Year of Awakening

The year 1960 has been a crucial one in the development of the Maori people. Suddenly, it has seemed, there has been a great flowering of interest in and awareness of the whole race. Newspapers have devoted more space than ever we remember, both editorially and in reporting, to Maori problems and difficulties, to progress and advance, treated in a highly responsible and sympathetic manner.

Earlier in the year, the massive campaign organised by the Citizens' All Black Tour Association brought its activities to an unsuccessful, but dignified conclusion. The decision of the Council of the Rugby Union prevailed, but whatever the moral issues involved, one fact emerged clearly: that any suggestion of racial discrimination will be deeply resented and combated by a large proportion of the European population; any slight to the reputation New Zealand has established in this field will be vigorously contested. This is a most heartening sign.

We cannot doubt that the main impetus to this upsurge of interest and sympathy with Maori problems has come from the Young Maori Leaders' Conferences. Since Te Ao Hou last went to press there have been Regional Young Leaders' Conferences at Whakatane and Gisborne, and a South Island. Conference at Christchurch, reported in this issue. As we go to press, further regional conferences are being planned at Marton and Kaitaia. The agenda for these conferences have been almost identical; papers on population trends, health, housing, apprenticeship and employment have been finely presented and eagerly discussed. Through the wide and interested reporting these conferences have received, Europeans seem suddenly to have realised that the Maori people, far from being an insignificant minority in the population are increasing their numbers so rapidly that by the end of the century, they may be approaching parity with the European.

We print in full in this issue the remarkable paper by Dr Rina Moore, The State of Maori Health, presented at the South Island Conference in August. Those who heard Dr Moore will not easily forget the deep impression she made, both by the quality and insight of her observations and by her manner of delivery, at once scientific and deeply sympathetic. She makes certain observations on housing, population and crime which we trust will form the basis of much fruitful debate, and a notable survey of neurotic behaviour patterns among young Maoris. We feel that no more considered or useful statement has yet been made on this theme.

He Tau Whakaohooho

ka mutu te tino tau mo te iwi Maori ko te tau 1960. Ano he mea ohorere te puawaitanga mai o te whakaaro nui mo te iwi Maori. Tamatuatahi te puta nui o te korero i nga nupepe mo nga take Maori, mo nga taikahatanga mo nga uauatanga, mo nga painga mo nga pikanga a ko te mea nui ia ko te ngakau aroha o nga korero a aua nupepa.

Timata tino mai te tau i nga korero a Te Ropu Tautoko i te take ma haere he Maori i roto i te tiima ki Awherika, a ahakoa kaore i haere he Maori, i mutu pai nga korero. I tau tonu ki ta Te Ropu Whakahaere Whutupaoro i mea ai kaua he Maori e haere ki Awherika ahakoa ra kaore taua whakataunga i taea te whakaueue, ko te hua nui o te tautohetohe ko tenei na he tokamaha te hunga kei Niu Tireni nei e kore o ratou ngakau e whakaae kia whakaparahakotia te iwi Maori he mea tino pai tenei.

Kaore i kore atu na nga hui a Nga Kaiarahi o Te Rangatahi tetahi wahanga nui i penei rawa ai te aro mai o te motu ki nga take Maori. Mai i tera putanga o Te Ao Hou kua tu nga Hui a Te Rangatahi ki Whakatane, ki Turanga a ki Otautahi, a meake nei ka tu he hui ki Marton a ki Kaitaia. He orite tonu nga putaki korero mo aua hui, ko nga korero mo te piki o te tokomaha o te iwi Maori, no nga mahi e pumau ai te ora a tinana, mo te hanga whare, mo te whakanohonoho i nga taitamariki Maori ki nga kura mahi a ringa, mo te whakawhiwhi mahi. He nui nga korero i puta i aua hui mo aua putake korero. Na te puta nui o nga korero o nga hui nei i roto o nga nupepe ko mohio te Pakeha ko te iwi tokoiti nei ko te Maori kei te piki ki tetakimano ke te takitini a ki te penei tonu te kaha a te tipu pau rawa mai tenei rau tau kua ahua ritetonu te tokomaha o te Maori ki to te Pakeha.

Kei te taia ki tenet putanga o Te Ao Hou nga korero a Takuta Rina Moore “Mo te Ora a Tinana o Te Iwi Maori” i panuitia ki te hui a Te Rangatahi i tu ki Otautahi i Akuhata. Ko nga mea i rongo i aua korero a Rina Moore a kore e wareware tata i a ratou te hohonu o ana korero te pai o te whakatakoto o te korero a te wairua aroha hoki ki te iwi. I roto i ana korero etahi korero mo nga whare mo te Maori, mo te piki o te tokomaha o te Maori menga korero hoki mo te hunga e taka ana ki te he he putake korero hei whiriwhiritanga me kore e kitea he maunga ringa. I puta hoki etahi korero a taua Takuta mo nga mahi hianga a nga taitamariki. Ka mutu pea i ana korero.

Koa ana tera a Te Ao Hou ki te panui I tenei putanga ona i nga korero a Miss S. Ashton-Warner mo Takuta Maharaia Winiata. He kai tito purakau ara he wahine tuhi pukapuka a Miss Ashton-Warner nana te pukapuka ra a Spinster i tuhi a kei te mahia tana korero purakau hei pikitia. Ma koutou tonu e korero te tangi a tenei wahine.

MR TAMAKA AWARUA

One of South Taranaki's pioneer dairy farmers died recently at Taiporohenui, Mr Tamaka Awarua, aged 92 years. Born at Oeo in 1868 during the battle of Turuturumokai, Mr Tamaka, as he was better known, became one of the first to take up dairy farming in the district.

Secretary of the Maori Land League Association in 1892, Mr Tamaka helped to bring about the return of 16,000 acres of land to the Maoris from the Government. While still a farmer he started contracting on a large scale, and he helped the development of many acres of land in the area. An ardent worker in Maori affairs and public affairs, Mr Tamaka is survived by a daughter (Mrs Hariata Mason, Taiporohenui, and a son, Mr Te Hanataua Tamaka, O.B.E., Hawera).

MR F. SWEENEY

The death occurred recently in Waipiro Bay of Mr F. Sweeney, aged 85, after a long illness. In his early days on the East Coast he was in charge of the pressing gang of Mr A. B. Williams' shearing sheds at Takapau and Inhungia. Mr Sweeney worked hard on his farm, which is operated by his adopted son, Mr F. Tibble. He was also a noted fisherman and was president of the Waipiro Bay Fishing Club. The tangi to Mr Sweeney, held on the Iritekura marae, was attended by a large number of people. Mr Sweeney had particular associations with the Iritekura meetinghouse; when it was renovated, he supplied much of the driving force which made it one of the most up-to-date on the coast. His funeral took place at Waipiro Bay. He is survived by a wife and a grown-up adopted family.

MR TUWAREWARE PAI

A well-known identity of the Mangere area in the Waikato, Mr Tuwareware Pai, aged 67, died last September. Over 500 friends and relatives gathered for the tangi, making it one of the largest in the Auckland district for many years. Mr Pai as a child, was adopted by the Maori King, Mahuta. King Koroki was represented at the funeral by Princess Piki. The religious service at St. James' Maori Church was attended by representatives of the Maori Affairs Department, a number of trade unions, and the National and Labour parties.

MR GEORGE TE KAHUI POKAI AITUA

One of the best-known Maori elders in Taranaki, Mr George Te Kahui Pokai Aitua, was burned to death when the historic meeting-house at Parihaka Pa was razed by fire last August. Te Kahui Pokai was a familiar figure on maraes throughout New Zealand. He travelled a great deal, attending most Maori meetings and made his mark as a gifted orator of the traditional type. He was 76 years of age. He was asleep in the building when the fire broke out.

MRS TIRITA KAURI BONNINGTON

Mrs Tirita Kauri Bonnington died recently at her home in Rotorua, aged 60. Born in 1899, daughter of Mr and Mrs A. Butt, sister to the late Bishop Bennett, Mrs M. Wildon and Messrs A. and E. Butt, Rotorua, Mrs Bonnington spent all of her life in Rotorua. In 1925, she married Mr R. H. Bonnington, and their five children, except one son, live in Rotorua.

MR WALTER SMITH

The well-known Maori composer and teacher, Mr Walter Smith, died at his home in Auckland recently after a short illness. He was 77. Born in the small East Coast town of Nuhaka, Mr Smith lived mostly in Auckland. He was a naturally gifted musician and over the last 40 years had passed on his talents to many Maori and European students. Three of the best-known Maori songs he wrote were “Dear Old Maoriland”, “Land of the South Sea Isles”, and “Beneath the Maori Moon.” In his youth, Mr Smith toured overseas with Maori concert parties and it was in California that he met his wife, who survives him.

MR ARIKI MAREHU TAKARANGI

Mr Ariki Marehu (Alex) Takarangi, one of New Zealand's best-known and most highly respected Maoris, died recently at Wanganui. He was 84. Mr Takarangi, who was educated at Te Aute College, was best known because of his association with Rugby football, having been player, selector and administrator over many years. As selector, he served not only the Wanganui Rugby Union but also the New Zealand Rugby Union, was a member of the Maori Advisory Board, and at various times a selector of Maori teams to represent New Zealand at home and overseas.

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PHYSICAL HEALTH

The natural increase rate of the Maori is one of the highest in the world. The European natural increase rate in 1958 was 12.6 per thousand while the Maori was 37.57 per thousand. These are rather amazing figures, when one realises that at the turn of the century, the Maori was doomed to extinction. Behind these figures, how-over, there lies a rather tragic story. of a short expectation of life, a low standard of health, and in most age groups an incredibly high death-rate as compared with similar age groups among Europeans. The figures we have today of a high birth-rate, a high death-rate, despite the high natural increases of population, tell only of a tremendous wastage of effort on the part of the Maori people, in the form of grief, loss of economic potential when people are ill, and a waste of money and effort on children who do not live long enough to fulfill their proper destiny in the community.

