the boys and take a personal interest in each student. On several occasions groups of us were invited to their various homes for a meal or an afternoon. In addition, local Pakeha friends of the college frequently had boys up to their homes for an afternoon. This is a wonderful means of letting us all see the finer points of modern society and of giving the “back blocker” a chance to see European culture.

I could not conclude this article without mentioning the vital “4th R”—Religion. With a permanent chaplain at the college and our own renovated chapel, Christian worship has now come to mean something very dear and essential to me. Divinity periods have given me an opportunity to think more widely about Christian doctrines and appreciate the Bible messages, while daily chapel services have led me to accept a religion which all too often is neglected or misunderstood in the busy world today.

I have so far tried to point out some of the benefits that a Maori church boarding school can give the Maori youth today. Summarily they are: a knowledge of Maori customs and culture along with a better understanding of Maori nature (these two culminating in a strong inclination to help preserve something of Maoritanga); a chance to develop qualities of leadership; a strong community spirit; better facilities for study and hence greater chances of passing State exams; organised sport and games in leisure time; associations with Maori elders and better type Pakehas; and last (but not least) a solid grounding in the Christian religion.

Last year several newspapers showed that finance and falling rolls were matters of concern to Maori Church schools. Some people also think that the day of the old Church boarding schools is over—there places may be taken by new high schools. These are most distressing ideas to me as there is a rich heritage and tradition at these old established colleges that cannot be found at an ordinary high school. I realise myself that had I attended a local high school, I would still be sadly ignorant of a Maori cultural background. While I am still far from anything like a compotent Maori scholar, I boast that at least I have gained some knowledge of Maori culture and have had the opportunity to live in (and to love) a Maori community. I am aware now what a wonderful thing it is to be a Maori—a Christian Maori—and that I, as an individual, have a debt in doing my bit towards maintaining Maoritanga.

After six years at a Maori college I have been imbued with a strong desire to help others, who like my “former self” are content to drop everything Maori about them. I can suggest no better remedy than an education at a Maori Church boarding school. I will always be grateful to my old school—not just for giving me a scholastic education—but for introducing me to Maoritanga.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Money has been allocated by the National Historic Places Trust for the preservation and protection of two historic sites on the Wanganui River. These are the Maori rock carvings in the Kohi Gorge and Kemp's Pole at Raorikia.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The active Te Rahui Tribal Committee at Tokoroa has raised £1000 towards a social hall. New Zealand Forest Products are willing to sell the necessary land for the hall for the nominal sum of £5, but as the hall will be a large and well-equipped one, much more money will need to be raised.

The committee also has a welfare and educational programme. They presented the local high school with a copy of The Coming of the Maori by Sir Peter Buck, and a file of back numbers, with a subscription to Te Ao Hou.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

There is no ground for a rumour that the Paeroa sub-office of the Department of Maori Affairs will be closed. Although some reorganization in the area has been going on, the sub-office will remain open and a field supervisor will be stationed in the town.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The Awarua Maori Gun Club was opened officially late last July. President of the club is Mr W. R. Counsell, and the secretary Mr R. Kotua. The opening, which was a particularly successful day of shooting, was at Mr P. Potaka's property at Utiku. Both Mr Kotua and Mr S. Pine showed themselves very excellent shots indeed.

THE LOVE CHARM OF PARATENE

by ALAN ARMSTRONG

The whole pa was waiting expectantly for the annual meeting of courtship. There were several ways in which a marriage was arranged amongst the Maoris. The choice of husband or wife by parents and family was very common particularly amongst the high born. Although this arbitrary method sometimes caused unhappiness the arrangement was nearly always accepted by the children concerned. However the people were still gossiping busily and shaking their heads over Ratimira and Taneroroa. Taneroroa was a girl of high rank and her parents had strongly objected to Ratimira a commoner pressing his suit. So the couple had eloped and set up house together in a lonely spot in the mountains for many months until the hubbub had died down. Only recently, through the help of friendly messengers, they had arranged for their safe return to the tribe as married people. However, before they had had time to settle down again in the pa they had, as was customary, been visited by a plundering party. Though ostensibly the visit was a surprise, Ratimira and Taneroroa had eagerly prepared for the event for they regarded it as a mark of prestige. People of no account would never be plundered. Their friends had arrived, performed a fierce war dance in front of their whare punctuated with licentious songs deemed appropriate to the occasion and then there had been a great feast. Finally after seizing everything on which they could lay their hands, the plunderers had left laden with spoils whilst the destitute couple settled down to married bliss and to build up their material resources afresh.

Another method of forming a marriage was by the free consent of the two young people concerned. Most unions of this type were contracted during the long evenings in the House of Amusement where the younger set met for sport and games when the day's work was over. The most common way of arranging a marriage amongst the River People however was the annual or parliamentary form of courtship where the whole tribe gathered in the Whare Matoro or House of Amusement and the young people stood up one by one and named the mate of their choice whereupon the person indicated was expected to publicly accept or reject the proposal. The young people of marriagable age amongst the River people were eagerly awaiting the event and giving a great deal of their time to the sorting out of prospective mates and trying in some way to discreetly make their feelings known to he or she in whom they were interested.

Paratene had long wished to have the fair Hinauri as his wife and he was determined to ask for her hand at the coming meeting of courtship. He was not sure what success he would have for he had recently decided to test her feelings and one evening whilst she was sitting on the marae watching the young men wrestling he had approached her and dropped at her side a love token in the form of a loose slip knot of flax. To his dismay the haughty Hinauri had unfastened the noose and left it lying on the ground and walked away, a clear enough indication that she did not return Paratene's feelings of affection. “Why do you not want Paratene as your husband” Hinauri's sister had said to her later. “He is very handsome and his father is one of the bravest warriors of our tribe.” “Yes he is handsome,” replied Hinauri, “but he is also very conceited and more

interested in the chasing of women than in the chasing of work. There is truth in the saying that a man who chases the feathers of the kotuku rather than the flesh of the kaka will have neither food in his store nor wife in his house”. She tossed her head disdainfully. Her words had come to Paratene's ears but he was very persistent and he made up his mind that come what may Hinauri would one day be his. The annual courtship meeting would be his opportunity to publicly declare his love and then …? Who knew? She might have changed her mind about him by then.

