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No. 40 (September 1962)
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TE AO HOU
THE MAORI MAGAZINE

the department of maori affairs September 1962

This beautifully carved fishing float is in the Auckland Museum; it is reproduced at roughly three-quarters of its real size. In this issue we have a special feature on Maori fishing; in future each issue of te ao hou will have a main feature on one aspect of traditional Maori life.

Presented to

THE ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY

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published quarterly by the Department of Maori Affairs and sponsored by the Maori Purposes Fund Board.

printed by Pegasus Press Ltd.

subscriptions: One year 7/6 (four issues), three year £1. Rate for schools: 4/- per year (min. 5 subscriptions). From all offices of the Maori Affairs Department and from the editor.

editorial address: Box 2390, Wellington, New Zealand.

subscription renewals: If your subscription is expiring, you will find an expiry sticker on the wrapper of this issue. Please examine the wrapper carefully, and if the sticker appears on it, fill in the form and send it to us as soon as possible.

back issues: A few copies of issues 14, 15, 16 and 17 are still available at 5/- each. Copies 18 and following are available at 2/6 each. Issues 1–13 are no longer available.

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 te tatou pukapuka mo nga korero Maori.

Opinions and statements in signed articles in Te Ao Hou are the responsibility only of the writers concerned.

the minister of maori affairs: The Hon. J. R. Hanan.

the secretary for maori affairs: J. K. Hunn.

editor: Margaret Orbell.

associate editor (Maori text): N. P. K. Puriri.

management committee: Chairman: B. E. Souter, Asst. Secretary.

Members: W. Herewini, M. R. Jones, W. T. Ngata, E. J. Shea, M. J. Taylor.

Te Ao Hou
THE MAORI MAGAZINE

Contents September 1962

STORIES
Page
The Tohunga Who Went Mutton-birding 5
The Story of Paikea 6
Back to the Mat, Mikaere Worthington 11
The Banishment, Leo Fowler 17
ARTICLES
A letter from Maureen 2
Sir Turi Carroll, Sixth Maori Knight 3
Brownie Puriri's World Tour 7
League Meets At Whanganui 8
N.Z. Council of Tribal Executives 10
Maori Soldiers In Malaya, Arena Kahi 21
Maoritanga In the Mire? Alan Armstrong 23
Auckland's Community Centre 25
Fishing by the Moon, Mone Taumaunu 30
Pataka, the Maori treasure houses 32
Maori Warrior's Book of Dreams 38
Gifts for St Stephens', H. D. B. Dansey 41
Te Taou And the Sandhills, Colleen M. Sheffield 42
The Story of Tuwhakairiora, Mohi Turei 49
FEATURES
Letters to the Editor 9
Records, Alan Armstrong 52
Books 53
Sport, Kara Puketapu 55
Farming, Peter Freeth 57
Gardening, H. B. D. Dansey 59
Crossword Puzzle 61
Haere Ki O Koutou Tipuna 63

The cover photo of Maureen Kingi, and the one on page 2, is by Richard M. Poole of the Manawatu Evening Standard.

The drawings on pages 4, 13 and 17 of this issue are by Ralph Hotere; the ones on the back cover and on page 30 are by Gordon Walters, and the one on page 6 by Theo Schoon.

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A reception for Maureen in Palmerston North coincided with a meeting of the Ikaroa District Tribal Council. Here she is talking to (from left) Mr Mason Durie of Palmerston North and Messrs Steve Watene and H. Hipango of Wellington, members of the Council.

A Letter from Maureen

Miss Maureen Kingi, Miss New Zealand for 1962, was on her way to California when this issue of Te Ao Hou went to press. After competing there in the Miss International Contest, she is off to London for the Miss World Contest, and then to Brazil for six weeks. After all this, and after bringing Miss Brazil back with her on a goodwill tour of New Zealand, Maureen will undertake a New Zealand-wide tour as a model. After that—she isn't sure yet. There will be screen tests in California of course, and she doesn't yet know whether she will go back to finish her training in Auckland as a radiographer. Just now her life is too much of a whirl, and too much will be happening in this next year, for her to be able to think as far ahead as this.

One thing is certain; on her overseas tours Maureen will be a fine ambassadress for New Zealand. Representing both races in New Zealand, and versed in Maori and Pakeha culture, Maureen has considerable talent as well as beauty (and she certainly is beautiful—even more so than her photographs suggest.)

She is expert at action songs and with the double and triple poi, and has an attractive singing voice. When she speaks in public she does so gracefully and well, and with really astonishing self-possession for a girl of nineteen.

It is no wonder that Maureen has a good knowledge of traditional Maori culture, for she comes from the well-known Kingi family in Rotorua, her father being an interpreter for the Rotorua Maori Affairs Department.

Her grandmother was the daughter of Te Whataiwi, who was first cousin to Tureiti Te Heuheu, who gave the National Park area of Ngaruahoe, Ruapehu and Tongariro to the people of New Zealand. She is the niece of Hepi Te Heuheu,

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chief of Ngati-Tuwharetoa in the Taupo-Tokaanu area.

Her sister Lenaire is a B.A. student at Victoria University, and her brother Bill is studying there for his M.Com. degree. Her other brother, Wene, a promising singer, is working at present as a carpenter on the Sydney Opera House.

Maureen went to the Rotorua High School, and was a member of the softball, swimming and basketball teams there. In her final year she was awarded the Maori Purposes Fund prize for the top Maori girl in the school. She also obtained her University Entrance and Higher Leaving Certificate and was a prefect in both her sixth form years.

From the time she was twelve she took part in many Maori concert parties, and became expert at action songs and poi.

We asked her if she would write a special letter to the readers of Te Ao Hou, and here it is:

To the young Maori of today there seems to be no peace from the cry ‘Kia mau, Kia Kaha!’

I was brought up with the emphasis on education, but my love for Maori culture made my life, from the time I was twelve, a very full and strenuous one. When I was young I spoke fluent Maori, but when schooling began I was made to concentrate on the English language as school certificate and other scholastic achievements require a pass in English. Now I find that having studied Maori at school I am slowly picking up the threads of my native tongue once more. In this aspect my plea is to the older folk, our pakeke. Please help us, the younger generation to become familiar with our language. Don't discourage us by saying,

‘You've got the wrong preposition, the wrong tense, the wrong adverb’—for this makes us embarrassed and fearful of even attempting to speak Maori. We, the younger generation, are here to pass on our tongue to the next generation. Therefore I say ‘Enga pakeke! awhinatia mai ki a matou, nga taitamariki o Aotearoa, kia mau ki to matou reo!’

To the younger people my message is, education is essential. No matter how frustrated we become we must think of our successors and set the standard for them. Together with education comes the Maori culture, but not to such an extent that it interferes with schooling. A practice once a week is ample. It is our duty to preserve our traditional action songs, poi, haka, and stick games for the coming generation. When I say ‘us’ I mean all of us, for though a few may be experts this is not enough as the population is increasing daily.

We need therefore someone in each centre throughout the whole of New Zealand to know Maori culture and concentrate on his own area. In this way, with every centre functioning, Maori culture will be practised throughout the length and breadth of New Zealand. ‘No reira e nga taitamariki katoa o Niu Tireni Kia ki to Maoritanga!’

M. KINGI,

Miss N.Z., 1962

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Sir Turi and Lady Carroll

Sir Turi Carroll, Sixth Maori Knight

Mr Turi (Alfred Thomas) Carroll, O.B.E., of Wairoa, was created a Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire (K.B.E.) in the Queen's Birthday Honours last June.

Sir Turi (he has said that he wishes to continue to be known by his Maori name of Turi rather than as Sir Alfred), who was born in 1890 and is a nephew of the great Maori leader Sir James Carroll, has been farming his family's property at Hiramana, Wairoa, all his life. He was educated at Wanganui Collegiate School, Te Aute College and Canterbury Agricultural College, gaining his diploma.

During the First World War he served with the Maori Battalion in France. In 1940 he was awarded the Bledisloe Medal for his work in raising the standard of farming in the Wairoa district.

He has a long record of community service. He was a member of the Wairoa County Council for 32 years and its chairman for over 20 years. He has served on the power, hospital and harbour

continued on page 46

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When I of Fish Eat

When I of fish eat; when, with knife and fork,

I break the tender segments of flesh within my plate

I feel the pulling back. Strong I feel it;

Pulling me back to my forefathers,

To shores not yet trodden by white men.

It is, then, not a mere eating of the flesh,

A delighting in the sensual taste.

It is, for me, more than this: it is a revelation.

The sea surges before me, washing upon long shores;

Heaving against jagged rocks; as it did of old.

And this sea holds more than just its beauty,

Its aboundingness. It is something sacred;

It is like a parent to me. For think I then

That the sea was my forefathers' very existence.

Fishermen were they. From the sea came their very life.

This then is what it is when, with knife and fork

I lift a morsel of fish to my mouth.

rowley habib

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The Tohunga who Went Mutton-birding

Some generations ago there lived near Whakatane, in a village a few miles from the mouth of the river, a notorious tohunga named Te Tahi o te Rangi (‘The First of the Heavens’).