The Maori today has an expectation of life of only 54 years, as compared with the 68 years for the European—a difference of 14 years. This figure was for 1950–52 and there is a slight improvement in the expectation of life for both races, but the relative differences remain the same. You can see what is happening to us when we lose people who are our leaders at the age of 54. It means that every Maori child born at a time when we would want to stimulate him in an all-out effort to improve his economic and educational standards, has fourteen years less life in which to pack all its usefulness, as compared with the European.

The population structure of our people is quite phenomenal in that it resembles the Eiffel Tower. At the base we have an enormous length representing the under-five age group, and then in each ascending age-group we have the structure pulling back at quite a quick recession so that the whole appearance of the Maori population is rather like a truncated triangle with its sides moving less sharply as the age groups drop step by step from much smaller percentage death-rates. Because there is a much smaller proportion of Maoris in the higher age groups where death must inevitably occur, the crude death-rate of the Maori is much the same as the European. In this way, figures tend to conceal the true position. If, however, we compare deaths with specific ages per hundred-thousand, we find a totally different story. We must remember that 50% of Maoris having half or more Maori blood are under the age of fifteen years. This is an incredible proportion and raises all sorts of problems of overcrowding and lack of housing. And if we take this group and compare the death-rate of the pre-school child with that of the European, we find that three times the number of Maori children die in this period, as compared with the European child.

In the group five to fourteen years there is a lower death-rate, but again it is four times greater in the Maori as compared with the non-Maori group. In the group fifteen to twenty-five years, the death-rate among men is twice as heavy among Maoris, but four times as heavy among the women of the race, because it is here in this age-group that T.B. takes its heaviest toll of Maori women.

In the age group 24–44 years, the Maori death-rate is again three times that of the European.

In the 45 plus age group, the disparity in the death rates declines, but it is still higher among Maoris. The reason for the death rate coming closer in proximity to the European in this age-group, is that we feel only the stronger Maori reaches this age group in the first place.

CAUSES

(1) Poor housing and overcrowding.

These features are ones that must move hand in hand with the large birth-rate of the Maori, which in 1958 was 46.25 per thousand of mean population. When you have such a large proportion of the people still dependent and unable to help in the economy of the race, then I cannot see that one can have anything but sub-standard housing. At the conference held in Auckland last year, it was stated that 50% of Maori housing was sub-standard, perhaps not in actual fact of the type of housing, but in the number of people each house was expected to cater for. In the Statistical Report on the Maori-European Standard of Health, it was suggested that the communal way of life of the Maori might be responsible for the poor standards of health. I thought by this it meant that cross-infection occurred in sleeping in over-crowded houses and in meeting-houses. I feel however, that to say it is the communal life of the Maori is rather inaccurate. There is, after all, a lack of houses for the people and if one house holds fourteen or fifteen people because relatives are staying there with the family unit, it only means that if these relatives were not staying there, they would have to stay in another house. And overall, I think that if we were to spread the Maoris among the houses they have to occupy there would inevitably be overcrowding. I think it would be found that if one crowd of relatives went to stay with another crowd, it would not leave an empty house behind, but rather that their place would simply be filled by a group of relatives from another part of the country.

Poor housing and overcrowding account for such infections as rheumatic fever, meningitis, pneumonia and enteritis. Quite a number of diseases from which the Maori suffers and for which there seems no real explanation could well be the aftermath of damage caused in the younger age groups. I feel that when a mother has too much work with too many children there are two reactions she might have. She might get worried about the whole business but this is not the usual Maori mode of behaviour when confronted with trouble; her other method of dealing with the situation would be simply to give up. She would find it too much of an effort to cook proper meals for her children, too much of an effort to clothe her children properly, and too much of an effort to look after her children with the simple methods of hygiene which she knows should be instituted. And so it is that these mothers neglect to blow their childrens' noses which is a simple measure that can avoid much of the ear and chest troubles that we have today. We have been told by the North Island people at the Auckland Conference, that tablets given by doctors have to be controlled from the school. Either the children have to be instructed that they must take their tablets when they get home, or the tablets have to be given from school. This is simply because these women have so many children they are unable to exert themselves to look after them.

I think that if we want to attain the standards that are available to Europeans today, whether the mother is European or Maori, families should be limited to only four children. I find that very capable women can manage six children, but only a few can manage more.

The rate of T.B. and rheumatic fever among the Maori is ten times the rate of the European. These two diseases however, are thought to increase where there is over-crowding and poor housing. All over the world—in Japan, and among the American negroes—the level of these diseases tends to decrease where there is an improvement in the level of sanitation and standards of living conditions.

POOR WATER SUPPLY AND POOR
SANITATION

Because a large percentage of the Maori population is rural, we find that water supply and sanitation is much below the standard of the European community. In 1947, the average household consumed 40 gallons per head per day. In our hospital, we use 80 gallons per head per day. These figures are an impossible attainment in rural areas dependent upon limited tank supply. But here again, I do not think these problems would be unsurmountable if we were to return to the methods and ways of our ancestors and consider the limitation of families. I think it is still possible to attain a reasonable level of hygiene with limited water supply, if sufficient skill, thought and money are applied to the problem. But the larger the family, the more difficult it is to attain a reasonable level of cleanliness.

It is believed that in pre-European days, birth control was fairly rigidly practised by the Maori. You can see this if you know your whakapapas very well, and if you can trace your family tree back, you will understand just how small most Maori families were in the old days. When the Victorian Europeans landed with their large families of eight, nine or ten children, the Maoris looked at them with astonishment. They could not understand these people with their large families. It is thought, however, that when they found easier methods of producing food, when food became more plentiful, that they quickly forgot their methods of control, because the Maori has always loved his children. And when there did not seem to be any necessity to limit families, the methods by which they were limited were lost.

LACK OF EDUCATION

We should consider the use of a magazine such as Te Ao Hou for educational purposes, so that we can have the same pressure of propaganda directed at Maori women, as is directed at her European counterpart.

“Have you a lump in the breast?”

“Have you got a discharge?”

“Are you suffering from irregular bleeding, or spotty bleeding?”

Then see your doctor.

“Have you got chronic indigestion?”

“Are you losing weight?”

All these things the majority of Europeans know as danger signals, a need to see their doctor.

GROUP DIFFERENCES

Over and above these causes are certain group differences.

MENTAL ILL-HEALTH

This is an aspect which has held very little interest until recently and is often not recognised for what it is. We find that every country in the world has the same problems, in different forms, as we have here.

PUHA

Puha has been fetching up to one shilling a bundle in the Auckland city markets. Maoris and Islanders have settled in Auckland in sufficient numbers to make the collection and sale of puha worthwhile, a produce merchant said.

A market gardener started collecting thistles from wasteland and sent a few cases into the market, and others had followed his example, said the merchant. On market days there are usually half a dozen or more cases sold.

GRANT FOR MAORI ART

The Maori Purposes Fund Board has made a grant of £250 to Ngata Memorial College to assist in the production of Maori art work in a special recess in the school library. The letter from the Fund Board stated: “The Board appreciates the effort that is being made by the principal, Mr E. J. Jennings, and supported by the Education Board, to foster the interest of Maori children in the art of their ancestors.”

HINE DOUGLAS

A young Maori nurse, Staff Nurse Hine Douglas, daughter of Mr and Mrs J. Dougl as of Te Uhi, Wairoa, gained the highest honour that the Cook Hospital Board, Gisborne, can bestow on a graduate in recent nursing examinations.

This was the award of the silver medal. The announcement that she had won this coveted award was greeted with loud applause at the graduation ceremony in the Gisborne Memorial Hall. Nurse Douglas was also awarded the Tombleson Rose Bowl, Miss Bunt's prize, and the third-year highest aggregate prize. Miss R. D. Bunt, supervising matron of the Cook Hospital, said that this was the first time that a Maori nurse had won the silver medal.

Miss Douglas was educated in Wairoa, going straight to Cook Hospital from Wairoa College.

NO RACIAL DISCRIMINATION
IN ROTORUA

There is no racial discrimination in Rotorua district, according to Mr B. Adam, the man in charge of the Maori apprentices' hostel at Rotorua. “I have never been questioned on the fact that a boy I bring along for a job is a Maori,” said Mr Adam. The hostel warden was speaking at the 23rd annual conference of the Women's Health League, held at the Kearoa Meeting House, Horohoro, recently.

“Maori youths are accepted equally with Europeans in the Rotorua area,” added Mr Adam. “People often ring me up and ask me for another boy like the Maori youth they have working for them already. I have had to turn down nine offers of apprenticeship recently because I did not have the boys to fill them. I would appeal to all Maori people to keep their children at a high school for at least two years, three if they can manage it. I know that this is often difficult, but I believe that Maori youth should be trained to take a full part in the development of New Zealand—a task that they are so well fitted to carry out,” he said.

MAORI WELFARE LEAGUE

The Dominion President of the Maori Welfare League was the guest of honour at a luncheon in the P.D.C., Palmerston North, some weeks ago, given by the Ngati Pamutana Branch of the League.

The President, Mrs E. J. Magee, welcomed Mrs Hirini, the Mayoress, Mrs G. M. Rennie, the patroness, Mrs M. Durie, Aorangi, and members representing Maori groups. In reply to Mrs Magee and Mrs Rennie, Mrs Hirini said that it was an honour and a privilege to be with the group. She had lately been travelling throughout the Ngati Pamutana League's district—Otaki. Tokorangi, and Palmerston North, and the direct contact with the Maori groups would be of valuable assistance to the council. This was, she said, the first time a Dominion President had visited the area and it was her intention to tour the whole of New Zealand.