At last the great night came and most of the adults gathered in the Whare Matoro. The light from the pitch pine torches and the small fires bathed the inside in soft light and a slight haze

The story is set in pre-European times amongst a tribe whom we shall call the river people.

of smoke hung around the high rafters. The people wore their very best for this occasion. The old wahine wore half calabashes on their heads from which hung a rather comical circular wig made of the hair of the kuri or native dog. The younger set were very conscious of looking their best for the evening and most wore their best clothes. Many were resplendent in cloaks which had obviously been borrowed from their elders. The women and girls wore around their necks little bags made of the feathers of the grey duck and the male paradise duck. These bags were filled with the sweet scented moss of the tara gum. The men had rubbed their bodies with oil from berries. The oil was scented with a moki, a kind of fern, and with other grasses and plants which smelled pleasantly. Of course it was the girls who looked particularly gay for as the ladies of today wear cosmetics so they had their faces and figures daubed and spotted with ochre of various colours. Some had their whole face reddened, others only half with the rest of the face being blue or blackened with charcoal dust. Even more exotic effects were obtained by some of the gayer belles who had on their foreheads the tuhi kohuru of diagonal bands of red or tuhi korae of horizontal red bands. One lass had a yellow chin and nose. These ochres were mixed with the sticky buds of the koromiko and then not only applied to the face but in some cases to the whole body.

There was much giggling and nudging whilst everyone arranged themselves around the walls and on the floor. Then Rangipakia the chief stood up and silence fell. “My children! This is your time and the elders are silent. Speak my children!” There was a pause whilst everyone waited for someone else and then Paratene who had been sitting fidgeting was not able to restrain himself any longer and taking a deep breath he jumped to his feet. “I will have Hinauri.” Hinauri seemed to have been expecting this however for she had her answer ready. She tossed her head. “Your finger nails are too long. You avoid work as Ruru the owl avoids light!” This was a very harsh thing to say and poor Paratene went crimson with shame and he sat down looking very crestfallen whilst those around him giggled at his discomforture. However there was little he could do for custom demanded that he bear the insult in silence. Then a girl stood up. “I will have Otene”. Otene said nothing and after a moment's silence a low cough ran around the crowd and the union of these two was thereby approved. Encouraged by this Terete stood up. “I will have the son of Whanaurua”, she said. Terete was rather ugly and had little tattoo. It surprised no one when the young man said gently “I have no power for my singing bird is another.” Then Matenga the lame one struggled to his feet and said quickly “Terete has charmed me and I will have her.” Terete's delight at thus securing a husband was obvious and another slight sign of applause ratified the agreement.

With the ice now broken a quick succession of suitors both male and female stood up to press their claims. “I will have Tangaroa”. “I will have Pungarehu”. “I am no longer my own for Hitana has charmed me”. “Kiriana is my singing bird”. “My choice is Purewa”. “I intend to have the daughter of Poananga”. So it went on until a number of happy couples had been mated and then there was singing and dancing to follow.

At last the gathering broke up. Those who had been successful went laughing into the darkness with their loved ones. Others who had been rejected or not even asked at all dragged their footsteps towards their whare and silence descended on the village. The annual courtship in the Whare Matoro was ended for another year.

For the next few days Paratene went about his work and every time the wind whistled in the trees he seemed to hear the voice of Hinauri saying “Your finger nails are too long. You avoid work as Ruru the owl avoids the light.” It was true of course that Paratene was a little vain but he was certainly not lazy and the unjustness of the remark made him only the more determined now to get what he wanted. He guessed that the real cause of Hinauri's resentment was the fact that one night in the House of Amusement, he has teased her after beating her in one of the games of skill with which the young people occupied themselves. Had he but known it, Hinauri secretly admired him for his fine looks and his skill at arms but like most women she was very stubborn where her pride was concerned and her mind was made up that Paratene would never be her husband.

However, Paratene also was very determined. Despite her insults he loved Hinauri and he was determined to one day make her his wife even if it meant kidnapping her to do it as was sometimes done. He did not relish such a course however because it would make him an outcast from the tribe. So he waited and hoped always afraid that someone might claim in marriage the young lady whom he regarded as his.

Paratene spent much of his time in the forest snaring birds and as he worked his mind never ceased grappling with the problem of how he could take Hinauri as his bride. One day he and his brother were out setting up their perch snares. They had selected a poroporo tree laden with rich ripe berries. A perch snare needed someone to sit in the tree and pull a string to spring the trap when a bird landed on the perch so the brothers had first to build a rough platform with a little shelter for the fowler to hide in. Paratene shinned up the tree and then his brother attached the materials for building the platform onto a rope which Paratene pulled up into the tree. The two were experienced workers and it did not take long for them to set up their little bower. Leaving Paratene to set the snares, his brother moved on down a nearby stream to inspect other snares which they had set there several days previously.

Paratene hummed a little song to himself as he selected branches on which to hook his perch snares so that they would stick up above the foliage and attract birds to come to roost on them. When all was ready he settled down, nor did he have long to wait. As the birds landed on one of the perches, Paratene was kept busy pulling the string so that the loops caught the birds around the legs and imprisoned them against the upright portion of the snare. As a bird was caught, Paratene climbed up and killed it with a quick twist of the neck. Then he unhooked the snare, took out the catch, reset the loop and hooked the whole thing back into position.

Paratene was just about to remove a fat parrot from the snare when he heard a rustling in the bushes beneath the tree. He saw a flash of a white heron's feather and his breath caught in his throat and he recognised the slim form of Hinauri moving slowly through the forest gathering up fallen hinau berries.

Now Paratene well knew that love charms or atahu were sometimes used by young men to win the affection of an unwilling maid. These atahu were recited over some object such as a bunch of leaves. The leaves were then placed where the girl was likely to see them. If her curiosity tempted her to pick them up she immediately came under the influence of the spell. Another way was to recite the atahu over a bird, preferably the riroriro, and then the winged messenger would fly with uncanny instinct to land on the young man's beloved, no matter how distant she was, and she was then under the influence of the spell.

Paratene was no ‘tohunga ta makutu’ and he knew little of the magic arts. Moreover the bird in his hand was no riroriro but he somehow knew that this was his chance to secure that which he most wanted and he knew that if he hesitated he might lose that chance forever. Snatching the parrot out of the noose he locked its wings across its back, recited an atahu chant over the bird and dropped it quietly to the ground. However because he was no expert, the spell did not work quite as Paratene had hoped. To his dismay the parrot began to hop away through the undergrowth. Hinauri saw it hopping around unable to fly and she set off after it hoping to capture this delicacy for her oven. The parrot was small and very elusive and it darted out of her reach.