Just outside the village, there was a great grey rock; this was the tuahu, the altar, of the tohunga. The only path into the village was directly below this rock, and Te Tahi O Te Rangi was usually to be seen sitting on top of the rock glaring down at the passers-by beneath him.

His magic was famous throughout the island; and though he often used his powers to do good, it was chiefly for his black magic that he was known. He had the evil eye, the power to kill merely by looking at a man; mothers, when they saw him coming, shouted to their children to come inside the house; even the chief was frozen with terror at the sight of Te Tahi O Te Rangi's fierce face and wild hair.

At last the people became so frightened that they could stand it no longer. It was true that they needed the tohunga to perform ceremonies when there were fishing expeditions, when the kumaras were planted and when the tribe made war on its neighbours. But in spite of this, his presence filled them with such fear that they plotted to kill him.

However they did not dare to attack him, for it was forbidden to shed the blood of a tohunga. Because of this they thought of an alternative.

They planned a mutton-birding expedition out to Whakaari (White Island), and when all was ready they asked Te Tahi O Te Rangi to accompany them. The tohunga agreed, the provisions were loaded into the canoe and off they went.

They reached the desolate volcanic island that afternoon and when evening came they lit their torches and went to work. There were plenty of birds in the burrows, and they did very well; Te Tahi O Te Rangi, struggling up the dark slopes with the others, did his share of work like the rest of them.

After this they lay down to sleep. Since Te Tahi O Te Rangi was a tohunga, his bed was some distance away from the others, and he slept particularly soundly, for he wasn't as young as he was, and it was a long time since he had last gone mutton-birding.

The next morning he slept in, and when he woke there was no-one in sight. He thought that the people must have loaded the canoes, and not daring to disturb him, were waiting at the beach until he was ready.

But when he went down to the beach there was no-one there. Then he looked out to sea and saw in the distance his people in their canoe, all paddling furiously back to land. Since they could not shed his blood they had left him on the island to die; for there is only sulphur and stream on White Island, nothing grows and there is no water.

But there was one thing these people didn't know, one mistake they made. Hidden around his waist Te Tahi O Te Rangi wore a magic girdle, made of three tapu strands of flax. He took this off now, held it up in the air, and began to chant a prayer of help to Tangaroa.

After a time Tangaroa heard the tohunga, and sent the King of the Whales, with an attendant whale accompanying him, to take him to land. Te Tahi O Te Rangi climbed on to the whale's huge back, and the King of the Whales, with his attendant behind him, sped away across the surface of the sea.

Soon they came to the people in the canoe. When the people saw him coming they nearly died of fright; they covered their faces with their hands, and thought that their last hour had come.

Te Tahi O Te Rangi did not harm them, but as the whale rushed past he did a furious haka, stamping his feet, leaping into the air and yelling a war-song. When the people heard this they were still more frightened, and greatly regretted their mistake.

When they beached their canoe and went back to the village they were feeling very ashamed of what they had done. They came to the place where they had to walk beneath the great grey rock on which Te Tahi O Te Rangi was accustomed to sit; they looked up, and there was the tohunga, looking as though he had never moved, glaring down fiercely at them and not saying a word. One by one, not saying a word either, and greatly ashamed, the people walked beneath him along the path.

When he was asked why he did not use his magic to destroy his faithless people, Te Tahi O Te Rangi replied, ‘No, let their shame be their punishment’; and this saying has become proverbial.

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The Story of Paikea and Ruatapu

There once lived in Hawaiki a chief called Uenuku, who had seventy-one sons. Seventy of these sons were chiefs, for their mothers were of noble birth. But Uenuku had one wife who was a slave, and because of this, her son Ruatapu was of no importance.

One day Uenuku decided to build a great canoe. A tall tree was felled, and for a long time his men worked at hollowing and smoothing and carving it. When it was finished it was painted red and hung with strings of feathers.

Then Uenuku brought together all his sons, so that their hair might be combed and oiled and tied into top-knots. This was so that they would look well when they sailed for the first time in the great canoe. Uenuku himself combed and oiled and tied their hair, for this was tapu, a sacred thing.

When all but Ruatapu were ready, Ruatapu said to his father, ‘Are you not going to comb my hair as well?’

But his father said, ‘Where could I find a comb for your hair? These combs are sacred. They cannot be used on the hair of people of no importance.’

Then Ruatapu said, ‘But indeed, I thought I was your son.’

His father said to him, ‘Yes, you are my son. But your mother is only a slave woman, so you are not a chief like your brothers. I cannot comb your hair.’

Then Ruatapu was very ashamed, and ran away and planned to revenge himself. He ate no food that night, but went down to the canoe and cut a hole in its bottom. Then he filled the hole in again with chips of wood.

In the morning all the noble sons of Uenuku launched the canoe for the first time, and Ruatapu went with them. The canoe was a beautiful sight, with its feathers and tall carvings, and it went very fast over the waves. They paddled a long way out to sea, and Ruatapu kept his heel over the hole so it would not be seeen. When they were out of sight of land, Ruatapu pushed away the chips from the hole and water rushed into the canoe.

‘Where is the bailer?’ his brothers shouted.

‘Quickly, bail out the water, or we are lost!’

But Ruatapu had hidden the bailer, and the canoe filled with water and sank. Then Ruatapu had his revenge, for all his noble brothers were drowned, excepting one. Ruatapu swam after his last brother, whose name was Paikea, but he could not catch him. Then Ruatapu said to Paikea, ‘Which one of us will carry back this news to land?’

‘It is I who will do so,’ Paikea said. ‘I will not drown. I am descended from Tangaroa, the god of the sea, and he will help me.

Tangaroa heard Paikea, and sent a whale to take him to land. So Paikea escaped from Ruatapu on the back of the whale.

Then Ruatapu recited a magic incantation, and sent five great waves rolling across the ocean after Paikea. But Paikea was too far away, and he came to land just before the waves reached him. The waves hit the shore and bounced off again, and went back across the ocean. They rushed over Ruatapu, who was still in the sea, and Ruatapu was drowned through his own magic.

But Paikea was safe. It was the East Coast of the North Island to which the whale had brought him, and his children's children live there still. The whale became an island, and you can see it there today.

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Brownie Puriri's World Tour

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Mr Brownie Puriri

Mr N. P. K. (‘Brownie’) Puriri, the Assistant Controller of Maori Welfare in the Maori Affairs Department and editor of the Maori text in Te Ao Hou, has just come back from a world tour which included visits to Fiji, Hawaii, U.S.A., Canada, London, Hong Kong and Australia.

He was one of ten New Zealand delegates invited by Prince Phillip to attend his second Commonwealth Study Conference held in Canada this May. After the Conference he went on to Europe, and then flew across Asia to Hong Kong.

Brownie went first to Fiji, where he was a guest of the Fiji Credit Union. He was very impressed with the way in which Credit Unions helped their members to have money and at the same time to improve their living standards.

‘Life is hard in Fiji’, he said, ‘but they are making the most of every opportunity.’

Fijian gatherings are just like Maori huis, their language is like Maori, and Fijian hospitality is as warm as Maori hospitality.

‘When I visit Fijian villages they all said, rather jokingly, that Fijians and Maoris are the one people—that Maoris must have left Fiji because of the heat. They appreciated my version of this, that Fijians had to be dropped off there during the migrations because they got too sea-sick, and couldn't make it as far as New Zealand.’

Similar to Maoris

Again at Hawaii, Brownie was struck by the close similarities between the two peoples.

‘They would tell me, “You are Hawaiian”, and I would say, “No, you are Maori”.’

He stayed with Hawaiian families, and found that their problems are much the same as Maori problems. But while Maoris have retained so much of their traditions, Hawaiians feel that they have lost most of their customs, their communal way of life and their language. ‘They don't know who they are, and they are very conscious of this loss.’ However, he believes that they have retained more than they themselves realise. Their language has gone, but a new language has developed — Hawaiian Pidgin, which is a blend of Chinese, Japanese, Hawaiian, English and Filipino, and is fascinating to listen to. And Hawaiians certainly haven't lost their hospitality, nor their aroha.

He visited a great many people and places in Hawaii, including the Mormon College and the Maori students there.

In the United States Brownie was most impressed by the hugeness of Washington and New York. While he was in New York he spoke in the famous Voice of America radio programme, talking about New Zealand and the Maori people in an interview that was later broadcast throughout America and South-East Asia.

Our photograph shows Brownie in the Voice of America programme. We would really have liked to show a photograph of him wearing the enormous ten-gallon hat that he bought in the States and was wearing when he got off the plane on his return. Unfortunately, though, this hat has travelled up to somewhere in North Auckland.

The Commonwealth Conference in Canada, which studied the human consequences of industrial development, occupied 25 days and during this time the 300 delegates, who came from 34 countries, travelled right across this huge country. Brownie found the Conference very stimulating indeed, and is writing an article on it for our next issue.

English Maoris

When he reached London he wrote back to say that he had always thought that Maoris lived only in New Zealand, but now he had discovered some English Maoris.

London's Cockneys have the same warmth and same attitudes to life as Maoris. He felt very much at home in England, and found people were very

Continued on page 47

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Some of the audience listening to a lively argument during a panel discussion on education.

