TE AO HOU
The New World
the department maori affairs MARCH 1961
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TE AO HOU
THE NEW WORLD
THE MAORI IN PAKEHA SOCIETY
Some months ago, a New Zealand novel of distinction, Tangahano, by Frances Keinzly, showed New Zealand readers for the first time, to our knowledge, the emotions and fortunes of its characters against a background of large-scale engineering—Tangahano is a hydro-electric station on the Waikato River. Miss Keinzly claimed in her novel, successfully in our view, that the pioneering character of New Zealand life, no longer apparent in the cities, may still be discovered in these huge industrial enterprises. In this issue of Te Ao Hou, we reprint an article by A. S. Fry both in English and in Maori translation, first published in the New Zealand Listener last October, which makes it quite clear how large a part Maori men now play in these enterprises. Mr Fry goes so far as to suggest that in his assumption of dominion over the machine, the Maori is reverting to his ancient attitude towards the land: one of territorial mastery rather than respect for the soil as soil. Mr Fry demonstrates convincingly enough that the Maori has a natural affinity for machines which require some rhythmic control for their proper use: this rhythmic response is part of the Maori heritage. At all events, the large number of Maori men now managing, controlling, and performing highly skilled operations with power machines, sometimes in situations that the pakeha may baulk at, may stimulate the movement of young Maori men from the rural to the urban and industrialsed areas, where they are sorely needed.
Also in this issue, we reprint from the magazine Education the remarkable account of a Maori school childrens' tour, by E. G. Schwimmer, Editor of Te Ao Hou, at present on leave. For a fortnight, these young people from Punaruku were exposed to the whole range of pakeha society, from its large-scale industrial enterprises like the pulp and paper mills at Kawerau, to the superbly equipped Mormon school near Hamilton, and to a variety of arts, from opera and music in the classical European modes to exhibitions of modern art at the Auckland Festival. We find Mr Schwimmer's account full of remarkable insights into the Maori condition, from the moving account of the community's slow progress from reluctance to enthusiasm for the project, to the assumption of leadership by one of the most unlikely members of the party, to the alternating bewilderment and commonsense of the young people as their journey went on. Here, it seems to us, is the whole area of what has been, somewhat inelegantly, called “acculturation”: the adaptation of a people from one kind of culture to another. Mr Schwimmer's lively account leaves us in no doubt that solutions to these problems can and will be found.
TE MAORI I ROTO I TE AO PAKEHA
No roto o enei marama tata ka puta te pukapuka a Frances Keinzly, ko Tangahano te ingoa, ko te Tanghano whare mahi hiko o te awa o Waikato ra. Katahi ano pea ka ata kitea te wairua o era tu mahi, te wairua e ki ana ko taua wahine nana i oti ai nga mahi onamata, he wairua kaore in nga taone engari kei nga mahi pera anaka me Tangahano ka kitea kei tenei putanga o Te Ao Hou ka taia ai ano ki te reo Maori ki te reo Pakeha nga korero i puta ra i te pukapuka i te Listener i tera Oketopa mo ta te Maori wahanga ki aua mahi nunui. Ko te korero a Fry, te kaitito o aua korero, ko te take pea i tino kaingakau ai te Maori ki te mahi mihini he haupa nui i te oneone, ko te nui whenua hoki to te rangatira tohu. Tetahi e ki ana ano ko taua Pakeha ma te maheni o te whakangau e reka ai te mahi a te mihini a i te mea he haka he waiata te kinaki o a te Maori mahi he hanga noa iho ki a ia te mahi. I te tokomaha o nga Maori kua tohunga ki nga rawekeweke o nga mihini nunui nana noa e kore i roto o enei tau tata ka pera noa atu te heke mai o ratou taina tuakana i noho mai ra i tuawhenua ko ianei hoki he mahi ma ratou.
Kei konei ano nga korero a E. G. Schwimmer i puta ra i te pukapuka i te Education mo to ratou haerenga ko ana tamariki kura ki te haereere. I roto o te rua wiki i kite aua tamariki i te katoa o te ao Pakeha, tae ratou ki nga mira nunui pera me Kawerau, i kite ratou i nga kura nunui pera me te kura o nga moiona kei Hamutana, i tae ratou ki te matakitaki i nga whare putunga o nga ahua me nga mea whakamiharo ona mata a i ronga hoki ratou i nga waiata me nga mea whakatangitangi whakamiharo. Ka mutu i nga korero a Schwimmer mo ta ratou haere e whakamarama ana ia i to te Maro kaupapa me te miharo o nga tamariki mo nga mea i kite ratou. Ko te whakamarama tenei mo te whai a te Maori i to te Pakeha kaupapa hei maramatanga mona.
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HAERE KI O KOUTOU
TIPUNA
Mr WIREMU PEKA KARAURIA KEREKERE
Mr Wiremu Peka Karauria Kerekere, who died recently at Gisborne at the age of 80 after a long illness, was the acknowledged chief of the Aitanga-a-Mahiki tribe.
Son of Mr Peka Kerekere and Hine Puhi, Mr Kerekere lived at Torere before moving to Mangatu. He later moved to Gisborne and finally settled at Waihirere. Mrs Kerekere died 52 years ago.
Mr Kerekere served on the Committee of Management of the Mangatu blocks for over 40 years until his retirement in 1952.
A keen rugby and hockey player when young, Mr Kerekere was president and vice-president of the Poverty Bay Hockey Association and the Kerekere Cup is one of the trophies still played for in hockey competitions. He was also patron to many hockey and tennis club associations. Mr Kerekere held the New Zealand professional championship shot-put for two years and competed against many professional athletes. He was presented with gold medals for these feats.
Of a retiring and modest nature, Mr Kerekere made many friends among Europeans and was held in high regard by his own people. An ardent church-goer, he took an active part in all Church of England affairs.
Mr Kerekere was predeceased by three days by his daughter, Miss Hikihiki Kerekere and is survived by two sons, Messrs Taipuarangi and Wiremu Kerekere and five grandchildren.
Mr JOSEPH KARETU NIKERA
The death occurred recently at Waipatu, Hastings, of Mr Joseph Karetu Nikera, one of the most highly respected Maori personalities of the district. Born at Motea, 61 years ago, Mr Nikera had resided at Waipatu all his life and was a successful farmer in the area. In recent years. he opened what is known as “Mom's Store” and was engaged in his farm and store work at the time of his death.
Mr Nikera was educated at Te Aute College and was one of the leading organisers of the college centennial celebrations when they were held. He was a very active member of the Maori social welfare and tribal committees, and during the last war, was the leader in many Maori patriotic demonstrations. He was in camp in home service during the war.
Though a member of the Church of England, Mr Nikera was also a leading figure in organising Catholic Church conventions which were held at Waipatu, and as chairman of the Kahungunu and Waipatu social clubs, he organised the choir competitions which were held at Waipatu.
A man of very genial personality, Mr Nikera was highly regarded by all sections of the community. He is survived by his wife, formerly Miss Beatrice Manina, and one daughter, Mrs N. O'Donnell.
Mrs HINEHOU TUREIA
Representatives of Maori tribes throughout New Zealand gathered in Gisborne some months ago for the tangi and funeral of Mrs Hinehou Tureia. She was 64 years old, born at Whakate Manutuke, a daughter of the late Heta te Kani a Takirau and Karukoura Hoone. She was a pupil at the Manutuke and Te Arai schools and Hukarere College, Napier.
In 1922, she married the late Captain Parekura Tureia, a veteran of the First World War who enlisted again for service in the Second World War and lost his life at El Alamein in 1941 while serving with the Maori Battalion.
Mrs Tureia was an acknowledged leader among her own people as chieftainess of all the tribes of the eastern area. She was a direct descendant of Hirini Te Kani, a paramount chief in his own right and one of the most noted figures in the early history of the district.
Mrs Tureia was a prominnet worker in the Red Cross Society and was engaged in patriotic work during the war, and was awarded the M.B.E. for her services. She also took an active interest in the work of the Tairawhiti Maori Welfare League and held the office of vice-president.
She is survived by four sons, Messrs Boydie, Pana, Augie and Boy Tureia, two daughters, Sister Rita Tureia and Miss Qui Tureia, and several grandchildren.
FORESTRY and people
Future wood requirements and resources.
By present rates of demand, it is apparent that this Dominion should undertake long-term programming of afforestation at the rate of 20–30,000 acres annually to meet local and export requirements.
With explosive increases predicted in world population, New Zealand must budget for a minimum annual export forest surplus of 150 million feet of wood for the first quarter of next century, increased thereafter pro rata with population. On today's price levels 150 million cubic feet yields only about £50,000,000 in overseas exchange; so we cannot set our sights any lower if forestry is to make worthwile contributions to future export economy.
Timber will play a major role in our future. It presents a long-term project which cannot produce immediate, spectacular results, but which forms the basis in the planning of New Zealand's perpetual forest policy.
Forestry is forever
Issued in the interests of forest protection by The New Zealand Forest Service.
CONTENTS
| Features | Page |
| Haera ki o koutou tipuna | 3 |
| The Home Garden | 54 |
| Farming Newsletter | 55 |
| Books | 50 |
| Crossword Puzzle | 56 |
| Articles | |
| Power in their hands, by A. S. Fry | 6 |
| He mana kei te ringa tangata, na A. S. Fry | 9 |
| Puhiwahine, Maori Poetess, Epilogue, and whakapapa, by Pei te Hurinui Jones | 12 |
| In search of knowledge, Part 1, by E. G. Schwimmer | 20 |
| Te Ao Hou literary and art competitions, 1960: Judges' Reports | 26 |
| The Fledgling, by Peter Sharples | 27 |
| Poetry of the Maori, by Barry Mitcalfe | 31 |
| The Art of Adzing, Part 2, by Pine Taiapa | 41 |
| Now the South Island has a fully-carved meeting-house, by Melvin Taylor | 48 |
| My first conference, by Mary Findlay | 52 |
| The Hunn Report | 58 |
The Minister of Maori Affairs: The Hon. J. R. Hanan.
The Secretary for Maori Affairs: J. K. Hunn.
Management Committee:
Chairman: B. E. Souter, Asst. Secretary.
Members: W. Herewini, M. R. Jones, W. T. Ngata, B. E. G. Mason, E. J. Shea, M. J. Taylor.
Editor: B. E. G. Mason.
Associate Editor (Maori text): W. T. Ngata, Lic. Int.
Sponsored by the Maori Purposes Fund Board. Subscriptions to Te Ao Hou at 7/6 per annum (4 issues) or £1 for three years' subscriptions at all offices of the Maori Affairs Department and P.O. Box 2390, Wellington, New Zealand.
Registered at G.P.O., Wellington, for transmission through the post as a magazine.
Editorial Address: P.O. Box 2390, Wellington.
PUBLISHED BY THE DEPARTMENT OF MAORI AFFAIRS MARCH 1961
PRINTED BY PEGASUS PRESS LTD.
Brief Notices
Cover Photo. Mrs L. Wills, of Wairoa, taken by Mr F. E. Freeman.
Future Issues. Te Ao Hou is pleased to announce that a series of articles on Maori life and lore by E. G. Schwimmer, former editor of Te Ao Hou and at present on leave, will begin in the next issue.
Erratum. On page 51 of the December issue of Te Ao Hou, a group photograph of the Executive of the Maori Student Federation failed to name Miss Whetu Tirikatene, standing third from the left. Apologies to Miss Tirikatene, who is President of the Federation.
Back Number Wanted. Mr I. D. H. Buchanan, 5 Selwyn Crescent, Wanganui, is anxious to buy a copy of issue No. 12 of Te Ao Hou to complete his set. Anyone willing to sell him this issue is invited to get in touch with Mr Buchanan direct.
Back Issues: As previously stated, the supply of some back issues has become very short. No. 16 can be purchased, but the price will now be 5/- instead of 3/-, and back issue No. 9 is now so scarce that it must be withdrawn from sale.
Renewal Stickers: If your subscription is expiring, you will find an expiry sticker on the wrapper of your issue. Please examine hte wrapper carefully and if the sticker appears on it, send us a renewal as soon as possible on the form enclosed with the issue.
Contributions in Maori: Ko tetahi o nga whakaaro nui o Te Ao Hou he pupuri kia mau te reo Maori. Otira ko te nuinga o nga korero kei te tukua mai kei te reo Pakeha anake. Mehemea hoki ka nui mai nga korero i tuhia ki te reo Maori ka whakanuia ake te wahanga o ta tatou pukapuka mo nga korero Maori.
A Disclaimer. The Department of Maori Affairs our best to check the facts, but the responsibility for statements in signed articles remains the author's alone.
The magazine as a text in schools. Our subscription rate for schools is 4/- per year (min. 5 subscriptions).
POWER IN THEIR HANDS
Reprinted from the New Zealand Listener of 21 October 1960
NEXT TO THE NAMES of the reigning sovereign and the current Prime Minister, the most revered pakeha terms in the modern Maori vocabulary are probably Vickers, Caterpillar, Euclid and International. No sooner had the Honourable Robert Semple ushered in New Zealand's bulldozer age than young Maori men began leaping at the chance to manipulate all that exhilarating power. At the controls of a growing regiment of heavy machines they have been pushing their country around ever since. The most conservative estimate is that half of all earth-moving machinery in the North Island is nowadays driven by Maoris. Many overseers choose Maoris for the work in preference to pakehas, regarding them as more skilful, and a demonstration driver for the Ameican firm of Caterpillar—no mean operator himself—is reported to have called them the best in the world.
By adopting in such numbers a job calling for mechanical aptitudes, the machine operators have done much to destroy the popular image of the Maori as an agricultural man. Indeed, in a way he could not have foreseen, they are affirming what John Gorst, in The Maori King, considered the Maori attitude to land in pre-European times: “The land was little valued by them as soil; they cared only for what we should call territorial dominion, and it was for this, and not for mere soil, which could not at the time be exchanged for money, that they fought in early days.” A man slicing into a hill, with 300 horsepower at his command, might well enjoy an illusion of territorial dominion.
A more prosaic explanation was advanced by an Englishman overseeing an earth-moving job: “They may have thought, ‘Oh well, the pakeha's botched up our country, we'll finish it!’” Outside his prefabricated office the machines were inexorably resolving pastoral hills and gullies into a gently undulating suburbia. During a break enforced by rain, some of the Maori drivers explained how they came to the job. “I've been driving machines for 15 years,” said one. “I was bulldozing fire-breaks at Taupo for a while, but it got a bit tame and I started looking for a faster machine. Down here I got me on to one that was faster, but it couldn't pull a hen off its nest. A Maori, once he gets it in his head that he wants to learn a thing, he'll go to it. He's cheeky about it. If you say to a Maori, ‘Don't do that’ or ‘Don't go there,’ when your back's turned that's just what he'll do. I got on to a job that way once—with a foot on the off-side and then a 300-feet sheer drop. I don't mind telling you I was frightened. A pakeha wouldn't have done that.
“With Maoris, the bigger the machine the more interest they show in it, and they're quick to pick it up. A chap may be only a labourer, but
a Maori's very inquisitive, very nosey, and he comes round and looks at my machine. He says, ‘I'd like to drive; will you teach me?’ There's something in him that's urging him to get on to that machine. There may be a lot more work on the bigger machine, but it makes him one step higher than the smaller one.
“Another thing is the maintenance. It doesn't matter how dirty a machine is, the Maori just wallows in grease and mud. He's got commonsense, too. You read in the papers about a lot of accidents. Me, I think it's that person's own fault. If you've got a flash car you'd think twice about driving it into salt water. It's the same with a bulldozer or a tractor; you can go anywhere with it, but you've got to use your head. You wouldn't go up a hill after a downpour.”
Another driver gave his first reason for taking up the work as money. “At one time it was better than in other jobs, though it's not now. But it's an outside job, which is definitely better, and after a while you can't seem to get away from it. You get that urge—you must get back to that dirty old machine. The Maori is better with his hands, I think; it's been handed down to him from earlier generations.”
In the relaxed, masculine world of a works project, where amenities like teapots and telephones take on the appearance of posies in a wrestler's hand, relations between the races seem unconstrained. A burly pakeha took time off from his mileage returns to consider his colleagues. “I wouldn't go so far as to say the Maori is better,” he said, “but he certainly prefers the machines to other kinds of work. A Maori with a pick and shovel and a Maori with a bulldozer are just two extremes. They're very adaptable and a lesson or two will teach them. When they see these things in action they're so keen on wanting to work them. There seems to be a natural inclination to want to get the better of the machines. With one or two you have to be constantly on their hammer to do their maintenance, but the majority are quite good at that too.”
Another observed that the noise and trying conditions on earth-moving jobs seemed to affect the Maoris less. “They'll take a lot more without complaint,” he said. “They seem more placid, less highly strung. Europeans have a longer association with mechanical things, but it doesn't seem to matter; the Maori is at least as good with
them and possibly better. Educational qualifications don't come into this job, of course. yet most of them are capable of much better things.”
On the question of noise the Maori drivers would hardly agree. “You find a time comes, even on a Euclid, when you get deaf,” said one. “Your nerves go on you, and you have to give it up for a while.” Others only noticed noise from machines not their own. “It's all right if you're getting power for your noise,” one man summed it up, “but noise is no good if there's no power.”
An older Maori, deskbound in Parliament Building, told us he had heard discussion of the Maori's prowess with heavy machines and had made a point of watching them in action. “By coincidence,” he said, “I was able to see two people working two power schovels, one Maori and the other pakeha. The pakeha's machine was jerking and shuddering, as if trying to bite off too much at once. The Maori had his swinging like a poi. It looked to me as if there was a sense of rhythm which allowed him to do a better job. Of course in the past there was always the taiaha—the hand-to-hand fighting of the Maori—in which a man had to have tremendous co-ordination of eye and brain and hands and feet. Some of the same abilities might be called for in driving a bulldozer or a scoop.”
A love of speed, which may have something to do with the Maori's higher (3 to 1) ratio of accidents with motor vehicles, carries over into the everyday toil of moving earth. No machine is exactly supersonic, but one or two are capable of more than the usual two speeds, Dead Slow and Stop, and these are in greater demand. One pakeha driver complained with a grin that when a Maori came and asked to “have a go” at his machine it was impossible to get him off it. “I have to take over the Maori's machine for the rest of the day.”
Working for long periods away from home seems not to concern the Maori driver. Indeed, one of his few jibes at his pakeha workmate is that he does not stick to the job. “A lot of them don't have time to become any good,” one of them put it. “They don't stay long enough.” For the Maori, of course, long absences from home have some roots in tradition. Before the pakeha's coming war parties were frequently away for several months, and in more recent times the Maori shearing gang has become a national institution. Apart from the presence of quantities of massive machinery, the main pre-requisites for happiness on the job are—as with any other worker—good tucker and good mates. Given these the Maori machine operator will commute considerable distances to work. One we spoke to rises about five each morning and travels 50 miles to be on time for his seven o'clock start.
Pakeha opinions on the Maori predilection for machinery range from near-libel to vast admiration. “They love power,” said one. “Big machines, big private cars, never little ones. It makes them feel superior.” Another thought the whole matter was explained by a single fact: “The Maori prefers sitting down to walking on his own two feet.” A third, who had been long engaged in earth-moving work, thought the skilled driving involved came naturally: “He is the faster and the better operator. I've had both Maoris and pakehas on jobs and I'd back the Maori every time to get the work done quicker. His disposition is more jovial too; he'll joke whether conditions are bad or good.
“On nearly all construction jobs you'll find a big percentage of Maoris. Most are operating Machines, and if they're not, the first thing they ask is if they can have the next operator's job. They'll even drop in wages to go on to a machine. I remember men leaving a co-operative contract where they were getting nine shillings an hour to go as operators at six and elevenpence. That's a big reduction in pay. And the job can be dangerous if a driver isn't good. If a man missed a gear on some of these hills you could pick up what was left of him in a sack.”
On one block where the percentage of Maoris was highest, we found eight men finishing lunch in the shelter hut. For the seven Maoris the meal had been a communal affair from a pot of pork; for the lone pakeha a matter of sandwiches and buns. Outside, their machines were neatly parked in the yellow mire created by the morning's rain. Our inquiry elicited a number of thoughtful responses, softly interjected between the barrage of jokes and legpulls at our own and each other's expense.
“It's interesting work—anything's better than the banjo”
“The banjo?”
“A shovel. Some people call it a Mexican sideloader.”
“The Maori's more sensitive to machinery; he's got the touch. Or maybe he's more mechanically-minded.”
“It's outdoor work—we like to get a tan.”
“There's a lot of independence—and only one boss. Too many bosses on a lot of other jobs.”
“The white man jibs at work on heights. It's all a matter of nerve—you've got to have nerves. and you've got to be sober.”