Suddenly as Hinauri brushed through some bushes, a long trailing branch of thorns caught on her cloak and dragged it from her shoulders and she stood disconsolate and naked. Paratene could not stand it any longer and he burst into roars of laughter from his tree. The brown of Hinauri's skin turned a rich red with embarrassment and anger for it was a matter of shame for a woman to be seen entirely naked and she hurriedly dragged the cloak from the thorns and wrapped it around her and looked angrily at Paratene as he sat on his little platform smiling at her.

“E Paratene! Haere mai ki konei!” she commanded her eyes flashing and nothing loath, he jumped down and came over to her still laughing. “You have seen my shame”, she said. “Now I have no course open to me but to marry you for that will be the only sure means of stopping you gossiping about me.”

And so it was. On their return to the village, Hinauri called her relatives around her and said simply, “I am going to take a husband and Paratene is his name”. This, by custom, was sufficient. From then on they lived together and thus was Hinauri snared by the cunning Paratene as surely as the parrot who lands on the fowler's perch. Indeed she soon forgot her former dislike for her husband and, always as happens in the best of stories, they lived happily together for ever after.

THE SIEGE OF TOKAAKUKA PA

by PETA WAIRUA

Owing to its admirable geographical position and other features favourable for the purposes of defence it can be readily understood why the Whanau-a-Apanui established “Toka-a-Kuku pa” as their chief stronghold. The pa is situated on Te Kaha point and is approximately fifteen acres in area. The point extends seaward for some considerable distance, its cliffs being particularly rugged and precipitous. The defenders had little to fear from enemies attacking in canoes and could therefore concentrate their energies in guarding the only practicable approach to the pa which was landward. The first known raid on the stronghold was conducted by Hongi Hika, a powerful Ngapuhi fighting chief. Although the attackers failed to overcome the defenders, their assault was so vigorous and determined that Te Uaaterangi, the Apanui chief, fearing possible defeat, appealed to the Ngapuhi for a cessation of hostilities. His request was favourably received and the outcome of a meeting between the combatants, which followed, was the forming of a truce. One of the stipulations was that on all future occasions the invaders were to keep out of the waters within the Apanui boundaries. This meant that even if engaged in hostilities with other coastal tribes, they had to keep out of the stipulated area. Hongi consented to follow and respect these conditions to the letter and duly returned to Whangaroa. Some years later, Te Whareonga, while returning from a successful raid on Ngati Porou, with a fleet of canoes loaded to capacity with captives and other spoils of war, made the grave error of entering the forbidden boundaries in the vicinity of Tikirau. Perhaps he committed this offence with the idea of shortening his homeward journey, or out of sheer bravado. But, by the fact that he flung imprecations and insults at the Apanui people who witnessed his manoeuvres, one has a tendency to believe the latter assumption. That the Apanui took exception to his act, and uncalled for remarks, was manifested in their lighting beacon fires apprising others of the tribe along the coast of the presence of an enemy. Te Uaaterangi receiving this information immediately instructed his lieutenant “Te Mango-Kai Tipua” alias King William to man canoes for the purpose of intercepting the intruders. It was the chief's intention to teach the voyagers a severe lesson. He wanted Te Whareonga's life spared for a definite purpose. The Apanui canoes overtook the Ngapuhi near White Island and after a brief encounter between the rival captains the latter were captured. On reaching the Maungaroa beach, contrary to the wishes of Te to its admirable geographical position and other features favourable for the purposes of defence it can be readily understood why the Whanau-a-Apanui established “Toka-a-Kuku pa” as their chief stronghold. The pa is situated on Te Kaha point and is approximately fifteen acres in area. The point extends seaward for some considerable distance, its cliffs being particularly rugged and precipitous. The defenders had little to fear from enemies attacking in canoes and could therefore concentrate their energies in guarding the only practicable approach to the pa which was landward. The first known raid on the stronghold was conducted by Hongi Hika, a powerful Ngapuhi fighting chief. Although the attackers failed to overcome the defenders, their assault was so vigorous and determined that Te Uaaterangi, the Apanui chief, fearing possible defeat, appealed to the Ngapuhi for a cessation of hostilities. His request was favourably received and the outcome of a meeting between the combatants, which followed, was the forming of a truce. One of the stipulations was that on all future occasions the invaders were to keep out of the waters within the Apanui boundaries. This meant that even if engaged in hostilities with other coastal tribes, they had to keep out of the stipulated area. Hongi consented to follow and respect these conditions to the letter and duly returned to Whangaroa. Some years later, Te Whareonga, while returning from a successful raid on Ngati Porou, with a fleet of canoes loaded to capacity with captives and other spoils of war, made the grave error of entering the forbidden boundaries in the vicinity of Tikirau. Perhaps he committed this offence with the idea of shortening his homeward journey, or out of sheer bravado. But, by the fact that he flung imprecations and insults at the Apanui people who witnessed his manoeuvres, one has a tendency to believe the latter assumption. That the Apanui took exception to his act, and uncalled for remarks, was manifested in their lighting beacon fires apprising others of the tribe along the coast of the presence of an enemy. Te Uaaterangi receiving this information immediately instructed his lieutenant “Te Mango-Kai Tipua” alias King William to man canoes for the purpose of intercepting the intruders. It was the chief's intention to teach the voyagers a severe lesson. He wanted Te Whareonga's life spared for a definite purpose. The Apanui canoes overtook the Ngapuhi near White Island and after a brief encounter between the rival captains the latter were captured. On reaching the Maungaroa beach, contrary to the wishes of Te

Uaaterangi, the whole of the Ngapuhi party was massacred, including Te Whareonga, the captives being liberated.