“We must be of one mind,” said Mrs Hirini, “pull the canoe and forge ahead with the work for the betterment of the Maori people. New Zealanders are one people and we must work to that end.”

Sixth Instalment
THE LAST DAYS OF PUHIWAHINE

Puhiwahine mourned the loss of her husband for many months and her only comfort was the company of her grandchildren, the children of John. With the passing years most of her friends had passed away. In her sorrow and lone-liness her thoughts turned more and more towards the home of her people in the valley of the Taringamotu, where she first saw the light of day. Like a true Maori she felt a great longing to return to her natal soil and end her days there.

She made known her wish to her son, John, and he wrote to his brother, George, informing him of their mother's melancholy state and of her wish. George was at his home at Ongarue at the time, and receiving his brother's letter he lost no time and within a few days he had arrived at Ohinepuhiawe, the home of his brother John. It was a sad leave-taking when Puhiwahine left.

George took her to Miringa, the main settlement of the Ngati-Hinenihi at that time. Miringa is a short distance down the Taringamotu Stream from Petania where she was born. George left her there and returned to his home at Ongarue. Sometime later an invitation was received from the Maniapoto tribe at Te Kuiti for the Ngati-Hinemihi to take Puhiwahine through, as they wished to commiserate with her on her bereavement, as was—and still is—the custom of our people.

A hari mate group (Party of mourners) of the Hinemihi people and representatives of the neighbouring tribes of Ngati-Raerae of Ongarue, the Ngati-Haua of Taumarunui, Ngati Pahere of Te Koura, and the Ngati-Te Ihingarangi of Waimiha. It was a well organised company for a hari mate visit, as was befitting the occasion, and included in their numbers were the leading orators, the song leaders, and the singers of the chorus songs, chants and laments. As a historical note, the writer will name some of them, and they were: Kahutopuni Waata, of Ongarue—a grandaunt of the writer; Hema Rangawhenua, a sister-in-law of George; Puangarangi Te Haeata, Petera, the elder chief of the Ngati-Hinemihi; daughter of Te Haeata Petera, the elder chief of the Hinemihi; and among the chiefs were: Tutahanga Rotohiko Te Wano and his brother, Te Hurinui Te Wano, granduncles of the writer, and first cousins of Kahutopuni Waata; Te Haeata Petera, already mentioned above; Te Hihi Rangawhenua, brother-in-law of George; and Ngatokowha te Rangituatea, of Te Koura.

On arrival at Te Kuiti, the visitors learnt that the full ceremonies for the occasion of the visit of the hari mate had been transferred to Oparure, in deference to the wishes of the Ngati-Kinohaku and their elder chief, none other than Puhiwahine's cousin lover, Te Mahutu Te Teko.

At the time appointed, the visitors—escorted by Tawhana, Te Haeata's cousin—moved off, with their hosts of Ngati-Rora of Te Kuiti, by way of the Mangaokewa river-flats to the marae, or courtyard, at Oparure. The visitors on arrival went through the solemn ceremony of the tangi, or lamentation ceremony. After a time the lamentation died down; and different ones, both among the local people and the visitors, moved away and retired to the bounds of the marae. Finally the only two left standing were Puhiwahine and Te Mahutu Te Teko.

Puhiwahine soon noticed that she and Te Mahutu were the only ones left, and with her fine sense of the dramatic she straightened herself and slowly glanced round at the assembled people; then with a shrug of her shoulders, she dropped her shawl off her shoulders and wrapped it around her waist. There was a short pause then, in the silence that could almost be felt, Puhiwahine burst into song with all the allure and passion of her youthful days. The people were spell-bound and looked up at her in wonder and admiration as they strained their ears to catch every note of her song.

This account from the time the visitors arrived at Te Kuiti is from the story as told to the writer by the late Tu Tawhiao who was present at the time (Tu Tawhiao's Obituary notice is in Te Ao Hou No. 16). We shall now continue with the story. Puhiwahine accompanied her singing with the appropriate gestures for which she was far-famed, and the technique of her performance was altogether a thing of joy. The song she sang was her love song for Te Mahutu (Chapter 4).

Tu Tawhiao, when he told me this story, said it was a dramatic moment, and it was a highly emotional experience for all who were there.

Puhiwahine seemed to have regained her youth; she sang with feeling, and her sweet voice, which never taltered, held the listening multitude in thrall. In voice and gesture she gave a polished performance to the last triumphant note in her singing of her rhapsody of love.

Te Mahutu remained standing throughout. At the end of her song, Puhiwahine unfastened her shawl and throwing it over her shoulders she sat down and sobbed softly to herself. Te Mahutu looked up with a whimsical smile on his tattooed face then, glancing round to his people, he beckoned them to come near, and with his mere in his hand he delivered his speech of welcome. As the song for his speech he sang his own song for Puhiwahine (Chapter 4). His song had been well rehearsed, his voice rang clear, and to the lilt of the song he flourished his mere now high and then close to his breast. His people joined in the singing, and at the end of each verse, from their ranks would come the question, “Where is she, O Ma’?” In the presence of Puhiwahine, Te Mahutu's answer was—in a voice charged with emotion—“E haria mai nei e tana iwi.” (Over yonder, escorted hither by her people.)

At the end of his song Te Mahutu came forward slowly to where Puhiwahine was sitting with her head bent low; and there—surrounded by their tribespeople—the two greeted each other in the hongi, the time-honoured touching of noses in greeting of their race. This was a climax to a poignant scene which touched every heart; and a moment, not without pathos, the like of which had never before—or since—been witnessed.

LIFE'S END

Puhiwahine on her return from Oparure stayed on at Ongarue in the care of her son George.

Among the earliest recollections of the writer was of Puhiwahine strolling along the roadway through our little village at Ongarue. She would often come among the little children playing their games, and with a softly spoken word she would affectionately pat a bobbing little head as she passed on her way. The last recollection is of the old lady coming towards the writer, softly humming a tune. A few paces away she stopped and looked intently at the apprehensive child before her, and then suddenly without warning she began to sing quite loudly. The child panicked and ran off to his mother. The writer was to learn later of the Hauauru romance from his granduncle, Te Hurinui Te Wano. His explanation for Puhiwahine's behaviour that day was because she must have learnt at that time that the writer was of the same family as Hauauru, and that she only did it in fun and meant no harm.

From all accounts Puhiwahine lived a happy life at Ongarue. From the front door of George's home and to the east the valley of the Mangakaahu opened up a grand view of the Tuhua range. At its southern foothills nestled the Ngati-Hinemihi village of Petania, her birthplace. The writer opines that this view of Tuhua gave solace to her soul, and peace of mind; and that she found happiness and contentment in her declining years at Ongarue.

The dawnlight of a summer's morn was lighting up the high bush-clad range of Tuhua when Puhiwahine passed away to join the many in the Whare Kura o Matangi-reia, The Temple of Fragrant Breezes.

Editor's Note. This concludes Mr Jones' biography of the life and art of Puhiwahine, but a final instalment will appear in the next issue, giving the whakapapa of Puhiwahine, and a fantasy by Mr Jones seeking to throw what light he can on the relationship of Puhiwahine to the great German poet, Goethe.

Te Keehi Kati, widow of Maraku Kati. (These two were also first cousins.) She is wearing two family heirlooms, a rounded piece of greenstone which at one time belonged to Te Rauparaha, and which he presented to Puhiwahine, and a greenstone tiki called Maunganui, which has been a family heirloom for several generations. The photograph was taken in 1958.

Illustrated by Dennis Knight-Turner

In ancient Maoridom, battles were glorious not because of the numbers of foes killed but because of the quality of the foe. Battles were associated with the names of chiefs killed and those that killed them. If there was no chiefly name to connect the engagement with a tribal genealogy, then the battle was without a name.

“It is war,’ said the chief Rangipakia, and his people stamped their feet and shouted “Ae! Tokia! Tokia! Tokia! It is war!”

There had been an uneasy peace for many years between the people of the river and the people of the mountains. Now Rangipakia knew that peace would soon end for war seemed the only course open to him. A raiding party from the mountains had come down and ambushed one of his peaceful fishing parties. Now his people cried out for revenge! The stain had to be wiped out. And yet Rangipakia alone of all those present was not entirely carried away with the fervour of the moment. His heart filled with misgivings and he realised that the River People would be hard put to defeat their enemies. But there were no misgivings in the minds of the warriors.

“Tokia!” they shouted. “Strike them down!” and the people roared their approval. Presently when one of the orators had finished, Rangipakia stood up again.

“Our enemies are as numerous as leaves on the ground,” he said. “This will be a hard battle. We must call on all our kinfolk to aid us in avenging our honour.” The elders nodded wisely and raised their hands in assent.

After the speeches were finished and the hakas had ended, messengers were chosen from amongst the men and each was ceremoniously presented with a broken taiaha as the symbol of war. Then they were sent out to the neighbouring sub-tribes to call them to arms and to give the time and place of assembly. Meanwhile there was much to be done and the whole pa became a hive of bustling activity and noisy sound. Many times a day the booming war gong and the brassy putara sent their ringing call over the marae and the blood of the men quickened as they sharpened their weapons and practised their war dance under Rangipakia's leadership and the critical eyes of the old men.

Finally the messengers returned with the news that the sub-tribes had risen to the call of their kinsmen and were making their preparations. At this news the men practised their peruperu with even more energy than before. Several more days passed before at last the sentries gave warning of the approach of the first of the allied war parties. At this, all work stopped in the pa and the women and children hurried to the edge of the marae whilst the fighting men stripped for the war dance and quickly took up their positions kneeling in columns on the marae, each man gripping his weapon in his hand.

The shrill chatter of the spectators stilled into an expectant hush as the visitors, led by their chief Te Whareporo, strode through the gates of the pa which had been thrown open to receive them. They came forward slowly and in perfect silence.