All the men stressed that the job was safe enough if a man kept his mind on it. Both they and many of the pakehas agreed that a Maori was more single-minded; until the work was done it was only the work that mattered. One pakeha thought the performance of men of his own race was adversely affected by their preoccupation with the future; the Maori's biggest enemy was boredom. The Maori drivers seemed to bear out the theory, stressing that their work with machines presented continuous change and challenge. It was, in a word, interesting. Not like the banjo.
It was not long, of course, before the troll which sits on many a Maori shoulder showed his
ugly face: “We probably do this job because nobody else would want to.” Even in work where his pre-eminence is recognised, the Maori retains a suspicion that he is less equal than others. One guess at the origin of this attitude is as good as another—possibly it dates back to his military defeat at pakeha hands—but it persists in too many individuals not to affect their morale as a group. A cure might be found in time, with the increasing political and economic influence which is bound to come for the Maori people. It may be the answer which one of the drivers gave in summing up his reasons for riding the big machines—“Power—that's the important thing—power in your hands.”
HE MANA KEI TE RINGA TANGATA
Bill Henderson, from Te Araroa, uses a powerful chain saw to fell a rimu tree at Te Whaiti.
(N.Z. Forest Service Photo)
KO ETAHI INGOA rongonui kei Te Ao Maori i enei ra ko Te “Vickers”, ko Te “Caterpillar”, ko Te “Euclid”, a ko Te “International”; ko nga ingoa enei o nga mihini mahi rori, mahi aha ake a Te Pakeha. Na Te Honore Semple i ona ra i mau mai enei mihini ki Niu Tireni, a tere tonu te rere a te Maori ko ratou hei kaiarahi ara hei taraiwa mo aua nanakia, a mai i taua wa ki naianei ko nga Maori nga toa ki te whakarere “Bulldozer”. Haere ki whea wahi o Niu Tireni ka kitea te Maori e whakarere “Bulldozer” ana a kaingakau ana tera ratou ki tera tu mahi. Kei runga noa atu te kaingakau o nga rangatira Pakeha ki te Maori mo tenei tu mahi tena i tona kaingakau ki te Pakeha, he maia he toa no te Maori, inahoki ko te korero a tetahi tangata no Amerika mai, tetahi o nga tumuaki tonu o nga tangata nana tera momo bulldozer te Caterpillar i hanga, ko te Maori te tino tangata o Te Ao katoa mo te whakamahi bulldozer.
Ko te whakaaro ia o nga ra kua taha ko ta te Maori tino mahi ko te mahi ahuwhenua, rokohanga ko Te Ao o te mihini ka rangirua nga whakaaro. Ko te korero hoki a tetahi Pakeha a John Gorst i ana korero mo Te Kingi Maori, “Kaore o te Maori kaingakautanga mo te whenua i runga i te penei na he oneone, kaore ko tona whakaaro ke kei te nui o te whenua te mana o te tangata a i te mea i taua wa kaore e taea te hoko te whenua, ko ia ra te putake nui o ana whawhai.” Waihoki ko te whakaaro pea o te tangata e whakangau ana i te mihini ki te oneone “E, ka mutu te tangata kaha i au.”
Ko ta tetahi Pakeha whakamarama, ko te Pakeha nei te rangatira o te mahi bulldozer e penei ana “Ko te whakaaro o nga Maori nei kua oti to ratou na whenua te takakino e te Pakeha na reira hei aha atu”. I waho o te Tari o taua Pakeha e mahi ana nga mihini e whakaraorao ana i inga maunga. Na te ua ka mutu te mahi a nga tangata whakarere o nga mihini ka takinohonoho nga Maori ka timata ki te korero ka mea ko tetahi “Kua 15 tau au e whakarere mihini ana. I Taupo au e whakawatea rakau ana ma te bulldozer hei whakatupato mo te ahi ka hoha au i taku mihini he porori rawa ka haere au ki te rapa i tetahi mea tere ake. Kua kitea e au te mea tere ake engari kaore he kaha. Ka uru te whakaaro ki te Maori he pirangi tona ki te ako i tetahi mahi kaore e roa kua mau i a ia taua mahi. He
tangata tohetohe te Maori ki te kiia atu, ‘kauaka e mahia tena mea kauake ranei e haere ki ko’ huri ana to kopako kua mahia taua mahi, kua haere ia ki taua wahi. I mahia e au tetahi mahi pera. I haere atu taku mihini kotahi putu te mamao mai i te pari e toru rau putu te takanga atu rere te mataku i au. E kore te Pakeha e pera”.
Ki te Maori ko te kaita ke atu o te mihini te painga, he hanga noa iho ki a ia te rawekeweke. Tena koa ko te Pakeha ahakoa tana pai he ahua ponguru ki te ako i nga mahi o te mihini. Ahakoa ina noa ake te matauranga o te Maori a he tangata mau hapara noa, he kamakama, a kaore e roa kua tae ki te pakiki he pirangi kia akona ia ki te whakarere mihini, a kaore e roa kua mau i a ia nga tohutohu. Timata atu ai tana ako i runga i nga mihini pakupaku na wai ra kua eke ki runga i nga mea nunui.
“Tetahi mea ko te mau me te tiaki o nga mihini, he tohunga te Maori. He mahi kaingakau nana te hinuhinu i tana mahini me te romiromi haere kaore ona uhupoho kei paru ia. Ina kiki ana nga nupepa i nga korero mo nga aitua. Ki au nei no te tangata whakarere mihini ano te he. Mehemea he motoka hou to te tangata kaore e whakahaerea e ia ki te moana, pera ano mehemea he mihini totika kei te ringa o tetahi tangata ka tupato tana whakahaere. He taonga kaha te bulldozer engari kia tupato te whakahaere”.
Ko ta tetahi Maori korero ko te tino take i mahi ai ia i te mahi whakarere bulldozer he mahi moni. “I mua he nui ake te utu o tenei mahi i era atu mahi engari inaiananei kaore i pera rawa atu te utu. Engari he mahi kei te hau ora a ka roa te tangata e mahi ana kua taunga a kaore e pirangi ki te haere he mahi ke noa atu. He tohunga te Maori ki nga mahi penei ara ki nga mahi a ringa no ona tupuna tonu mai tenei tohungatanga”.
I nga mahi penei ka piri te Pakeha raua ko te Maori na reira ina te korero a te Pakeha. “Kaore au e ki kei runga ake te Maori i te Pakeha mo te mahi mihini engari me penei ke na, ko ianei tana mahi kaingakau. He rereke te Maori mau hapara he rereke te Maori whakarere mihini. He tangata tere te Maori ki te ako ki nga rawekeweke o te mihini, kite kau ana ia i te mihini kua pirangi ia koiara he mahi mana. Ko te tino pirangi o te Maori ko ia tonu hei rangatira mo te mihini. Ko etahi ano he porohe ki nga mahi tiaki i te mihini engari ko te nuinga kaore rawa atu he raruraru.
Ko ta tetahi Pakeha ki he pai ke atu te Maori mo nga mahi mihini motemea kaore ia e raruraru i nga haruru i nga oioitanga a taua mihini. “Kaore a te Maori amuamu, he maia he humarie te Maori. Ko te Pakeha i tipu ake i roto o Te Ao Mihini ahakoa ra ko taku ki tonu kei runga ake te Maori i a ia. Haunga te taha matauranga kaore noa iho i pera rawa atu te matauranga mo tenei tu mahi otira tera ano etahi Maori e tika ana mo ng mahi kei runga ake i tenei.
I whakahe etahi Maori mo te korero ra kaore e raruraru te Maori i te haruru o te mihini. “Ahakoa pehea te roa o te tangata ki runga o te mihini tera ano te wa ka turi ia i te turituri, ahakoa i runga i te Euclid, he mihini pai hoki tera. Ki te roa rawa te tangata ki taua mahi ka ngehe tona tinana a e tika ana me harare ia mo tetahi wa. He pai tonu pea mehemea he mihini kaha kei te haruru, engari mehemea he haruru noaiho kaore he painga.”
Ko ta tetahi kaumatua Maori he mahi tuhituhi tana kei Te Whare Paremata korero, ae kua rongo ano ia mo te tohungatanga o te Maori ki nga mahi mihini a kua kite pu ano ia e mahi mihini ana te takitini o te Maori. “I tetahi wa” e ki ana ko taua kaumatua.” I kite au i tetahi Maori me tetahi Pakeha e mahi mihini ana. Ko ta te Pakeha mihini e koemiemi ana tena ko ta te Maori maheni ana te haere pera me te rere a te poi. Ko to te Maori hoki ko tona kaupapa he haka, he waiata he piu taiaha na reira ko te katoa o ana mahi ano kei te mahia i runga o te rangi waiata. Waihoki na reira i maheni ai pea te rere a te mihini.”
He tangata kaingakau te Maori ki te tere o te haere a te motoka na reira pea i piki ke ake ai tona aitua ki nga huarahi, inahoki e tokotoru toru Maori e mate ana mo te kotahi Pakeha. Waihoki ko ia nei te wairua whakarere o te Maori i nga mihini nunui a te Pakeha. Kaore noa iho he tikanga ki te Maori o tona ngaro roa atu i te kainga. Ko tetahi o ana korero tinihanga ki ona hoa Pakeha. “E kore te Pakeha e tohunga ki te mahi wha eha. “E kore te Pakeha e tohunga ki te mahi whakarere mihini e kore hoki e pera rawa atu te roa o tana noho”. Te ahua kaore ano i ngaro nga toto taihaere o ona tupuna i te Maori inahoki he tangata haere ia ki te whawhai ki raua iwi tuku iho ki nga ra o muri kei te haere tonu ki nga mahi kutikuti hipi ehara noa iho te haere i te mahi. Ko te ahua nei ko ta nga Maori ko tana whai he hoa mahi ngahau, ko te pai o te noho, a ko te ki o te puku. Ko tetahi o nga Maori oho ai i te rima o te ata ka haere i te rima tekau maero kia timata te mahi i te whitu o nga haora.
He nui a te Pakeha ana korero mo te kaha kaingakau o te Maori ki nga mahi mihini. Ko te tetahi korero “He mea kaingakau na te Maori te nui o te kaha. Inahoki kaingakau atu ia ki nga mihini nunui, ki nga motoka nunui hei aha mana nga taonga pakupaku. Ko te ahua nei he whai nona kia kiia ai ia he tino tangata. Ko ta tetahi Pakeha ano ki; “He mahi kaingakau na te Maori te noho kaore ona hiahia ki te haere ma raro. Ko ta te Pakeha tuatoru ko tana korero. “Ehara i te mea he aha, he kamakama tonu te Maori ki te mahi mihini. Kua kite au i te Pakeha, kua kite au i te Maori e mahi ana, kei runga noa atu te Maori, he tere ake he pai ake, tetahi he tangata ngahau ki te mahi he kata tonu tana mahi, ahakoa pehea te ahua o te mahi.
Ko te nuinga o nga kaimahi kei nga mahi nunui he Maori. Ko te nuinga o aua Maori he whakarere mihini te mahi a mehemea kaore he
mihini watea tere tonu te taunaha ki te mihini ki te mahi mihini hei aha mana te aha o te utu, i te mea tonu e eke ana ia ki runga mihini. Mahue ana i etahi Maori te mahi he iwa hereni i te haora he mahi mihini te take mo te ono hereni me nga kapa i te haora. He kaha rawa tera makeretanga o te utu a hei aha ma te Maori.
“I tetahi wahanga o te mahi he tokomaha nga Maori i reira a i to matou taenga atu he poaka he puha te kai. Ko nga korero tinihanga tenei i rongona.
“He mahi pai te mahi mihini. Kei runga noa atu i te mahi hapara—he mahi ora a kotahi ano tona rangatira. He mataku te Pakeha ki nga mahi wetiweti.”
Ara atu nga korero a aua Maori engari kotahi ano te rangi o te korero he mahi kaingakau ki a ratou te mahi mihini.
Ko tetahi korero a aua Maori ehara noa iho te tuatahi ki te watea. I te kaha pirangi o te Maori mahi mihini i te mahi wetiweti mehemea te tangata e u ana ona whakaaro ki te mahi. Ka whakatanguru ko te Pakeha he penei nana na kaore a te Maori maharahara mo apopo tena ko te Pakeha he maharahara tonu tana mahi mo tona apopo na reira ka rangirua ona whakaaro.
Kotahi ano te korero a nga Maori hei maharaharatanga ko tenei na “E whakangaua ana matou ki tenei tu mahi motemea kaore he tangata ke atu e pirangi ana ko ianei he mahi ma ratou.” Ahakoa pera noa atu te pai o te Maori ki te mahi mau tonu te awangawanga ki roto i ona whakaaro kei raro iho ia i te Pakeha. Ehara tenei i te whakaaro pai he aha ra tona rongoa heoi ano ma te wa pea. Kei roto pea i te korero a te taraiwa Maori ra “Ko te kaha, ko te mana te tino mea ko te kaha ko te mana kei roto i nga ringa o te tangata.”
PUHIWAHINE — MAORI POETESS
EPILOGUE
Midnight: Author seated at desk with books and papers lying around on desk and floor.
Author: Where shall I seek? Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turned down where I left off reading? Here it is, I think.
Enter Ghost of Goethe
Who comes again to spite me, when I am seeking for some clue to the mystery of Gotty's birth? Come in. Speak to me: what are you?
Ghost: I am the spirit that denies. Your predicament, O man of the Antipodes, has compelled me. and I appear. I am Goethe!
Author: Over these books of yours and my own papers from this my desk, often through the night I have searched, with much labour, through and through! And here I stick, as wise as when my steps first turned to school. I have no fond illusion, that I know anything worth the knowing; so I've turned me to speculation.
Ghost: All my works are but fragments of the grand confession of my life. You will find there, in the pages of the books I see around you I have woven my living garment. But I warn you, where you find a dark corner in me. it is terribly dark.
Ghost vanishes.
Author: You will not daunt me! I will sit here and gum together pieces here and there. I will hash up scraps from others' feast. I shall conjure up and tell a story from the ashes whence the life has ceased!
Enter te Rangihirawea.
You have come at a time most inopportune. How shall we set about this task?
Te Rangihirawea: Pardon—I heard you shouting; doubtless some lines of poetry you were reading? I come direct, filled with the most profound respect, to know the story of my great-grandfather. You did say his father's name was Antonio, and I came to tell you that my younger brother, now long since dead, was baptised with the same name by our late priest, Father Langerwerf, on his return from Germany.
Author: It is now too late to know how much Father Langerwer knew. I wrote to Potsdam for information about Gotty's father, Antonio, whom your grandfather described as a cavalry officer in the Prussian army. The reply was that the records of the former Army archives, including those of the old Prussian army, were burnt in the air-raid on Potsdam on 14 April 1945.1
Te Rangihirawea: Could it be that Antonio or Antonia was a son of Goethe, or was one of his own baptismal name? My heart and soul are yearning to hear what story you have to tell.
Author: The story I shall tell you can only be speculation. I begin by telling you there were many women in the life of the poet, Goethe, but Gotty was not his son by any of them. Gotty could have been the poet's grandson. For various reasons, which would take too long in the telling, I have formed the theory that Gotty's father, Antonio, was the son of Anna Elizabeth Schönemann.
Anna, immortalised as Lili by Goethe, was the daughter of a great banker in Frankfurt. Lili's mother was widowed, and she was sixteen years of age when she first became acquainted with Goethe. She was young, graceful and charming. Lili's fascination over him, Goethe has expressed in a poem. Here are three verses from it:—
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Wherefore so resistlessly dost draw me
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Into scenes so bright?
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Had I not enough to soothe and charm me
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In the lonely night?
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Dreaming thro’ the golden hours of rapture
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Soothed my heart to rest,
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As I felt thy image sweetly living
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Deep within my breast.
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Alas! the gentle bloom of spring no longer
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Cheereth my poor heart,
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There is only spring, and love, and nature,
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Angel, where thou art!
The parents of both sides were not in favour of a marriage. At a later stage the lovers were told by a certain Demoiselle Delf that she had managed to overcome objections, and gain the consent of both families. Subsequently, however, it turned out that the feeling of friends and relations had
1 Letter from Deutsches Zentralarchiv, Potsdam, 13. 11. 1959.
not altered. In 1775 he tried an experiment to see if he could forget Lili. He went on tour to Switzerland with the two Counts Stolberg. In Switzerland “amid the lovely scenes of Nature”, the poet wrote this verse:—
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Dearest Lili, if I did not love thee
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How entrancing were a scene like this
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Yet, my Lili, if I did not love thee,
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What were any bliss?
On his return to Frankfurt he learned that Lili's friends had taken advantage of his absence, to try and bring about a separation. But Lili remained firm; and it was said that she had declared herself willing to go with him to America. In his old age Goethe wrote in his Autobiography, “so unlike the love in novels, the very thing which should have animated my hopes depressed them. My fair paternal house, only a few hundred paces from hers, was after all more endurable and attractive than a remote, hazardous spot beyond the seas.”
He was restless and unhappy during these months. “He lingered about the house o’ nights, wrapped in his mantle, satisfied if he could catch a glimpse of her shadow on the blind, as she moved about the room. One night he heard her singing at the piano. His pulses throbbed, as he distinguished his own song:—-
Wherefore so resistlessly dost draw me
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Into scenes so bright? …
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In September 1775, Karl August, the hereditary prince of Weimar, repeated an invitation for Goethe to spend a few weeks at his court. With some difficulty he obtained his father's consent. He left Frankfurt, his birthplace, for Weimar, and on the 7th of November 1775, Goethe, then aged twenty-six, arrived at the little city of Weimar, on the banks of the Ilm, where, as it turned out, he was to live until he died over fifty years later.
Goethe and Lili were together again in 1779. This meeting took place on the 26 September whilst he was on a visit with Karl to Frankfurt; “in the afternoon I called on Lili, and found the lovely Grasaffen (‘budding miss’) with a baby of seven weeks old. her mother standing by… To my great delight found the good creature happily married. Her husband, from what I could learn, seems a worthy sensible fellow, rich, well placed in the world; in short she had everything she needs. He was absent. I stayed to dinner…. In the evening saw Paesiello's beautiful L'Infante di Zamora. Supped with Lili and went away in the moonlight. The sweet emotions which accompanied me I cannot describe.” Goethe latter summed up his feelings respecting Lili, the woman whom, according to his statement to Eckermann, he loved more than any other. “She was the first, and I can also add she is the last, I truly loved; for all the inclinations which have since agitated my heart were superficial and trivial in comparison. My love for Lili had something so peculiar and delicate that even now it has influenced my style in the narrative of that painfully-happy epoch.”
I shall now refer to the poet's dramatic works. With regard to his drama Stella, which was composed during the “painfully-happy epoch”, I would say that in it I detect a biographical element in the characters of Fernando and Cecilia, his wife, the mother of his child. Turning our attention to Faust, the magnum opus of Goethe, it is to be noted that although he conceived the idea of the old legend (Faust-fable) during his love affair with Lili, he wrote nothing of the work until he had sketched Gretchen's catastrophe, the scene in the street, and the scene in Gretchen's bedroom. He did not publish Part One of Faust until 1808, a year before the birth of Yohan Gotty. There are large slices of this great work which appear to be of a biographical character. The mother of Gretchen was a widow and the twist in the story about her baby dying, could have been contrived by the great poet to cover the biographical element in the drama with an impenetrable mist.
The years rolled on, and we came to the period of the Napoleonic Regime (1806–1813). On the day of the battle of Jena on the 14th October 1806, a few French hussars rode into Weimar. A young officer came to Goethe's house to assure him that it would be secure from pillage; and it had been selected as the quarters for Marshall Augerau. “The young officer who brought this message was Lili's son!”
I have not been able to trace any further reference to “Lili's son”, but about this time the poet was involved in an affair with Minna Herslieb, a young woman who exercised a fascination over him which his reason in vain resisted. He addressed sonnets to her, and in the novel, Elective Affinities, may be read the fervour of his passion.
There are four characters in the novel, which was published in 1809 (the year Yohan Gotty was born). The identification of the character Eduard with Goethe, of Charlotte with Goethe's wife, Christiane, are but thinly disguised. Ottilie in the novel may readily be identified with Minna; and the Captain, according to our conjecture, was Lili's son.
As was the case in Faust “the child” dies. The child in the novel is born—rather unexpectedly be it said—to Eduard and Charlotte—the marriage of twenty years had been childless—but it resembled “in a striking manner both Ottilie and the Captain.” Lewes, in his work on the life of the poet, has described the characters of the Captain and Eduard as a dramatisation by Goethe of the two halves of his own character.