The victims of this wholesale slaughter were hanged on the pohutukawa trees at Kopuakoeaea. Te Uaaterangi was greatly distressed at this turn of events. He realised that through the indiscretion of one of his subordinates his dreams of a lasting peace were shattered. To him it was the beginning of the end. Accordingly he with his people repaired to Tokaakuku and anticipating rightly that the relatives of the hapless victims who had suffered death at their hands, would retaliate mercilessly, they carried provisions in the form of kumaras, dried fish, etc. into the pa in quantities sufficient to last them for months. News of the massacre soon spread. The Ngapuhi, aware of the almost inaccessible nature of the Apanui stronghold, sought the assistance of the Ngati Porou and Kahungunu people, which culminated in the formation of a powerful alliance. The allied tribes occupied two adjacent pas, one on either side of Tokaakuku. The pa situated on the eastern side of Tokaakuku is now known as Wharekura and was occupied by Ngatiporou, while the western one served as a retreat for the Northerners. By this time a foreign ship had anchored out of the Tokaakuku point and became friendly to the local tribes. Its crew later married into Whanau Apanui. Te Uaaterangi named his nephew after the Captain of this ship (Thompson). The Apanui people had acquired muskets from these mariners and I was told they in turn took part in the defence of Tokaokuku Pa.

For approximately twelve months the combined forces laid siege upon the Apanui, but in spite of superior numbers, the defenders held their own. (No te Ngahuni i tae mai ai, a, no te Ngahuni ano i rere ai.)

Interesting to relate, the Ngapuhi employed tactics used by Hongi Hika at Rotorua in dragging their canoes overland from the point where they were stationed to the Wharekura Pa. This was done owing to the fact that to join their allies they could not get past Te Kaha point as the Apanui fleet was too formidable. The Apanui replenished their provisions during the night and by canoes which went to Torere via White Island. The Ngapuhi were no match for the Apanui on the waters.

Wiremu Kingi (named after the King of his Pakeha allies) Te Mango Kai Tipua was in command of the home fleet and was responsible for several victories.

The spirit of the defenders, although many died of fever and extreme starvation, was maintained through Karakia chanted by Te Uaaterangi's brother-in-law, who was then the High Priest, the sole defender of Te Ruataniwha Pa at the mouth of Te Kereu river, which was hidden by the early morning mist during Ngapuhi's first raid.

This is only a brief story from inside. My uncle “Ngamotu Tu Kaki” of Te Kaha may elaborate more fully on the raid and the 1st, 2nd and 3rd defence of Tokaakuku Pa. (Te Whanau-a-Tama-tamaarangi was the responsible hapu.)

Vienna about 1850.

A VIENNA JOURNAL

WHERE MAORI AND
PAKEHA FIRST MET

The landing of Captain Cook at Anaura Bay (East Coast) was re-enacted in full costume recently, when the National Historic Places Trust established a plaque on the Bay as a memorial to this first contract between the Maori and the British peoples. Most of the members of the Trust had gone to the East Coast for the unveiling and gave suitable addresses. Three boys, representing Captain Cook and two of his crew, came inland in a longboat as the ceremony was progressing. They walked with dignity across the sand and were welcomed by a Maori chief and the people of the village. All were dressed in appropriate costumes. The Maori children playing their parts gave the scene a vivid atmosphere.

During the ceremony, the local Maori people were represented by Mr Peta Maurere.

A canoe poi to welcome Captain Cook. (John Pascoe photograph)

MEMORIES OF OUR VALLEY

by NGAHINATURAE TE UIRA

TAHAROA–how isolated it is—a small secluded Maori settlement bounded to the North and East by bush-clad hills; to the South by the Taharoa Lake and to the West by the ever thundering breakers of the Tasman Sea as it meets the expensive sand-dunes of the propossed Iron and Steel Industry. Inland from the sand dunes is the farming land of fertile soil, interspersed here and there with streams and swamps.

Taharoa is situated nine miles from the nearest township of Kawhia to the north and sixty miles from Otorohanga and Te Kuiti to the east. Access to Taharoa is difficult and there are two main routes. From Kawhia, one travels by launch across the harbour to Te Maika, where is situated a small grocery store and a post office from which the Taharoa people collect their mail and make odd purchases of food. From Te Maika, one must be a reasonable horseman, for the road that lies ahead is no road, but a track, across mudflats, through hilly bush country, ever winding uphill and downhill, to the inessant slush, slush of hogholes and squetching mud under the horses' hooves for seven miles; then suddenly between the ridges overlooking the fringes of the bush, one sees Taharoa in the distance—a valley-like vision, green, peaceful and secluded.

Now perhaps the other route, from Otorohanga or Te Kuiti, past the Waitomo Caves, has one advantage—that is, one can travel by car over the sixty miles to the end of the road—the Taharoa Lakeside. However, in taking this route, one must make arrangements beforehand to be

General view of the ore field with the lake on the left and the sea coast on the right. The settlement is in the foreground on the left. (W. Martin photograph)

Paica Makate and daughter Maria in centre a vast area of dunes. (W. Martin photograph)

met by one of the met by once of the boat owners of Taharoa, other wise one may suffer the misfortune of being stranded without anyone knowing about it. If arrangements have been made, then the traveller will reach Taharoa after half an hour's ride over the Lake on an outboard motor boat.

The Maori families are almost divided, geographically, into two settlements. The settlement nearest the Lake consists of nine homes and the only school, and almost five miles away, nearer the coast the other five homes are situated. Each settlement has its own meeting house, but unlike usual Maori villages, the private homes are not centred in close proximity to these meeting houses, but scattered over wide areas. Each home is of modern up to date standard, built by the owners, fully furnished, and some with refrigerators and washing machines worked by kerosene fed motors. Every home has a telephone and almost every home has a radio powered by portable hatteries. This is in spite of the fact that the area, due to roading difficulties has had no State development schemes and in spite of the need to bring all building materials to the area by boat and on sleges drawn by horses. There is no electricity and cooking is done with ranges, there being no restrictions of firewood for titree is abundant. Lighting is provided by the use of Tilley and Coleman benzine lamps and almost every housewife has a kerosene steam iron.

These fourteen families are descendants of their common ancestor. Intermarriage is er aged by the older members of the families indeed is common, but out of the for families in Taharoa today, only one marris the result of the Maori custom of betroth birth. Three of the wives, although relates from outside the Taharoa District.

Families co-operate at crop planting harvesting times, at sheep shearing times a communal gatherings such as weddings, sports, football and basketball matche funerals, and annually, at the local Cora celebrations of the Maori King, of what people are loyal supporters. The school and the local football and basketball teams visit outside districts for matches, and the and junior players of football never practis they almost always win their matches win result that “Home” matches are quite free and young and old travel by horse from the near to watch.