Rangipakia knelt in front of his men and as the others neared the marae he made a quick movement with his hand and Harapaki, one of the younger warriors, stood up. He paused for a moment and then advanced with quick springy steps carrying in his left hand a rough spear made of manuka rod. This was the whakaara—the first of three challenge spears. The tail of the visiting

band was still passing through the gate when Harapaki threw his spear. It whistled through the air and then slithered across the ground in front of the silently advancing men. Then Morete stood up carrying the second whakaoho spear and minced forward with short bouncing steps. Then his spear flew through the air. Suddenly a quick breeze caused it to corkscrew and a gasp went up. If the spear turned and fell across the line it would be a bad sign. However the breeze dropped and the spear righted itself and fell true. The visitors ignored it and continued their silent march.

Then Toheriri, son of the chief, jumped to his feet. He was recognised as the fastest runner in the tribe. In his right hand he held the rakau mutu, the final challenging spear, and in his left hand he gripped his greenstone mere. All eyes were on him as he neared the silently marching war band. No sound could now be heard except the tramp of feet and the cries of the challenger. Then when the visitors were less than 100 paces away he cast his spear and at the same moment he turned right and raced back to the waiting tribesmen of Rangipakia. Straight and unwavering, the spear flew through the air and landed pointing at the visitors. Even whilst the spear was still in flight hover, the kaiwhai or pursuer, who was the fastest runner of the visitors, dashed out at full speed to catch the impudent Toheriri. The visitors gave a throaty roar and followed the runners at a quick trot waving their weapons and giving a peculiar hissing cry.

The pursuer strained every ounce of his strength to get close enough to thrust his taiaha between Toheriri's legs and bring him crashing to the ground, but with a final spurt the chief's son gained the security of his own ranks and the tensed up warrior relaxed a little. This was a good omen! The spectators roared their approval. The war band now quickened their pace and charged headlong until they were just short of Rangipakia then with heaving sides they kneeled down and glared across the intervening space.

Suddenly with bloodcurdling yells both parties sprang to their feet simultaneously and charged at one another. At the last moment, when it seemed that nothing could stop a head on collision, both forces swerved slightly and the visitors passed on the right hand side of the home forces.

“Hurihia!” Rangipakia and Te Whareporo shouted together and the two war parties spun round, passed one another again, wheeled suddenly and took up their previous positions kneeling in a rough column of fours. There was a moment of

stillness broken only by the whining of a dog and the wailing of a child from amongst the raupo-thatched whares which stood close to the marae. The sweat streamed down the naked flanks of the warriors and formed rivulets in the lines of their tattoo. The hot sun made their bodies shine like polished teak.

“Whiti! Whiti!” shouted Rangipakia and his men leaped to their feet and began the tribal peruperu. The ground quivered beneath the pounding feet of the warriors, their faces twisted into the most terrifying expressions of which each man was capable and the thunderous shouting of the words, chanted in perfect unison, rolled across the marae to be thrown back and forth by the encircling stockade. Then with a final shout the dance was finished and as the war party sank to the ground, the visitors rose to their feet and replied, each man trying his best to better the performance of those opposite.

At last the visitors were also finished and both groups broke ranks and greeted one another in the normal way with wailing and many speeches and finally feasting. The next day the second band of reinforcements arrived under their chief Matorohanga and the ceremony was repeated. Once again Rangipakia's challenger was too swift for the visitors and the chief's misgivings lessened a little at the thought of these favourable omens.

After the ceremonies of greeting were over, came the ceremonies of purification of the warriors. These were many and varied and lasted throughout the whole of the next day. As the shadows began to lengthen all that remianed was the ritual of wai taua—the ceremonial baptism into the service of Tumatauenga, God of War. The warriors trooped down to the river followed by the old men. No slaves or women or boys were allowed to be present at such a tapu ritual. The warriors stripped and entered the water and waited for the tohunga. There was a stir and the throng parted as the priest strode down to the bank. There he took two strips of flax leaf from his girdle, tied them together and entering the running water placed them so that he was standing between the two trailing strips.

The tohunga's voice rose high and clear and his chant rang above the sound of the water. He went to the man closest to him, dipped a small branch of karamu shrub into the water and sprinkled a few drops on him, chanting all the while. He moved on to the next and repeated the performance and continued this down the line. As the men felt the water swirling around their thighs, cold and clean, they knew they had stepped out of their old skins into a new body free from the fears and weaknesses of the old. Now the war tapu was on them and they were under the protection of the tribal war god.

When the men returned to the pa after the long ceremony, the people were silent. They knew that their men were now separate and apart and no longer of the same world, for one of the restrictions of the war tapu was that the warriors could have no contact with their wives or sweethearts until it was removed.

Where before there had been feasting and gaiety and bustle, there was now a hush over the pa as the warriors lay down on their mats for some much needed sleep. One by one the fires died and the night silence was broken only by the voices of the sentries as they recited watch alarms at intervals in loud voices.

“Tenei te pa, o ko roto, ko au e…. This is the fort and here within am I….”

II

Next morning the village was awake as the first grey streaks of dawn were in the sky. The white smoke from the fires twisted up into the still air as the women busied themselves cooking a meal and the warriors made themselves ready. After eating, the men took their weapons and gathered on the marae for the grand finale of the war dance.

All the war parties squatted together in a column five abreast. Suddenly Rangipakia bounded to the front and gave a short call. On the last word the whole body rose to its feet as one man and the dance began. The stamping feet were quiet and almost lazy at first but gradually the beat increased in intensity. Each man held a weapon in his right hand and beat his bare thigh with his left, the whole sounding like the beating of a huge drum. The thunderous chorus reverberated back and forth and the sweat-soaked earth seemed to rumble and quake beneath the frenzied feet of the warriors as if mighty Rauumoko the earthquake god had risen and himself joined in the dance. Then with a great shout that went to the heavens, the dance was finished.

A roar of farewell rose from the throats of the people as the men strode off without a backward glance. It was over a day's march to the territory of the mountain people and the war party wasted no time as they moved over the narrow bush tracks. Rangipakia led the way, for although the allied tribes were under their own chiefs, the whole party came under Rangipakia's leadership. Very soon the sounds of the waterfall close to the pa faded to a subdued rumble against the greenery which rose from either side of the path like a green wall. Overhead, the tui called and to Rangipakia it seemed to chant a prayer over and over again.

“Tuia! Tuia! Tuia mai tatou—Bind! Bind! Bind! us together!” He begged Tu that it would be so for he knew that his men were much fewer in numbers than the mountain dwellers. Victory would not come easily, but honour must be avenged. His men lacked nothing in courage and training.

That night the tohunga selected a camping spot by driving his tupou into the ground. A hurried meal was eaten, sentries posted and then the party slept. The next morning the men rubbed their naked bodies with fat and oil to make themselves slippery and hard to hold when they came to grips

with the enemy. Only the principal fighting men and those of high rank wore the war belt and the dog skin war cloak. Then the tohunga performed a short ritual over the weapons to give them greater killing powers, and strengthened and fortified the war party set off again.

About mid-morning they reached the foot hills. The bush was stunted here and it was possible to see a considerable distance ahead.

Then as the river people crossed a ridge, they saw a great host drawn up on the plateau above them. The foe had got news of their coming and were so confident of their superiority that they had left their fortified pa and come to meet them on open ground!

With a roar, the attackers surged forward until they were a mere thousand yards from the mountain people. There they pulled up and closed their ranks and warily watched the furious haka of their enemy. Then in reply the river people gave their dance with every ounce of energy of which they were capable.

When this was finished, Rangipakia threw off his cloak and stepped from the ranks and strode out across no man's land and stopped when he was half way between his own force and those opposite. In a high clear voice he challenged a member of the other side to single combat. It was the custom. There was a stir in the ranks of the mountain people and a hefty warrior came out and stopped just short of Rangipakia. The chief of the mountain people was old and had sent out instead one of his younger and tried warriors which was permissible.

Rangipakia danced at his opponent, his taiaha held vertically. The opposing armies watched with deep interest but remained where they were without movement. The chief watched his adversary's big toes. Feint blows came from the elbows and for them the feet did not need a firm grip. Striking blows however flowed from the shoulders and then the toes flexed and gripped the ground. Rangipakia saw the danger sign and deftly parried a deadly blow then suddenly he turned his staff to the upright position, crossing his hands as he did so and lowering the blade to the left, seemingly leaving his head and chest unprotected. With a low cry the enemy lunged forward and struck a vicous right-handed blow to the chief's apparently unprotected head. It was a trick! The blade of Rangipakia's taiaha rose like a flash, and turned the enemy's blade off to the right whilst at the same time its point ripped into the man's stomach sinking deep and splashing the chief with a sudden spurt of blood.

A great cry went up from the opposing armies and as if a spell was suddenly broken they lunged together with a fierce roar and clashed in conflict. All afternoon the bloody battle raged, the long line of men at times coming to grips fighting hand to hand with patu and mere and other times separating and hurling spears. They thrust forward and

fell back like a huge writhing serpent. As the sun started to go down behind the peaks, the mountain people pushed forward time and again and drove a wedge deep into the ranks of the river people who started to fall in ever increasing numbers beneath the superior weight of those who opposed them.

Gradually the gallant war bands of Rangipakia and allies gave way and soon it developed into a running battle as the line broke and fled. Back, back fell the river people fighting furiously but unable to stem the inexorable rushes of their enemies. Even when they reached the forest there was no refuge from the pursuing enemy. The rear guards fought stubbornly on the narrow bush tracks so that the main body could make good their escape. None fought more gallantly than Rangipakia and his son Toheriri until suddenly a spear pierced the chief's leg and he collapsed with the weapon protruding from the other side. With one wrench, Toheriri broke off the tip and pulled the shaft from his father's leg. Rangipakia's face twisted with pain but he said nothing. Whilst the rest of the rear guard forged a barrier in front of the enemy, Toheriri and another man picked up the chief and together they supported him along the track.