THE WHAKAPAPA OF PUHIWAHINE
| NOTE 1: Te Kanawa had two wives, Waikohika and Whaeapare. By Waikohika he had two daughters, Parengaope and Tiramanuhiri; and by Whaeapare he had eight children, namely, Te Riri-o-ranga-whenua, Kumarawainui, Tutunui, Paretekawa, Taraunahi, Whati, Te Rewanga, and Wairakei. |
| NOTE 2: Parewahawaha, the paternal great-grandmother of Riria, John Gotty's (Hone Kati) wife, is the eponymous ancestress of the Ngati-Parewahawaha sub-tribe of the Rangitikei district. |
| NOTE 3: This table gives Te Rauparaha's maternal line. |
| NOTE 1: Te Rangihaeata. Te Rauparaha's nephew, mentioned in Chapter 5 is traced, and also Topeora his sister, who is mentioned in the seventieth line of Puhiwahine's Action Song in Chapter 3. |
| NOTE 2: Marangaiparoa, Toarangatira's son, had five children namely Maunu, Te Akamapuhia, Tuhaha, Kimihia, and Te Haunga. |
| NOTE 3: Maunu had six wives, namely: Waikawhia, Moari, Paoe, Rawharangi, Tionga, Kahutaiki. He had children by all of them. |
Te Rangihirawea: Excuse me Mr Author, but where is the story leading to now? I find it hard to follow you.
Author: I was just coming to that. You, and others who may read this story hereafter, will have to bear in mind that the poet has said, “Where you find a dark corner in me, it is terribly dark.”
Te Rangihirawea: Yes, well go on.
Author: Harking back to Goethe's courtship of Anna Elizabeth Schönemann, my theory is that the character of Gretchen in Faust was Anna, or Lili as he has immortalised her in his poems. The death of the child in Faust, we conjecture, was a
| NOTE: Te Mahutu Te Toko, Puhiwahine's “Cousin Lover” (Chapter 4) is traced in this table. |
device to hide the true facts. Faust poem has been described by the poet as the repository for the fullest confession of his life, and as the ‘poetic epitome’ of his experience.
Our story then is that the young officer who came to Goethe's house in Weimar, or Lili's son, was also the Captain in the novel, Elective Affinities, and that he was a son of the poet, and his name was Antonio….
Re-enter Ghost of Goethe
What say you, in the German nation, of this our undertaking?
Ghost: Be brief, explain thyself, and make an end.
Author: What I was about to say, Sir Doctor, was that when Minna went away from Jena for six months she really eloped with your son, Captain Antonio. It was on that account you wrote of your novel, Elective Affinities, these words:
No one can fail to recognise in it a deep passionate wound which shrinks from being closed by healing, a heart which dreads to be cured…. In it (the novel), as in a burial urn, I have deposited with deep emotion many a sad experience. The 3rd October 1809 set me free from the work: but the feelings it embodies can never quite depart from me.
Now if I were to say that Antonio and Minna's son did not die—as you wrote in the novel—but that he lived on, and was named Johan or John Gotty, what would you say?
Ghost: Of this riddling-stuff I pray thee spare me, friend! Those who come to see, let them gaze their fill.
Author: Sir Doctor, this is kindly spoken of our story-telling. At best, perhaps, it is history in a puppet-play. But from book to book, from leaf to leaf at will, we have hunted for words to fill these pages.
Ghost: Ah God! but art is long and short our life, and ever, discouraging my critical endeavour, depressing thoughts through head and bosom throng. How hard it is, the obstacles to level, to gain the means which lead you to the source! And haply, ere you've run but half the course, comes Death, and snaps you up, poor devil. If you have a message to deliver, need you for words be hunting ever?
Author: It would be overbold for me to measure myself with you, Sir Doctor; and may you now depart in peace. But ere you go, let me here introduce to you, Te Rangihirawea…. He, I say, is flesh of your flesh, and he, too, is the great grandson of Puhiwahine, Maori poetess.
CURTAIN
| NOTE 1: The ancestors; Tutetawha, Te Rangiita. Parapara-a-hika, Tuwharetoa, and the ancestress Hinemihi, which are mentioned in Puhiwahine's Lullaby (Chapter 7) are shown in this table. |
| NOTE 2: Puhiwahine's cousins, Pine and Makiwhara are also traced in the above table. Both cousins are mentioned in her Lullaby. |
These Maori canoes, some of the oldest remaining in New Zealand, are brought out of storage in March each year. They are put into the Waikato River to soak, water also being poured inside the canoes. This causes the totara wood to swell and so keep the canoes watertight. They are used in the only Maori Aquatic Sports to be held in the world. These are at Ngaruawahia, on the Waikato River. A feature of the sports is the canoe hurdling, and Ngaruawahia is the only remaining place in New Zealand where this sport is practised. (Barbara Baigent, Photo)
IN SEARCH OF KNOWLEDGE A MAORI SCHOOL CHILDREN'S TOUR
PART 1
Mr Schwimmer, Editor of Te Ao Hou and now on leave, wrote this article for the magazine Education and it was printed in their September 1960 number. Te Ao Hou acknowledges with thanks the permission of the Schools Publication Branch to reprint the article.
I. PUNARUKU AND ITS SCHOOL
It is reading period and I see two boys looking at the same book, while another one lies unused by their side. “Why don't you read the other one, Henry?” I ask. “Oh, I have read that one at least 20 times.”
Both books are about fish. All books about fish are very well read in our library.
The Ngati Wai
The Ngati Wai traditionally like the water very much better than the land. On the water they travelled, fought, migrated, fished. Their main fortifications were on the Whangaruru peninsula, * linked to the mainland by a narrow chain of hills and a swamp. That is where they used to grow their kumaras in distant days and also, after the Europeans came, their wheat, their sheep and their cattle.
The peninsula and the island nearby were also the site of the first school, the first store. The first post office, although on the mainland, was along the beach among the rocks, near a jetty, but unreachable by any road.
The modern era pried the Ngati Wai reluctantly from their rocky beaches and island to the new road they built during the depression. People started to live along the road because it was convenient. Those who happened to have lands close to it began to farm these and abandon their land on the peninsula. A school was opened along the road at Punaruku; now, instead of the children crossing the water to go to the old school on the peninsula, they had a new school in the new development area.
Since the war the rapid move began out of the district to Auckland, to Whangarei, to the freezing works at Moerewa. The land-development scheme proved to be no success: the farms, often too small and too rugged, not always well managed, produced very little revenue and compared poorly with the economics of labouring in town. The fishing industry was badly knocked by the incursion of commercial trawlers into the Ngati Wai fishing grounds; when these trawlers were stopped, most of the fish had disappeaed. Although even now people spend much of their time by the sea, their catches poorly reward their time.
During the war many had discovered they could be tradesmen; they preferred to continue doing what they had learned in the armed services, or war industries, rather than cope with the far harder life at home. Many houses began to stand empty, especially on the peninsula, once populous but now virtually deserted. The houses along the mainland beaches, with their difficult land access, followed next, although some are still inhabited. Lastly, even the houses along the road are falling into disuse as one family after another gives up its ancestral home.
Many men, anxious to cling to their old life, left the houses inhabited by their wives and children, and went to work outside the district. Sometimes the wives join them: the children are left
* Half way between Whangarei and the Bay of Islands.
in the care of a relative—grandparent, uncle or aunt, or older sister. The parents come back home when they can, but often this is only rarely.
Problems of the High School
Just after the war the Punaruku Maori School was made a district high school, serving not only the people along the road but also Ngaiotonga, where a new development scheme of the Department of Maori Affairs has just been established.
Until then, those families who could, had sent their children to boarding schools, where some of them did well and passed their School Certificate. Although some of these children had good careers subsequently, many preferred, as soon as they had finished their studies, to take up unskilled jobs where they felt secure in a familiar environment.
The high school did not, when first opened, have the same prestige as the boarding schools, nor were the scholastic results of these first years sufficiently encouraging to change the opinions of the people.
It is not hard to see why. The boarding schools had provided the children with a way of life specially planned to encourage learning—regular meals and bed times, constant supervision, fixed study period for homework, an atmosphere of learning, a blotting out of all those influences of village life which might distract the children. In these circumstances the average Maori child has a good chance of success at examinations, although difficulties may set in when the children leave the cloistered atmosphere of boarding schools for the outside world.
The failure of the farms has left behind a distressing listlessness and sense of defeat; the absence of so many parents increases the children's aimlessnes; the community, with its traditions and its economy in a state of collapse, suffers from acute cultural impoverishment.
The effect of this on the attainment of school children, although hard to measure, must be severe. It puts unbelievable limits on working vocabulary, as well as on familiarity with the outside world, while the listlessness that goes with such impoverishment inhibits rather than encourages the inborn desire to learn.
II. AN EDUCATIONAL TOUR IS PLANNED
Purposes of the Tour
How can a small district high school such as the one at Punaruku go ahead? First, it has to provide experiences that will stimulate the intellectual growth of the children, and somehow drive away the ubiquitous sense of failure that envelops them like a mist. Secondly, it must cope with the boarding-school complex, the feeling that the local school does not really provide competitive education.
Both these purposes were served in the educational tour organised recently by the present head teacher of Punaruku M.D.H.S., Mr H. J. Bates. This tour was a landmark in the battle against cultural impoverishment, and in gaining the local people's esteem and admiration for the school. It produced a genuine change of attitude in the community, and as always, when a change of attitude has to be induced, the hardest work for this tour was in preparing for it, in bringing about a spirit in which the idea of the tour would be accepted and valued.
Initiating the Tour
The tour could only take place if it had the strongest support in the community. Without very positive support it would have been impossible to get the money.
There is very little money in Punaruku. People's diet is very simple—bread, seafood, and the vegetables they grow. Apart from food, very little is bought. Yet when there is a cause close to the heart—a trip to the Latter Day Saints Temple in Hamilton, or some other thing greatly desired, money has a habit of coming to light everywhere. In such an atmosphere it would be virtually impossible to collect from parents even £2 for a school tour that was not really wanted. On the other hand, if the school could somehow win the people's hearts, the cost, whatever it was, would be no obstacle. Furthermore, the high school is small: even with the inclusion of Form II, only 45 pupils. Of these, most would have to come on the tour if we were to fill the bus. Support would therefore have to be general, it would have to come from the farmers with their sadly low production, from the absentee parents, from the casual labourers, from the pensioners even—and pensioners in Punaruku are numerous.
A public meeting was called, just after church on Sunday. A little coercion there, because it had been arranged that the bus would not bring the worshippers back home until after the meeting at the school was finished. The attendance was most gratifying; the meeting was told that the cost would be £6/7/6 per head, as well as a large school committee subsidy. A deposit of £2/10/- per head would be payable immediately. The meeting voted in favour.
Furthermore, the head teacher suggested that all those children who wanted to go on the tour would need to have a full school uniform. For some years, successive head teachers had tried to persuade parents to buy uniforms for their high-school pupils, but so far always without success. There were some minor disagreements as to the style and colour of the uniform; some people had bought garments they imagined to be the uniform; in actual fact no two pupils dressed alike.
A fashion parade was held at which the children showed off several different possible uniforms. The meeting again agreed that uniforms should be bought, chose red blazers, three-coloured monograms, all the usual accessories, but no boys' caps (for the sake of economy). All sternly insisted on black stockings for the girls.
Raising the Money
In this way we had agreement in principle for the whole plan, but it was still as uncertain as before whether the tour would really be supported. Community behaviour, as usual, was ambivalent. A few staunch supporters paid the deposits, others said they definitely did not have the money, someone sent in 10/-, one of the girls started doing odd jobs and bringing the head teacher such amounts at 4/3, 10/6, once every few weeks. The headmaster himself offered some boys odd jobs around his house at so much per hour, to encourage a spirit of sturdy enterprise in the earning of the necessary cash. But this, including the uniform, was now up to £25 per pupil.
A circular was sent out asking people to list what uniform items they wanted the school to order for them. This produced some further, again inconclusive, evidence.
The two things that gradually won over the people were probably these: in the previous year a group of school children from Matakana Island (near Tauranga) had visited Punaruku and been billetted in local homes. The children's desire to make a return visit fell within the Maori idea of valid sentiment, especially as everyone in the community knew the Matakana children and could visualise them.
Furthermore, the head teacher and the school committee had managed to buy a film projector last year; the weekly films shown with this projector provided the only entertainment in the district. This had established much good will and confidence in school enterprises.
A Programme Is Prepared
Meanwhile the tour programme took definite form. The first night, in deference to the large Mormon majority, would be spent at the Church College, near Hamilton—the community was thrilled at this. The next night we would stay at a Maori meeting house near Rotorua, thanks to the help of the Department of Maori Affairs. Late in the third afternoon (a Friday) we would cross from Tauranga to Matakana for our return visit.
As the head teacher attaches great value to regional geography, this part of the tour would be used for a study of three regions, Northland, the Waikato, and the Volcanic Plateau, with a look at the Hauraki Plains on the way back.
Soils, farming, industries, and population centres could be looked at as we travelled, with special stops for hydro-electric stations, various thermal phenomena, and the pulp and paper mill at Kawerau.
The tour was so timed that after a weekend at Matakana Island (for sports, a concert, and a free day), we would reach Auckland in the middle of the Auckland Festival. We would spend a generous amount of time on music, drama, opera, and exhibitions at the festival, and at the same time visit a few factories, offices, the museum, the planetarium, and the zoo.
In this way the tour would serve practically all the subjects taught at the high school—geography, English, science, commercial practice, clothing (as a large office and clothing factory were on the schedule), Maori studies, music and art. It would give a varied picture of life in New Zealand.
The Financial Effort
Just before the end of the first term, nine deposits had been paid, as well as some partial deposits; others again had signed agreements to let their children go, but added no cash. The Department of Maori Affairs had provided a subsidy of £20. One could expect either a last-minute rush to pay in the necessary money, or last-minute community verdict to drop the whole idea. Both were equally possible.
However, about this time the tide began to turn. One could begin to feel the pressure of community feeling in support of the tour. A social committee of the Ngati Wai began to raise money by subscription, and by organising a dance and a hangi, collecting £22. The first school uniforms arrived; as decided by the school committee, these were supplied on payment of only one-third deposit, the rest of the money being collected after the tour. The appearance of the first red, monogramed blazers in Punaruku convinced the people that the school really meant business. Children began to receive money from older brothers working in town and other absent relatives.
Now the head teacher ordered uniforms on
a sale or return basis, for all the doubtful cases.
The few European farmers in the district now began to offer jobs for more pupils, and so did the shopkeepers. The children whose money was assured helped the less fortunate in labour contracts, so that the majority of our high school pupils spent the holidays in manual labour—digging drains, catching fish for sale, etc. One smallish girl, but muscular and determined, took up scrub-cutting.
School Preparation
Meanwhile, school lessons had been planned to prepare pupils for what they would see—subjects like the pulp and paper industry were carefully covered. There was intensive training in football and basketball. An action song party was trained with the help of the secretary of the school committee, Mrs Piripi.
As action songs are not part of the daily pattern at Punaruku, this took quite some effort, our programme by the end of the term being no more than a respectable minimum. We were fortunate in our leader, a husky fellow whom I shall call Wiri. Wiri, now in the fourth form, reads haltingly and only simple words; he is beginning to do elementary fractions in arithmetic. He is boisterous, and very sensitive to his place at the bottom of any school class. Yet he has a shrewd sense in quite a few things, as one notices in classroom discussions; he makes a big effort to learn what he can, and he beamed from ear to ear when he was given his first leadership role at the school. He has all the qualities of a good haka man: rhythm, accurate movements, spirit, humour and a good voice. He did a good deal to lift the others out of their natural listlessness.
Also in preparation for the tour, the children were taught some European folk dances, which would be part of our concert programme.
The Last Two Days
The tour began on the third day of the winter term. Our two last days can only be remembered through a haze of excitement: much of this time was spent in teaching; in handing round special exercise books, geographic sketch maps, festival programmes; in sports and dancing parties, and more especially in talking about the things that were going to happen.
There was an evening concert where the community (naturally, for a fee) came to see our artistic programme. But this had more than doubled in length and interest during the term holidays. Instead of the respectable minimum we had before we now had a most varied and entertaining collection of items, some old familiars, but mostly polished up for the occasion, solo songs, comic episodes, and above all, a most vigorous performance by about 12 of the children, partly troubadour, partly Hawaiian.
The enrolment troubles were over; on the first day of the term the fees of 29 pupils were definitely settled, some others were more or less resigned to staying at home, but there were three very sad faces on Monday.
That evening two families changed their minds, bringing the tally of children to 32. In addition, three teachers were going, the secretary of the school committee, another Maori woman, and—our last accession, signed up just before the bus left—Waitai Pita, aged 82, commonly known in the community as Father Christmas. He was considered very sickly, but his heart was conquered by the concert; furthermore his family, on his mother's side, originally came from Motiti Island, near Tauranga. He hoped to meet some of his mother's relations on this tour and to find out more about his ancestry.
In this way the school had, before the tour began, won the heart of the community, and the whole high school was most impressively uniformed. Furthermore, in spite of devoting over £40 to festival tickets, the school committee was in a healthy financial state; it did not look as though its subsidy of the tour would need to be too substantial.
III. ON THE ROAD
Church College
We had borrowed a guitar in a huge wooden case. The bus was so full that the case had to stand in the aisle of the bus. On our journey down to Hamilton, very soon the guitar was released from its formidable coffin, the playing and singing being interrupted as from time to time the head teacher pointed out important points in the landscape, a dairy factory, or the power scheme at Meremere. For a while there would then be questions asked about things seen from the road, notes would be written in the exercise books, after which gradually the music would start again.
Although some of the Punaruku people had visited the L.D.S. Temple, the religious settlement near Hamilton was to most only a legend of sacrednes and splendour. We had our dinner in the college cafeteria, a large brightly lit hall in the spacious and opulent architecture of the recreation building. For our accommodation we were given two large recreations halls tiled with highly polished plastic. A Mormon elder came into the boys' quarters to mention a college rule: no shoes to be worn in this hall. The boys were obviously thrilled to be asked to observe a rule at this college; it established a sort of familiarity.
We went through the huge gleaming gymnasium to the swimming pool, of Olympic size, fully tiled, and walled with glass. Above the pool was a large spectators' gallery. Few Church College students were at the pool, for Wednesday nights are given over to homework. Those who did swim were not exuberant like our back-country invaders; they were restrained and deliberate. The clear blue pool, the dressing rooms, the showers, the gallery above, all helped to give
our pupils the feel of this American-styled College.
As they walked back to their dormitories they saw, commanding the whole view of the college settlement, the floodlit temple, silvery on its dark hill.
Some of our party had relations among the pupils or among the families living in the Temple View settlement. They were all with us at breakfast time and separated from us only when the college principal, Dr Boyack, took us on a conducted tour of the college and of the precincts of the temple itself.
Coffins Above the Ground
We spent our second day studying the Waikato district, the hydro-electric dams and the forests, with a late afternoon visit to the geysers and hot pools of Whakarewarewa.
The deepest impressions children take away from such visits are never predictable. After our return, one girl remembered Whakarewarewa mainly in this image: “As we were walking along the track we came across the coffins of people who had died: these coffins were under the concrete, built above the ground. This was done because it would prevent steam from getting at them.”
Maori Welcome
Takinga marae, on the southern tip of Lake Rotoiti, is one of those monuments of modern Maori culture created by those who believe there is still a worth-while future for Maori tradition. There was a fully carved and decorated meeting house on this marae, opened earlier this year; by its side stood a well appointed dining hall, while the sanitary and washing facilities were also thoroughly up to dtae. The carved house, executed in the best Arawa style, was erected under the inspiration of the Ngati Pikiao chief, Major Reiwhatu Vercoe, a prominent champion of Maori culture.
It was here that our school party was invited for the night. Staying in a carved house was a strange experience to our Northland children; so we found to our surprise, was the ceremonial of our welcome. The Major met us at the gate and told us he would like us to enter with proper ceremony. He wished this partly to preserve the respect due to his marae, but also undoubtedly to give the children an educational experience which he considered important for them.
We waited while the people on the marae got ready for our welcome. Then, led by our elder, Waitai Pita, we moved in slow procession towards the meeting house while the women standing on its porch raised the traditional wail, which in this case was brief, for we were an unknown tribe with whom the people of Takinga shared no dead.
This Powhiri was followed by the hongi—our party slowly passed in front of the row of hosts and rubbed noses with all. We were then motioned to the seats by the side of the marae to listen to the speeches of welcome, which were brief, the Major explained, because dinner was ready. In slow, clear Maori, the Major spoke the usual words of mourning for the dead, then made some pleasant references to his young visitors. Waitai Pita replied, after which we filed in to a splendid dinner, served in the usual Maori style with little side dishes and bottles of fizz on the tables.
Later in the evening there were more speeches in the dining hall, as well as an improvised concert. Major Vercoe told our group that the people of Takinga wished to help them because they were Maori children on an “instructional tour”. We watched the practised movements of the Ngati Pikiao, and gave our own items, the Hawaiian ones being, as expected, immensely popular.