On the whole, the life of the people re around the growing, the harvesting and procuring of food and the maintaining of sheep dry stock. Dairy farming was common some years ago but because of the high cost cartage of cream, people switched over to farming for which the fertile lands are excellently suited. All farmers now have their own sheds and shear by machine, shearing being co-operative effort of the whole community.

(Photograph: Peter Blanc)

REVIVING THE DROWNED

A LOT of people will be swimming and fishing this summer and inevitably there will be some accidents. And whenever such accidents are mentioned to a Maori of the old school he will talk lovingly of a piece of old Maori medical lore about how to revive the drowned. Yet this is one occasion where it is unwise to accept ancient Maori lore, for this old method is definitely dangerous.

A recent newspaper clipping described this traditional method as follows. After draining some water out of the drowned victim, he was strung up to a branch of a tree by the feet, and massaged all over while a fire was lit underneath and green leaves were heaped on the embers so the smoke billowed out thickly. The body was swung gently to and fro into the smoke, enabling the victim to enhale it. In the case described in this newspaper, the victim recovered, although it took him an hour to regain consciousness.

Modern medical knowledge suggests, however, the recovery was definitely not due to the treatment. Dr T. O. Garland, in his book ‘Artificial Respiration’, issued by the N.Z. Department of Health, says, ‘There is no easy recovery possible in this position. It any one cares to experiment and hang by the heels for a few minutes, he will soon find breathing extremely difficult. In fact, most people will pass into unconsciousness fairly quickly when hung in the head-down position. It was the custom to hang up the drowned in mediaeval Europe, as well as in New Zealand among the Maoris. Presumably the idea comes from the conception that there is much water in the body following the process of drowning. The idea of subjecting the victim to smoke presumably comes from the irritant effect of smoke on a conscious person.’ Dr Garland points out that one cannot breathe in smoke for more than a few minutes before coming unconscious because of the carbon dioxide.

He therefore does not think this method is of any use. It may be helpful to publish here a much better method which is the best one known to modern science. It is known as the Holger Nielson method and anyone who spends much time around the water would do well to practice it a little in case he is ever called upon to help a drowned person.

The piupius are ready (Photo by Mr Wallace)

WE MADE OUR OWN PIUPIUS

by PUPILS OF TAWERA MAORI SCHOOL

Recently Mr Wallace, our Headmaster, showed us a photo of the Anaura Bay School children wearing piupius which they had made when he was their teacher. We decided that we would like to learn to make piupius too and, as we intended to hold a school concert in a few week's time, we got busy right away.

Flax is not very plentiful in our district and we had to get small quantities from here and there. We soon learned that some flax was good for our purpose and some was not. Mr Wallace showed us how to cut the flax leaving the three centre leaves in each small clump. We then stripped it and brought it back to school where we placed it in a shady corner and covered it with wet sacks to keep it green.

We chose a very simple pattern because this was our first attempt and because these was not much time before our concert. We marked out the pattern on a flat board and used this board as a guide for cutting the pattern on the flax. This was done by laying the strip of flax on the board and scoring through the fleshy part with a sharp knife. We had to be careful not to cut right through the flax. We then ran the back of the knife under the piece we had scored and the fleshy part of the flax came away leaving just the fibres (or whitau) in these places.

As we finished each strip we hung it up to dry and then we rubbed and rubbed the fibres to make them soft.

Then Mrs Wallace showed us how to taniko the strips together. We put about 150 strips on each piupiu and we did six rows of taniko on each waist. Then we plaited in the loose fibres at the back to keep them firm.

Now the piupius were ready to dye. We

6. Wha Mita removing the tutu leaves from the water Maioha Timoti is waiting to put the first piupiu in.

7. Frank Taipeti and Wha Mita removing a piupiu from the mud bath.

gathered a lot of tutu leaves and boiled them up in a copper. When the mixture had cooled we put the piupius into it and left them in until the fibres turned slightly pink in colour (about 10 minutes). Then we lifted them out of the copper and placed them in an old bath which was full of very black mud thinned down with the tutu mixture. We left them in the mud bath for a few minutes, then lifted them out and rinsed them in cold water. We then hung them up to dry.

Photos 1 to 8 inclusive by Carl Perham, Whakatane

Wearing the completed piupius. From left, standing: Werawera Te Whetu, Rasie Timoti, Hine Tokotari, Maloha Timoti, Himaima McGarvey. In front: George Hohua and Peter kepa.

THE GROWING OF KUMARA

TU AND THE TANIWHA

by KATE SHAW

Tu Tuatara lived on an island. He had no brothers and sisters, so nearly every day he had to play alone. His mother and father just loved to lie and sleep in the sun and so did Tu, but he was young and he didn't like to sleep all the time. He loved to climb rocks and slither down banks and he was always thinking of adventure.

His mother was always telling him “Tu, you must not go past the last rock by the pohutukawa tree at the end of the beach,” but sometimes he would forget and would slip round the other side of the rock before he knew what he was doing. Then he would remember and go back but he would wish he hadn't promised his mother. He felt he would never find adventure unless he could go a long, long way past the rock and the pohutukawa tree.

He felt himself growing stronger and stronger and one day he just wished he could go out and wrestle with someone. But there was nobody there and that made him sad. He was sitting in the grass at the top of the beach wishing he had a playmate when he heard a voice say “Hullo! Can you wrestle?”

“Oh yea,” he yelled, and he was very excited. “Yes I can wrestle. I'm sure I can wrestle; only there's nobody here to wrestle with. Where are you? I can't see anybody. Who are you?”

“I'm in the grass, two manuka sticks away from you and my name is Timi Tuna.”

“Yes, I can see you now. Hullo. How did you

get here? I've never seen anybody like you before. You don't seem to have any feet. Can you walk?”

“No, I can't walk exactly, but I can slide on the land. I swim in the water. I swam down the stream until I got here. My mother told me not to go past the big totara tree at the bend of the stream but I forgot.”

“Isn't that funny? I'm always forgetting too,” said Tu. “Anyway, now you're here let us have this wrestling match.”

So these two funny little fellows scrambled and rolled round in a very queer-looking wrestling match but they enjoyed it very much. When Timi got close to Tu he said “Ouch, your skin is prickly,” and when Tu got close to Timi he said “Ouch your skin is clammy. And you're very slippery, Timi,”

When they had wrestled and wrestled for a long time they were tired and stopped to rest. They puffed and blew and told each other what fun it was. As they sat in the grass they asked each other questions.