The going was slow and before long shouts from their rear told them that their pursuers had broken through. “Stop!” commanded Rangipakia. “Leave me here in this thicket beside the path. Return when all is clear by night and take me back to my people that I may fight again.” Toheriri hesitated a moment, then as his father made an impatient gesture, he and his companion turned and ran down the track whilst Rangipakia dragged himself into the bush and lay still, watching the path through a small chink in the thick curtain of greenery.

Seconds later the mountain people swept down the track and from the cries and yells further down, Rangipakia guessed that more fighting was going on. Then these sounds died away and there was only the evening songs of the birds and, amongst them, the call of the tui which seemed to cry mockingly now …

“Tuia! Tuia! Tuia! mai tatou—Bind! Bind! Bind us together!”

At these words Rangipakia thought of the defeat to his tribe and the pain in his leg seemed to inflame into fresh life. The twilight was short and night soon fell. The forest slept but Rangipakia did not. He waited for his rescuers but no one came. After a pain-racked night, dawn broke. As the light and sunshine streamed through the trees turning the dew to wisps of steam and dappling the greenery with patchwork, there was no lightness in Rangipakia's heart nor warmth in his body. Again he heard the derisive call of the tuia … “Tuia! Tuia! Tuia mai tatou!”

III

It had not long been light when Rangipakia heard voices from down the path. For a minute a spasm of hope gripped him until he realised that it was some of the mountain people returning from the chase. Suddenly, through his little opening, he saw one of those in front point to something on the ground and call to the others. From his words, the chief realised with horror that there must be a minute trail of blood leading from the path straight to his hiding place and the sharp-eyed enemy had seen it. Rangipakia tried to pull himself to his feet but with a rush the war party was on him and had hold of his arms.

They half carried, half dragged Rangipakia along the forest tracks until they came to the edge of the bush where the rest of the mountain people had made a hasty camp. There he was recognised and given food and drink but he refused them both. He sat on the ground a prey to his thoughts. He knew that his useless leg ruled out any chance of escape or even of making a fight for it. He also knew that the alternative was slavery for the mountain people did not eat their captives. Slavery! This was a fate far worse than death on the battlefield or in the ovens of the victors. His family would be disgraced for ever and his tribe would never again command respect for their chief would be the slave of another people, a hewer of wood and a carrier of water, a menial to be spat on and jeered at. To be defeated was bad enough, to be captured and eaten was even worse, but to be captured and become a slave …! This was the ultimate disgrace.

The thoughts crowded through Rangipakia's mind. How could he persuade the enemy to kill him and in that way save his mana and that of his family and tribe? How could he die honourable? Then at last an idea came to him. There was yet hope! If only Tu had spared the lives of his two brother chiefs who had led the allied war parties. Rangipakia struggled to his feet with a great effort. “Take me to your chief”. The chief of the mountain people received him courteously for he had no feelings of personal enmity towards Rangipakia. It was the impetuosity of some of his young men in killing the fishing party of the river people which had made events from then on inevitable…. Rangipakia asked:

“Has my brother Te Whareporo been killed in the battle or has Tu spared him?”

The chief of the mountain people shook his head. “Te Whareporo still lives and has eluded my son.”

Then Rangipakia asked the fareful question on which hung his chance of saving the honour of his family and his tribe.

“That is good! And what of my other brother Matorohanga? Has he also escaped?”

“He has escaped and presumably still lives. You, Rangipakia, are our only captive of rank!”

The lines of pain and despair on Rangipakia's face disappeared. His eye glowed with a fierce light as he got to his feet now seemingly without effort. He drew his shoulders back with dignity and stood with his arms folded across his chest.

ARCHAEOLOGY AT PAEKAKARIKI

Evidence of a much larger Maori occupation than had previously been thought had been found recently at Paekakariki by the group of archaeological enthusiasts organised by Mr C. Smart, of the Dominion Museum, some weeks ago. The group had recently explored one known site on the ridge of the Paekakariki Hill immediately above the township, he said. They had been surprised to find evidence of extensive population over a long period.

“It was evidently a pa site, a defensive position, with terraces and ridges showing the former place of fortifications,” he said. “It is difficult to reach even today, with no fortifications left to protect it.”

The group also found, lower down the hill, strange ditch and bank defences surrounding a very small area of land, hardly large enough to hold two fighting men. Little was known of the people of the area in ancient Maori times, though it was known that a group of Ngati Ira had at one time occupied part of Paekakariki, said Mr Smart. Just what the bank and ditch defence was used for was difficult to say, except that it might have been a refuge for a quick retreat for a small number of people.

“Then kill Rangipakia! Kill me that this victory of yours may be sung of in the genealogies and stories of your people. Kill me that your battle may have a name!”

There was a sudden hush. The chief of the mountain people looked into Rangipakia's face and understood. He recognised a gallant enemy and nodded slowly.

“Very well.”

He pulled his mere from his belt. Rangipakia stood straight in front of him, his head high and proud, a smile of triumph on his lips. Slowly the chief of the mountain people raised his mere and the sun glinted on the polished greenstone as he paused for a moment and brought it sideways.

As a great blackness closed on Rangipakia, chief of the river people, he smiled and seemed to hear the voice of the tui triumphant now, calling from high above …

“Tuia! Tuia! Tuia! mai tatou—Bind! Bind! Bind us together!”

NATIONAL HISTORIC PLACES
TRUST

The National Historic Places Trust has decided to attempt to remove some of the rocks containing Maori rock paintings which will otherwise be destroyed when the Benmore hydro-electric scheme is completed. The Secretary, Mr John Pascoe, said that the Trust had decided to ask the Ministry of Works to do the job, although archaeological experts will give advice. Mr Pascoe also said that the Trust had approved the fencing of three important sites of Maori rock drawings in the Pareora District, South Canterbury. One of these sites was Frenchman's Gully and the other two were at Craigmore Downs. The landowners had been exceptionally co-operative, Mr Pascoe said, and the South Canterbury Regional Committee of the Trust under the chairmanship of Mrs Arini Woodhouse was very enthusiastic about the proposed protection.

PEN FRIEND

Miss Vivian Hitchings, 149 Broomfield Avenue, Worthing, Sussex, England, would like to correspond with a reader of Te Ao Hou. She is fifteen years old, and would welcome a correspondence with someone of her own age.

A small portrait of a typical Maori child with all her simplicity yet artfulness, her humour and charm, and the environment from which she springs.

AROHANUI KI TE TANGATA 10 SEPTEMBER 1960

The challenge on the Marae: The Right Hon, the Prime Minister, Mr Walter Nash, and Sir Eruera Tirikatene. Below: A portion of the huge crowd, said to be at one stage, over 10,000 in number. (The photographs on this page were taken for Te Ao Hou by John Ashton: the decorative pieces showing Tukutuku and carving are by National Publicity Studios).

The Rt. Rev. W. N. Panapu, Bishop of Aotearoa, approaching the meeting house, preceded by the Rev. Canon Hohepa Taepa. Below: The Rev. Kingi thaka, addressing the crowd from the porch of the meeting house.

So pleasantly resonant, so courteous, so quiet was the voice from the loudspeakers, that it created at once an atmosphere of dignity. “Would people who have parked their cars opposite the entrance be good enough to ….”

Listening to this voice was a pleasure in spite of the fact that it warned us of another hour's wait in the wet and the piercing cold.

Gradually the rain eased off as the daylight grew less grey.

At last an elderly Maori woman stepped from the porch and walking back and forth on the marae, called in a high wailing monotone, a message of welcome. In the silence an answering call came back from the direction of the great marquees where the Waikato elders had been waiting patiently for the summons.

And soon they came in slow procession towards the marae. No precious Maori cloaks now, the rain would have spoiled them. But solemnly and reverently they came, following behind their leader Tumate Tonga Mahuta. cousin to King Koroki, chosen to lift the tapu, up the path towards the Meeting House, where on the edge of the porch and in the shadow of the watching Maui, Ihaia Puketapu awaited them.

The ceremony was soon ended, the doors of the house were opened and the tapu was lifted.

At last the sun shone. Now the official parties arrived: the Prime Minister, Mr Walter Nash, and his Minister of Forests, Sir Eruera Tirikatene, diplomats, mayors, councillors and all. A traditional challenge, admirably done; hakas and poi dances on the marae, and the distinguished visitors were conducted by Ihaia Puketapu's youngest daughter (deemed suitable for the honour of being the first woman to enter the meeting house) through the door.

Now came the speeches from Maori and Pakeha leaders. The Prime Minister, the Bishop of Aotearoa, Sir Eruera Tirikatene and many others spoke. Ihaia Puketapu, the man whose vision and faith were today realised and justified, spoke to his people and to all those of both races who had helped to make it a reality.

One visiting chief electrified the ten thousand strong audience when, brushing aside the microphone placed ready for him on the porch, he

The marquees at Puketapu Grove. (John Ashton, Photo.)

The haangi at Waiwhetu. (John Ashton, Photo.)

But behind the scenes? The five thousand had to be fed. “Oh” said Mrs Dingwall afterwards, (she had given her services to take charge of the catering) “really there was nothing to it. You see, I had such a grand band of Maori women helping me as a Committee. There were hundreds of other voluntary helpers too including students and nurses from the Hutt Hospital.”

Yet, to feed several meals to five thousand people must have had “something to it,” however good the team. Add to the enormous size of the gathering—4000 Maori visitors alone—the fact that at two o'clock in the morning food servers reported that nothing more could be served because of the quagmire in the marquees; that meanwhile busloads of new arrivals continued to pour in from all over the country, all expecting food, until four o'clock in the morning—and some idea of the difficulties will be realised.