By far the greatest ovation was for a performance of the “double long poi” by two of our girls. This poi dance is the hardest and most spectacular of modern Maori dances. The performer, accompanied by music, rapidly twirls two poi balls, each attached to a long string; and each ball executes a quite distinct, highly complex figure at great speed. During the climax of the dance, the two balls, still moving in distinct courses, are controlled by one hand, in perfect beat with the
music. Only very few people have the rhythmical sense and wrist control to perform this dance. What added to the impressiveness of our performance was that the two girls, who were sisters, happened to be the only Europeans in our group.
Exhausted, we fell asleep on our snow-white embroidered pillows, dimly regarded by the redochre ancestors of the Ngati Pikiao.
The next morning we further experienced the generosity of our hosts when we were all invited for a cruise over Lake Rotoiti on a luxury yacht. Before leaving the marae our elder presented, with an appropriate oration, the cheque (“poukai”) which the school committee had prepared as a donation, but to our surprise the elder of our hosts handed it back again as a final gift, thus ending brilliantly the lesson his people had given us in “modern Maori culture”.
to be continued
SINGLE PREMIUM MORTGAGE REPAYMENTS
The Board of Maori Affairs now has authority to advance money for Maori housing to pay the premium on a single-premium mortgage repayment insurance policy. Legislation passed in the last week of the 1960 Parliamentary session provided the authority for the Board of Maori Affairs to make the advances. This brings the Board's policy nearer that of the State Advances Corporation which already lends, under certain conditions, the cost of single premium mortgage repayments. Insurance premium loans will be made up to £120 and would be additional to money loaned mortgagors towards the cost of house-building.
It is felt that too few Maoris take advantage of this type of insurance cover, which in the event of a borrower's untimely death lifts the burden of a mortgage debt from his widow and children. This is due probably to the fact that, with their larger families and smaller incomes, most Maoris find it difficult to meet annual premiums, and impossible to raise the large amounts required if the cover were a single premium, as well as the cost of furniture and the cash payment toward the new house.
Under this scheme, where the premium is advanced by the Board of Maori Affairs, the approved insurance offices would be those approved by the State Advances Corporation for mortgage repayment insurance. The new policy will apply generally to existing loans, provided that the re payment term for the additional loan does not exceed five years, and interest would be charged at 5 per cent.
KO TE UTU TOPU I TE INIHUA MOKETE
Kua whakamana Te Paori Mo Nga Take Maori ki te tuku moni i runga i te mokete hei utu topu i te moni inihua mo te mokete whare. No te wiki whakamutunga o te tunga o te Paremata i te tau 1960 i whakamana ai taua Paori ki te tuku moni penei. Kua rite Te Paori Mo Nga Take Maori ki tera Tari Kawanatanga ki Te State Advances Corporation kua tuku moni penei noa atu ki nga tangata e tika ana. Tera e eke taua moni ki te £120 a ka apititia atu ki te moni mokete mo te hanga whare.
He tokoiti rawa atu nga Maori kei te tango inihua penei, ara he inihua mo te mate rawa ake te tane ka ea te moni mokete a ka noho pai te wahine me nga tamariki. Ko te take nui pea e kore nei e tango i taua inihua ko te nuinga o te hunga Maori e tango moni mokete ana hei hanga whare he tokomaha a ratou tamariki a pau tonu te oranga ki te utu haere i te mokete, ki te tango taputapu mo te whare a kaore e taea te utu topu o tenei momo inihua.
Ki te tukua e Te Poari Mo Nga Mea Maori taua moni kei Te State Advances Corporation nga Tari Inihua. Ka taea e te hunga kua tango moni mokete noa atu te tango tenei momo inihua engari me hoki taua moni i roto o te rima tau a e 5 paihaneti te itareti.
TE AO HOU LITERARY
AND
ART COMPETITIONS
1960
JUDGES' REPORTS
SECTION A
STORIES IN ENGLISH
Judge's Report. There were thirteen entries in this section of the competition and some of them were of an extremely high standard, both in thought, and in power of expression. Every story was concerned in some measure with the basic problem of Maoridom today—adaptation to a new and sometimes bewilderingly complex way of life. Sometimes the adjustment proves successful after initial difficulties, as in The Brothers by Gwen P. Howe; sometimes it involves a return to the basic principles of Maoritanga, as in Back to the Mat by Mikaere Worthington, but a Maoritanga transformed by its adaptability to the modern world, related directly to the fruitful and harmonious development of the Maori people. Somewhere, either directly or by implication, every writer insists that the Maori must learn to take his rightful place in the pakeha world, and more significant—that such a place is waiting for him.
I was impressed in many places by the authors' control over and command of the English language, which they do not hesitate to use in a lyrical and sometimes passionate manner, which can put many of their more reserved pakeha colleagues to shame. The Maori writer seems instinctively to understand that the English language is one of unrivalled majesty and richness, not, as many pakehas demonstrate, a convenient method of shorthand. I expect—I say this in full confidence —that the next ten years will produce a Maori novelist of outstanding talent; already the ground is being prepared for him.
After much deliberation, I have awarded the prize of £10.0.0 in this section to Peter Sharples, for his story The Fledgling, which appears in this issue. It was written while the author was still a 6A student at Te Aute College. Of all the stories, it showed the most mastery over form—the understanding that a short story must move logically and inevitably to its end, without swerving to right or left, and leaving an impression of some action or experience completed. The unexpected ironical ending had the justice and rightness of the born writer. The conclusion that one must draw from the story—that Maoris are very easily seduced by the superficial side of European civilisation—is not comforting, but such things must be pointed out, and Mr Sharples has done so with a beautiful economy of expression. The following stories have been retained for later publication. Between two worlds and Te Ao Hou by Hinauri Strongman Tribole, of Salt Lake City, Utah, U.S.A., Back to the Mat by Mikaere Worthington—this story was a close finalist; Look Wider, Little One, by Dorothy Connell, The Vision of Hiahia, by Errol T. Raumati, Honour and Friendship by Aileen Simpson, Big Joe by B. A. Olsen, Country Girl by Hirone Whikiriwhi and The Brothers by Gwen P. Howe. Altogether, I regard the entries in this section to have been most satisfying and illuminating.
SECTION B
STORIES IN MAORI
Judge's Report. None of the entries was of a sufficiently high standard to warrant either a prize or publication, and my comments will be communicated to the three entrants privately.
SECTION C
DRAWINGS IN BLACK AND WHITE
Judge's Report. There were seven entries in the competition and at once there was no doubt whatever of the winner. I recommend that the prize of £10.10.0 be awarded to Duel on the Rock by Meretiana Reihana, of Masterton. (See pages 32–33.) This drawing has great strength and vigour in its design, and a primitive strength in the figures. (Let me explain that I use the word ‘primitive’ in a sense which means drawn directly from the artist's experience and not based on any second-hand model.) Of the other entries, I would
commend An Old Woman's Dream of Long Ago by Pahetepa Munro of Hawke's Bay for the thought and tenderness which have gone into it, but I have the feeling that the artist has worked too much from photographs as models, instead of drawing her inspiration from her own mind and thought. Of the other entries, I would say nothing individually but address these remarks to the artists as a whole. You are relying on photographs, on copies, on what I would call secondhand inspiration. Put nothing down on paper that you do not strongly feel draw it from inside yourself, if I may put it that way, not from reproductions in magazines. How do you learn to ride a bike? By getting on it, setting off, and facing the spills. It is the same with art—try it, jump on, never mind if at first you fall down. If your desire to communicate is strong enough, you will find all the technique you want. You will learn your craft, not from models, but by constant practice in finding the easiest, the truest, the best way to put down what you see in your mind's eye.
THE FLEDGLING
Mahu Herewini said little as she sat waiting in the car beside her younger brothers Kina and Peni. Soon Nana came, then Mrs Herewini and finally her husband, and they all climbed into the Old Ford. Mr Herewini started the motor, and soon the car was roaring down the road. Mahu looked back at the old homestead which she knew she wouldn't see again for a long time.
It would be her first trip away from home and her family, and she was sad to leave and frightened at the prospects of the future. Soon she would be in the city, in a new world, the Pakeha world.
Mahu was eighteen years old, well built, attractive, and carried the tan of her racial inheritance in her Maori features. She had attained University Entrance at the village High School, and was now off to Auckland to study Anthropology. She had not really wanted to go, but the persuasion of Mr Crane, the headmaster, and her father's wishes had overcome her reluctance.
The car pulled up outside the bus depot, and the family climbed out.
“I'll take your bags to the bus-driver, Baby,” said her father, for that was the name he had always called her. “You say good-bye to Nana, Mum and the kids”.
“Be sure to work hard, dear, and do be a good girl,” said Mrs Herewini. “Don't forget to write often and—Peni! get your muddy hands away from Mahu's dress.”
“I'll write every week, Mum, and I'll be a good girl, you needn't worry about that,” said Mahu, tears forming in her eyes.
“Good-bye, dear. Be sure and come back to see us soon, my girl,” said Nana, slipping a crumpled five pound note into Mahu's hand.
“And I've put the woolly socks which Auntie Tuku knitted for you in your bag, because I know how cold Auckland can be,” continued her mother.
“And dear, don't forget to change your underwear often, and oh yes! I forgot your toothpaste, so you'll have to buy another tube as soon as you arrive in Auckland. But do look after yourself, Mahu, you're so young, and be careful of some of those Pakeha men in the city, and don't walk around at night. You're a lady now.”
“Come on, quickly now,” called her father from across the street, “the busman is waiting. Kitere Pepe.”
She hurried over into the bus, took a seat by the window, and gazed out at her family. This time she could not hold back her tears, and as the bus drove away amid the sad farewells of the Herewini family, Mahu could only raise her hand and nod her head in reply.
There were others on the bus bound for the
city too, and with the farewells of her own family, she could hear the shouts and laughter of the others.
“Bring back a neat Pakeha wife Tom, but make sure she can cook kai!”
“Don't forget your father's saddle Manu, and bring back some lollies for the kids.”
“You fellas behave yourselves and don't drink too much of that beer stuff!”
Soon the bus was speeding over the hills bound for the city, the new city, the Pakeha city.
Mahu watched outside as the countryside shot past her window. She tried to imagine why she was leaving this peaceful Maori settlement for some strange Pakeha world. She saw some men planting kumaras in the hot sun, children playing on their horses, free and happy, and some others swimming naked and unashamed in the river. How heavy was her heart as she said “Haere Ra” to her old life.
“Tena Koe, Mahu”.
Mahu spun round and saw her old friend Jimmy, from the village, sitting in the seat next to hers. Amidst the grief of parting she had not noticed the dark good-looking boy beside her.
“Tena Koe, Hemi,” she replied, surprised but pleased to see someone she knew. “E haere ana koe ki whea?” she asked, hoping he would be going to the city too.
“To Auckland, to work,” came the reply, and soon the two friends were talking eagerly about this big city, comparing the opinions they had heard from others.
“I am going to work hard!” said Jimmy, with an air of determination, “and gain a position of importance amongst the Pakeha, and show the Maoris that we still have some leaders.”
“Kapai tena, Hemi,” Mahu replied. “I too am going to study hard and show the Pakeha what a ‘back-block’ Maori can do.”
And so the conversation carried on, and the bus continued and the big city drew nearer and nearer.
The bus stopped with a jerk and Mahu woke from her sleep. She had dozed off during the trip, and had dreamed that she was eeling with Peni, and her father. At first she did not know where she was, but when she saw Jimmy beside her she remembered. He whispered softly to her. “Look, Mahu. Look out of the window.”
It was almost dark and Auckland had all her lights glowing. Mahu stared in bewilderment, her eyes transfixed on the strange surroundings. Buildings taller than kauri trees, cars and buses all new in appearance, and the people, there were hundreds, some walking, some running and some standing almost everywhere. Frightened, yet deeply excited, she climbed out of the bus.
A Maori girl about her own age walked quickly towards her. Mahu looked at her clothes and pretty face. She wore those tight black Matador trousers, which Mahu had heard so much about, low heeled pumps, yellow sockettes and a bright lemon sweater. Her hair was pulled around into a ‘horse tail’.
“Hello,” she said, “my name is Pani. Are you Mahu Herewini?”
“Yes,” was all Mahu managed to say.
“Good, then come with me. You are staying at our Hostel. You've never been to the city before, eh? Well you'll like it here, just wait until you meet the rest of the gang. We'll get you some clothes, and then we'll show you what fun is. The kids are just dying to meet you. We always …”
So the country girl had come to the city. The Big City, the New City, the Pakeha City.
During the first week Mahu made preparations for her University Study. She visited a Library and selected the necessary books suggested by Mr Crane, to aid her in Anthropology. She had refused Pani's offer to “do” the town as they called it, until she was properly settled in.
At University Mahu met many strange people. She was amazed at the number of Maoris in Auckland, and pleased that there were several at Varsity. She attended morning lectures, made notes and studied hard at Anthropology. As a result of an interview with the University committee, she was now studying Psychology, and Maori studies in conjunction with Anthropology in preparation for an Arts Degree. In the afternoons she would take her notes home to study at the hostel.
Often, sitting at her little desk in her room, Mahu would dream of life back home at the village. She would look at her watch, and imagine what her family would be doing at that moment. Dear memories flooded her mind.
Dad would be at the hotel now, drinking beer with Uncle Riki, Nana would be home squatting in the corner of her room mending a net, or plaiting a mat for the front porch; and Peni would be eeling with his new spear, which he made from my old kumara hoe. Peni loved eeling. Kina would be down the street riding his Pakeha friend's horse, or fighting with the Tawhiti kids next door. And Mum? Mum would be home cooking tea and cleaning up before everybody walked in!
How Mahu missed her old home.
There were twenty girls at the “Manurima Hostel” although she was the only University student. She was sharing a room with Makere Mason, a pretty South Islander, who worked in a Department store in Queen Street.
At night the girls were often out. Although several times Pani and Makere tried to take Mahu with them, she had refused on the grounds that she had to study. However, Makere informed her that a Maori concert party was performing in the town hall and asked if she would like to go along with the rest of the gang. Now Maori culture was something dear to Mahu, as she had been the club leader back home, so she could do little but accept the invitation.
There were ten in their so called gang, and Mahu made the eleventh. Six of these were boys from the Auckland Preston apprentice agency, who arrived in two cars at the hostel at seven.
Mahu wore a dark skirt and the pink jersey her father had brought her, and she combed her hair back in the manner Makere had shown her. After introductions to the boys, she was crammed into one of the cars and they all drove off down town. Only one boy was a Maori, and his name was Bob. Mahu liked Bob because of his easy going good nature, and she spent most of the evening with him.
The concert party was good, although Mahu had seen many better, and knew much more about such culture than her friends. After the concert, the gang decided they would go to a party and asked Mahu if she would accompany them.
“No, I would rather not, thank you,” came the innocent reply, “I have an exam in the morning.”
“Oh come on,” Bob urged, “I'll get you home at a reasonable time.”
“But I really shouldn't—”
The party was a success. Mahu learned to smoke and drink, and arrived at the hostel happy and full of fun.
The next day, after the exam, Mahu Herewini knew that she had failed, even before the results were out. She hadn't been able to think clearly. Why had she gone to that party?
“Well,” she told herself, “never again.”
From now on she would steer clear of Pani, Makere, nice-looking Bob and their parties. She had to work! Work for her parents, work for Nana, for her brothers. Work so that they would be proud of her; proud to be the family of Mahu Herewini.
But it was hard working while the others went out. She would often hear the boys' laughter as they called for the girls in the evening, then before they all left, they would ask her again to go out. She still smoked, however, for she believed it brought relief from the tension of constant study.
Then one day, Bob asked Mahu to the pictures. She had refused, but then he asked if he could stay with her at the Hostel for a while. Since men were not allowed inside the hostel, Mahu suggested a walk.
That was the beginning. Bob called again later in the week, and again in the weekend, and soon they were “going steady”. Mahu forced herself all day to decline Bob's offer in the evening, but when the phone rang, it was always “Yes, Bob.” They went to dances, pictures, parties, midnight swims, everywhere. Her night activities grew, and her day studies?
Mahu could feel herself losing. She knew she was failing. There seemed no more will-power left. No urge to work, no inspiration. In her letters home she felt she was lying to her people, and living the life of a hypocrite. So what did she do about it? What would anyone else do? It was easy to choose dances and parties before study; and anyway what good would Anthropology do her, and why should she take Maori studies when she could already speak the language fluently? Hardly anybody in Auckland could understand her, anyway.
So ended the ambition of the Herewini family. Mahu left Varsity and found a job at the Department Store with Makere. There was no study involved and the work was easy, but more important, she and Bob could date almost every night.
Then one day Mahu received a shock. She saw someone whom she had dreaded meeting. Jimmy, the boy from the village. He had changed his dress to the city style and his hair was longer, but apart from that, he was the same. Jimmy caught her eye, and although surprised that she should be working in the store, began walking towards her.
Mahu trembled. Jimmy would be ashamed of her. She remembered the bus trip, and their plans to work for a social position and become Maori leaders. She had failed. What would he say to her?
She looked fearfully at the smiling face. “Tena Koe, Hemi.”
He started hard at her pretty face. She could feel his eyes penetrating her shallow mind. She shrank back. He was ashamed. What would he say? After all her ambitions to become a leading Maori, she was nothing. Then she was sorry. She wished she had been true and honest with her promises and withheld her ambitions like Jimmy did, and mastered the Pakeha world. But hold, he was going to speak.
“Hi, Mahu, come to a party tonight.”
NEWS IN BRIEF….
MAORI CANOE DISCOVERED
An old Maori trading canoe, a link with the early days of Rawene, is to be mounted in the main street of Rawene. Found in the Waima River, the totara canoe is believed to be 200 years old. It will be restored by Maori craftsmen and mounted on a base with a plaque giving its history.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
THE SMALLEST BOOK
The smallest book ever published in New Zealand has just been printed by the well-known New Zealand publishers, A. H. and A. W. Reed. It is Reed's Lilliput Maori dictionary, which weighs only an ounce, is 1 ½ inches high and one inch wide and half an inch thick. It contains 576 pages of legible print. It was printed for Reeds in Germany.
THE POHUTUKAWA TREE IN WALES
Towards the end of 1960, The Pohutukawa Tree, by Bruce Mason, was presented by the Theatr Fach (Little Theatre) of Llangefni, Anglesey, Wales. The producer, Mr F. G. Fisher, saw the play on BBC Television and decided to put it on in the small Welsh village. Not knowing what a pohutukawa looked like, Mr Fisher sent his designer some 300 miles to Kew Gardens, London, where there was one. The designer returned with a sprig which he said fell to the ground as he was passing! From this sprig, Mr Fisher built a complete tree, flowers and all. For the Maori waiata in the wedding scene, Mr Fisher took a 13th century Welsh lament, changed some of the vowels and asked a Welsh composer to set it in a primitive idiom. The result was an interesting combination of Welsh and Maori. It is understood that the play will be taken on a Welsh provincial tour during 1961.
POETRY OF THE MAORI
Mr Mitcalfe, a New Zealand writer of growing reputation, is a teacher at Kaitaia College. In the last few years. he has learned Maori and made some excellent translations of Maori verse. Here are some of them.
The Missionary, generally a conventional middle-class Victorian, found the Polynesian, as often as not, in a state of naked splendour. Sex in the South Seas was still a natural act, not yet an obsession. But the tapu-haunted mind of the missionary found such nakedness profane and clothed it in the “Mother Hubbard”—never had the mote in the eye of the beholderachieved such size and shapelessness. Polynesian bodies, once dried by the wind and the sun, now mouldered in Victorian damp. Consumption wore clothes—but so long as consumption wore clothes, it did not matter.
In the same way with Maori poetry, the aim was not to preserve the body but to clothe it decently. As the Maori poet personified nature and invariably used the physical image for the abstract thought, the Victorian method of translation was to avert the eyes and tiptoe delicately around the original.
But to give the first-comers credit, they translated true to their own light and preserved much that might otherwise be lost entirely. The fact of the matter is that one can no more translate, say, the Maori haka or ngeri1 into drawing-room English than transcribe Lady Chatterley's Lover into Bible-class tract. Such notable Maori scholars as Elsdon Best and Percy Smith, recognising this difficulty, often merely recorded the Maori form, and let it go at that.
There was another way for the poet, or for the scholar without poetic pretensions, to evade the “gross image and coarse inference”2 of the Maori, and that was to go to the probable source of the poem, to the historical setting and there to recreate the Maori original in conventional and acceptable English. This type of historical reconstruction had its uses, in the same way as a study of say, Chaucer's life helps in the understanding of his work. But to attempt a rewriting of Chaucer from our limited knowledge of his circumstances would be presumptuous to say the least. Yet Maori poetry has suffered such liberties that much of the original growth has been encysted in dead tissue, or cut completely out, as if it were a cancer. Yet the spirit and style of the Maori original—vivid, direct and simple—is more closely tuned to the modern ear than the misty romanticism of their Victorian and post-Victorian translators.