“How long have you lived here, Tu?” asked Timi.

“We have lived here a long time. In fact I have always lived here,” said Tu. “My mother and father love this place. And so do I, but I often wish I could see what the world is like on the other side of the rock and the pohutukawa tree. Where do you live, Timi?”

“I live in a lake. It's a long way off but not [ unclear: ] far if you swim down the stream. Going back will take a little longer so perhaps I'd better go or my mother will be wondering what has happened to me. She might think a taniwha has caught me.”

“What is a taniwha?” asked Tu.

“Don't you even know what a taniwha is? A taniwha is a dragon. It's a dragon that is very fond of eels for breakfast. It has a big head, a fiery eye, a long tongue and sharp, sharp teeth, and it has a great big lashing tail. Why, Tu, if you were big, a thousand times bigger than you are now, you'd be a taniwha. Are you sure you're not a baby one?”

“Quite sure,” said Tu. “I don't even know what a taniwha is, so how can I be one?”

“That's all right then,” said Timi. “A taniwha lives in a den sometimes on land and sometimes deep under the water. He is the hungriest monster you've ever seen and I am always told to keep out of his way.”

“I'd like to see him,” said Tu.

“Don't be silly, Tu,” said Timi, “The taniwha would just open his mouth, breathe in and down you would go inside him.”

Tu nodded his head but he still wanted to see the taniwha. Anything that looked like him, even if it was a thousand times bigger couldn't be such a bad fellow.

“I must go now, Tu,” said Timi and as he slid into the water Tu called out “Come back, won't you Timi? Let's have another wrestling match.” Timi called “Yes, I'll come back.”

After Timi went away Tu began to think about adventure again and he forgot about his promise to his mother. He went to the last rock and climbed over to the other side and there he saw another beach. When he looked the other way he saw a large sheet of smooth water and he thought “That must be Timi's lake. I will go there and I might see the taniwha. It will be an adventure.”

But the lake was a long way for a little fellow like Tu. He went on and on and never seemed to get there. So he stopped for a minute and found he was right beside a most inviting rock standing in a sunshiny place. He climbed to the top, stretched out and went to sleep. Right in the middle of a lovely dream all about wrestling and adventure he heard a voice say (it was a very loud voice) “Ho! Ho! What do I see on top of that rock? Something that looks like me and yet doesn't look like me. I wonder what it is!”

Tu was very startled when he looked round and saw a large fearsome creature standing at the foot of the rock. He was so large that his head came easily up to the top of the rock and therefore Tu was looking right into his fiery eye. But his eye didn't look so fiery after all. Perhaps the dragon was in a good mood. Tu knew it must be a dragon or a taniwha as his friend Timi had called it. And the taniwha was in a good temper. Tu saw a funny wrinkle cross his face. It must be a taniwha smile. So Tu stopped being startled. “My name is Tu Tuatara,” he squeaked. I live at the next beach. Where do you live Sir? Are you a taniwha?”

“Yes I am a taniwha. I am THE taniwha. I live quite near for the way I travel but it is a long way for your little legs. Where are you going?”

“I'm going to an adventure,” said Tu.

“An adventure eh? Well, you wasted time sleeping in the sun. It is late now and you should go home.’

“Must I go? Couldn't we go on an adventure together?” asked Tu.

“Not today.” said the taniwha. “Not today.

Perhaps another time. You go along now. Off you go. Off you go.”

Tu was a little disappointed but he said “Thank you, Mr Taniwha. After all, it was an adventure meeting you.”

The taniwha's face had a funny wrinkle again. It was a great big taniwha smile. Tu could see he was pleased. So he wasn't surprised when the taniwha said to him, “Would you like me to take you home little Tu?”

“Oh I would. I would, very much. It would be kind of you, Mr Taniwha,” said Tu.

So the taniwha picked Tu up and placed him gently on his back and set off for Tu's home. As they went swiftly along he said “There you are. Tu. You've never ridden on a taniwha before. That is another adventure for you.”

“A wonderful, wonderful adventure,” shouted Tu.

OFF THE LAND

by BARRY MITCALFE

Hira and Sonny paused for breath. Below them, the ridge swooped down to the sea; behind them, only the sky, as blue and empty as the eyes of an idiot.

This was the time of change, neither day nor yet night, when things are not what they seem.

“Is that a house, or am I seeing things?” Hira rubbed his eyes, “Down by those karakas there.”

“It's a house all right,” said Sonny. “Lots of these empty places round these hills. What say we doss down there for the night?”

Nothing would suit Hira better; pig-hunting was not the picnic he had imagined; getting there wasn't so bad, it was getting them home; he tried to shift the weight of the sow on his back and almost toppled into the ti-tree.

“Come on, let's go,” said Sonny.

It was easy enough for Sonny. He was used to it. Hira watched him go barging down the side of the ridge, making a track of his own through the scrub.

“Here goes”, thought Hira, stepped into space, somersaulted three times and ended in the fern with the old sow curled lovingly over him.

“Come on man, you'll bruise the meat”

Bruise the meat—of all the bone-headed, slabsided, sway-backed sons of swag-bellied sows—

“Bruise the meat! Is that all you've got to say, you …”

But Sonny had already gone, charging through the brush, the ti-tree slapping and stinging at his face, his hands on the hocks and his head between the haunches of a Captain Cooker, almost as long as he was, five-foot-five.

He'll be a tough porker, this one, Sonny was thinking, but smoke him in manuka and he'll keep the hui going for a day or two.

Sonny busied himself making a fire in the karakas away from the house. One look at the place and he knew he'd go through the floor-boards. She'd been empty for years, since the slump most likely.

The fire was well away by the time Hira arrived –he let the pig thud down from his back and staggered round with his arms out.

“Wow, I could take off.” he said. “What's for tea?”

“Pork”.

“What's for supper?”

“Pig”.

“And what's for breakfast”.

But Sonny wasn't listening. He was staring towards the house.

“Feller must've left here in an awful hurry”, he said, “There's enough wood there to keep us going for a month.”

“Just tonight will do me”, said Hira clumping through the dock and fennel towards the woodshed. “You sure nobody lives here?” he added.

“Dead sure. There's a lot of places like this round here. Fellers in the slump walked off with only their boots. You can't farm—”.