But even in these formidable circumstances, Maori calmness and cheerfulness prevailed. Willing hands (Pakeha and Maori) set to work to dig drains round the tents, to lay boards over the mud, and soon the tables were again loaded with food.

And what quantities! Mrs Dingwall did the ordering on the principle of multiplying what five people would require by 1,000. Three tons of potatoes—two tons for the Saturday midday meal alone—seven hundred and fifty pounds of curried sausages for breakfast, with nearly two hundred sacks of mussels. Thousands of pauas (kept in deep freeze for three weeks), 2000 fowls, 184 puddings (each enough for 30 people), 75 sheep, 40 pigs, 2 bullocks, 120 of the fowls,—these for Saturday midday dinner to which 5000 sat down in four shifts. Twenty sheep for curried mutton; hundreds of schnapper, dozens of eels, smoked and served in small pieces as befitted such a delicacy …. the list went on and on. Wainuiomata had provided the eels. A week-end eeling party went there when the moon was right for the eels to come to the surface.

Much of this vast quantity of food had been given by large firms, such as the Gear Meat Company and Griffin's the biscuit makers. Local butchers had provided at least two sheep each, one giving six and another ten. The National Dairy Company lent for several weeks the vital deep freeze.

It was an example, in fact, of willing and abundant co-operation such as is rarely seen.

For weeks young Maori divers had been at work collecting sea foods. Kara Puketapu, Maori Welfare Officer and eldest son of Ihaia, was in charge and for half a dozen week-ends he and his launch party might have been seen off Pencarrow, or Titahi Bay or around Somes Island, while divers with underwater breathing apparatus searched for the delicious sea-eggs, mussels, pauas, and other delicacies.

The weather had no mercy on them. Almost unfailingly it was rough and although the boys went down deep,—25 to 30 feet,—it was too dangerous to harvest many sea eggs. The greater part of those consumed at the feast were brought by the Otaki people who could get them at shallower depths.

Besides, Ihaia Puketapu was determined that no needless tragedy should spoil the joy of the great opening day, and often he restrained the young divers from going out.

Many, as they now entered the meeting house to inspect its glories, stopped to look in amazement at the carvings, the work of Hone Te Kauru Taiapa and his expert assistants, for these are carrvings which may well take their place among the noblest that Maori art has ever produced.

To all Maoris these carvings have a peculiar and spiritual significance. To some, as to some Pakehas, they have also a profound artistic significance. The appeal of Maori sculptural art does not always reach easily those of the Western cultural tradition, but when it does, it strikes with tremendous impact. Only recently an Italian art specialist made this same discovery. At first glance he had found little, but when he went home, after studying Maori carving for some months, he was in raptures about it.

The tukutuku panels of woven flax, which hang on the walls, also are traditional. Made by women from many parts of the country, they are perfect examples of this ancient craft. Months of devoted labour, under the guidance of Mrs Roa Wharepouri (step-daughter of Sir Apirana Ngata) went into their making.

But, by comparison, there is something greater about the carving. which lifts it out of the realm of craftsmanship to that of creative art.

Not many of those who had had the smooth running of this great occasion in their hands had had a wink of sleep on that rainy night before the celebrations. The Rev. Ihaka, chief organiser of the gathering and the ceremonies, gave no hint of weariness in his beautiful use of the mecrophone or in his arduous duties during the day. And Mr Ihaia Puketapu? He also showed no signs of the ordeal. But if he slept that night, when the day's celebrations were over, he may have re-dreamt his dream of sixty years ago, when tutored by the prophet Te Whiti, he had longed for “peace on earth and goodwill towards all men” and for a building which would symbolise this wish.

Now, at least, the building was there, a building worthy of his wish.

As taught by Eramiha Kapua, of Ngati Tarawhai, Te Arawa, to students of the Maori Arts and Crafts School, Rotorua. Part 1.

KORERO ME TE TOKI KAPUKAPU

Te Rapunga i te mau o te toki Kapukapu He tino tohunga te arahi o te toki kapukapu ki runga whakairo. “Haere ki nga hapu maha o Te Tairawhiti, rapua nga morehu kaumatua mohio ki te mau toki kapukapu, ma ratau koe e ako, e tohutohu ki te tarai, katahi ka hoki mai ki te whakairo.”

Ko te whakahau tenei a Apirana Ngata ki au i te tau 1929 i Rotorua, i au e ako ana i roto i te Kura Whakairo. Kua pau ke te rua tau i au i reira e ako ana, a, ki taku mohio tonu iho, kua riro mai i au te matauranga o te whakairo, ka whai kuou mai nei a ia i nga kupu i runga ake nei. I korero ano ia, “Ko te whakatu o te whakairo kaore ano kia taea e koutou, no te mea ma te toki kapukapu tenei ahua ka taea, kei te ora tonu nga tangata mohio, haere ki a Ngatiporou.” Katahi a Apirana ka wananga i te ahua o nga whakairo kua oti i a matau. Ko nga whakairo nei he poupou mo te whare whakairo o Wiremu Potae, Tokomaru, takiwa o te Tairawhiti.

Tuatahi:

Tuarua:

The practical use of adzing, so common among the Maori, before and after the arrival of the Pakeha, firstly in the stone and greenstone period, then in the iron adze introduced by the Pakeha, was believed to have been lost about the year 1930. What little was known and practised by them was of a very low order, for the adzing was only confined to odd and infrequent jobs at rare intervals. This was brought about by the milling industry, the erection by Pakeha builders of homes, halls and even meeting houses. The old Maori craftsman's mana had so deteriorated in this direction, that his tools of trade, of which the adze is the most dominant, soon became obsolete and added to the decline in the erection and carving of meeting houses, and the art of adzing was soon neglected and finally ceased to have a place in community centres or pas. Thus, what little was known and practised was of very small value as there was no scope for an expert, but when the School of Maori Arts and Crafts was established in Rotorua in 1929 for the teaching and reintroduction of Arts and Crafts among the tribes of New Zealand, under the personal drive vision and enthusiasm of the late Sir Apirana Ngata, and after two carved meeting houses were launched by the students, the results achieved did not have the full desired effect of the rounded and flowing lines of the old masters and experts, especially when greater relief was to be desired.

This was brought about because the use of the paring chisel only shaped out in relief the different portions of the form of the figure desired, and this was found to be laborious and tedious. For instance, with chisel only it took eight weeks to carve a panel ten feet long by two feet wide by eight inches thick, whereas with the knowledge of adzing, the same panel only took eight days; the width of a chisel for this work would be an inch and a half, while that of an adze five inches. By the end of 1929 it became apparent to Sir Apirana that an expert on adzing should be found and his

te whakairo i te kaha rawa o te tapuku mai ki waho.

Tuatoru:

Matakitaki atu ana ki nga tohutohu a Apirana, me te ui o te ngakau, i takea mia nga tirohanga a tenei tangata i a wai? Ka haere atu i a matau, kotahi tonu te whakatau a nga kaiako o te kura, maku e rapu te matauranga o te mau toki kapu a, i te mea ka tata tonu te Kirihimete, haere tonu atu au ki te kimi i tenei taonga.

Kimihanga i te tohunga mau toki Kapukapu i te Tairawhiti

Ina te wahi o tetahi waiata pirangi naku i mua tata atu o tenei wa, e whakahua ana au i au e arahi haere ana i taku whao i runga o te whakairo,”

“To Toki e hika ko Nui te rangiora,
To toki e hika ko Te Atua Hemata.
To toki e hika ko Te Rokuroku-a-Tawhaki”

Ka tae au ki taku kainga ki Tikitiki ka korero au ki aku matua, ki aku tipuna hoki, ki te whakahau a Apirana ki au, ka ui au me timata au ki whea kainga, ki a wai tangata renei. Ko te whakautu kaore ratau e mohio kei a wai e pupuri ana te mau o tenei momo toki i te riu o Waiapu nei, tena pea kei nga tangata o Te Aowera, kei a te Whanau-a-Iri ranei, kei a Te Whanau-a-Rua ranei, kei a Te Aitanga a Hauiti ranei, kei roto ranei o Turanga, kei raro ranei kei te Whanau-a-Apanui; no te mea i te mutunga atu o te mahi whare perana, tarai atamira hoki, ka mutu atu te kite i nga tangata mau toki kapukapu.

Tirotiro noa ana te whakaaro me haere ki whea, me kite i a wai; ko te rohe whanui tenei o Ngatiporou ka homai nei hei haerenga maku. Parihi i roto o Turanga, ki Tarakeha, ki Torere, a ko te nuingao tenei rohe ma runga hoiho haere ai.

knowledge and technique adapted to suit the carving similar to those experts of old he saw adzing and carving the Porourangi Meeting House of Ngatiporou when he was a boy. So he instructed me to find such a person or persons in my own Ngatiporou people, learn all I could and apply it to the carving in the School.

My intensive search for such a person has already been written by me in Maori, not only of locating him but also of finding him, though 60 years of age, but active physically and mentally, an expert adzeman and carver and the carver of the Arawa people. He was Eramiha Kapua, a student under his uncles Neke and Anaha, famous Arawa carvers, noted for their work during 1890 to 1920, displayed in and outside Government buildings, carved meeting houses of Te Arawa in the Rotorua district, and were prominent in Exhibition displays in New Zealand associated with the late Augustus Hamilton, author of Maori Art published in 1896. When I interviewed him at Te Teko in January 1930, he was dairying and hand milking thirty cows. He was robust for his age and after a night session with his friends and neighbours he agreed to teach adzing and carving to the pupils of the school of Maori Arts at Rotorua. I soon found out that he was a craftsman and expert on culture and tradition, a leader of his faith, the Ringatu Church, and his acceptance and later appointment to the school gave great satisfaction to Sir Apirana and his Board and the pupils of the School. For here was the very last expert of the old Maori School of Arts and Crafts. He gave rhythmic motion and action to the adzing of the carving, interspersed by song and patere,

Kaore au i porua ki te kainga ka ki atu au ki aku matua kei te haere au ki roto o Turanga, tena pea te uri a Raharuhi Rukupo kei te ora i roto o Manutuke hei awhina i au. Ki whakaae ratau, ka tukua au i runga i te rangimarie, i te tumanako o aku tipuna o te Ringatu, a ka manakitia taku haerenga me taku hokinga mai.