League Meets at Wanganui

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Mr Hunn looks as though he is doing an action song here—but he is addressing delegates on the opening night,

The tenth annual Dominion Conference of the New Zealand Maori Women's Welfare League was held at Wanganui from 16–19 July, with about 400 delegates and observers attending from all over New Zealand.

The host for the conference was the Wainui-a-rua District Council of the League, embracing the town of Wanganui and the river area up to Pipiriki. Meetings took place in the Concert Chamber of Wanganui's beautiful new War Memorial Hall, and this proved ideal for the purpose.

On the afternoon of the 16th, many delegates visited Putiki Pa to pay their respects to the memory of Mr Tenga Takarangi, the highly respected Putiki elder who died recently.

That evening the conference was officially opened by the Minister of Maori Affairs, Mr J. R. Hanana. There were many other distinguished speakers at this ceremony, which was followed by entertainment by the Putiki, St Vincent's and Ratana Maori Clubs.

Some of the major topics discussed at the conference were education (there were two lively panel discussions on this), housing requirements, prisoner rehabilitation, handicraft schemes, and the domestic aspects of the finances and membership of the League.

On the final night a ball was held in the main hall, and debutantes were presented to the Dominion President, Mrs M. Hirini. This was a very happy affair, with a large attendance.

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Mrs Rangi Williams (left) and Mrs Arihia Patini, in an action song by the Wainui-a-rua District Council during the Wanganui M.W.W.L. meeting.

Work will begin this month on the £25,000–£30,000 national memorial to the Maori Battalion in Palmerston North.

Money for the project is being raised by the Maori people throughout New Zealand and by carnivals and special contributions in the Manawatu district.

The memorial will be a two-storey building to serve as a community centre in Palmerston North for both Maori and Pakeha. It will be built by the Raukawa Tribal Executive and will probably take about six months to complete. The expected completion date could well coincide with the reunion of the 28th Maori Battalion.

It was from Palmerston North that the battalion left for service overseas and it was this that prompted the Raukawa Tribal Executive to consider a memorial even as far back as the days of the Second World War.

The design of the building will be a striking blend of modern and traditional; the architect, who is Maori, is Mr John Scott of Hastings. The tribal executive has raised sufficient funds to get the building started and tenders are now being called.

South Island Better?

The Bishop of Aotearoa, the Rt. Rev. W. N. Panapa, said in an Invercargill interview recently that Maoris received a ‘better deal’ in the South Island than they did in the North.

Bishop Panapa said that people in the South Island had a better attitude to Maoris and were much friendlier to them. The Maori people could sense this attitude, with the result that more and more were settling in South Island areas.

The Bishop, who was making his annual visit to the South Island, said that because of the ‘new awareness’ of the South Island among the Maori people, he proposed to make two recommendations to the next meeting of the Bench of Bishops of the province of New Zealand.

He would ask them to send a Maori vicar to work among the Maori people in the South. The vicar would be stationed in Christchurch. He would also ask that the next Maori youth festival, the triennial hui topu, he held in Christchurch.

Bishop Panapa said that Maoris were not just emigrating from the North Island to the South. They were ‘spilling over’ because experience was showing that it was easier for them to obtain jobs in the South. In the past, Maori men had come to the South Island as seasonal workers and gone home when the work ceased. But now hundreds stayed, because it was easier for them to get continuity of work and good housing. South Island people had a more reasonable attitude towards inter-marriage.

He said that Maoris who settled in the South were of a good type. ‘The fact that they are readily accepted is an indication of this.’

Mr Heikahurangi Rogers has recently transferred from his position as Senior Maori Welfare Officer in the Maori Affairs Department sub-office at Kaikohe, and is now District Maori Welfare Officer in Palmerston North.

Mr Rogers has been attached to the Kaikohe Office for 15 years; apart from some periods of study, he has been there almost all his career. The Tribal Committees, Executives and Welfare Leagues in the Hokianga and Bay of Islands zones will miss their association with Mr Rogers, as he has done wonderful work on their behalf at all times and under all conditions. He was also a strong committee member of the Kaikohe Primary School and a foundation member of Dr Paewai's Advice and Guidance Scheme.

The District and Sub-office staff farewelled Mr Rogers and presented him with a barometer, as they knew he was leaving the ‘Winterless North’.

Kimihia te Matauranga e Hei.

—Sara Motu

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N.Z. Council of Tribal Executives

When anything happens which is of great benefit to us all, we think especially of the children, tomorrow's citizens. That is why we have chosen this photograph by Peter Blank to accompany a mention of the newly-formed New Zealand Council of Tribal Executives. These particular children are at Punaruku in the north; they could be anywhere. They, and all the rest of us, will gain greatly through the formation of this new Council.

For the first time, all the canoes are united; the tribes speak with a single voice. Twenty-four delegates from the eight District Councils bring to the New Zealand Council the experience and opinions of the people in their own area; there is a democratic, unbroken line of communication from the individual Maori, through the local tribal committee, to the District Council, and now on to the New Zealand Council of Tribal Executives: a vehicle for the formation and expression of Maori views on a national level.

Though the Government has been of much assistance in its formation, the Council is completely independent of Government control. What it decides to do is entirely up to itself.

At the inaugural meeting on June 28th, Sir Turi Carroll was elected President, Mr H. K. Ngata of Gisborne secretary-treasurer, Mr D. N. Perry associate secretary and Mr P. T. Watene of Wellington, representative on the Committee for Maori Health. Sir Turi was also elected representative on the Maori Education Foundation Trust Board.

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Back To The Mat

My name is Jim MacLaren. I know that part is right, anyway. Everything seems misty, my brain will not work properly, but I am sure they call me MacLaren. My grandfather came from the Scottish Highlands they reckon, then he married a Maori girl from out Taupo way. My old man was the eldest boy; he married into a respectable Pakeha family; that makes me a quarter-caste, I suppose. Nobody would think it to look at me, though; I could pass for a European anywhere despite my brown eyes. When my father died I was only seven years old, and my mother took me back to her people who lived near Wanganui.

Shots from my childhood flicker across my brain like slides in a magic lantern. There, once more, is the creek where we used to fish, and again I am back at school in the same old classroom. Then another picture comes before me. It is of the milk bar on the corner. As I gaze past the poles supporting the verandah I catch sight of the girl I love. There she stands, tall and beautiful, tossing back her golden hair nonchalantly as she measures out toffees for some small children. Poignant memories overwhelm me— those dances at the Ritz, the movies, or just walking along the streets on Friday nights, waiting for her to finish work. Then the great day when I ask her if she would marry me, and how old Mr Jenkins kept on winking when we chose the ring at his jewellery shop. I see myself talking to my fiancee in a restaurant. Her face has a hard expression, and there is a fore-boding of evil in the air. She says there is an important matter for us to discuss. ‘Jim, you've double-crossed me,’ she bursts out. ‘You never told me you were a Maori, my girlfriend says all those Maori MacLarens are your relatives.’ I was so stunned I could not reply at once, but then managed to say, ‘What if my grandmother was a Maori, I don't look like one—anyway you're marrying me, not my grandmother.’ The argument was becoming more and more bitter, she was almost hysterical, then she shouted ‘I know a lot of Pakehas marry Maoris, but they all go back to the mat’. I asked her to keep her voice down as people were staring, but her only answer was ‘I don't want any black babies and that's that’. I looked at her for a brief moment as my world crashed around me. ‘You really mean that, don't you?’ I said. Her only reply was to take off her engagement ring and put it on the table. I threw it on the floor and walked out of the cafe and out of her life forever.

– 12 –

That night I packed up my few things. I was leaving in the morning. Yes, leaving my girl, my home-town because my grandmother was a Maori. I would go to Auckland, to the big city where a man could lose himself in the crowd.

The journey by service-car took nearly all day. The rain was coming down steadily as the bus arrived at the depot. There was a crowd of people waiting to greet their friends, but I knew there was nobody there to meet me. I stepped out, left my cases at the luggage place and walked until I came to Queen Street. My home-town was just a back-block settlement compared with this hustling city; the traffic roaring past, dwarfed by the tall buildings, and the newsboys' raucous shouting, like the cries of seagulls above the surging sea of humanity. What a varied moving procession hurried along the sidewalk under the bright fluorescent lights. Samoans and Rarotongans mingling with prosperous businessmen and smartly dressed typists, sailors, drunks, clerks and labourers, Maori and Pakeha, even an occasional Chinese, all members of that great community called Auckland, New Zealand. Yet everybody I passed was a stranger to me as I was pushed and hustled up Queen Street. At last the crowds thinned, and I discovered I was standing outside the People's Palace. I booked in for a week and found a job at the freezing works. Later on I shifted into a room in a dingy street in that decaying borderland between Victoria Park and Ponsonby. Desperately lonely I felt too, my neighbours were friendly enough, but that could not take away the feeling that I was in the wrong place, wasting my time. Sometimes the Islanders would ask me over for a feed at their place, then I would be happy for a while as we gorged ourselves on taro, chop suey, and boiled bananas. After the meal, out would come the guitars and then the plaintive songs of the Islands would while away the hours, for they were home-sick for their islands, their care-free islands far away from the harsh city life of the ‘palangi’, but I was homesick for I knew not what. Perhaps they thought it queer that I did not go out with the sheilas as they did, but I think they understood. On Saturday afternoons I would get drunk with the boys. This particular day there had been plenty of ‘shouts’ in the pub. I remembered crossing the street, a car swerved to miss a motorcyclist and came whizzing towards me. I tried to run, but tripped and there was a crunch and a sudden agonising pain and then and then …

A man's voice penetrates my foggy mind and gradually I discern the features of a middle-aged man with glasses. He tells me that I have been very sick but that I am going to recover. The doctor explains that I have suffered grave injuries, but there is nothing seriously wrong now. All I have to do is to use my willpower to make myself better. How can I explain that I could not care less if I live or die. Perhaps something in my eyes tells him my feelings, for he gazes at me intently, then goes outside. The routine of the hospital is pleasant enough, but I seem to have a sort of paralysis. They call in other doctors to see me, but still there is no improvement.