“Look here!” The tone of Hira's voice brought Sonny at a run.

“Hugh! That's a dog skeleton. You think it was a man?”

Sonny saw the collar, the peg, the rusty links of the chain stretched tight towards the creek. The dog had been left tied up to die. He turned the head of the skeleton with his toe. The rotted collar came away.

“Broken teeth.” he said, “Poor beggar tried to chew his way out”.

“If ever I find the man who did this …” said Hira.

“Don't worry,” said Sonny, dangerously quiet, “I'll find him. We don't like that sort of thing, do we Tip, Sam?” His two pig-dogs, the brindle and the blue raised their heads enquiringly, then came over to see what he wanted. They sniffed at the bones.

“Here get out of there!” said Hira.

“A bone's a bone to a dog. They're alright.”

Before sleep was upon them that night, Sonny's voice came out of the darkness.

“He's probably left the district. But some of the boys'll be bound to know who he is and where he is … ”

—:: — —:: —

Next morning came bright and shiny as a new sixpence. Hira was damned if he could straighten up; his back felt like a rusty hinge.

“Just get that pig aboard, and you'll be right,” said Sonny. “We'll cut down the gully and head round the coast. You go on ahead. I'll get a few of these karaka berries. They'll come in handy for the hui.”

The trees were covered in ripe berries, Hira felt ashamed, he hadn't noticed them. He remembered, when he was a kid up north, gathering and soaking the karakas, picking the sweet kernel from the poisonous husk.

“Here give me one of those sacks. I'll give you a hand.”

“She's right. Tell you what. Take one on ahead. There should be some watercress and maybe a bit of puwha down the gully there.”

‘A bit of puwha’ wouldn't describe it. All the shady places were ankle deep. In five minutes Hira had stuffed the bag with all it could hold.

Then with the bag bouncing on top of the sow, and the sow growing heavier every minute, and his back so bent that his chin was almost scraping his boots, he staggered and stumbled down the hillside.

Sonny caught him up and together they slithered down the last slope of shingle to the rocks and the sea below.

They were only too glad to sit and roll a slow smoke. Sonny broke the silence, “How's the moon?” he asked.

“Full moon,” said Hira.

“You ought to know.” Sonny had a bit of a twinkle in his eye. “So it's spring-tide. Eight o'clock tide in the harbour. Say half-past seven out here. It's not too late. Let's give the crays a burl.”

“You're a tiger for punishment,” said Hira, “Let's go home.”

“Taihoa, boy, taihoa. This is the place for crays and this is the time.”

Sonny stripped off his jersey; Hira followed him reluctantly bringing the bag. He'd dived for crays up north, but he didn't like swimming amongst the kelp.

“You can't see them,” he said.

“See them? You don't have to see them. Just feel them.”

The sea was stirring slow and dark as oil. Sonny clambered down and slipped in, feet first. He began to feel with his feet, only his head out of the water.

“There's a good ledge under here”. He took a deep breathe and went down. Hira began to wonder if Sonny would ever come up. He didn't like the idea of going under there to look for him.

Sonny broke through the kelp, gasping for air.

“Place is alive with them. Regular packhorses. Look at the jength o’ that!” and he help up one long whicker. “All I could get. There's a good deep crack under here.” And on his next breath he was gone.

“Got two, come on in man. You get the paua, I'll get the cray.”

“Nah. I'll stay here and keep a watch out for sharks, eh?”

“Well, catch these!”

He threw the two crays up.

“Put them in the sack and see it doesn't crawl back in”.

“Hey Sonny, what you done with the nippers?”

“Nippers?”

“Off the crays.”

“These West Coast crays must be different from up north. Make way man. I'm coming in.”

Hira floundered round frightening more than he caught. Sonny rarely came up without any. He worked systematically up the long crevice. The crays would wedge themselves head and tail, but he would press down until the tail buckled and with a quick flick of the wrist pluck them out. then, up for another breath and down again. feeling with his toes for the next customer.

“Sack's damn near full,” said Hira, “I better get out before I sink.”

“Okay, let's go,” said Sonny, who was getting a bit blue round the gills. “Good thing I'm not a brass monkey.”

But they weren't so cool after the long slog back to Maungaroa.

“Just round the corner, and we'll be there,” Sonny called back over his shoulder.

“She'd better be a good hui after this.”

“Don't worry, she will be.”

“Guess they'll be glad to see us.”

“Guess we'll be glad to see them.”

But the first person they saw was old Mr Bainbridge, sitting on his usual seat outside the pub.

“Hello boys, where'd you get that lot.”

“Up the Taraire.”

“Going to raffle it?”

“No such luck. This is for the hui.”

They were about to pass on. Then Sonny remembered; “Ah, Pop, you're just the man I want to see.”

At which, Mr Bainbridge looked somewhat surprised. So few wanted to see him nowadays.

“Tell me, who had the place coming down from the Taraire, towards the coast?”

“Funny you should ask that. Don't tell me you've never heard of ‘Digger’ Howe?

“Not the one that hanged himself?”

“That's right. Hanged hisself,” said Pop, with great relish, “He come on to that place after the war, Great War that was. Never made more'n enough to pay the mortgage. Eleven years hard yacker and when the slump come, they took the lot. Not that it was any use then, to them, or him, or anybody.

“But they came a day too late. He must've known it was comin’—He boozed the last of his dough and when it was gone, so help me, I was one of them what shouted him.

“It beats me how a feller that size could hang hisself from a lightcord. But that's how it was. The pub's missus found him in the bathroom next morning.

“And you know how he'd got the dough. He'd sold his stock one day ahead of the mortgage-men. They went to his funeral, but I think they looked more miserable about the money than the man.”

“Poor beggar. Why didn't he just sit tight?” said Sonny. “Good times just round the corner, eh?”

“Not on that place. It was either walk off or stay there and starve.”

Walk off or starve. Hira and Sonny looked thoughtfully at the pigs and the bulging sacks.

“Good Maori land, that,” said Sonny quietly. Mr Bainbridge spluttered. “What'd you mean, Maori land?”

“Aw, you wouldn't know, Pop. Come on Hira, let's go.”