Po rawa ake ka tae au ki Manutuke, a, ko te kupu mai o konei me haere au ki a te Wirihana, kei te Muriwai tona kainga, no te mea ko ia anake kei te mau ki te pito whakairo i roto o Turanga. Ka tae mai te manako ki au ka waiata, “To Toki e hika Hui-te-rangi-ora tae noa ki te mutunga, kei te tawata hoki a roto kia whiwhi i taku e kimi nei.”

I te ata-tu ka tae au ki Te Muriwai ma raro tonu haere ai, a, ohomauri ana nga tangata o tenei pa i te kitenga mai i au, ka ki atu au i haramai au ki a Te Wirihana, a ko te Wirihana hoki e karanga ana mai, haere tonu atu au. Ka mutu a maua mihimihi, ka korero atu au i te take o taku haramai, ka whakautu mai a ia kaore a ia e tino mohio ki te mau kapukapu, engari me haere au ki Whangara ki a Ruku Hinaki ma, me kore he korero a Ngati-Konohi. Ka hoki mai au ki Manutuke, a haere tonu atu ki Whangara. Ka tae atu ki reira ka peka au kia kite i a Riki Riiti, a korero tonu atu i te kaupapa o taku haere. Nana i ki mai kaore ratau e mohio ki te whangai i te toki kapu engari pea nga kaumatua o Te Aitanga-a-Hauiti i roto o Uawa, no te mea kei reira te whare wananga o Hingangaro, a Te Ra Wheora, a tena pea ma Timoti Maitai, Te Whainga Taumaunu, Te Wiriwiri Karakia, e korero, e waiata, e whakatu te mau toki ki au.

Ka ahu taku tira ki Uawa, ka tae mai te maharahara ki au mo te taonga e rapu nei au, no te mea kaore au i kite, i rongo ranei ki tetahi tangata mohio i au e tamariki ana, engari kua kite i nga toki kapukapu i tena kainga i tena kainga. Akuanei pea kua ngaro te momo tangata mau i tenei toki, mahue iho ko nga maramara, a ko wai hei kohikohi, hei whakatinana kia rere ano ai nga potapota me nga maramara a nga tau e tu mai nei. Tae rawa atu au ki Uawa, kua tae ke aku mahara ki nga waapu kani rakau, ki nga takiwa e tarai rakau ana mo nga huarahi rere o nga tereina (trains) ki nga waapu mahi kaipuke, a, tarai i nga rewa (masts), ki nga takiwa hanga piriti (bridges), no te mea koia nei nga wahi e whakamahia ana, tenei toki.

Ka peka au ki te marae ki a Timoti raua ko Te Whainga ka korero i taku haere. Ka mihi raua, a ka waiata i taku waiata kaingakau o nga toki onamata, mutu rawa, ka ki raua kaore he tangata i roto o Uawa hei ako i au, me haere au ki Tokomaru ki a Wiremu. Potae mana e tohu ki au taua tangata. Moe rawa au ki a raua i taua po, a ka korero raua i nga toki tapu a te Maori; a Te Awhiorangi ma, ki nga toki pou tangata tohu o te rangatira ki nga toki titaha, a mutu atu ki nga toki kapukapu i kite raua e

where monotony and hacking was the chisel's way; he introduced new words, thoughts, enthusiasm and an awareness of the rapidly revealing shape of the different parts of the carved figure, he gave romance to the great adzemen of the Great Migration period and we seeped ourselves thoroughly in his approach to the great task set before us by Sir Apirana. The School had reawakened from amateurism to proficiency.

Eramiha Kapua taught adzing under the following progressive headings:

(1) Correct fitting of the handle. (2) Correct shape of the cutting edge. (3) Sharpening and daily maintenance. (4) Holding and swinging motion. (5) Use of feet and eyes. (6) The cutting and chipping. (7) The different types and methods of adzing—(a) the “Ara Haratu”; (b) the Ngaotu and Ngaopae; (c) the Poke, Poka and Ta. (8) Preliminary adzing prior to the actual carving—(a) squaring of the timber, sides and back direct from the bush; (b) rounding off of the sides and preparation of back of milled timber. (9) The art of shaping of a figure in sections by the adze—(a) the head, eyes, nose and tongue; (b) shoulders, hands, arms and body; (c) the legs, knees and feet. (10) Adzing a ridge pole or taahu, poutokomanawa, and poutaahu.

tarai ana nga tangata mohio o roto o Uawa, engari kaore raua e mohio ki te tarai, ki nga korero tarai ranei.

I te ata ka mihi atu au ki a raua, ka ahu taku tira ki Mangatuna ki a Tutekohi Rangi, a, taku taenga atu ko tana korero me ahu au ki Waiapu, ki tatara e maru ana, ahakoa taku ki atu i hara mai au i reira, kotahi tonu tana whakahau, ara ko tenei, “Kei Tikapa, kei a Te Whanau a Pokai te hui nui a te Ringatu, a te tahi o Hanuere, ka mene katoa ki reira nga kaumatua o Tokomaru tae atu ki Waiapu, haere ki reira, kia rongo ai koe i te korero. Kaore matau o Mangatuna nei e mohio ki te mau toki kapukapu.” Kei runga au i taku hoiho ka maro taku tira ki Hiraharama, ki a Te Aowera.

I rongo korero au mo tenei hapu o Ngati Porou, ko ratau nga iwi noho i raro i te maru o Hikurangi, ko ratau hoki nana i ngaki nga ngahere o te take o Hikurangi, a he iwi tohunga ki te mahi kainga ki rongahere mo nga tangata tope rakau, te ataahua o te tupunitanga i o ratau wharau, te mahorahora me te mahana hoki, ano te rite ko nga wharepuni tonu o ratau marae, ina hoki, ka tae ki nga ra i manakohia e ratau, ka pohiritia tona tini o nga ropu tope kanataraki hei manuhiri ma ratau, a, he manu, he hinu, he poaka puihi te kai, apititia ki te pikopiko ki te nikau hei peehi. No reira ahakoa te tawhiti o Hiruharama i Mangatuna, koemi ana te haere a taku hoiho, tae atu hoki ki aku tumanako, no te mea, mehemea ko ia nei nga mahi a te Aowera, ki taku whakaaro nui atu nga tamariki tane i reira kei

a practical manner, and this can only be achieved by the correct fitting of the handle, whereby the expert becomes master of the adze and timber. When correctly fitted it will be found to be perpendicular to the blade and head. If it is found to be too much or not enough, then a leather wedge is to be inserted to correct this. This fitting ensures sure and easy cutting, whereas if the handle is more to the blade, stooping develops, while the opposite cant makes the adze cut into the timber too much, resulting in the adze sticking in. These two results are often caused by a faulty and loose wedge.

te kite i o ratau matua e hanga ana i o ratau wharau i ro ngahere, i te tarai perana mo nga taha me era atu mahi e taea ana e te toki kapukapu, a tona ritenga penei ano i au nei to ratau pakeke. No reira ka ngahau taku haere, ka poto te huarahi, a po rawa ake kua tae au, a peka tonu atu ki te kainga ao Heneriata Makarini, wahine tohunga o Ngatiporou ki te takitaki haka taparahi, haka pohiri a nga wahine; wahine hoki nui ana tamariki tane toa ki nga mahi tope puihi, mahi taiapa, kuti hipi. Te tino take i kowhiria ai a ia e au, he wahine kaingakau naku, mo tona pono, mo tona ngakaunui ki nga taonga a te Maori.

Ka mutu tana mihi me tana whangai i au, ka ui mai, “Ina to tira e tama?” Ka korero au ki a ia i te whakahau a Apirana i Rotorua; taku haere ki roto o Turanga, a peka mai nei kia korero ia mo tona iwi tope kanataraki mai i te take o Hikurangi tae noa atu ki Hore Hore, kainga e tata tonu atu ana ki Raukumara, ara tauhanga i o ratau wharau, mehemea he toki kapukapu nana i tarai nga pakitara, nga poupau, nga heke. Ka tangi a Heneriata mo aku korero, ka ki mai, “E tama kaore i te ora he tangata inaianei hei ako i a koe, o matua, o tipuna o Te Aowera he tohunga ki te tarai rakau ma te toki kapukapu, kua riro ratau me te mohiotanga, kaore i akona e nga tai-tamariki he wetiweti koi pahika ka motu.” I taua po katoa he korero ia mo nga tarai waka, wharenui, whare karakia, whare perana, a tenei hapu a Te Aowera i hanga ai, ko au kei te whakarongo kei te miharo, kei te haku hoki, i te moumou o tenei taonga ki te ngaro i tenei iwi. I te ata ka hoki au ki Waiapu

ki taku kainga, me te whakamau atu tena pea kei te hui a te Whanau-a-Pokai te korere hei whakamaaha i taku ngakau.