The fellow in the next bed to mine is a Hori from the bush. He is dying of leukaemia and yet he appears happy enough. As we grow to know each other better, he unfolds his life story to me. He comes from the bush-clad fastnesses of the Urewera Country, where the mists seldom leave the mountains, where the wild pig and deer roam, and where the Tuhoe tribe, the ‘Children of the Mist’, still cling tneaciously to their ancient way of life, hardly seeing a Pakeha from month to month. He speaks English hesitantly, because at home they only speak Maori. I am ashamed to tell him of my Maori blood and not being able to talk a word of Maori, but he says many of the young Maoris in Rotorua cannot speak Maori and are only interested in pictures and the Pakeha way of life. Soon we start Maori lessons. I pick it up quite quickly but Rua tells me one morning there can be no more lessons. He describes his dream to me in his sing-song voice, ‘I was back in my home pa at the edge of the bush. I was with my grandfather catching kouras in the creek behind the meeting house. As we wandered along the bank I noticed an old log caught up in the clumps of toitoi, rising and falling with the water. “Don't touch it,” yelled my grandfather, “it is the rakau tipua, the haunted log bringing death to this place!” Sure enough that very night old Aunt Wiki died and we had a big tangi’. Thus he ended, ‘I saw that log again in my dreams last night, I have not long to go. I am not worried for I know that my spirit is O.K., it is just my body that is sick. I have found the inner meaning of life and that has given me peace.’ He became worse very rapidly, they do not have time to send for his family. He is whispering away to himself in Maori, I think it is a prayer but then I catch the words ‘I shall never again see Tama-Nui-Te-Ra, but Jim will hear the call of the Urewera.’ He turns to me, ‘E Hoa, I am dying, promise me you will go to my home village near Ruatahuna, when you arrive there ask for my kuia, Mrs Ihaka, tell her I gave you this greenstone tiki. Kaua e wareware. Do not forget.’ This is my last sight of him; a couple of nurses wheel his bed out of the ward.

As the wind gently shook the brittle leaves of the palm trees beneath the hospital windows, how could I describe my feelings? I had come to look upon this Maori boy as my only friend. He had known the truth about life, more than many educated city-dwellers. While I lay deep in thought, I became conscious of something hard by my head. It was a Maori grammar. I was just about to toss it out, when I realised Rua must have put it there. The Maori blood from my grandmother stirred within me, I would make Rua's people my people, I would study their history and dedicate myself to their welfare. Now that I had a mission

– 13 –

in life my paralysis seemed to disappear, soon I could turn over and move in bed. Within ten weeks I was fit enough to the discharged. The doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery, and as he said goodbye, he pressed a five pound note into my hand. I took a taxi to my room in Ponsonby. The owner had let it to somebody else, but all my belongings were with the Samoan family upstairs. They did not know what had happened to me, for I had used a different name from that which the hospital people had found in my driving licence. They were overjoyed to see me and had even washed and pressed my clothes for my return. Their joy turned to sorrow when they heard of my intended departure to Rotorua, for I was determined to keep my promise to my dying friend. My plan was to work in Rotorua for a while before making the journey to the Urewera Country.

No sooner said than done for that very night I arrived in Rotorua. I stayed at a hotel near the Road Services, where the tucker was good, and a girl even brought me a cup of tea in the morning. I felt like a big chief, but that did not last long for I was soon stacking timber at the big sawmill on the road to Taupo, just out of town. I became accustomed to the sulphur smell very quickly, and came to like the unusual qualities of Rotorua. The atmosphere of progress, the big new blocks of shops and offices being built everywhere, the visitors to the thermal region bringing a touch of lands across the sea, the large Maori and part- Maori population mixing on equal terms with the Kiwis and the Dutch and Pommie immigrants; all these things appealed to me. Nevertheless I must not establish myself too much there, for I must go 70 miles further, down into the bush. I asked several of my work-mates if they belonged to the Tuhoe people, but they replied ‘That'll be the day, we're all Arawas here’. Several times I thought I could hear the sing-song voices of the Ureweras on the street, but I was too shy to ask them.

In the end I told the boss I was leaving, and started to hitch-hike to the mill which I had heard was in the middle of the Kaingaroa Forest. After a few minutes a car picks me up and we are rushing past the verge of the forest, with new development lands on the right. Soon we pass Rainbow Mountain, and the driver drops me at the turn-off at Waiotapu, for my route now is along the dusty road through the heart of the forest, which leads to Waikaremoana and eventually to Wairoa and the sea, over a hundred miles away. My luck must be in, for a huge logging truck roars to a standstill and takes me all the way to Kaingaroa. (The rows of pine trees seem to go on for ever and ever, and I can certainly believe now, that this is the largest man-

– 14 –

made forest in the world.) The employment officer tells me that he has vacancies at Wairapukao, but he also feels obliged to inform me that it is eight miles off the main highway, at the end of the road, and that nearly all the workers are Maoris. I say I'll give it a go. A land-rover takes us to the camp, I feel the trees are closing up behind me, and yet I have the sensation of going back to some other existence, almost as though I was becoming closer to the Earth Mother, to Papatu-anuku e takoto nei.

Drip, drip, drip, then in a hollow the lights of the camp twinkling through the rain. Nobody runs out to see who is in the car, perhaps the storm is too bad. The truck leaves me standing in the door of the cook-house, and after a while a Pakeha appears, and arranges to cook up something for me. One or two wild-looking characters enter the room and nudge each other. ‘Ko wai tenei Pakeha?’ I tell them I am a quarter-caste, but I do not think they believe me. They think of all things that I am a Pommie; they say that the only Pakehas who go to that camp are immigrants who are sent there. A few minutes later they show me to my hut, and their words are confirmed for on the wall is scrawled the text ‘Watford to Wairapukao—the sublime to the Gorblimey’, underneath another person has written ‘Pine Tree pine over me’. ‘They never stay long here, some were hard-case jokers, like that fellah that made a noise like a gramophone running down when he ate his kai. One or two stayed on long after the others. That's the funny thing about this place, you either hate it, or every time you go away you like it so much you want to come back.’ It did not take me long to become accepted, and I really felt that I belonged to that group of huts in the forest. The days went by swiftly enough, and the evenings were spent in listening to the radiogram or playing the guitar. There were always pigs to hunt, and the pictures at Kaingaroa, if you could get there, and of course the occasional trip to Sulphur City, to the bright lights of Rotorua.

As Maori was the language of the camp I soon became an expert especially with the aid of Rua's grammar book, which I had kept with me. Soon, the cold winter nights followed by the cloudless warm days gave way to the heat of summer, when the one thought dominating everything in the forest was ‘Fire’. I was not on fire-duty and one of the boys asked if I would like to go back to his place near Ruatahuna for Christmas. I accepted gratefully and leaving the forest behind, we came out to Murupara and the plains, covered with farms, with the gaunt bush-covered hills quite close coming down to meet them.

After the last house on the left there is a narrow pass through the hills, like a gateway to a forbidden land, and I know that I am in the Urewera Country at last. Here and there are scattered settlements along the banks of the fast-flowing rivers, in clearings in the eternal bush. Their names are like music to my ears—Te Whaiti, Heipipi, Ngaputahi, Tarapounamu and so on to Ruatahuna. I am introduced to the family and really feel at home. The mountain air makes me very sleepy, and the next day I awake refreshed. Rather to their surprise, I ask if Mrs Ihaka lives near here, and one of the boys arranges to take me over the hills to the next pa to visit her. I explain that I knew her grandson in Auckland and before he died he made me promise to visit her. Now my mate's amazement knew no bounds, he explains that the old lady is blind, but is highly regarded by all the people because she was a chieftainess and also had a bit of the second sight. As we near the settlement, I see an old woman standing at her doorway peering down the valley. I know at once that she is Rua's kuia. She calls out ‘Haeremai, haeremai’, and explains that she has been expecting me. Not only did her grandson write all about me in his letters, but she had known before that a man of mixed Maori and Pakeha blood would be her grandson's best friend, and after Rua's death would take his place as her adopted child. I thought this was going a bit far and could hardly believe this was reality.