MAORI ACTION SONGS

by the Rev. KINGI IHAKA

No mention is made of the airs of the two action songs which appear in the previous issue of Te Ao Hou. When the late Sir Apirana Ngata produced the Souvenir programme of the Ngarimu Victoria Cross Investiture Meeting, he included his favourite and now world famous song “He putiputti koe i katohia” and appended the following note to the English rendition: “The air of the song will be recognised, but need not be announced for fear of invading some copyright.” Recent recordings made by the Putiki Youth Club of Wanganui do not include their theme song “Te Wai o Whanganui” because the publishers of the song “You are my sunshine” held that the tune was similar, and consequently they banned the recording of this song. Where possible however, the airs of the action songs will be mentioned.

Jim Henare Jnr. of Motatau, son of Colonel Henare performing at school sports.

SPORTS

AN OVERHAUL FOR YOUR CAR

by DES MAHONEY

The soundest piece of advice to give any amateur mechanic about his car is: “Leave it alone until it really needs attention, then do the job properly.”

We have left the final home-maintenance, which anyone with a reasonable aptitude for machines and tools can undertake, to include what are called top overhauls, the only type of overhaul which the home mechanic should attempt.

But before attempting it, be certain to check everything else which may be making your motor misbehave. A motor is sick when it fires unevenly, pinks excessively, overheats badly, makes really unpleasant noises, uses lots of petrol and oil, or won't start easily.

First thing is to go through the checks mentioned in earlier articles, and if everything on the outside is right, then (and only then) you can decide to decarbonize the cylinder-head and possibly grind the valves. You might as well do the latter while the head is off.

Preparation for a job like this is essential. Make sure you have enough tools, and the right tools, to take off all the accessories and the head itself. Clean the motor down so that nuts and screws do not get lost in grease. Allow yourself a lot of time. Find little boxes in which to put parts, nuts and bolts removed. Keep plenty of clean rags handy. And remember the order in which you took things off.

Here are the things you will need in the case of an overhead-valve motor:

Ring spanner of the right size for removal of the cylinder-head.

At least two shifting-spanners (small) and an assortment of screwdrivers and other suitable ring-spanners.

Valve lifter (for compressing valve springs), suction grinder and grinding-in paste.

Old blunt knife and blunt screwdriver for scaping off carbon deposits on head and crowns of pistons.

New cylinder-head gasket and valve-cover gasket.

In the case of a side-valve motor you will also

need a set of manifold gaskets and a sideplate gasket.

Then go ahead with the job according to your instruction-book; unless you are experienced don't try to do it without reference to an instruction-book; which will give you the correct methods for your particular model. Don't forget to drain the water off first.

Now here are some tips which will be handy. When decarbonising the piston crowns on a side-valve motor, stuff rags down the cylinders which are open, to prevent carbon and dirt dropping down and damaging the walls.

Do not scrape piston crowns or cylinder-head heavily, as this may cause scoring and later heavy accumulation of carbon.

If in doubt as to whether the valves need grinding, get your garage to give the motor a compression-test. It will show which cylinders are weak, and when the head is removed examination will show whether valves or a sloppy piston are responsible.

If with the piston at top dead centre you can rock it back and forth more than a fraction of an inch—say 1/32nd—it means that new rings or even a rebore are needed. Don't try to put in the rings yourself. Give the head an overhaul, and next time the motor deteriorates badly either have a full overhaul carried out or get rid of the car.

Reverting to the actual top overhaul, when it comes to replacing the head make sure there are no obstructions before putting on the new gasket (which can be sealed with a smear of yellow grease, but should not need gasket cement) and then plug the sparking-plug holes with rag before screwing the holding-down nuts on by hand. Nothing is more infuriating than to lose a nut down a plug-hole, which can occur on some makes.

Tighten the head down gradually, by working on the nuts diagonally and lengthwise, moving from the ends of the block towards the middle. If you can borrow a tension-wrench from a mechanic, so much the better. Twenty to thirty pounds tension should be sufficient to seal the gasket in the first place.

When everything is back in place, fill the radiator with water, give the motor a few turns on the handle to make sure there is nothing loose rattling around inside, enough turns on the starter to get petrol through, switch on, and she should go.

The motor should be run for about 20 minutes, allowed to cool down, and the cylinder-head nuts checked again for tension and the gasket examined for leaks.

Over the next few days it is as well to check the head once more, and have a look at the oil in the sump to make sure that water is not escaping down into the cylinders. A few pounds more tension will usually be the cure, but do not wind away indefinitely at a cylinder-head nut or it will quietly come away in your hand.

If after reading all this you would rather take your car to a mechanic, you are wise. But most of us like to have a go ourselves, and if the car is a bit of an old heap there's no harm in learning the hard way—and a lot of fun and quiet pride when the job's done. That's the lot of this series of hints on maintenance.

BOOKS
THE MENTAL HEALTH OF THE MAORI

by Dr. F. McDONALD (Porirua Hospital)

Review of: Mental Health in New Zealand by Prof. E. Beaglehole

The problem of mental ill-health is one of great topical interest in New Zealand at present. Groups are being formed, newspapers are thundering, so it was with pleasant anticipation that one began this book, hoping it would state the issues foursquare and form a stimulating springboard for-discussion. It is excellently produced by a Wellington firm and the type is very clear. In the unchanged second edition, which appeared recently, Dr Beaglehole, Professor of Psychology at Victoria University, has put forward a number of good ideas for a regeneration of our Mental Health Services. He stresses the need for much more emphasis on clinics for the treatment of mentally disturbed children with which one can agree heartily. However, with some other aspects of the book one is forced to disagree just as heartily, first and foremost in the field in which the author has done a large amount of painstaking research, namely in the field of Maori illhealth.

For instance, on the first page he states that the incidence of mental disorder for Maoris is “… 64 per 100,000 as compared with the pakeha figure of 105 per 100,000 … [also] … a psychoneurotic percentage of 4 while the pakeha has 14; in the senile category the pakeha percentage is 16 while that of the Maori is 8.” These figures certainly seem to bear out his contention that the Maori is less afflicted with mental disease than the pakeha. They are taken from admission figures to Mental Hospitals. But let us see what that really means. He divides mental illness into five categories:

An important part of our mental health services is played by psychiatric nurses, and more and more Maori girls are taking up this profession. They are highly spoken of at the mental hospitals where they serve. Nurse P. N. Patate (above) comes from Masterton and had wide experience in ordinary and maternity nursing before she joined Porirua Hospital recently. (National Publicity photograph)

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