Naturally, with the curtains down, some misconceptions about Maori poetry have arisen. It has been argued that the Maori cannot think abstractly, possibly because he had only natural and personal phenomena from which to draw his metaphor and lacked the rich artifactual sources of imagery available to the modern poet. The Maori therefore adapted the physical image in nature to a wide range of uses. Both Maori poetry and religion endowed natural objects with life, and personalizing the inhuman, came to grips with death and the inanimate. This thought involved a high degree of abstraction: the very use of image implies abstraction.
It has been stated, furthermore, that the poetry and song of the Maori leans so heavily on historical allusion that it becomes almost meaningless in translation. Although this might be true of a few karakia or chants, it would be fairer to say that it is the average Maori translator who has rested so heavily on the historical source that he makes the poem almost incomprehensible.
These few translations are intended simply to introduce the cultural achievements of the ancient Maori to an audience more aware of Milton, Pope and Wordsworth than af Matangi-Hauroa,
1 Song of derision.
2 Dr E. Dieffenbach: “Maori Culture in New Zealand,” 1886.
Puhiwahine and Turaukawa. Yet both translations belong in this country.
Although Maori waiata (and carving) represent the highest evolution of Polynesian art, we have chosen to build almost entirely on one culture, as if the Maori had nothing to offer. For the Maori generally, the result has been the loss of his own traditions, good and bad alike, a loss that European culture has not yet made good. For the European, the loss has been in terms of wisdom and understanding. For instance, there is much in Maori waiata that has value as poetry, regardless of race or language.
It is significant that the few waiata worth translating that come directly from living sources are from the three great centres of culture, where European techniques and Maori traditions have been integrated through the personality of past leaders: I refer to Parihaka, based on Te Whiti's doctrines of a Maori, Christian communal life; to the Waikato, where the King movement integrates Maori tradition and European political organizations; to Ngati-Porou and Rongo-Whakata, of the East Coast, where Ngata first gave the Maori communal idea a form and framework in co-operative farming schemes. I regret I can make no mention of Ratana. It is a movement of more recent origin, looking toward the future rather than the Maori past and working through pakeha religious and political forms.
Most of the waiata have been published before, at least in the original Maori. I feel that work of great value can still be done, not so much in original research, as in sifting through the somewhat disordered middens of earlier research works in the Maori field.
A Farewell for an Enemy
This taunt was sung to the dried head set on a stake of one of the chiefs of Ngati-Ira, the original tribe of Wellington-Hutt Valley, displaced by Ngati-Tamara in the 1820's.
The word kata refers to the way the lips were drawn back so as to expose the teeth, giving the dried head a grinning aspect. I am indebted to The New Zealanders, London, 1830, for the following recipe for dried head: “The skull is first emptied of its contents, the eyes and tongue being likewise extracted; after which the nostrils and entire inside of the skull are stuffed with flax. At the neck, where the head has been cut from the body … draw the skin together like the mouth of a purse, leaving, however, an open space large enough to admit the hand … then wrap it up in a quantity of green leaves, and in this state expose it to the fire until it is well steamed; after which the leaves are taken off, and it is next hung up to dry in the smoke, which causes the flesh to become tough and hard. Both the hair and teeth are preserved, and the tattooing on the face remains as plain as when the person was alive. The head, when thus cured, will keep for ever, if it be preserved dry….” pp. 219–220.
With the coming of the pakeha, dried heads acquired a new value, in terms of trade. No slave or inferior person was safe. After the tattooing chisels came the axe; the industry could not keep up with the demand; dried heads were, on occasion, sold “on the hoof”. For instance, Marsden records in his Journal that having displayed an interest in the process, he was offered several still breathing heads by Pomare, but this free homedemonstration was not to Marsden's taste.
Haere ra, ho a Riri
Haere ra, e koro e
I tou tira ko koe anake,
Kia wakairia koe
I runga o Waiwhetu.
Ae kata ra, e koro e,
Kei hoki wawe o koutou waewae.
Kore nei aku toto
Te inu mai ai koe.
Kua pakihi au
I hui ou rangi ra-i.
Tenui tou roro,
Ko te kowhatu e tu ki te ahi-kai;
Kia rekaiho ai
Taku kainga iho-e.
Mawai e ranga
Tou mate i te ao?
Me te po tu mai
I runga o Tirohanga?
Ma te po taka mai
I runga o Kaihinu?
A engari ra ia.
Tenei, e Hika-e.
Farewell to an Enemy
Farewell, noble sir,
Where are your friends?
Let them all see you
Standing over Waiwhetu.
Bare your lips, sir.
Well may you grin,
But be careful, lest your feel
Bring you back too soon.
I have no more blood
For you to drink.
I am done, I can no longer
Honour your great name.
Would this cooking-stone
Were your brain—
I would eat it,
And it would taste good, sir.
Who will mourn
Who will sing your fame
To the world?
Perhaps the mist that sits
on Tirohanga,
Perhaps the mist
Gathering on Kaihinu.
Yes. Better leave it at that. sir.
He Waiata Mo Te Moe Punarua
The Song of the First Wife
Prytz Johansen (The Maori and his Religion, Copenhagen, 1954) describes the Maori attitude towards love as a mate or weakening and characterizes its expression in waiata as foreful and passionate, as if love itself were an outrage against personal integrity. He views the Maori love-song as an expression of love unrequited or betrayed (pp. 229 and 252) but I don't think this is peculiar to the Maori.
Amongst the Maori aristocracy, the loss of status involved in an unsuccessful love-affair could be restored possibly by a waiata such as this (Nga Moteatea, Nos. 9, 22, 35, 62, 62a and others) or by another love-affair, or by suicide (Maning, Old New Zealand, pp. 162, 206, 208).
This song has been recorded in its original style and form by Te Hati. The recording is now in the Dominion Museum.
The composer, Matahira, was senior wife of Te Kotiri. As a rangatira, Te Kotiri could afford to take another woman. He married the girl, Te Whioroa. This, then, was Matahira's complaint.
E roto i ahau e whanawhana noa ra;
Te mokai puku nei nana rawa i tekateka,
Roha noa i te hiwi ki Wharerewa ra ia.
He haonga no roto ki tona tane ra ia—
O nga raro ra e ko taua anake.
He mea te ngakau ka puia me he ao.
Ke maanu i ahau he rimu kai te awa.
He atua te tane whakaako i te itinga,
He turaki he wawae i a maua nei.
He pito kaingakau naku ki a koe.
Kei te rurenga mai ko ia tonu tena.
Katahi nei te hore o te hanga punarua;
Ko ana tanguru mai ki tona tokatoranga,
Ko te whiti, ko te wara ka tae mai ki ahau
Auaka, e Mare, a kohuraia mai,
Nau te waka nei te whakahau ki te awa.
Ka hiko taku manako ki te hori ki waho ra,
Kia whakatomokia te hahanga kikino nei.
Ko au ka uhupoho ki oku moenga,
E kimia mai nei e te tane atua,
Ngaru ana ra te taringa whakaronga, e!
Within me, thrusting endlessly
Against the belly that betrayed me—
Swollen now like Wharewera Hill—
There's a little thing that would see
If you are his father still.
Let the wind blow, let the river flow,
Am I cloud or water-weed, to go where they go?
You were a God and I but a child,
Now having used me, you cast me aside,
This little thing I gave, you deride,
Am I worthless, thus to be denied?
O the misery of the two-wived beast,
For me, a famine, for him, a feast;
And I, the host, was least
While he, the guest, complained the most.
But when you turned from me
I burned the more fiercely—
O Mare, do not tease me—
This is your canoe, you set it on the sea;
I long to go to you, and yet
There are better men who seek my bed.
I will be more careful who comes in your stead,
Ears flap, but nothing will be said.
Lament
by
MATANGI-HAUROA
of
NGATI-RAUKAWA,
MANAWATU-HOROWHENUA
The Maori was not confined to the concepts of time and space; kinship gave his life a third dimension. His dead were always with him, giving form and meaning to all acts and his attitudes. As seems implicit in this waiata, death was simply a doorway between the dead and the living of the one family.
There are indications that this lament is extremely ancient in origin. It is widely known; several tribes claim it as their own. Sir Apirana Ngata and Pei Te Hurinui, who have unravelled and traced some of its threads to their origin, believe it was composed originally by Matangi-Hauroa as a lament for Te Mahunga and a summons to vengeance, then adapted by various tribes for various purposes.
This song is known on every marae in the land. Thus many different versions of it have arisen and several tribes lay claim to its authorship. Names of places and of people indicate that it was originally by Matangi-Hauroa of Ngati-Toa after the death of Te Mahunga up the Whanganui River.
I have replaced several of the proper-names in the lament with their English equivalents.
Takoto rawa iho ki te po,
E huihui ana mai o tatou wairua,
Kia piri, kia tata mai ki taku taha.
Matatu tonu ake, ka maranga kei runga,
Whitirere ki te ao, tirotiro kau au;
A, me he wairua atua te tarehutanga iho,
E te manawa i raro kapakapa tu kei runga!
Homai he mata kia haea ki taku kiri;
Taku kiri tirohanga mai nei e aku tamariki nei.
Mauria atu ra, e Whero,
Aku toto, aku tahe, aku parapara tapu;
Kia kite mai koutou ko ahau ra tena.
E kimi ana i te ara,
I haere ai taku pokai tara ki te tonga;
Tena ka paea nga hiwi maunga ki a Ngati-Hau,
Ko te rongo pai tena i a koutou;
He rongo toa mai, hau ana ki te tahatu o te rangi.
Te puta to rongo toa, ka pehia mai e Whanganui;
He toa e whaiatia ko te potiki na Tuwhakairihau.
Kia ata whakaputa;
Tena ano ra nga tamariki toa na Rakamaomao
Kei te rangi e haere ana; na Motai-tangata-rau,
Takahia atu ra nga tuaone kei Matahiwi ra!
Ko to tinana i noho atu;
Ko to rongo i tuku mai
I wani mai runga o nga maunga;
Tae rawa mai ki ahau e noho atu nei i te kainga
I lie in darkness, as the dead shades gather,
Feeling you here, at my side—
I turn to greet you, reach out to grasp
A world of nothing, no one, nowhere.
You passed like a shadow in the night—
Lie still, my aching heart.
Let the sharp blades gouge me.
Let the children see.
Take it, Whero, blood, strength, spirit—
I walk the path of our fathers.
They speak well of the way you died,
Your courage cries to the empty skies.
You were caught in Whanganui's coils.
Remember, watch the son of Tuwhakairihau;
Beware, there are other sons of Rakamaomao there;
Motai's hundred sons lie in wait.
Walk their beaches, scorn them—
Your body lies here.
Your name will live
In this place and perhaps
In this poor house of proverbs here.
THE CREATION OF WOMAN
This is one version of an old karakia (chant) recorded by John White in his much plundered, but little acknowledged “Ancient History of the Maori” (Vol. 1 Puoko XI, p. 144). Other tribal versions appear in “Maori Religion and Mythology”, Best, p. 79; “Nga Moteatea”, Grey, p. 177; “Lore of the Whare Whananga”, Smith, vol. 1, p. 38.
Tane, after he begat Hine-mana-hiri from the earth-mother, took Hine as his wife. When Hine discovered that Tane, her husband, was also her father, she fled away in shame to the underworld and there remained as Hine-nui-te-po. Now all her children go down to live with her in the place of death and darkness.
In Maori mythology, it is always the woman who brings death into the world. Besides this particular story of the creation of women, there are other songs and stories, more symbolic of the sexual act, in which man dies in woman (“Lore of the Whare Wananga”, vol. 1, p. 37; “Maori Religion and Mythology”, p. 76).
Except for certain circumstances (e.g. menstruation, birth) and certain types of woman (puhi, ruahine), woman was considered by the Maori to be noa (common). Man was tapu; his very name, Tane, represents the life-principle; his sacred life could not be tainted with the aroma of cooking or the thousand and one menial tasks of women and slaves.
Yet to be “noa” had certain peculiar advantages. It gave women and girls greater spontaneity and freedom in all their actions. They could— and generally did—take the initiative in love-affairs. In some ways the Maori division of man and woman, with some exceptions, as tapu and noa was simply a reflection of the complementary roles of the male and female in all societies.
Te Hanganga o Te Wahine
E aha, i taia te huakina,
He atu to e a,
He ata marama.
No te ata tenei tauira;
Kai te kuku nui tanga
Mai i Hawaiki;
Kai te whaka ringaringa
Mai i Hawaiki.
Tuturi mai i roto,
Pepeke mai i roto,
Tiki matua.
Ka whai ringaringa mai i roto;
Tiki matua, tuturi tanga,
Pepeketanga; he o kai tangi
He wharorotanga.
Tiki; ka riri Tiki,
Tiki, ka reka Tiki.
Tuturu te waikura nui no Rangi.
Uaki te whaitoka nui no Papa.
Putauhinu ki waho ko Hine-mana-hirt.
The Creation of Woman
Ha! It leaps into life
It is first light
It is bright morning
Out of dawn comes the disciple.
The people of Hawaiki
Drawn in
Like the clenching of a hand
On Hawaiki.
Crouched within
Knees drawn up
Tiki, the spring—
Hands, take shape
Tiki, the source, the kneeling one
Knees drawn up
Feed me, he cries,
And stretches
Bold Tiki!
Soft Tiki!
Red rain falls from the skies
Open the great womb of the earth
Come forth! It is the daughter!
The stranger, Hine-mana-hiri!
Te Aohuruhuru
This song is based on the story of Te Aohuruhuru, from Sir George Grey's “Nga Mahi a Nga Tupuna.”
Rarawa Kerehoma, an authority on the history of his own Northern people, has only this year turned his hand to song-writing.
Te Aohuruhuru, tamahine ataahua, he koroheke tona hoa
Moe iho ite po i te taha ote ahi
Kowata wata ana nga uru, mawhatu ite hana ote ahi
Ko taua pakikau kua pahuhu ki raro
Whakaara hia nga kaumatua
Ka mataki taki, i tona tinana
Ngangana ana, ko tona kiri karengo kau ana.
Oho ake ia, e matakitaki ana te tini koroheke
Rere ana ia kite kokonga
Tangi ai ao noa te ra.
Awatea ake, ka hoe ki waho hi ai
I waho atu ite toka mutunga
Ka tahuri, kite tatau, ka heru, kia tia
Kite raukura, he huia, he kotuku,
Ka whakatika, pike atu, kite toka i waho rawa
Ka tatari, ia ratou
I hakurara iara
U mai ka rongo ite waiata
Ahu mai ite toka i waho rawa
Naku ra i moe tuwherawhera
Ka tahuna ki te ahi
Kia tino turama
A ka kataina a au ra.
Mataaho mai ano ki nga taringa
Tenei au te haere atu nei
Kaiangi mai, ka rere i te pari
Tau atu! tau atu! tau atu!
Tahuri ke ratou, pawere noa te ngakau.
Te Aohuruhuru, a young woman, married an old man
Slept one night by the firelight
Tossed and turned from the heat
And her cloak slipped aside.
Her husband woke the other old men
And they all sat and watched her body
Moving by the light of the fire
But she woke and when she saw the many eyes
Gleaming in all the corners
She fled and hid from them all.
Next day the old men went fishing
Out beyond the last rock
She came back and dressed herself
As if for a wedding
And she went out to the last rock
And waited for the old men
Whose eyes had feasted in the night.
When they came they heard her singing
From the rock high over their heads
If I cast my clothes aside
It was the heat of the fire
Not your love that woke me.
Shame burns like a fire in me
Only the ashes of our love remain.
Take me, I am yours.
Arms outflung, she fell
Her fine clothes fluttered
Caught the light and there
Her body lay, open to their eyes
But they would not look.
THE ART OF ADZING
As taught by Eramiha Kapua, of Ngati Tarawhai, Te Arawa, to students of the
Maori Arts and Crafts School, Rotorua
PART 2
The different types and methods of adzing: (a) The “Ara Haratua”, (b) Ngaotu and Ngaopae, (c) Poke, Poka and Ta.
7. (a) The “Ara Haratua”. The straight line or straight edge. When this stage begins in the learning period, the pupil really starts to learn how to handle and master his adze. The ara haratua is really the striking of a line either on the edge of the timber or on the centre. This can be achieved by two methods, one, working with the grain, and two, working against the grain. This is a very difficult cut to achieve, for the slightest miscut will reveal a flaw. However it is one where the learner gains further progress or otherwise, because of his previous exercises. A demonstration by an expert is very necessary.
(b) Ngaotu and Ngaopae. These two types of adzing are really the same, ngaotu being the progress of the adzing straight across the grain and timber, while ngaopae is that running across and diagonally on the timber. The former is used for straight and clean-grained timber, the latter for stringy, crisscross and knotted timber. But in both methods of adzing, the cuts by the adze are laid out in a pattern, width and spacing of adzing in perfect array, row upon row. Its achievement is gained by a learner only after months of adzing.
(e) Poke, Poka and Ta. Poke and poka are adzing terms applied to digging in and obtaining relief in carving, and ta, the meeting point of the adzing where the chips are finally released. These methods of adzing, the cuts by the adze are laid when figure adzing is described. The grain and easy cutting of the totara is experienced by the learner, but further holding cutting and eye concentration are essential to obtain desirable results.
Ka tutaki au ki a Eramiha Kapua i Te Teko.
No te 10 o nga ra o Hanuere 1930, ka hoki au ki Rotorua ki te Kura Whakairo. Ka tae atu au ki Te Teko, ka ui au ki te kainga o Eramihi, a haere tonu atu au na raro ki reira. Tae atu au e miraka kau ana a ia, ko au tena ki te awhina, me te ki atu, waiho taku take mo muri kia paenga tenei mahi, ka korero ai maua. Ka ki mai me moe au ki a raua ko taria kuia, ka whakae atu au, ka karanga atu ki tana kuia he manuhiri ta raua, ka moe iho ki a raua. Ka mutu ta maua miraka, wehe i te kirimi, whangai i nga poaka, ka ahu maua ki to raua whare, ko tana kuia hoki e nau mai ana. Ka hongi maua ka ki atu au no Ngatiporou au, taku ingoa, a e ahu ana au ki Rotorua, ki te kura whakairo, a peka mai nei kia kite, kia korero hoki ki a Eramiha i tetahi take nui e manakohia ana e nga kaiwhakahaere o te Kura Whakairo, a ko au ta ratau karere, he tangata hoki e ako ana ki te whakairo. Ka ki a Eramiha me waiho nga korero mo te po, kia mutu te kai me te karakia. Po rawa ake kua ki to raua whare-puni i o raua whanaunga e tata mai ana, na raua i karanga atu. He Ringatu te iwi nei, a mutu rawa te karakia, katahi ano a Eramiha ka manaaki i au.
He tohunga ki te korero, ki te whakatakoto i te kupu i te whakaaro, a ka mutu ana manaaki ka patai, he aha rawa ra te tino take o taku haere ki a ia, a he karere no te Poari Whakairo a tuarua he aha te wahi ka taea e ia e te kaumatua, kati, ka whanga ia mo taku whakautu. Muri iho ka tu mai te iwi ki te manaaki i au pera ano te wai o nga korero i ta Eramiha. Ka tu atu hoki au ki te whakautu. Ka mutu aku mini atu ki a ratau katoa, ka timatatia e au aku korero mai i te wa i whakaturia ai he kura mo te iwi Maori
8. Preliminary adzing prior to carving: (a) Split Timber. (b) Milled Timber.
There are two types of totara timber used in carving. The first is that where milling is impracticable, and to obtain length, width and thickness, the timber is cut into lengths and opened by blasting or by wedges in half. By careful use of wedges, the width and thickness is obtained. This slab of totara is not square, but it has one pleasing feature and that is its greater resistance to opening up or developing cracks during its drying stages, than a squared slab cut by a saw at a mill. The reason for this is in the case of the former, the grain is intact; in the latter, the grain has been disrupted.
(a) Split Timber. First, the learner will note that it will not lie squarely on the floor; the corner of one end is up and the same with the vertically opposite corner at the other end—in other words it wobbles lengthwise and across. A good way to obtain quick results is to mark out the maximum space of the wobble at the corners, steady the slab, and draw a line right round the ends and sides of the slab, and then adze down to the marks. This adzing is known also as ara haratua. It is of the greatest importance to know the right side of the slab to carve on, so before drawing a line on the sides, look at the ends and you will locate radiating lines; these are the annual rings. If they work up and outwards then go ahead and draw your line, if downwards then turn your slab before drawing. There is a reason for this. By carving on the outer surface, you further minimise the cracking or opening of the surface of your carving, but when you carve on the inner surface this tends to increase the openings on the carved areas particularly the bulky rounded forehead, shoulders and body, all being in high relief.