Over a brew of strong tea she sadly describes how the sons and daughters of her people are forced to leave their homes and the forest they love for the cities. They have to go, for there is little work for them here. The boys go to the sawmills and the girls go to the boarding houses in Rotorua as domestics. The Government has taken much of their land for a National Park, and is talking about giving some other lands to them instead; even if they do this, we do not want to leave our own native bush. Some Maoris are selling their trees to the Pakeha mills, although even the Pakeha is worried about cutting down much of the forest, because then there will be no trees to hold the waters when the rains come. In the old days all this land was alive with the voices of happy people, now even the sites of the old villages are lost…. Then I thought that if this forest land supported such a large population before, why not again? I was becoming excited and my Maori was becoming a bit disjointed. I said, ‘Why not establish small farming communities right here in the Urewera country, only in the valleys, and leave all the bush on the steep hills, and of course the National Park would be untouched.’ She was growing enthusiastic too, and quite a crowd of people had gathered by now listening intently to my words. Then a refrain is taken up from mouth to mouth. ‘Haere ki te whare-hui’—so we all go to the Meeting House to discuss my ideas.

I tell them my whole story from the beginning and show the greenstone tiki that their relative had given me, now indeed they realise something momentous is afoot. An old tohunga stands up and says that such a thing was forecast by his father years ago, that a part-Maori, part Pakeha,

– 15 –

with a greenstone tiki would lead his people back to happiness. The elders are impressed, but the young fellows seem a bit doubtful, but they do not show it too much. I talk about the land of Israel where the hook-nosed people have returned after two thousand years, where they have made the desert blossom and have established a homeland for hundreds of thousands of their people. I suggest that the people of the Ureweras should do the same, that communal settlements should be started here and there, where home industries should thrive, the women could weave cloth from the wool and also make flax mats, kits and wooden souvenirs, where the menfolk would tend cattle and sheep and pigs and grow vegetables. The crowd murmurs ‘Ae’ and ‘Ka tika tau’, ‘You are right’, and before we know what is happening the elders have decided to go through with the plan …

That was the beginning of a new era for the ‘Children of the Mist’ which they established in the heartland of the Maori people with the assistance of the Government. They spoke Maori as their ancestors had done, they retained their traditions and yet learned English and the Pakeha way of life for they were loyal New Zealanders. The other tribes, seeing the example of the Tuhoe people, said to themselves ‘What they can do, so can we’. It is from that time that dates the spiritual rebirth of the Maori people. Pakeha students went to the Urewera Country to learn the language of their adopted country, and then the great day arrived when Maori was taught in the schools throughout all New Zealand, instead of being put after French and other languages.

Newspapers wrote of the re-settlement of the Urewera Country. Even the people in Israel heard of these doings and invited Heemi Thaka, no longer Jim MacLaren but the adopted son of the Tuhoe people, over to their country to study the ideas on the communal farms in their country. Heemi returned with some people to advise him, and married a daughter of Ruatahuna. I suppose this is what the Pakeha used to call ‘Back to the Mat’ he mused, but I prefer to think of it as grasping out for the knowledge and the good things of the Pakeha, but at the same time holding fast to the traditions and culture of the Maori people, so that in time every New Zealander whether Maori or Pakeha or a bit of both will have the best of both worlds.

One big Maori celebration for the Queen could be fitted in during the Royal Visit next February, the Minister of Maori Affairs, Mr Hanan, told the newly-formed New Zealand Council of Tribal Executives at its inaugural meeting in Wellington. He suggested the council give thought to the national occasion the Maori people would arrange for the Queen.

Picture icon

Miss Iri Rangi Rankin

Kaikohe Girl's Work with Eskimos

A globe-trotting nurse, whose career has ranged from welfare work among the Eskimos of the Arctic Circle to pen-pushing for Lloyds of London, has finally settled down—as a Maori welfare worker.

She is Kaikohe's Miss Iri Rangi Rankin, who has recently taken up an appointment as welfare officer with the Maori Affairs Department at Thames.

Trained as a nurse at Waikato and Rotorua hospitals, Miss Rankin was supervising sister at Wellington Public Hospital when she left New Zealand in 1955 to further her experience in Canada.

She worked as a nurse with a government-run hospital outpost at Moose Factory, an island in James Bay, 1000 miles north of Toronto.

‘I'd always heard that Indians and Maoris were a similar people, but I could not find any racial similarities at all,’ she said. ‘We seem to be two quite different races.’

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Singing Triplets

At the age of 17, the Harrison Triplets (from left, Margaret, Janet and Nancy) stand at the beginning of a rosy career in pop singing.

After being runners-up last year in the Auckland Maori Community Centre's Talent Quest, they won the talent quest organised last Easter by Televisions's Channel 2 in Auckland. Now they have completed their first disc (Sugartime Twist and Uptown) and are among the most promising Maori popular artists to have emerged in recent years.

The Triplets are really more identical in person than this photograph suggests, and they are adept at mischievously confusing people—even those who know them very well—by changing places, and occasionally answering for each other. They are full of fun, but at the same time serious about their ambition to be top-line singers.

Doubtless because of the fact that they are triplets, the girls achieve a very fine harmonic integration in their singing.

They live in Auckland now, but they come from the East Coast. Their father, Rangi Harrison, was a Maori All Black, and their mother, Ngawiki Harrison, is a member of the Reedy family.

A Note by Leo Fowler on his story ‘The Banishment’

(see next page)

Until I heard this story from the old lady I hadn't known that the Maori followed this custom of banishment. I know it flourishes here and there in Polynesia, and it's quite common, even today, in Samoa, where I've known of whole families being banished from their villages. Old Maori friends have surprised me by telling me the custom was first introduced in early pakeha times.

Thomas Samuel Grace, in his A Pioneering Missionary Among the Maoris, reporting on the Turanga Mission for the year 1851, wrote:

Native Teachers. I am unable to report very favourably of native teachers. In December, 1850, one was convicted of adultery and sent to the bush by his own people, where he was taken ill and died in June last. Two of my teachers who visited him report that he died penitent and happy. In October last another man was convicted of the same offence and also sent by his people to the bush.’

As usual, once one gets onto the track of these things corroborative information is not hard to get. Several of my older Maori friends have told me that this custom of banishment began in early missionary times. It was a punishment meted out for several offences, of which adultery and violation of the Sabbath appear to have been the major ones. Many have further told me that, in their own boyhood, the preparation of cooking of food on the Sabbath was strictly forbidden. It was invariably a day of cold viands. The old-time Maoris couldn't understand why the pakeha should fight his wars on the Sabbath. I have since come across stories of whalers who were driven out of native villages, or at least fined heavily, for Sunday irregularities.

Photographs on pages 42-45 of this issue are by the N.Z. Herald, on page 8 by the Wanganui Chronicle, page 15 by the Daily Post, Rotorua, page 22 by the Wanganui Herald, and page 46 by Zealandia. The photographs on pages 34, 35, and 38-40 were kindly supplied by the Alexander Turnbull Library. We are grateful to the National Museum, Copenhagen, for permission to reproduce the photo on pages 32 and 33, to the Auckland Museum for permission to photograph the carving inside the front cover, and to the Education Department for permission to reprint the story on page 6, which first appeared in the School Journal.

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The Banishment

Jim was the best shingle-splitter in Poverty Bay. Many claimed he was the best on the East Coast. I have the old lady's word for it and she should know for Jim was her husband's uncle. I shan't mention Jim's proper name, or the old lady's or her husband's, for though it's a hundred years almost since these things happened there are still descendants around who mightn't like to hear the names bandied about. The old lady tells me she heard the story from Jim's lips many a time, and she had it confirmed by many an old koro who knew the facts.

Being the best shingle-splitter in the area Jim was kept fully employed. Turanga was a growing township and the tide of settlement was flooding into the surrounding countryside. Hamlets were springing up at Te Arai, Manutuke, Ormond, Matawhero and Makaraka and scarce a week passed by without a new house being raised. New houses meant roofs and roofs meant shingles. Shingles meant work for Jim. Most men could turn their hands to pit-sawing for even a novice could pull the pit-end of a crosscut if the top sawyer could guide the line straight. Shingle splitting was a much more demanding job as anyone who has swung a broad-bladed axe could tell you. Shingle splitters, good, bad or indifferent, were far to seek. A hard-slogging expert like Jim was given more work than he could possibly cope with. He did well, He'd contract to supply shingles by the tens of thousands where other chaps would contract only in hundreds. Having taken on his contract Jim liked to work alone. No mates. He would cruise widely through the bush until he found enough mature totara trees within the radius of an hour's walk. Then he'd pitch himself a well-found camp as near as could be to the centre of them, so that he needn't shift camp from tree to tree but could remain snug in a central position until his chosen area was worked out.

Around thirty, I'd say Jim was at that time, and been in the bush since he was old enough to lift an axe, much less swing one. He knew how to look after himself and believed in doing so. A joker who slogs it out from morn to dewy eve keeps it up the better and the longer for solid eating and sound sleeping.

So Jim would build himself a nikau whare, cunningly thatched to keep out any weather and with a wide ponga fireplace right across one end of it. He'd pack in plenty of flour and oatmeal, honey and sugar and the other basic needs. He was rated a master of the camp-oven and I'm told his camp-oven bread put to shame the finest loaf a town baker could turn out. For his vegetables

– 18 –

Jim didn't scorn the products of the bush, ferns whose roots made succulent eating, the shoots of Pikopiko and Kouka, the pith of the mamaku fern and of the nikau, as well as the many berries whose merits he knew as well as any Maori.