No te ata o te 31 o Tihema 1929 ka tae au ki Tikapa, marae o Te Whanau a Pokai, he kainga kei te taha tonga o te ngutuawa o Waiapu, ki te hui a te Ringatu. I reira nga kaumatua o tenei hahi o te Tairawhiti, mai i Tokomaru tae atu ki te Whanau-a-Apanui, a, i taku whakamohiotanga atu ki te tangata whenua kei te hiahia au ki te whai kupu ki nga iwi whakaeke, ka whakawateatia he wa hei korerotanga moku. Ka tae ki taua wa ka tu au ka mihi ki te tangata whenua ki nga manuhiri hoki, a, ka korero hoki i te kaupapa o taku haere i te rohe o te Tairawhiti. Ko taku kupu whakamutanga ko tenei, “Ki te kore i a taua i te Tairawhiti, i te Whanau Apanui tenei matauranga, ka haere au ma te Pakeha au e ako ki taua whiu toki, a, ka matau ra au, ka huri ai ki runga whakairo tarai ai.” Katahi au ka waiata: “E hika to toki ko Huiterangi ora.”

Ko Wiremu Potae te kaumatua i korero tuatahi. “E tama rereke ta te Pakeha i ta te Maori, ma te Maori tonu koe e ako, kaua e mutu mai to rapu i o iwi anake, tomokia nga rohe o ia iwi, o ia iwi, a whiwhi noa koe i tena taonga. Na to matua na Apirana koe i whakahau, a, ki te kore i a ia taua taonga, mana e para he huarahi mou ki nga iwi. Whaia tenei taonga ma te iwi Maori, ina hoki, kei te korero a Apirana he whare whakairo ki nga marae nunui o te iwi Maori. Hara mai haere ki te Whanau-a-Tuwhakairiora i roto o te Kawakawa, ki te kore i kona e ahu ki te ra to ki te Whanau-a-Apanui, ki a Ngaitai, ki te Whakatohea, waiho te Pakeha mo muri rawa.” Ara atu ana korero mo nga tangata rawe ki te mau toki kapu, mania ana te haere a te toki, o tena hapu o tena hapu o te Tairawhiti, mohio katoa ia ki a ratau, ki a Tamati Ngakaho, ki a Te Kihirini, nga tohunga arahi i te taraitanga i te whakairotanga o nga rakau mo Porourangi, wehi ana nga tangata matakitaki, no te mea ko te mata o te toki kapu takamiri ana I raro o te tokonui o te waewae o te tohunga. He hanga parekareka ki te ngahoro mai te taitea kia tu ko taikaka. Ka mutu ana mihi, ka whaikupu hoki etahi o nga kaumatua o te Whanau-Apanui, pera ano te wai o a ratau korero i te mea kei te korerotia he whare whakairo mo ratau ki te Kaha tu ai.

Ka hoki mai au i Tikapa me te koa ki nga kupu i rangona ra e au ki a Wiremu Potae, taitea, taikaka; no te mea he kupu hou enei ki au, a, e pa ana ki te tarai a te toki kapu. Naku matua i whakamarama, ko te Taitea ko te wahi kiko ma o te rakau tere ki te popo, a, kainga ai e te huhu, tena ko Taikaka ko te taiho, ko te wahi pakari o te rakau.

Ka huii te tau tawhito ka haere au ki te Kawakawa, a ka peka au ki a Te Aramakutu, he kaumatua tarai rakau, engari ehara i te tohunga rawa; a nana i ki mai kaore he tangata i tua atu i a ia o Te Kawakawa hei ako i au, engari me

The eyes control the cutting depth and the correct angle of adzing. The eyes do not follow the upward and downward swing of the adze, but are glued on the immediate area for adzing; further, it controls the bite and force of the adze into the timber and pattern of cut desired.

haere au ki Potaka ki a Wiremu te Whare kei a ia pea e mau ana, haere tonu atu au, a moe rawa atu ki Wharekahika. Pera ano to reira korero me haere ki Potaka, no reira ko ana nga kopara ka haere au, a ka tata atu ki te marae ka waiata au, “To toki e hika ko Huiterangiora. Ka puta mai hoki a Te Whare, me te karanga mai i au, me te ki mai i a maua e hongi ana, kua tae ke atu nga rongo kei te haere atu au, no Tikapa mai te korero. Ka mutu ta maua parakuihi, ka mea mai a ia kaore he korero i a ia mo taku take, mutu tonu ko tenei, “Ko te whare e tu nei a Te Pae o te Pakanga, no Te Arawa te tangata nana i whakahaere te taraitanga me te whakaaratanga, ko te Whare Moana o Raukokore tetahi o nga tangata awhina i te taraitanga tena pea kei a ia te mohiotanga e kimi nei koe. Haere ki to papa mana koe e arataki. Ko au tena ki runga ki taku hoiho haere tonu atu ki Raukokore, me te koa kei te tata haere atu au ki taku i tumanako ai. Ehara po rawa ake kua tae au, a ko te whare e karanga ana mai, “E tama kaore i po tahi te korero, ko koe e tu ana”. Ka hotu te mauiri i roto i au mo ana kupu, a i taua po ka korero ia ki au.

“E tama kaore koe e taea e au te ako, aha koa i te taha au o te tino tohunga mo te mau kapukapu, i te hanganga o te wharenui o Te Whaaka i Potaka i te tau 1912, i te aha, i toku kuare tonu, i te wehi hoki ki taua momo toki, engari ko taua tangata arahi i te mahi, a Eramihia Kapua, no Te Arawa, parekareka ana i a ia te haere a te kapukapu, apitia ki te patere, ki te nguha ki te waiata, ki te whakairo, e tama, hara mai haere ki a ia, kei te ora tonu ia kei te Te Teko tona kainga. To ahua, me o korero, ki tonu i te rapu i tenei matauranga, ka taea e koe, ko to papa hoki ko Apirana kei te tena mai i a koe. E hoki ki to kainga, hei to haerenga atu ki te kura whakairo i Rotorua, ka peka atu ki a ia. Ko taku tenei ki a korua ko to matua ko Apirana, tikina tenei kaumatua hei ako i nga tamariki tane o te iwi Maori i roto o te kura whakairo, manaakitia tenei tangata, kei a ia hoki te matauranga o te mau o te whiu, nga korero, me te arahi i te toki kapukapu.

Ka tutaki au ki a Eramiha Kapua, tohunga ki te mau toki kapukapu.

E toru enei wiki i rapu ai au i tenei taonga i te mau toki kapukapu i waenganui o nga hapu maha o Ngatiporou, a ko nga kupu o ia marae, hara mai haere, tena pea, kua ngaro ke, kua mate nga tohunga, ka waiho enei mea hei hoa hoki mai moku mai i Raukokore tae noa mai ki Tikitiki i te ra kotahi, na wai i koemi te haere a taku hoiho, kua toitoi kua tarutu haere, ka pera ano hoki aku whakaaro mo te taonga e whaia nei e au. Ka kimi taku hinengaro i te ahua o tenei tangata o Eramiha Kapu, te tangata i tohia nei e Te Whare hei ako i au. Me pewhea taku tono ki a ia mo tenei taonga; a, ka eke mai taku tira ki Toka ka titiro atu au ki te akau o te Kawakawa, a ka whakamau atu aku kanohi ki te pa o Tuwha-

allowing the centre of the cutting edge to cut and try this along the surface of the log working to the right or to the left; I prefer to work along to my right, others like it better to the left, and some either way. When greater confidence comes to you, try cutting a little deeper, at the same time giving your swing and downward movement of the adze a slight angle of cut. You will immediately note that instead of chipping as in the first tryout, quite a large piece of wood has been cut and broken off. Now, and forever afterwards, remember that if a chip is broken off and still lies on the timber, brush it off with your hand or adze, and when a chip does not break off smack it off with the side edge of the adze; for a chip lying on the timber causes severe and painful cuts, for it will get in line with your next cut, catch the centre of the cutting edge, thus preventing it from cutting, and cause the blade to glide without control to your feet. More experience will always find one looking for greater uneven surfaces than the previous ones. The greatest incentive to learn and acquire adzing can only be brought about in a group of learners under the tuition of an expert. The expert's example is readily seen and copied and corrections of holding, swinging, placement of feet, angle of cut, periodically made, corrected and adjusted by him, tends to make light of the strangeness of the adze, posture and at first attempts arm weariness; then too, the expert will break into a chant, and with rhythmic blows, the passages of his waiata are severed realistically, like the severed chips falling from the log after each descending blow of his toki kapukapu or adze.

(to be continued)

kairiora, ki Okauwharetoa, kite tonu atu au i te whakautu mo taku patai. Ma Apirana e para he huarahi moku. No tuaki po rawa atu ka tae au ki Tikitiki, te kau ma ono haora ki te huarahi waea tonu atu au ki a Apirana i Poneke, a ka eke mai a ia ka korero maua. Ka whakaatu atu au i te hua o taku kimi i roto o Te Tairawhiti o te Whanau-a-Apanui, mai i te Muriwai tae noatu ki Raukokore, i te kore kaumatua, tangata ranei mohio ki te mau toki kapukapu, a na te Whare Moana te korero me te wawata mo Eramiha Kapua o Te Teko hei whiriwhiri mana, ka mutu, ko tana whakahau tenei.

Tikina e koe a Eramiha, e mohio ana au ki a ia. Mauria ki Rotorua hei ako i a koutou katoa o te Kura Whakairo. Ma taua a ia e manaaki e atawhai, ki atu ki a ia, kei te karanga te rangatahi o te iwi Maori ki a ia hei kai-ako hei matua hei kai-arahi i a ratau ki nga whare whakairo maha o nga marae nunui o te iwi Maori e taria mai nei e nga iwi ma te kura e whakairo. Ka mutu a maua korero ka maringi mai ki runga ki au te koa, te hau-ora me te manawa-reka, ka makere atu ki raro te awangawanga mo te taonga e kimihia nei e au, ka makere atu hoki te mauiui o te haere i runga hoiho o nga ra tata nei. Ka pupu ake i roto i au te tumanako, tena te wa kei te haere mai maku e whakahoki mai ki te Tairawhiti te matauranga me te mohio ki te mau toki kapukapu.