Let me quote Eramiha. “Kaua e whakairo e taraitia ki runga ki te puku o te totara, e ngari hei runga i te tuara, ka ngawha hoki te puku, engari te tuara, toitu tonu.” “Do not shape your carvings by adzing on the stomach or inside of the annual rings, but do so on the back or outside
hei ako ki nga taonga mahi a ringaringa a te Maori, te whakairo, te tukutuku, te kowhaiwhai, mo nga tau tuatahi, a muri iho ko era mahi a te wahine. Na Te Arawa i ki hei Rotorua te kura, kei a ia hoki nga tohunga mohio ki te whakairo hei ako i nga tamariki tane o te motu ina kowhiria. Kua whakaeke o Waikato, a ko au to Ngatiporou a kua rua tau te kura e whakairo ana. I Tihema o tera tau ka tae mai a Apirana ki te kura kia kite i a matau, i a matau whakairo hoki mo te whare o Wiremu Potae o Ngatiporou. Ka korero au mo tana titiro ki a matau whakatu i te whakairo, a ka whakahau ia i au kia hoki ki te Tairawhiti ki te rapu i te matauranga o te whiu i te toki kapukapu, hei whaka-atanga mai i te wehi o te whakairo, ka mohio ra au, ka hoki mai ai ki te ako ano i te whakairo, mo katoa ano hoki tenei korero.
Kua tae au ki Ngatiporou, ki ona marae maha hoki, ki te rapu i te taonga nei, kua pataitia e au nga kaumatua o te takiwa mai i te Muriwai tae noa atu ki Raukokore, ko te hua, kua ngaro te mohiotanga i a ratau, engari no Raukokore te korero nana taku tira i mau mai ki konei, ara, “haere ki te Teko kei a Eramiha Kapua te mauri o tenei taonga e pupuri ana. No reira ka korero au ki a Apirana i Poneke i mua atu i taku haerenga mai, ko tana whakahau tenei ki au. “Tikina e koe tenei tangata, 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 kaiarahi 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.”
“No reira Eramiha ko te tumanako tenei o Apirana, tae atu hoki ki a matau katoa, nga tamariki tane o te motu kei Rotorua e tatari mai ana. Me aroha mai koe ki a matau. Kaore e rere te wehi o te whakairo i te purupuru anake, kua tino kite taku hinengaro me aku kanohi i nga whakairo o te Tairawhiti, poka ke te kororia o nga whakairo na te kapukapu nana i waihanga i
of the annual rings, the stomach or inside will contract, the back or outside stays permanent.”
Having thus inscribed the lines, turn the slab over, secure it by blocks, take your upper garments off, for now the learner begins to appreciate the handling and use of an adze. Check up on the following points: Is the handle correctly fitted and firm, the cutting edge sharp, your boots lightly laced up, your belt fixed at the correct hole, your brain and muscles in tip-top order? Then start by cutting down to the inscribed lines and adze along the edge your ara haratua, with the block of the adze against the grain and the adze applied at an angle. From one end to the other you will come across light and heavy adzing, uncut chips will accompany you all the way, big and small—you've had experience before with them, and pride and exhilaration flow through you as you confidently deal with them. You repeat the same operation on the other side and when you have finished that, you will then proceed to count the number of cuts of each side and compare the results. Say the slab is ten feet long and your adze four inches wide; if you are a learner with about 160 hours of adzing to your credit or four weeks, then the cuts should average 40 to 60 per side, but if you had 6 months' teaching, then the cuts will average between 25 and 30. I have done this in 20 cuts a side in my normal adzing time.
Having outlined the ara haratua, the next step is to adze right across from edge to edge, allowing in the process the centre of the slab to sink down about an inch. A straight piece of timber laid across will help to judge this. This hollowed effect is to allow the slab to fit snugly on to the wall later.
You will next proceed to apply the ngaotu and ngaopae method of adzing—chips wide, long, thin, of all shapes and sizes, will now appear; you will be instructed to form a pattern of adzing, and if your rating is 50 cuts for a length of 10 feet, go ahead and produce 50 series of regular and uniform patterns across the slab throughout the whole length. It is during this preliminary adzing that you will appreciate the first lessons, the holding and swinging, the ease with which the chips fly out and how the grain of the totara runs, thus making adzing easy. Now turn the slab over and you are now ready for the final preparation of the area to be carved. You will note the square sit of the slab on the floor and it is at this stage the expert will instruct the learners how to eliminate all waste timber, thus paving the way for easy working of the different sections of the figure to be carved. Having finished this part of the adzing, the exact width is marked out and adzed and planed to the marks.
(1) First, a centre line is marked out throughout the length of the slab, then lines are drawn about one to two inches from the floor line, thus indicating the death of the carved relief.
(2) Secondly, an arc is drawn at the ends to illustrate the extent of the timber to be adzed
nga whakairo na te purupuru nana i karokaro, nana i manihi. Ma te tohunga anake te mea tuatahi, ka taea e te kuare te mea tuarua, a, kei te whakairo tuarua tonu nei matau inaianei, a. ki te kore he kai-ako ki te mau kapukapu, kaori te kura whakairo o te iwi Maori e haere whakarmua, engari ka noho tonu i kona karokaro ai, rapirapi ai. Ka hara mai korua ko te kuia, ka haere tatau ki te karanga a Apirana me nga tamariki tane wahine hoki o te iwi Maori. Ma maua ko Apirana, tae atu hoki ki nga tamariki tane wahine o te motu korua e atawhai, i Rotorua, a, tae atu ki nga marae maha o te iwi Maori e karanga whare whakairo mai nei mo ratau. Ano tenei tono ki a korua, ka mate atu korua ki nga marae maha o te iwi Maori, ina hoki te kaupapahaaro o nga whare a Ngata e korero nei a ia, huri noa te motu, me te Waipounamu. Kua tae taku wahine i tenei po ki Rotorua, kei te whakamahana mai i te kainga mo kurua, kei te taha tonu o to maua. Hara mai e hika ma tatau ko haere ki te motu ki te awhina i a Apirana ki te hanga hou i te iwi Maori kia tu poupou, ai i te taha o te Pakeha, ki te waihanga hoki i ona taonga hei pupuri i to tatau Maoritanga,” ka mutu ka timata au i taku waiata: “To toki e hika.” A, kaore i roa ka tu mai ratau ka hapainga te waiata nei tae noa ki tona mutunga. Te mutunga ka mihi atu au, kua mene atu aku korero i whakaarohia e au, ka noho au.
Ka whakae a Erumiha Kapua ki te ako i roto i te Kura Whakairo.
Noho ana au ka tu mai tetahi o nga whanaunga o Eramiha, ka mihi mai mo aku korero, me taku
off. To guide the learner further, lines are drawn on either side of the centre line, two inches away, from which the learner is shown the best way of cutting away the timber. The slab is then raised to a convenient height off the floor, six inches being the usual, making sure it does not wobble.
(3) Thirdly, the expert stands at the left edge of the slab and starts to adze from the line drawn next to the centre line, all the timber indicated by the arc at the end, towards the line marked for the carving relief, maintaining the width of cut from top to edge. He will proceed like this along the length for about a foot, then he is confronted by too much timber that sometimes does not break off conveniently. This always happens. So by quick cuts of his adze at right angles, and about six inches away, the chips and timber are easily broken off. The cut thus used to obtain this release is the poka. After a demonstration of about three feet, the pupils then begin to try their hand.
The elevated position of the slab is soon appreciated, for this allows natural and free adzing movements; there is hardly any stooping, the feet are better braced to carry the swaying body, and the arms rise and fall naturally, and physical fatigue is reduced by the flying chips and every increasing pattern of the ngaotu stage by stage. It is a remarkable fact that at this stage of the learner's period of adzing, his eyes are particularly quick to detect any variations in the depths of his adzing, whether digging in too deeply or
kaupapa ki a Eramiha raua ko tana kuia. Katahi ka huri ana korero ki te tokorua nei. “E Miha, e Wai, ina tenei taonga kua homai nei e to tatau matua e Ngata ki a korua. Titiro atu tatau ki tana kaupapa kua whakaaturia mai nei e tana karere. Ahakoa i roto i to korua kaumatuatanga, e Miha, horahia nga taonga kei a koe. Tuatahi ki nga tamariki tane o te iwi Maori, te mau kapukapu, te whakairo, te waiata, te haka, te patere, te tu marae. Tuarua, te kaupapa o te Maoritanga ki nga marae maha o te iwi Maori. E Wai, pera ano koe, akona nga wahine ki nga taonga hei uhi, hei whariki i nga whare ka hanga nei e to tatau matua e Api. Hara mai haere korua, hei ringa, hei reo, hei kanohi mona ki tena iwi, ki tena iwi. Kaua e maharahara ki muri nei.” Ka mutu ana mihi, ka tu mai hoki tena tena o ratau a mene katoa ratau ki te maioha atu ki a Eramiha raua ko tana kuia ko te Wairata pera me ta te kai-korero tuatahi, apiti atu hoki ki te whakaaro o tena o tena o ratau. Ka mutu ratau ka tu a Eramiha ki runga ka waiata i tana oriori ka tu katoe hoki te whare: “Popo e tangi ana a Tama ki te kai mana.”
Ka waenganuitia te hari a ratau i te oriori nei, ka maringi mai ki roto ki au tetahi wairua hou, te koa, te hanga reka, te ngakau papaku, me te miharo, pera tonu me ta ratau hiki haere i nga kupu o te oriori, he wana hoki, ano ra, i ia hikinga o ratau reo, ko au tena e tarai ana me taku toki kapukapu, a ko nga maramara o taku taraitanga e makere ana pera me ta ratau hiki haere i te oriori nei. He tino mohio au ki tenei oriori, no te Tairawhiti hoki, engari mai i taua po, te 10 o Hanuere 1930 tae mai ki tenei po 21 o Hune 1959, kaore ano au kia rongo i tetahi ropu kia pai ake i a ratau. No te mea e waiata ana ratau katoa, he tangi he koa, he poroporoaki, he aroha kei roto i o ratau ngakau mo Eramiha raua ko te Wairata. Ka mutu ta ratau waiata, ka ki mai a Eramiha. Ina ka rongo atu nei i te take o to hara mai, apiti ki nga korero a te whanau kua korero mai nei, kei te hari te ngakau mo tenei taonga nui ka homai nei e koe hei whiriwhiri, hei whakaaro maku. Kei te tangi ki nga korero a to tatau matua a Ngata, tae atu hoki ki nga tamariki tane o te motu. Kua he ke nga ra o taku tinana me aku kanohi, engari ia ko te wairua kei te koro ingo tonu, waiho ra me huri ake au ki taku rangatira, mana e whakatau te tono a Apirana ki a maua.” Ka huri ia ki a te Wairata ka ki atu, “E Wai ma taua a whiriwhiri te whakautu tika, pono hoki, mo te tono a Ngata, mau e ki kua pu te raha, he oi ra, mau e ki ka haere taua, kua tau ki tena. Homai he korero ki te karere nei, kia wawe te mohio mai a Apirana.” Ka mutu ana korero, ka noho ki raro.
He roa te nohopukutanga o te whare, katahi ano a Te Wairata ka tu ki runga, ka ki, “E hika ma katahi nei te taru kino, ka riro ma te wahine e whakatau tenei tono ataahua a te iwi Maori, a Ngata, a te rangatahi. E Miha na to waiatatanga i te oriori na i a Popo, mohio tonu atu au kua
too lightly and taking notice too of the work and progress of the other learners. When a learner has completed a ten foot long slab from start to finish and it is reasonably done, he shakes off adze shyness, and nervousness, and he will do another slab with confidence and with a will. One of the surprising features of adzing is that at the end of the day there is no body fatigue, and I put this down to the fact that as each section of the work is completed there is a pattern left by the adze worked out in an orderly and regulated manner.
We have now completed the preliminary adzing prior to carving of a non-milled slab, now we will take a milled log and prepare it like the first slab.
The learner will consider the following points: (1) The correct side to carve on. (2) Scribing the edge to indicate the depth of relief in the carving. (3) Adzing out the back. (4) Marking out the centre and guide lines. (5) The actual adzing which follows on the same lines as the previous unmilled slab.
9. The art of shaping a figure in sections
When the learner has acquainted himself with adzing, his next step is adzing out of the different portions of the carving to give the greatest relief possible to those features he or his employers desire. The chisel cannot compare with the adze in finish and symmetrical balance, the lowered slanting eyes, the raised defiant eyebrows, the bold sweep of the head, all three features that enhance and make more prominent the gaping mouth with protruding tongue thrust boldly on to the breast, all these features easily, quickly and smoothly executed by the adze in the hands of an expert, and a learner must go through his paces before he too can do likewise. Once again the learner must watch the expert carefully in all the phases of cutting that he employs, furthered by repeated personal guidance, for not all carved figures are identical in adzing detail.
(a). Adzing the head, eyes, nose and tongue.
After the preliminary adzing, the figure or figures for carving are drawn out on the timber and these are then chiselled in with a v-shaped chisel as a guide for adze and chisel. The carver then starts to form the brow and eye on one side until completed. before starting work on the other side to balance it. He will adze out between the eyebrow and upper lip. If the relief allowed by the timber is six inches, then the adzing is at least three to four inches deep near the centre (i.e. the bridge of the nose) and as it slopes off to the edge it eases up to an inch. The cut employed at the eyebrow is poka, and at the upper lip ngaopae. The area for the eyes, after taking out quite a bit of timber, is then plotted and marked, and, by alternate use of adze and chisel, this is gradually separated from the brow and upper lip.
The greatest concentration of effort and work is that of the eyebrow, and the finished product has a slightly curved result. There is a feeling of satisfaction in doing and completing this part, for
whakae to wairua me to ngakau me haere taua, ahakoa kua koroheke ke taua. Waiho i ta te oriori i korero ai hei whakatau ma taua, Ka haere taua ki te mau i te wai-u mo nga tama maha o te iwi Maori, e tangi mai nei ki te kai ma ratau.” Ka mutu, ka noho.
Katahi ka tangi te titihaoa o roto o te whare, ka tu katoa, ka waiata ano i a Popo. Ki taku mohio tonu i taua wa, kei taku taha katoa aku tipuna mohio ki te mau kapukapu o te Tairawhiti, kua mate noa atu ra, kei taku taha e korero ana mai, awhitia enei kaumatua, akona a puritia ta raua taonga ka homai nei ki a koe, manaakitia, mauria kia kite te iwi Maori. Kei te miharo hoki ki tenei wahine, nana nei te whakaetanga mo taku tono, engari ia i te wa e tatari ana au kia tu ia ki te korero kei te kuku te po i au. Ina koa kei te ngangahu a, roto i au, kua ea taku powaiwai haeretanga i te rohe o Ngatiporou, kua rite ki ta Wiremu Potae i whakahau ra, “Tomokia nga rohe o nga iwi a whiwhi noa koe ki te tohunga mau toki kapukapu;” Kua tomokia te rohe o te waka nei o Mataatua, a kua whiwhi.
Te mutunga o te oriori nei ka mihi katoa matau ki nga tokorua nei, a e hia hoki nga waiata nga patere, i waiatatia, ko tona manaaki hoki tera i nga taonga a taua a te iwi Maori.
Ko Eramiha te whakamutunga ki te korero—ka mihi ia ki tana kuia, ki ona whanaunga, a ki au hoki, katahi ka ki mai. “E tama, ko au no Ngati Tarawhai, no Te Arawa, e tika ana ma Te Wairata maua e tuku i runga i te rangimarie, kaati kua puta mai etahi kupu ataahua mo te tono a Ngata ki a maua. Hoatu ki to taua iwi ki a Te Arawa, he ngahuru tenei, ka paenga ra nga hua o te tau ka whaiti, ka hara mai koe ki te tiki mai i a maua. Te ahua nei mate atu maua ki kona, ina hoki te kaupapahaaro o nga hiahia o nga iwi puta noa, a tae atu ki te Waipounamu. Kaati e pai ana, ko to tatau matua ko Apirana kei te matau ki te arahi i te iwi Maori, kia tipu ai, kia pakari ai i roto i te maru o tana kupu e rangona ake nei i te Maoritanga.
Ka akona matau e Eramiha Kapua i roto i te kura whakairo ki te mau kapukapu. No te wiki tuatahi o Pepuere 1930 ka tae mai te karanga a
the learner will be told that all other portions are much easier to do. Stroke after stroke of the adze is struck, shaving this more or less straight up and down cut, until one is satisfied, or the expert, that the result is good, then the opposite side is to balance and coincide. It often needs a further touch up before the work is done.
When the eyebrows and eyes are finished, the adze and chisel shape off the nose. Similarly with the top of the head, a slight rounding off at the top end of the timber, finished off by marking out the centre position of the topknot with bevelled chisel and adze.
Then follows the deepest adzing on the whole figure, that of bringing into relief the mouth, the tongue, the lower jaw and the shoulders. This adzing is somewhat easier than the previous adzing, for the angle of cutting is not so pronounced. In this adzing the lower jaw is recessed, the tongue cut wedged-shaped on to the chest and the shoulders deeply swept back to the base of the lower jaw. Actually a few strokes bring all parts at once into high relief, and by use of the paring and bevelled chisels, except for deepening the mouth cavity, the whole operation is simple. The ease in obtaining this result, of course, is due to the previous training, and the eyes soon detect and correct any off balance.
(b) The shoulders, arms, hands and body.
Now that the head is completed, the learner will immediately see that, because of the previous adzing, the shoulders, arms and body are almost shaped, only a few cuts at the armpits, at the base of the forearm and downward adzing at the navel to form the body. The final placing of hands and fingers is done with a chisel.
(c) The legs, knees and feet.
Here again no special technique is required, except careful adzing, and if there is to be a figure below the feet then you just do preliminary adzing here and your main concentration will be on top of the head, eyebrows, eyes, mouth and tongue.
Comparison in Output
I have stated at the beginning that it is the normal output of an expert to complete a carved panel 10 feet long 2 feet wide 8 inches thick in 8 days. My own output is one in 5 days or 40 hours. The learner must know this from the very first lesson. As he progresses with his adze on carving, he will be constantly reminded that only those portions of the carvings not covered by surface decorations are to be cleanly adzed, for far too much time is wasted by unecessary adzing. This of course is not discouraged, rather one is weaned off gradually.
The learner will take seven to eight weeks to finish a panel. He will require a year to reduce this down to four weeks, and at the end of two years take two weeks to complete one, and that is an excellent rate of progress. Very few pupils from the Maori School of Arts have attained this standard and those that have are now the leading carvers of the Maori people. By and large, adzing
Eramiha kia tikina atu raua. Kua mohio a Apirana kua whakae a ia ki te ako i a matau, a kua rite te kainga, te taha oranga mo raua tae atu ki te waka tiki i a raua. Ka tae atu au ki tona kainga ka utaina ana taonga, a ka ki mai a ia kei te pa i Kokowhinau, kei roto i a Ruataupare whare whakairo te po poroporoaki i a raua a te iwi, a mo te ata matau ka haere ki Rotorua. Kua mohio katoa nga hapu maha o te Teko e haere ana raua ki te Kura Whakairo i Rotorua ki te ako i nga tamariki tane o te motu ki te mau toki kapukapu hei arahi i te whakatu o te whakairo kia atanga, kia rere te wehi. Te unga atu ki Kokowhinau ki tonu te marae i te iwi e pohiri ana mai i a matau, a ka tuku matau ka whai-korerotia mai au i te tuatahi, a muri iho ki aku kaumatua, kei te tu tonu kei te tangi. Ka mutu nga whakahoki a matau ka hongi, ka haere ki te kai, ka mutu, kai uru ki roto o Ruataupare whare. Tuaki rawa ake te po, ki tonu to matau whare i nga iwi o Matatua. Ka mutu te karakia Ringatu, ka tu te iwi ki te poroporoaki i nga kaumatua nei. Etahi korero ataahua i puta mo raua, a ko taku marama taka mo Pepuere 1930 ki tonu i a ratau kupu mo raua, te pono, te ngakau whakaiti, te hapai i nga mahi a te iwi, te pupuri i te whakapono, to raua matau ki nga waiata, ki nga oriori, ki nga patere, te matau o Eraminha ki te hanga whare, ki tarai waka, ki te whakairo, ki te mahi kai, ki te miraka kau, a to Te Wairata ki nga mahi a te wahine, ki te raranga takapau, kete me era atu mahi. Kaore o ratau awangawanga mo ta raua haere, mo te mea
is merely employed to expedite the cutting to achieve high relief and more rounded and flowing lines of the carved figure. The Maori student excels in adzing, and very few have failed in excellent work, but it is the surface decoration and finish in carving that is so hard to obtain.
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ma Ngata raua e tiaki, a ma te mate rano raua e whakahoki mai, ka haere raua hei matua mo nga tamariki o te iwi Maori. Katahi ka tapaea ki te taonga. No tetahi rangi mai ka haere matau ki Rotorua, ko nga tangata ako ki te whakairo o te Kura e tauwhanga mai ana, a, ka manaaki ratau i nga kaumatua nei. No muri noa mai ka manaakitia raua e nga kaumatua o Te Arawa.