He was a master of bird snaring. One of his first tasks would be to hollow out a couple of waka keruru or pigeon troughs and he never lacked for these toothsome birds. His duck-billed rifle kept him going with wild pork and this provided him not only with strong meat but also with dripping for his bread and lard for his cooking. He could stay snug as a bug in the bush for six months and never lack a thing. You might think he'd get lonely, but not Jim. A solitary sort of joker at the best of times a week or two in the settlements at the end of a contract would sicken him of town life and set him hankering for the bush again. It may be, being a robust male and as fit as a flea, his thoughts would turn, now and again, to the idea of feminine companionship, but if they did he kept it to himself.

After about two months on this contract Jim had cleaned out all the totara handy to camp and was working on trees further and further away. He'd got to the stage where he took his midday kai with him, keeping a billy, tea and sugar on the job and taking bread and meat with him each day.

One day Jim got that kind of funny feeling in the middle of the spine that solitary folk get when they fancy someone is watching them, unseen. Not that Jim was the type to get nervous, but as the feeling grew, day after day, he began to get annoyed. He knew of course that there were always Maoris likely to be around in the bush, bird-snaring and such. But he also knew that any such who came near his workings would come and have a korero with him for he stood in well with the tribes, in spite of the recent Hauhau troubles.

There was a day when this feeling of being spied upon was so strong as to be almost a physical link between watcher and watched. You may smile as such a statement, but I can assure you from personal experience, that it was not uncommon for a solitary bushman to develop what we now speak of as extra-sensory perception. This particular day Jim not only knew for certain he was being watched but he could sense the direction from which the hidden watcher gazed. He turned suddenly and caught a glimpse of a brown face framed in long and matted hair.

‘Hey there!’ he cried. ‘Haere mai, matapopore.’ His only reply was a soft rustle in the undergrowth and the disappearance of the face. That night, either by accident or design, Jim left his tucker-bag on the job when he went back to camp. Next morning the tucker-bag was still there but the half-loaf of bread and the remains of a roast pigeon it contained had gone.

If you'd been near Jim's workings in the days that followed you'd have sworn that he had gone porangi. He seemed suddenly to have developed the habit of talking to himself in a loud voice. But there was method in his madness. He was talking to the unseen watcher, who knowing herself to be discovered, kept further away and well out of sight.

So Jim talked to himself in fluent Maori (which he spoke as well as any native) about the loneliness of a bushie's life and about the care and comfort which awaited any wahine who cared to share his camp. He kept close tab on his provisions and such in camp. If the woman was, as he suspected, one of those unfortunates banished to the bush by her people he more than half expected she would raid his tucker-store while he was away from his whare during the day. All he ever missed, however, was one of the cut-down kerosene tins he used for buckets. He missed it one evening when he got home but it was there in its usual place the following morning. He might even have thought himself mistaken if he hadn't found ashes in the corners. He tumbled to it at once that the woman had used it to carry away embers from his fire. A few days later, cruising through the bush, he came across the ashes of a fire and, close to it, a small umu in which a few karaka berry kernels still remained. He twigged at once that the woman had used the umu to steam a feed of karaka berries which, though extremely poisonous when raw, are safe and palatable when cooked and pounded to meal.

Jim had a pretty good idea of what shifts the woman was being put to. He guessed she hadn't any knife, tool or weapon, and though no Maori would ever starve in the bush, life would be pretty grim, miserable and meagre for a women so badly equipped. He often told the old lady that it was then he began to have an admiration for the woman, whoever she was. He freely confessed that, placed the same way himself, he'd certainly have taken at least a few things from such a well stocked camp as his, if he'd come across it. He thought she was foolish not to have done so, but he admired her all the more for it.

He knew she was still hovering round his workings, watching while he felled the trees, sawed them to suitable lengths, split them with maul and wedges to the required thickness, and finally split off the shingles with rapid and unerring blows of his broad axe. He still kept talking aloud, but now of course directing his remarks directly to her. He told her she was welcome to anything from his camp, and always told her what he was leaving her that night at the workings. She never took anything from the whare but the tucker he left on the job always disappeared.

As the days went by and she discovered he was friendly she'd draw nearer, but for a long time she wouldn't answer him or let him catch sight of her. Jim didn't try to force her, for he knew she was as timid as a kiwi. In the end he got

– 19 –

the reward of his patience. One day she spoke to him. She was hiding behind a tree, pretty close, and no doubt Jim could have caught her if he'd put his mind to it. But by this time Jim, though he'd probably not have been able to say it in so many words, had kind of got to idealising her. So he was content just to talk to her and mighty thrilled to do so, at that.

He found out that her name was Hine-mokai. Later she told him she got the name from the fact that she'd been taken captive, as a baby, in the muru raid. He asked her, point-blank, if she'd been sent to the bush and she admitted that she had. But she wouldn't tell him why. By and by she got less cautious and even came to the edge of his clearing and spoke to him in full sight. Jim was so excited he went forward to meet her, naturally, but as soon as he moved she backed into the bush and disappeared.

The old lady told me that Jim always claimed that she was hine-piwari, a beautiful girl. I gather she was in her early twenties, and I have it in my mind, I don't know why, that she wore a long shapeless dress made out of an old blanket.

In the end she came right out and met him. They'd have midday kai together and she'd talk to him for longer and longer periods. She was always shy and nervous, though not so much of Jim himself. Every now and then she'd slip off into the bush and scout around in case anyone was near.

By now Jim was fair and square in love with her. He wanted her to go back at night to his camp and live with him. But she wouldn't. Even though she got friendly to sit with him, and let him hold her hands after they'd finished the midday meal she wouldn't let him go any further. Jim had an idea it wasn't through any moral scruples, and he thought she liked him well enough. She probably did, he was a handsome well-set-up chap likely to capture any girl's fancy, Maori or pakeha.

In the end she told him why. She'd been exiled to the bush on a charge of puremu (adultery). Jim never asked her if the charge was true. He didn't care much, he was so gone on her and, anyway, he'd hardly expect her to tell him. It wasn't long before she shyly confessed she was in love with him, too. But she wouldn't give in, or go to his whare.

‘Kahore, Hemi,’ she always said. In the end she told him that she was sure the Maoris from her kainga knew she was meeting him. She told him she was taking a risk in doing so. She never actually saw them but she knew it was their custom to keep a distant watch on persons sent to the bush. If she went to his whare and lived with him, she said, they'd find the tracks going to and from the whare and that would put them both in danger. She didn't go into particulars of what would happen. Anyway, Jim knew enough Maori customs to know her fears were well founded. She had had a special tapu put on her and it would be bad for both of them if she broke it openly at any rate.

Jim could have taken her on the leaves of the bush, anytime, without dire consequences, for that would have been treating her as a taurekareka, or slave. It would have been regarded by her people as an insult to her, treating her with merited contempt, and so part of her punishment. Anyway, that wasn't what Jim wanted.

He was wild enough in some ways, but not loose. If she'd gone back to his whare and lived with him he'd have regarded her if not as his wife, pakeha-fashion, at least as his woman, pakeha-Maori fashion. When he got back to town he I have married her and the whole matter would have been accepted and condoned, if not entirely regarded as respectable, by both their peoples. Except for the matter of that tapu.

In the end they surrendered to the love that drove them. He'd go back to camp alone each night. When he got to his earlier workings, not far from camp and where he had a pile of split shingles stacked, he'd lay a trail of shingles from there to his whare. Hine-mokai would follow him, after dark, walking carefully on the shingles so as not to leave tracks. Next morning, before first light, she'd disappear. When Jim left the whare he'd pick up the shingles and re-stack them on their original pile.

They lived together, this way, for the rest of the time his contract lasted, which was about three months. By that time he'd used up all the suitable trees within working distance and he'd have to go to another bush, miles away, for his next contract. Hine-mokai knew she was with child and Jim was frantic at the idea of leaving her. He pleaded with her to come out with him to his people's place and they'd get married, fair and square, pakeha fashion. She was broken-hearted, but she wouldn't. She daren't, she told him.

She held out a faint hope. If he could get the kaumatua, the elders, of her kainga to forgive her, and agree to have the tohunga lift the tapu from her, then she'd marry him and be glad to do so. Otherwise she'd wait until he had a new camp. Then she'd come and live with him as before, even though she knew that, sooner or later, her people would find out and nemesis would descend on her.

Well, that's the way he had to leave it. They parted in tears and sorrow, with despair on her side and with grim determination for a reunion on Jim's.

He never saw her again. The old men of her village listened kindly and patiently to Jim's pleadings but they shook their heads at any suggestion that they should revoke the sentence of banishment they had placed on her. For years after, through camp after camp, Jim lived in the

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hope that she would return to him. She never did.

It's a poor ending to a story, I know, and not at all the sort of thing of which my publishers approve. But real life has a way of declining to follow the paths of romance, and that's that.

What happened to Hine-mokai, or to her child if she lived to bear it, I never learned. Nor did the old lady. Nor did Jim for all his questing.

Letters to the Editor about the article on education, ‘Is This Man Right?’ in our last issue.

The Editor,

Te Ao Hou,

Yes, this man is right! I know Harry, Emma and Charlie and others like them. They live way up in the North and down on the Coast, in the city and in the smallest villages. I have heard all these sad comments, and even sadder ones …

Perhaps they had been told over and over by parents, church and school authorities, but words are never enough. They can see that these people lead good and useful lives, but they have no urge to live that way—it seems so dull. The elders, too, speak many fine words during the hui and the tangi, but no-one expects them to live up to such high thoughts in everyday life. When old Rangi tells them how noble the old ones were and how badly the young people behave to-day, they are impressed by his oratory, but they recall that Rangi himself was a very ‘wild man’ once … From their point of view, it is all ‘sour grapes’; the old ones want to stop the young ones from having a good time.

So we come back to the home … I am a parent too. I learn much by listening as my children talk with their friends and mine. When they behave badly or speak foolishly, I do not blame the school or the neighbour's children, but only myself. If they have wrong ideas they got them from me …

Child-rearing is like kumara cultivation. Remember the old proverbs?

Ka whaia te wahie mo takurua, ka mahia te kai mo tau.

If you cultivate your children all the year round, tending them lovingly, the cold winter need never trouble you.

Nau i whatu te kakahu he taniko taku.

The garment is made before the border is added, and you as parents make your child what he is. Outside influences may add some elaborate trimming, but let him be proud to know he is who he is!

E kore e taka te parapara a one tupuna, tuku iho ki a ia.

‘Tahi’ (Auckland)

The Editor,

Te Ao Hou.

Some pakehas don't understand us Maoris. So they believe we teach our children to suspect, distrust, dislike, even hate them. Further, because they don't really understand us, they believe our children have little respect for us. And so on.

Now, when I meet this kind of pakeha, I think back to what the last editor of Te Ao Hou once wrote, in the July 1956 issue.

Briefly it was this: we must be careful not to generalise when either talking or writing about race relations in this country. In other words, we must try to avoid the mistake of believing, for instance, that ‘all Maori are lazy’ or that ‘all pakehas are mean’ …

Could it be that the pakeha school teacher was generalising when he wrote, for example, that we have indirectly taught our children never to trust a pakeha? I believe he was. But, what is possibly worse still, it's obvious he doesn't realise it!

Arene Teira (Mangere)

The Editor,

Te Ao Hou

Although I do not entirely agree with your anonymous writer, as a Maori teacher I find his article very interesting indeed.

I feel that he does not fully understand the true cause of Maori hate for the Pakeha. It is not to be found in the attitude of no-good parents living in no-good houses in no-good Freemans Bay. We must go back (whether we want to or not) to the Land Wars, the confiscations and the disintegration of tribal life. The mana was broken but the hate lived on, our sense of history does not allow us to forget …

I must advise him that most Maoris who are thinking about living in town usually have no choice. Economically they must. The area of Maori land is shrinking fast. Despite lavish care even the kumara does not grow as well as it used to. It is stricken with blight. So what else is there but the asphalt jungle?

I hope I do not sound too pessimistic, but your writer and many other disillusioned Pakehas must realize that the problems of the Maori child are far far greater than that of the Pakeha. Therefore they must not expect the same standard of attainment and co-operation.

Atihana Johns (Atiamuri)

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Privates T. Kuru of Porangahau (left) and T. Te Rangi of Gisborne, with a Malayan friend in the home of Mr C. M. Bennett, High Commissioner for New Zealand in Malaya.

Maori Soldiers in Malaya

For a Maori, Malaya is a novel experience. For the first time, we were the same colour as everyone around us and it was the pakeha chaps who were in the minority. We found that we could often pass ourselves off as Malays, with very much cheaper shopping as a result! Generally Maoris and Malays are the same colour but whilst the latter are beautifully built and muscled, they are slim in the hip and waist and lack the beef and short legged stockiness of the Maori.

The native Malay is a delightful person and thoroughly Maori in his virtues and not so different in his vices. He is warm and hospitable and will give you anything. Often he tends to live for the present and forgets about the future, and often he would rather sing than work.

For a start it was embarrassing for people to come up and start talking Malay to us, but after a while many of us picked it up and found it very similar to our own tongue. The grammar was similar, with no verb ‘to be’. Descriptive words come after the noun instead of before. Pronunciation is almost identical and we were thrilled to find that many of our words were similar to theirs. For example ‘pai’ is ‘bai’ (spelled baik) in Malay, ‘ika’ is ‘ikan’, ‘rima’ is ‘lima’, ‘tangi’ is ‘tangis’, ‘mata’ is ‘mato’ and so on.

The Malays themselves form about half the population and the rest are mostly Chinese with some Indians and a few Europeans and Eurasians. They are trying to live together as one Malayan race and are particularly interested in our race relationships over here. Everything is not ideal in New Zealand but we are making a good try at it and we Maoris used to tell them so. Our battalion was roughly half Maori and half Pakeha and the Asians used to express surprise and pleasure at the mixing of the two groups on leave and at work and in our concert party. They always commented favourably on the lack of any segregation in the unit such as Maori platoons or companies, and the sight of Maori Officers and N.C.O.'s commanding pakeha troops as well as vice versa seemed to them a practical demonstration that in New Zealand we try and practise what we preach.

Another Maori Battalion?

When we came home we read that the Maori Battalion old boys are agitating for an all-Maori unit in the army. This makes me sad. Of course the tradition of my race tells me I must listen with respect to our elders. Yet age does not always bring wisdom and the elders are not always right. They often think with their hearts and not their heads.

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Before I went into the army I do not mind admitting that I had never learned to mix with Pakeha. I thought they were different in more ways than skin colour. Well, now I have lived with them we all know one another. For the first time in my life I have really close Pakeha friends. The other chaps and I have learned a lot off the pakeha and I like to think that they have learned a lot off us. They respect us. Many of the pakeha in the battalion sing our songs and some can do a pretty good haka. Where else in New Zealand do we find a group of Maori and Pakeha in roughly equal proportions living cheek by jowl and yet some people would put a stop to it. Anyway to be logical the army could decide to start all-white units as well as all-brown and who would start talking first about racial discrimination? These old boys should use their energies to encourage Maoris with more education than I to become officers instead of wanting racial segregation in the army.

Generally the Asians knew we were New Zealanders the moment we opened our mouths. They told us it was the New Zealand accent, which is a bit of a shock as most New Zealanders think there is no such thing. After a while we began to notice it ourselves and it struck all of us very forcibly when we got home. There is a New Zealand accent and it is not very musical and is fast reaching the Australian standard. Maoris with their more liquid vowel sounds are not so bad as many of the Pakehas and perhaps we can do something to raise the standard of English here.

It is a great experience to see how the other side of the world lives. We are pretty well off in New Zealand but most of our people at home tend to accept it uncritically. This is a pity.

Many aspects of Asian life and certainly their forging progress and enthusiasm for advancement can teach us a lot. Underneath they are people who are not so very different from us. They are interested in us and there is a fund of goodwill for New Zealand to exploit to her advantage as well as that of Malaya.

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Mr Hepi Te Heuheu

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Mr Paterika Hura

In the December issue of Te Ao Hou we published an article, ‘The Tribe That Made a Million’, on the Puketapu 3A Incorporation, a major company which has been managed with very great success by its Tuwharetoa owners, and which recently sold its timber assets for over £1 million. Our article caused great interest, and we have been asked by readers if we would publish photographs of the Company's Chairman, Mr Hepi Te Heuheu, and Deputy Chairman, Mr Paterika Hura. In the photograph on the left Mr Te Heuheu is signing the visitors' book at the opening of the Tongariro National Park Board's new headquarters on Mt. Ruapehu. Mr Te Heuheu is a descendant of Te Heuheu Tukino, who gave the park to New Zealand.

Mr Paterika Hura is one of the members of the New Zealand Council of Tribal Executives.

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Alan Armstrong, the writer of this article and an expert on action songs and hakas, is Adjutant of the Second Battalion of the New Zealand Regiment. He has recently returned from Malaya, where he was also director of the Battalion's very successful Maori Concert Party.

Maoritanga in the Mire?

Three years ago in Te Ao Hou a critic writing an appreciation of the show ‘Maori’ (which later toured Australia) said: ‘Too often in the past, Pakehas have had their views on Maori music and culture coloured by ragged improvised performances which reflect poorly on the race as a whole and on the things which they are trying to portray. ‘Maori’ should set a standard to be aimed at by all future concert parties …

Having been absent from New Zealand for over two years, I was anxious on return to attend as many Maori concerts and entertainments as I could—partly to see what was about in the way of new songs and haka, partly to enjoy again some ‘typically New Zealand’ entertainment and to try and record it from the viewpoint of an overseas visitor, and finally in the hope that perhaps ‘Maori’ had set some sort of a standard for others to follow.

It was a bitter and chastening experience. From Auckland to Christchurch I saw Maori concert after Maori concert for which the description second-rate would have been praise indeed. After it all, one could only be left with the feeling that the true song and story of the Maori is in grave danger of being relegated to the category of second-class entertainment, of becoming a fill-in for jazzy rock 'n roll type programmes, unless a great number of Maoris leave alone what they do not intend to take seriously or perform properly.