Kaore i ra tahi te whakanohanga o Eramiha ki to raua kainga kua ki mai kua hiahia ia ki te timata ki te ako i a matau. Ka koa katoa matau. Mai i te whakakoi toki tae noa ki nga ara maha o te tarai ki runga porototara, tae noa atu ki te tarai ki runga whakairo, apiti ki nga kupu e tika ana mo tena wahanga mo tena wahanga, ka piki haere ke atu to matau kaingakau ki ta matau mahi, ia ra, ia wiki, ia marama, a ka kite ka mohio hoki au ki taku kuaretanga ki te whakairo.
Ehara a Eramiha i te tangata whakatapu i tana mahi tarai ki runga ki te whakairo, ko te hua, ka tauwhawhainga matau ki te whai o ana tohutohu i ana hanga, a pau rawa ake te tau, i mua i to matau haerenga ki Ngapuhi ki te whakairo i te Tiriti o Waitangi Whare mo te rau tau o Niu Tireni, ka whaikupu a ia ki a Ngata, kua taea e te kura te mau o te toki kapukapu ki runga whakairo, kei te koa ia ki tena ki tena o nga tamariki, haere rawa ake ki runga ki nga iwi ma ratau tonu e ako nga mea e pirangi ana ki te ako. Ka mihi hoki a Apirana ka ki atu, “E Miha ina a taua tamariki, haere koutou ki nga iwi o te motu.”
Tekau tau maua ko Eramiha e mahi tahi ana i runga i nga marae maha o te iwi Maori, a, i roto i ena tau e rua tekau ma wha nga tangata nana i ako no nga iwi katoa o te motu, no Ngapuhi, no Ngatiporou, no Waikato, no Ngakikahungunu, no Ngati Raukawa, no Taranaki, no whanau-a-Apanui. Ko Eremahia te tohunga whakamutanga o te oa tawhito, ka waimarie nei matau, nana hoki i whakaatu te huarahi ki te tarai i te taitea o te rakau kia tu ko taikaka, ki te whakatakoto i te ara haratua, ki te mau haere i te ngaotu i te ngaopae, ki te poka hoki kia tarewa ai te poka o te arero i runga i te whakairo, a haere atu he whare whakairo i runga i te motu ko te ha o tona akonga i a matau e waitohu ana.
Haere e Miha, kei muri nei to taonga e takoto toitu ana i roto i nga ringa o tamariki maha puta noa te motu, engari haere atu korua ko te Wairata me a korua patere, waiata, oriori, whakakoemi, whakangahau i te paopao a te patupatu ki runga i te whao, ko enei a korua taonga kaore i taea e te rangatahi—Haere korua haere.
Pine Taiapa 21.6.59
NOW THE SOUTH ISLAND HAS A FULLY CARVED MAORI MEETING HOUSE
Mr Taylor, well-known to the Maori people, is Public Relations Officer to the Maori Affairs Department.
When The New Maori meeting-house Te Whatu Manawa Maoritanga O Rehua was opened at Christchurch on December 3, the South Islanders showed they knew all about running a Maori hui of this nature. This was despite the fact that it is more than 100 years since a carved Maori meeting-house in traditional style has been erected in the South Island.
The attention to detail, the overall finesse of all the arrangements and the strict observance of Maori ceremonial and traditions showed that the deep significance of the function was fully understood by the organisers who in turn successfully conveyed its meaning to all those present and indeed to the public generally.
It was a splendid combined effort. Maori and pakeha, South Island Maoris, North Island Maoris resident in the south, and the Christchurch Methodist Central Mission all worked together to produce a result worthy of the “once in 100 years” occasion.
Stormy weather conditions prevailed throughout most of the hui which was held over Friday, Saturday and Sunday, December 2, 3 and 4. However, the organisers competently coped with the situation and passed it off as a sign that the heavens were blessing their efforts.
The opening ceremony was performed by the then Prime Minister and Minister of Maori Affairs, the Rt. Hon. Walter Nash. The official guests and speakers included the then Minister of Forests and Associate Minister of Maori Affairs, the Hon.; Sir Eruera Tirikatene, and the Hon. J. K. Mc-Alpine, who represented the then Prime Minister-elect, the Rt. Hon. K. J. Holyoake.
Despite the adverse weather the opening ceremony was witnessed by over 3000 Maoris and pakehas, including representatives of all the major Maori tribes.
At the main meal of the weekend, the Saturday midday dinner, nearly 2500 people were served.
Maori visitors from tribes all over New Zealand visited Christchurch for the opening. About 650 came from the North Island, including more than 100—the largest representation from any tribe—from Waikato. Princess Piki, daughter of King Koroki, attended on behalf of her father.
The rites began at 6 a.m. on the Saturday with the lifting of the tapu by Waikato.
In his address of welcome to all visitors before the official opening, Sir Eruera said: “We trust that you will continue to send your sons here to join with our own in seeking the training that Rehua hostel offers. (The Methodist-run hostel is for Maori apprentices, mainly from the North Island, and is in the same grounds as the meetinghouse which is, in part, an extension of the hostel facilities.) From your store of Maoritanga, that of Te Waipounamu can be replenished. We will hold to this with tenacity and so command a hidden source of strength and security so that our Maori youth can gain confidence and competence in manipulating the fast-moving, complex, scientific western world by which we are encompassed. Let our children have the best of both worlds by using the academic and technical training which has been made available to them in such institutions as the Rehua hostel in which this meetinghouse, and all that it stands for, is an integral part.”
Mr Nash said the event was symbolic of the Maori cultural renaissance that had swept through the country in recent years. In the North Island he had been privileged to open a number of fine Maori community buildings in recent years. Now it was evident that the same trend, the same yearning to hold on to things Maori, was active in the South Island.
The hostel and meeting-house, said Mr Nash, were helping the Maori people to adjust socially as well as economically. Pakeha as well as Maori had laboured on the project, both in the building of the meeting-house and in organising the opening ceremonies.
In this way the meeting-house had already brought Maori and pakeha closer together. The pakeha, along with the Maori, was interested in learning of Maori culture and in sharing its riches with the Maori people.
“The building of a Maori meeting-house can perhaps be the strongest peace-time force I know of for bringing Maori and pakeha together on terms of mutual respect, goodwill, co-operation and friendship,” said Mr Nash.
The new meeting-house is to be available for the recreational and cultural activities of residents of the Christchurch Methodist Central Mission's Rehua Maori Apprentices Hostel and as a centre for all Maori people.
The house incorporates the best of traditional Maori art forms, perpetuating the art of all the major tribes.
Although not traditional, there is a stage at one end.
The house stands on one and three-quarter acres in Springfield Road, St Albans, which have been planted with native flora, including such trees as totara, rimu and kauri.
The house is to be used as a Maori centre for all Maori people. Activities will include tribal and other committee meetings, Maori Women's Welfare League functions, welcoming important guests, cultural and educational pursuits, approved social functions, and Christian worship.
The Rehua hostel was established seven years ago to provide supervised accommodation and a Christian atmosphere for up to 50 boys. It was from the need for indoor recreational facilities that the idea of the meeting-house grew.
Now the idea is fulfilled.
BOOKS
MAORI GIRL
This Is An extraordinarily well-written, gripping novel dealing with a subject close to the Maori people—the problem of the young and unsophisticated Maori impelled by a variety of circumstances to leave their country homes and work in the city.
There is probably no Maori who has not met this problem, either in their own experience or through some one dear to them.
For this reason alone, quite apart from its entertainment value, Maori Girl should have universal interest and appeal in the Maori world.
Basically, Maori Girl is a documentary study of the stress and tragedy of city life swamping a young Maori, Netta Samuel. But it is much more, too. It is extra good entertainment, a pleasant way of passing the time. But it is much more than that, too. It is a powerful and moving drama as indeed is the real life story of the thousands of young Netta Samuels who must make their way in the cities, though ill-equipped to cope with the city which is equally ill-equipped to cope with them.
The story is told with a great depth of feeling and insight into the problems with which young Maori people and their parents are all too familiar. It is full of the human, warm and homespun touches that make it easy to identify one's self, friends and relations with the characters involved. I can hear many a Maori saying, “that sounds just like what happened to Kura, or Wai or Bubs,” for it is a story that has been lived many times though no other writer has seen it so clearly or painted it so vividly as Mr Hilliard.
This is the problem that administrators necessarily paint with cold statistics. This is the major Maori social problem of our time. This is the plight of the Maori people in their migration from country to town. This is that problem, in the raw, crying out for an answer.
Mr Hilliard paints the picture with a skilful use of words. He sets the changing scenes swiftly with a few lightning strokes of his word brush so that one naturally captures the current mood of his characters.
For those who have waited years for this theme to be dramatised, and there are many, I would say that this is it—the New Zealand novel of our time, in that it deals successfully with perhaps the major social problem of our time.
Mr Hilliard does not spell out the moral, he does not lecture. He simply tells the story which carries its own dynamic message, tinged with sadness, of the pitfalls of city life for those not armed to meet its thrusts.
THE POHUTUKAWA TREE
The Pohutukawa Tree by Bruce Mason, is a play about a widow of sixty, Aroha Mataira, who lives with her two children Queenie and Johnny, at Te Parenga. As her children grow up Mrs Mataira teaches them to believe in their Maori-tanga and in the Christian religion. When the play begins, Queenie is seventeen and Johnny is eighteen. The family works for Mr Atkinson who has fifteen acres of the best land in Te Parenga laid out as a citrus orchard.
The story is simple enough. Queenie meets a young man and falls in love with him. After three months she finds that she is going to have a baby but he refuses to marry her because she is a Maori. Mrs Mataira sends Queenie away to her people, the Ngati Raukura, at Tamatea, to have the baby. Johnny reacts violently to the family's unhappiness. He gets drunk and taking a taiaha, goes to the Church and smashes the stained glass window of the Light of the World behind and above the altar. He is charged with wilful damage and sentenced to three months' reformative detention.
The play makes it clear that the young ones, Queenie and Johnny, will outlive their troubles, but the double disgrace kills Aroha. The people of the community who know her and respect her cannot comfort her. She wills her death rather than have anything to do with their cheap alternatives. She is found at the end with the taiaha by two old Maori women dressed in black with black scarves around their heads. Ka to he ra, ka ura he ra.
The play was first produced in 1957 by the New Zealand Players Theatre Workshop at Wellington and Auckland. It has since been produced in 1959 on the B.B.C. Television Sunday Night Theatre series and in 1960 in New Zealand by the New Zealand Broadcasting Service, and recently, most successfully in Wales. Aroha Mataira and her children, the farmer Atkinson and his wife and daughter, the Reverend Athol Sedgewick, Claude Johnson, the land agent, and the others in this play have been introduced to millions of people. These people have seen and heard Mr Mason describe things as they are.
Roy McDowell, the grocer's son who refuses to marry Queenie, the daughter of twenty-five generations of the Ngati-Raukura, says, “Aw, what does it matter to my Mum that Queenie comes from a long line of chiefs. She's just a Maori to her.”
When Mrs Mataira is mortally sick Mrs Atkinson, the farmer's wife, says, “For nearly twenty years I patronised her, thought of her almost as a servant…. And when it comes to a crisis what do I do? Snip flowers.”
Clive Atkinson has a rough affection for Mrs Mataira but he wants her land. Johnny at eighteen loves horses and reads comics. And then there is Aroha Mataira herself, who minds her own business and who will not listen when the Reverend Athol Sedgwick says to her, “Forget greatness; forget history.”
Mr Mason has dedicated the book to the Maori people with these words, “Nga mihi me taku aroha ki te iwi Maori.”
I recommend it to you.
DUTCH CLERGYMAN JOINS MAORI SYNOD
A Dutch Imigrant clergyman has accepted an appointment with the Maori Synod. He is the Reverend P. H. de Bres who has been chaplain to the Dutch immigrants in the Wellington district since his arrival in New Zealand in 1954. Mr de Bres resigned from this position early this year. Mr de Bres, who is also the minister of St David's Presbyterian Church, Lower Hutt, has accepted an appointment with the Maori Synod, which he will take up by the end of the year. During 1961, he will devote part of his time to the study of Maori language and culture.
MY FIRST CONFERENCE
Secretary, Wellington District Council, Maori Women's Welfare League
It has been moved and seconded that Mrs Tokomaru and Mrs Tuahiwi be our delegates to the 1960 Conference.” I was very happy about it. It would be my first Conference, but Mrs Tuahiwi was a seasoned campaigner and all I had to do was to accompany her and listen—she would do all the talking.
The blow fell a week before Conference. Mrs Tuahiwi became a grandmother. She was sure I would understand and I would be perfectly all right—everyone was very friendly—the baby was lovely and best of luck—and there it was—she was the grandmother and I was left holding the Conference baby. Gone was the mood of complaisant acceptance and in its place a certain apprehension.
Taranaki had taken off his mantle of snow and was smiling in the sunshine as our train pulled in. We were all friends now, tired and travel-worn but bound together by the fellowship of the journey and the excited anticipation of the morrow.
I felt somewhat forlorn as I took my seat in the Conference Hall the following morning. How I wished Mrs Tuahiwi had been with me! I was among strangers and there was little opportunity to get to know them, for proceedings were about to begin. Still there was much to observe. The entrance was impressively decorated with Taranaki King fern; the long tables had cards bearing the names of branches and district councils—and on the stage the members of the Dominion Executive were exchanging greetings.
The noise was unimaginable. I looked around for my train mates, those friends of teas, pies and ham sandwiches with whom I had picnicked on yesterday's journey.
I recognised them with difficulty. Surely those chic and elegant women, formally-hatted and gloved, were beings from another world! Could they possibly have eaten a pie out of a paper bag only twelve hours ago?
The hubbub faded to a whisper, and then to respectful silence—the ceremonial greetings began. The Tangata Whenua, the Mayor of New Plymouth, and representatives of the Department of Maori Affairs, each gave and received a welcome. They were followed by the Ministerial Party with Sir Eruera Tirikatene, who declared the Conference open.
Strange—I do not remember much about the speakers. It is the singing that stays with me. As each honoured guest approached, that spontaneous welcome of action and song! Who could be unmoved by it? To the Maori, guest and host alike, it is customary and as such right, familiar and good, but on the more inhibited Pakeha the effect is at once as stimulating as a dip in the ocean and as welcome as the caress of warm sands. How I loved our Maori women that day for the naturalness, the warmth and the sincerity of their welcome. It gave life to the impersonal walls of the Queen's Hall. Tatau, tatau. How proud I felt to be part of this great gathering and how hopeful for the future of the race.
And I was to feel even prouder as ceremonial greetings over, the delegates got down to the business for which they had assembled. I have often been asked “What is the business of the Maori Women's Welfare League? What do they do?”
In broad outline, the M.W.W.L. is a nationwide movement for the welfare of the Maori race. Its work falls into three main categories—Health, Housing and Education. Yearly programmes are planned by the branches which encompass this wide field. Speakers are invited and aspects of Health, Education, Public Relations and Maori Culture are discussed. Activities include Horticulture, Domestic Arts, visits to the sick and distressed and money-raising for Government subsidy, for educational purposes. The work of the League is constructive and preventive, with the underlying motive of self-help and co-operation within the group, and in the wider sphere of public relations. Members have their ears to the ground and try as far as possible to solve local problems, by bringing pressure to bear in the appropriate quarters. If they meet with no success, then the matter is brought to Conference in the form of a remit. At this conference remits were brought
forward on a wide variety of topics affecting the welfare of Maori women—Jury service, Equal pay, Nuclear tests in the Pacific, as well as the teaching of Maori in schools. Domestic matters such as League Constitution and League Independence were also discussed.
As speaker followed speaker, I was reminded of a quotation I heard once, ‘Go boldly, go serenely, go augustly, for who can withstand thee then?’ This would surely apply to these women, with the possible addition—go with a sense of humour! Here at our Maori Women's Conference were gathered together women, young and old, who could speak fluently, logically, and to the point in two languages, and who could leaven it all with humour. As the time passed my trepidation increased. How would I, a newcomer, acquit myself and justify the faith of those who had sent me?
When my turn came, I was taken aback by the behaviour of my legs, which had set up a persistent knocking at the knees. My arms were not much better, the microphone resembling a poi out of control—in fact I shook, the mike shook, the table shook—I was really ‘all shook up’, except miraculously my voice, which I was told did not shake. I resumed my seat with only one coherent thought—‘This is my first Conference, it is also my last! Never again!’
But the tide of Conference flows too swiftly to allow time for inquests, and the evening programme was in full swing with Mrs Hetet and her group demonstrating the ancient art of Korowai making. So well compered was this demonstration that observers were able in the space of a brief half-hour to visualise the entire process from the cutting of the flax to the wearing of the finished Korowai. I cannot remember the name of the wearer of the Korowai, but I cannot forget the stately figure she presented with her truly wonderful long, long hair.
The panel on Delinquency left me fiercely proud and furiously angry. I wanted to crash my fist on the table, and say, ‘Why are you so humble, meekly accepting all this criticism? I know the statistics are grim—but so are other aspects of modern society. Do not be so downhearted—here in this hall is hope. If the Maori people can produce women of this calibre, the race has nothing to fear. Maori delinquency is Transitional Teething Trouble. Soon the toddler will walk surely and steadily, and you, the mothers of the race, will watch with hope and pride.’
Conference 1960 is drawing to its close. The election of officers is over and the member representatives thank those who voted for them. The closing prayer is said. Old Taranaki, who took off his cloak to welcome the ladies, now weeps in sorrow at their departure.
A LETTER FROM AFRICA
The following letter will explain itself:
-
The Bata Shoe Store
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Murandy Square,
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Enterprise Road,
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Highlands,
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Salisbury,
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South Rhodesia, AFRICA.
Dear Sir,
I am an African boy of 23 years of age. As I heard of some interests in that country of New Zealand, I have decided to ask you if I can get in touch with some of the Maori people, who can do speak and write English. I am not also so good in English as I am not an English boy but an African black having black curly hair.
I kindly ask you again if at all you have a paper which publish pen pals page in New Zealand to publish my request in there.
My interests are of knowing far countries especially overseas and to write some other people of all races letters especially the Maoris as the people whom I am really interested in hearing from them.
Sorry sir for your worries have done to you. Hoping to hear news of New Zealand soon through you sir,
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I am, sir,
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Yours faithfully,
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Lazarus M. Zishiri.
Readers of Te Ao Hou are invited to correspond with Mr Zishiri.
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WISEMANS DEPT M.,
P.O. BOX 1959,AUCKLANDTHE HOME GARDEN
FRESHLY GATHERED VEGETABLES ARE HEALTH GIVING
During the Autumn the harvesting of vegetables is often delayed, hence the true value and nutrient is lost with the exception of the types which may be stored for winter use. With such produce as lettuce, cabbage or the leafy type of vegetable, much value is lost especially if they are cut. It is estimated for instance, that lettuces could lose at least fifty per cent of vitamin C content within hours after cutting, therefore it is essential that successional sowing of the above type of vegetable be prudently organised during the planting season in order that over-supply does not eventuate.
It a continuity of fresh vegetables is desired, now is the appropriate time to plan for winter, and it is most essential especially in the colder parts of the country, that autumn plantings take place early. For instance, in the Northern parts of the North Island, onion seeds for spring transplanting should be concluded by the end of March or early April at the latest if strong healthy plants are to be obtained. Winter lettuce, cabbage and cauliflowers should always take their place in the garden and be established during April and early May. Always transplant on moulds for winter harvesting.
Many home gardeners experience trouble after planting carrot seeds. It is recognised that wire worms and other pests create the difficulty. If this trouble is evident, Horticultural Naphthalene should be used. It is a good plan to cover the area planted with this preparation after sowing of the seed. It is usual for trouble to occur a few days after the seedlings appear. Another trouble is Aphis which often cause young seedlings to turn a sickly yellow colour and if the infection is severe, often kills the plants. This trouble can be controlled if sprayed when first observed, with a solution of Nicotine Sulphate, one ounce to four or five gallons of water. It is also a good plan to add a spreading agent such as a liquid soap or detergent.
HUMUS FROM SAWDUST
At this time of the year most gardeners are considering the means for building up a supplementary supply of humus for their gardens to be used for the next spring and summer planting, therefore it is often difficult for those living in confined areas to obtain animal manure or rotted hay from stack bottoms etc. and therefore it is suggested that in the hunt for humus-forming organic matter with which to enrich the soil, gardeners seldom think of sawdust, yet it is wholly a plant product, which will decompose to humus and plant foods. During the period of decomposition it is unobjectionable and inexpensive. The disadvantages are that it is coarse and tough and ineligible for immediate use when fresh, and if incorporated in the soil of the garden will undoubtedly create an acid condition, unless scientifically handled. Sawdust can contribute usefully to the restoration and maintenance of soil fertility. Briefly the main disadvantages are that it takes some time to decompose and the key to success as a humus-forming agent is to weather it before incorporating with the soil. For instance, it should be exposed to sun, wind and rain and turned frequently. Another useful way of weathering it is to use it as a summer mulch, an inch or two deep around perennial plants, around fruit trees or shrubs. As previously stated, if the material is to be used in the compost heap, small quantities should be incorporated regularly and the entire volume of compost thoroughly forked or turned over at approximately eight-weekly intervals.
SPRAYING PRECAUTIONS
With the advent of modern sprays, especially Sytamic and Toxic materials, for instance, Nicotine Sulphate, Malathion, etc., extreme caution should be taken.
| 1. |
Avoid contact of the concentrated material with the skin and mouth. |
| 2. |
Wash off any liquid spilled on the skin, using soap and running water. |
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After spraying, cleanse all exposed parts in a similar manner. |
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Keep liquid out of reach of children. |
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Avoid eating, drinking or smoking during spraying operations. |
| 6. |
Leave the spraying areas should headaches or tightness of the chest develop. |
FARMING NEWSLETTER
ON THE DAIRY FARM
By now the prudent dairy farmers will have used the majority of their spring-saved silage or perhaps they will still have some October-sown green globe soft turnips left but whatever may be the case the butterfat production will have benefited beyond their greatest expectations.
These wise men have planned ahead to provide ample supplementary feed for their dairy herds as an insurance against the rainless summer months which we may experience every year.
Too many of our farmers just carry on and just hope for the best. They allow their surplus spring grass to go to seed and although they intend to plough up that poorly grassed paddock they just don't get around to doing it, so things just drift along until the hot summer weather comes, when the feed disappears and consequently the dairy cows go dry. This does not happen on a well run farm when the farmer plans his work at the commencement of each new season.
Planning the work on a dairy farm is no different from planning the operations of any other successful business, but planning does not stop at just providing ample feed for the dairy herd, as the planning of the financial side of all businesses is also most important.
All farmers must work on what is known as a budget, which is a form of simple accountancy which should not be beyond the average Maori farmer. On a dairy farm the farmer must know the quantity of butter fat that he expects to produce during the coming season. Also the number of bobby calves, cull cows and pigs that he will sell. Now write these items down on the left hand side of a page of writing paper under the heading of receipts and work out their value. The total value of these four items will in most cases be the total income that the farmer will receive for his year's work and he cannot spend more than this sum.
What amount will he have to spend to get this revenue? Now write the expenditure items down on the right hand side of the page under the heading of expenditure. To run through these items we have rates, insurances, accident, life and fire. Maintenance of fences, water supply and all buildings. Then topdressing manure, crop manure and seed, cartage of all materials and the cost of additional labour for the harvesting of bay and silage. The cost of running the tractor and plant, milking machines, and water pump, not forgetting the power used. Then perhaps a new bull or boar is wanted, and there is the herd-testing and calf and pig meal. There are the big items such as rent for the farm and the repayment of the loan and don't forget the income and social security tax. Now take the cost of all these items from the total receipts and the amount left is what the farmer will have to live on for the year as well as providing his pleasures.
ON THE SHEEP FARM
The above planning and budgeting will also be applicable to sheep farmers and all sheep farmers would be wise to adopt a system similar to the one outlined above.
In my last newsletter I promised to cover the handling of the wool in the woolshed, so I will continue from where I left off when shearing was in full operation.
It is more essential today than ever before to have your wool offered for sale in good order and condition and sold in straight lines. The difference in price between a mixed lot and a well-got-up lot is considerable, so the average farmer with a flock of up to say 2000 sheep would always be wise to have his clip binned for classing and sold with other wool of similar quality in straight lots.
To have this done, he must always give definite instructions to his wool broker who, will look after his interests from the time the wool leaves the shed until it is sold and shipped away.
The handling of wool starts before the sheep enter the woolshed and if sheep are brought in to the shed in a cleanly dagged state it is easy to keep the wool clean and the work on the wool table is made much easier. Clean fleece wool should only be lightly skirted by just taking off the dirty edges, and bellies must always be kept separate. All fleece wool can be rolled and baled together for classing at the wool store.
Care must be taken to see that each bale is correctly and clearly branded and the class of wool indicated on one end and one side of each bale. It is most important to advise your broker of the number of bales forwarded and the instructions on how you expect your wool to be sold.
All answers in Maori words
| 1. | Rising up; Easter. |
| 6. | Egg. |
| 10. | Drive. |
| 11. | Set fire to. |
| 12. | Lo! Behold. |
| 13. | Ask: Enquire. |
| 14. | To be run upon, or over |
| 15. | How? |
| 18. | Sigh; whiz; hum. |
| 21. | I, me. |
| 22. | Stomach. |
| 24. | Dry land. |
| 26. | Sapwood. |
| 27. | Duck. |
| 30. | Hill. |
| 31. | Afternoon, Evening. |
| 33. | World. |
| 34. | Land. |
| 36. | Wait for. |
| 37. | Bee. |
| 39. | Digging Stick. |
| 40. | Fault, wrong. |
| 41. | There is. |
| 42. | In the presence of. |
| 44. | Mount; board. |
| 45. | Current, tide (Sth Is.) |
| 47. | Yes. |
| 48. | Cold, winter. |
CROSSWORD PUZZLE NO. 32
| 1. | Hydro Station on the Waikato. |
| 2. | Day, Sun. |
| 3. | To face towards; to go. |
| 4. | Large, big. |
| 5. | A Fleet Canoe. |
| 6. | Tie. |
| 7. | Which? (pl.) |
| 8. | Eat, Food. |
| 9. | Nephew. |
| 16. | Shoe. |
| 17. | Giant from Hawaiki who fought Tama Te Kapua at Maketu. |
| 19. | Morning. |
| 20. | European. |
| 22. | Shellfish found in the sand. |
| 23. | Mad, Deranged, Clown. |
| 25. | Orange. |
| 26. | Stick in, Drive in, Adorn with feathers. |
| 28. | Shape, Appearance, looks. |
| 29. | So that. |
| 32. | Cover. |
| 34. | Octopus. |
| 35. | Those. |
| 36. | Where? |
| 38. | He, She. |
| 39. | Sharp. |
| 42. | What? |
| 43. | Loved one; Breast; Jewel; Tusk. |
| 46. | Bark (of dog). |
THE REV. KINGI IHAKA IN HOLLYWOOD
Towards the end of last year, the Rev. Kingi Ihaka of the Maori Pastorate, Lower Hutt, was invited to Hollywood to advise and perform in the film of Miss S. Ashton-Warner's novel Spinster. He gave a lively account of his stay there in his Christmas Pastoral Letter and Te Ao Hou hopes to persuade him to write something more detailed for a later issue. In the meantime, this extract from his Pastoral Letter gives some idea of his experiences:
“You will probably like to know some of our personal experiences here in this land of plenty. The people have been most kind and hospitable. We find them extremely friendly and pleasant and we have already met a number of Americans who at one time visited New Zealand, who speak very highly of our country. The studios cover a very extensive area, and I would estimate this area to equal at least three times that covered by Wellington and the Hutt areas. The staff numbers some thousands, although, according to my informants, there has been a gradual decrease on account of the competition from TV. My actual studio work is most interesting. I compose most of the lyrics for the film, take the part of the priest, check the clothing of all those taking part to make sure that they are similar in style to our N.Z. way of dress, check the scenery, teach the Maori songs, proper pronunciation, etc. The staff and actors are most helpful. I have met dozens of famous ‘stars’ the majority of whom are no different from anyone else: shy, nervous etc.
“In the Church life, I was amazed to discover that the Anglican (Episcopalian in America) following is only four million at the most and this compares unfavourably with our figures at home particularly, when in Los Angeles city alone, there are about 8 million people. We attend the services at St Mary's Church, The Palms, Los Angeles, and I assist on Sundays. The churchmanship is very high, and for at least two Sundays we couldn't quite follow the order of Holy Communion. However, we have acquainted ourselves with the form used and we like it very much. The clergy is addressed “Father”, so the Rector (vicar) is called Father Wooster and I am called by all parishioners Father Ihaka! The normal Sunday programme is very light—compared to ours at home. There are three celebrations of Holy Communion—at 7, 9 and 11, with no afternoon or evening services. After every service, coffee and buns are served in the adjoining Parish Room. It is a smallish but active parish, and the response of the young people (ages 5 years to 24) is wonderful. Young children attend in large numbers the Services of Holy Communion, and just before the sermon, during the singing of a hymn, the children march out into the Parish Room where special lessons are given them. The parishioners are most kind and since our arrival, we have dined out every Sunday at parishioners' homes. It might interest you to know that Sunday afternoons are spent on social activities and for the first time in my life I attended a football match (quite different from our Rugby) on a Sunday afternoon. This was quite an experience for me. There were just over 53,000 present when Los Angeles played Detroit at the Los Angeles Coliseum which holds 100,000 seated patrons. Los Angeles won, 48–35. Seated immediately in front of my friend and I were some 30 or more Roman Catholic priests, which goes to prove that all Services, irrespective of denomination, are held in the mornings only. Perhaps parishioners would prefer such a time-table for the Pastorate!
“Our Pastorate's ex-Secretary-Treasurer, Whata Winiata, telephoned us from Ann Arbor, Michigan, at 12.45 p.m. one day a week or so ago. At that time, of course, it was only 8.30 p.m. in Michigan. This change of time puzzles us. He is well, has already sat an examination paper which he thinks ‘fair’ and will return to New Zealand in June next year. Another friend of the Pastorate, Dr Jim Ritchie, who is at Harvard University, Boston, has written to us twice. He and his family are also well. Miss Pearce, New Zealand vice-consul at San Francisco, has forwarded me considerable data, booklets etc. on New Zealand for propaganda business here and the literature has assisted me greatly in my efforts to ‘sell’ New Zealand to the Americans. A number have already expressed their keenness to come and live in ‘God's Own Country’. Other wonderful and numerous experiences will be related to you on our return.”
FORESTRY
- and land utilisation
Today, New Zealand's exploitable forest areas amount to three million acres. Of this the State owns some two million. These large stands of trees ensure an investment for future generations of New Zealanders in the form of a great and growing source of revenue. ‘Farm Forestry’, too, is a vital aspect of New Zealand's farming and forestry extension programming. Its objective is to make better use of poorer soil by turning it over to woodlots, as well as to improve the productivity of good soils by enhancing and extending existing shelter systems. While, today the area of all tenures on which farm forestry is in evidence is scarcely one million acres, more and more farmers are becoming conscious of the practical value of their own trees in providing fuel, fencing and home-grown timber for their properties as well as improving the production of their land. New Zealand's forest establishment currently stands at the increasing rate of 10–12,000 acres per annum. Recently, however, the proposal was made to step up this planting to some 20–30,000 acres annually. This expansion will not only guarantee supplies for New Zealand's own expanding future needs, but further our contribution to a growing world market for the produce of our carefully planned and expertly executed forest policy.
Forestry is forever
Issued in the interests of forest protection by The New Zealand Forest Service.
THE HUNN REPORT
No departmental report of recent years has aroused so much immediate interest and attention as that of Mr J. K. Hunn, Deputy Chairman, Public Service Commission, and Acting Secretary for Maori Affairs. It covers most aspects of Maori life and contains some revolutionary proposals.
| 1. |
It points out the need for doubling and even trebling the Maori housing programme. |
| 2. |
It shows that Maori representation at the university is only one eighth of what it should be. |
| 3. |
It points out that there should be several thousand Maori apprentices rather than a few hundred only. |
| 4. |
It makes strong arguments for a Maori land development programme of 50,000 acres a year rather than the present 10,000 acres. |
| 5. |
It points out that the Maori crime rate is 3 ½ times the European rate. |
| 6. |
It points out that intermarriage is integrating Maori and pakeha. |
| 7. |
It shows that by the year 2000, the Maori population could number 700,000. |
| 8. |
It proposes ways of overcoming the problem of multiple ownership of Maori land. |
A CHAIN REACTION
The Practical measures that induce closer racial integration move through a circle of chain reaction, says the Hunn report. Better education promotes better employment, which promotes better housing, which promotes better health and social standing, which promotes better education and thus closes the circle.
TITLE REFORM
The object of land title reform must be to bring about sole ownership and to prevent it from disintegrating. Fragmentation of ownership proposed a serious bar to the proper use of land in the interests of the Maoris themselves, and in the national interest also.
Makee te weka i te mahanga e hoki ano?
(Once a weka has escaped a snare, would it go back to it again?)
It's very easy to fritter your money away—you can't think where it's gone to—but like the escaped weka—you can be sure you won't see it again. It's never easy to save—but there is ONE SURE WAY. JOIN A THRIFT CLUB WHERE YOU WORK … and the saving is done for you. Any amount you decide you can afford is then painlessly subtracted from your weekly wage. It soon mounts up—and earns interest too—and you'll find that when you want money for larger expenses such as holidays, clothes, sports, etc…. the money is there when you most need it—you can withdraw it whenever you want to.
Just arrange with your employer to deduct a fixed amount from your pay each week.
Join the Post Office Thrift Club where you work
AND WATCH YOUR SAVINGS GROW!
Issued by the New Zealand Savings Committee
IS YOUR HOME POISON PROOF?
Issued by the NEW ZEALAND DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH
IN THE KITCHEN?
Danger lurks under the kitchen sink and in all low storage cupboards. Place kerosene, disinfectants, household cleansers, etc. out of a child's reach.
IN THE BATHROOM!
Keep all drugs in a locked cupboard.
IN THE WORKSHOP?
There is danger in the workshop from weedkillers and sprays, turps., petrol, etc.
KEEP DRUGS AND DANGEROUS SUBSTANCES LOCKED UP
Whereas European land was usually in the name of one person, Maori land often had hundreds, even thousands of owners in minute fractions. The reason was that even the smallest interest in the land would save that owner from being a landless Maori, a person without turangawaewae or standing to speak on the tribal marae.
It would be a good thing if the Maori people with their customary realism, could come to regard the ownership of a modern home in town or country as a stronger claim to speak on the marae than ownership of an infinitesimal share in scrub country that one has never seen.
Turangawaewae, based on home ownership, would be a realistic gesture of recognition of those Maoris who have proved themselves of some consequence as citizens and have demonstrated their love of a particular plot of land in a practical way.
“Live buying” of Maori land interests by the Maori Trustee, that is, buying from living owners by agreement, offered the greatest scope of the various methods employed for the simplification of titles.
The trustee principles would be the simplest and easiest device for converting land titles into sole ownership. In Maoridom, this principle was already found in two well-established forms:
| 1. |
The Maori Trustee. |
| 2. |
Incorporations. |
These alternatives, with some adaptation, were all the problem demanded. The Maori Trustee would be the agency for buying and selling and would be the trustee of any lands or proceeds to be held in trust for, say, a New Zealand Maori Trust Board.
In other cases, incorporation would usually be the appropriate method of holding land in sole ownership on behalf of the beneficial owners concerned.
Under the incorporation principle, it was possible to conceive of all the Maori tribes being incorporated by statute as land-owning bodies. They could gradually buy up all the “uneconomic” interests in their tribal districts and in the course of time become sole owners of all lands therein, in trust for all members of the tribe, and thus restore turangawaewae to each and every one of them.
INTEGRATION
Intermarriage is relentlessly integrating, even assimilating, Maori and pakeha while philosophers soberly meditate what the policy should be, states the Hunn report.
Intermarriage was believed to have reduced the number of full-blooded Maoris to 30,000, or about 20% of the Maori population. Consequently, says the report, the number of Maoris with some strain of pakeha in them may be as high as 120,000. The Maoris have taken quite remarkable strides forward in the last two generations. In another two generations, it states, they should be almost fully integrated. Full integration of the Maori people into the main stream of New Zealand life was coming to be recognised as about the most important objective ahead in the country today.
The report asks, what precisely is New Zealand's policy for the future of the Maori race? The answer was elusive, because nowhere was it defined. This was probably deliberate and wise. It recognised that evolution would take its course and pay scant attention to statutory formulas. Evolution governed policy, not vice versa. This would be the lesson of South Africa's attempt to force a policy of apartheid on an unwilling people.
Integration means combining, not fusing, the Maori and pakeha elements to form one nation in which Maori culture will remain distinct. The Swiss-French, Italians, Germans—appeared to be an integrated society. The British—Celts, Britons, Hibernians, Danes, Anglo-Saxons, Normans—appeared to be an assimilated society. Britain passed through integration to assimilation. Signs were not wanting that that might be the destiny of New Zealand in the distant future. The Maoris today could be broadly classified in three groups:
| 1 |
A completely detribalised minority. |
| 2 |
The main body, pretty much at home in either society. |
| 3 |
Another minority complacently living a backward life in primitive conditions. |
The object of policy should be, presumably, to eliminate the third group by raising it to the second, and to leave it to the personal choice of group 2 whether they stayed there or joined group 1—in other words, whether they remained integrated or became assimilated.
Here and there were Maoris who resented the pressure brought to bear on them to conform to what they regarded as the pakeha or alien mode of life. It was not, in fact, a pakeha way of life, simply, but the modern way, common to advanced people—the Japanese, for example—in all parts of the world.
MAORI AFFAIRS DEPARTMENT
In one form or another, the Department of Maori Affairs would survive for many years to come. Other departments might have the main responsibility for particular aspects of Maori welfare—health, education, employment—but the Department of Maori Affairs should be conceded, and should accept a residual responsibility to keep in close touch with these functions, and if necessary, exert its influence on behalf of the Maori people. Granted that the policy was to let Maoris stand on their own feet and deal with the ordinary departments; granted too that more of that could be done even now; the more of it that was done the more would the Department of Maori Affairs be forced to assume a watching brief over other departmental operations. The time had come, however, to think of transferring its physical operations—house-building, land development—to agency departments.
MAORI ACTION SONGS
With Maori music and entertainment increasing in popularity during recent years, this provide New Zealanders with instruction that is both popular and important. The actions been no complete manual of instruction available. MAORI ACTION SONGS will provide New Zealanders with a subject that is both popular and important. The actions for each song are illustrated clearly by a series of diagrams and are accompanied by explanatory text, music and words in Maori and English. All the well-known songs are presented together with many that will be new to most readers. There is an introductory section giving advice on pronunciation, hints on presentation, and suggestions for Maori concerts.
For the first time, here is a book that will introduce an aspect of Maori culture once regarded as beyond the scope of all but those having an intimate connection with the Maori people. With three-colour cover and containing 112 pages. Size 9 ¾″ × 7 ½″.
AVAILABLE FROM YOUR BOOKSELLER TODAY
A. H. & A. W. REED
, 182 WAKEFIELD STREET, WELLINGTONARCHAEOLOGICAL STUDY
Forty Wellington archaeologists spent their holidays in January working in the Wanganui area on ancient pa sites, among them the fortress of Tarata. The expedition, under the direction of the assistant ethnologist of the Dominion Museum (Mr D. C. Smart) was trying to learn more about early Maori culture. In earlier excavations on the site of Tarata last summer and winter, the archaeologists have already discovered interesting features in this ancient stronghold, which has unusually-shaped food pits and house sites, plus the main entrance to the pa. The entrance ramp was specially constructed of earth instead of the Maoris choosing a natural feature for the purpose. It was the only way of approach to the pa and was built narrow, so that only a few attackers at a time could assault the entrance. This feature is still largely preserved and above ground. Much of the remainder of the pa is within a few inches of the grass on the crest of a hill overlooking the Waitotara Valley.
New Zealand's best known verse
selection …
AN ANTHOLOGY OF
NEW ZEALAND VERSE
Cloth boards 21/- N.Z.
Green Lambskin (boxed) 31/- N.Z.
This attractive anthology is an established favourite.
Plan now to give it to your family and friends.
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Inserted by the Campaign for Nurses Committee on behalf of the Hospital Boards Association of New Zealand.
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Enquiries may be made through your usual supplier, or by contacting N.Z. Farmer's Fertilizer Co. Ltd. direct.
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In these modern times we do not store quantities of food against days when it is short…instead we build up a money reserve to take care of our future requirements. And what better place to do this than at the B.N.Z. The B.N.Z. is the largest bank in the country, and the only New Zealand owned bank. It has over 380 branches and agencies throughout the country to give the very best service to all sections of the community. Open an account with the B.N.Z. and you make your future more secure.
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Protect Native Birds
Tall forest, home of the pigeon, changes year by year with timber felling, but the pigeon is adaptable; it can feed on a variety of plants and will live in this changing environment.
The pigeon, as one of New Zealand's most handsome and useful birds, is worth protecting.
| * |
A fine of £50 |
| * |
Another fine of £2 for each pigeon killed |
| * |
The loss of a valued gun are penalties that await those who kill pigeons. |
PROTECT THE PIGEON AND ALL OTHER NATIVE BIRDS
Issued by the Wildlife Branch, Department of Internal Affairs.


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