There were of course some polished and capable performances but these were few. One of the worst was in no less a place than the Auckland Town Hall before a very large audience indeed. Most of the concerts gave the impression of being slapped together and poorly rehearsed and then presented in a way which was an insult to the audience. All too often comperes prefaced their announcements with remarks such as ‘we haven't been rehearsing for very long’, or ‘a lot of the chaps don't know this next item but we hope you'll enjoy it so give them a big hand to help them along’. I will try and catalogue some of the faults. If you have attended a Maori concert lately which has been devoid of all these, you are indeed fortunate.

Timing

Whilst the modern passion for strict time is often exasperating, there must be no such thing as ‘te taima Maori’ when a concert is advertised to start at a certain time. A late start is at the best an admission of incompetence and at the worst outright bad manners to one's guests—a most un-Maori fault.

Faltering starts

Not only is a great deal of time wasted before each item getting the note and deciding who is to start the thing off, but many performers almost seem to think it ‘infra dig’ to join in before the verse is half over.

Costuming

Sports trousers rolled to the knees or gardening shorts under the piupiu just did not do. Wearing dress rings and wristlet watches with traditional costume is just as spurious as the grease paint tattoo which many groups affect. I cannot speak too strongly against this latter practice. The Maoris are a handsome race and it adds nothing to disfigure the performers' faces with obviously artificial scrawlings which are rarely well or artistically executed and which gradually smear and rub off as the evening progresses. I had heard these scrawlings defended as adding to authenticity which is nonsense. If ‘authenticity’ is to be the catch-cry then performers must not confine themselves to ‘tattoo’ on their faces alone.

Stage Movement

This is particularly bad. Many groups shamble on and off the stage in a ungraceful manner which often contrasts most strongly to their movements as they perform. Groups must realise that their presentation starts from the moment the curtain opens or the first person sets foot on stage. Once a group is on stage it should move as little as possible. I attended

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one concert at Rotorua where at the end of each item practically the whole caste would turn their backs on the audience and bolt off the stage. They would have to be recalled by the leader as the next item commenced. The first verse was usually well towards completion before everyone appeared.

Offensive Humour

No one objects to humorous items but we should be spared always the commentator who tells jokes about ‘Hories’. Similarly inappropriate are tasteless parodies of traditional items and also the type of humour practised by the performer who wants to be star of the show. Usually this mis-guided individual has left his false teeth at home and he continually interrupts good items with extravagant posturing, pukana and grimaces.

Mixing Pakeha with Maori Items

Many will not agree with this, but to me it immediately strikes a discordant note to see performers who have a minute or so ago been performing chants, to come out in their piupiu and perform the twist or some rock 'n roll opus. Interludes are sometimes welcome in a concert programme (if they are of sufficiently high standard) but they should be kept to a minimum in length and limited to one interlude for each half of the programme.

Technique

To the discriminating Maori many of the groups have grave faults in technique which can only be the result of a ‘near enough is good enough’ attitude. All too often wrong words are sung which make the songs or haka meaningless. Ugly wriggling of the fingers masquerade as wiriwiri. Extravagant posturing, bodies sagging from the waist instead of bending at the knees, eyes which do not follow the hands all detract from the grace of the action song. Groups performing fling their limbs about like sawdust gollywogs and grin foolishly as if half ashamed of what they are doing.

Commentary and Explanation

Maori groups playing to non-Maori audiences have a duty to explain and interpret their items so that they make sense to the uninitiated and are enjoyed, understood and appreciated by them. This means a brief explanation as to what the item is. A haka or an action song could be a fertility rite for all the average tourist knows. Therefore a few words about the origin and significance of the haka etc. is necessary. Then the complete must explain what the particular item is about—what the words and actions are trying to say.

Most of the concerts I attended were before predominantly pakeha audiences. Many of these were well-wishers supporting projects in aid of the Maori Education Foundation. One presumes that they came to these entertainments because they are interested in Maori culture and well disposed towards the aims and ideals of the race as expressed through the Foundation. It should be of serious concern to all of us what impression these people take with them after viewing ill-mannered, slipshod and mediocre performances comprising more twist than tradition and more rock'n roll than reverence for the rich cultural heritage of the Maori race. The present standard of performance shows a disquietening unawareness by many concert groups of their responsibilities towards those who pay cash to see them and, more importantly, towards enhancing the mana of their tribe and people in pakeha eyes.

What can we do about this state of affairs? In contests, groups must be judged from the first moment they appear on stage to the last moment they leave it. When in an audience, we must show our displeasure in the paucity of our applause for those groups who foist on us mediocre standards. Finally in clubs, schools, youth groups, training colleges and the like, we must reiterate the theme that these groups have a duty to present their culture in a way which does not debase it or make it redolent of the second rate. A sense of reverence and of understanding the significance of the items as well as attention to good presentation, makes for memorable entertainment. Smoothly performed with intelligent explanation and in imaginative settings, our indigenous culture will assume a meaning and a significance for the pakeha which it has not previously had. Thus it becomes yet another way of promoting greater understanding between the two races of this country.

The formation of a trust board to promote better understanding between Maori and Pakeha has been approved in principle by a meeting of representatives of a number of Auckland organizations.

Organizations represented were the Auckland City Council, the Auckland Suburban Local Bodies' Association, the Auckland Employers' Association, the Waitemata District Council of Maori Tribal Executives, the Maori Women's Welfare League, the Maori Education Foundation, the National Council of Women and the Auckland Metropolitan Junior Council Organization. A representative of the Maori Affairs Department was present as an observer.

The chairman and convener of the meeting, Mr Selwyn C. Clarke, said tasks which the trust could undertake included assisting Maoris with home budgets, work for the Maori Education Foundation, and the provision of a forum to discuss topical questions and originate informed comment on racial and other questions.

Those present agreed to refer the matter to their respective organizations before setting up a body and deciding upon its constitution and exact role.

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Some of the ‘Playdates’ practising. Left to right: Lead guitarist Paul Robinson, bass man Colin Clarke, rhythm guitarist Danny Robinson. The others in the group, not shown here, are its leader, saxophonist Dusky Nepia, pianist Heke Kewene, and drummer Ian McKaye.

Auckland's Community Centre

When Te Ao Hou visited Auckland's Maori Community Centre recently, a couple of hundred people were twisting expertly to a beaty tune from the Playdates, one of Auckland's top bands (see photo above). This was a quiet night; they often have crowds of 500 or more, especially on Fridays, and we only wished that we could have stayed till the next Sunday, when the finals of the £800 Monster Talent Quest packed in an audience of 1,000.

Dances at the Centre (which has been going 14 years) started off by being fairly formal affairs, with the men wearing a white collar and tie, and dancing limited to rather decorous waltzes and so on. But when rock'n roll arrived, attendances went down to almost nothing; the management found out that everyone was going instead to a place down the road where lights were dim, the music was real cool and there were no regulations.

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So the Centre changed its policy. It still demands just as high a standard of conduct from the people at its dances—there has been no compromise here—but as Mr Kitchen, the Manager, told ‘Te Ao Hou’, ‘We gave the kids the rock'n roll they wanted, and didn't care if they did wear jeans. After this it took us three months to break the other place, and then we were right.’ The result of this policy, along with high standards of management, is that the Centre is most successful in its main purpose, that of giving people—especially young people—a place of their own where they can relax and enjoy each others' company.

It is run by a Trust Board composed of representatives of the M.W.W.L., the Waitemata Tribal Committee, the Maori Affairs Department, Rotary and the R.S.A.; these last two have always taken a keen, practical interest in the Centre. Most of the profits go to Auckland organisations which are of especial benefit to the Maori people; these include all the maraes round Auckland and such pakeha-run organisations as Boystown, for example.

A great many people give their services freely to help the Centre; honorary wardens are there every weekend, and though the M.W.W.L. members who take turns serving hearty meals in the cafeteria (most popular item: Maori bread) receive contributions to League funds, this is not the main reason why they come.

Every Sunday popular Teenage Afternoons are held. There's table tennis and indoor bowling, lots of people drop in after football and basketball in near-by Victoria Park, and there are performances by local Maori Clubs such as the Maranga and Rangi-Maria groups.

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Left to right, Mr Aubrey Thompson, Chairman of the Trust Board, Mr Ivan Harris, a member of the Trust Board, Mr Ben Broughton, a member of the Trust Board and compere at the shows, Mr J. H. Kitchen, Manager.

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Ans Westra, who took all these pictures, photographed these girls at one of the Sunday Teenage afternoons.

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The Centre has become famous as the place for aspiring entertainers to make a name for themselves—provided they are good enough, that is; they don't dare stand up at the Centre unless they really are good. If they can earn a winning place in the twice-yearly Talent Quests, we were told, ‘they are just about ready for the big time’. Most of the famous names in Maori entertainment got a start this way originally.

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Fishing

Na Mone Taumaunu na Turanga

Nga Marama

Pipiri
Hono-noi
Here-turi-koka
Mahuru
Whiringa-nuku
Whiringa-rangi
Hakihea
Kohi-ta-tea
Hue-ta-nguru
Poutu-te-rangi
Paenga-whawha
Haratau

Hei Whakamaori i tenei e mau ake nei—

No. 1 (Whiro) Ko te raii muri iho o ta te pakeha new moon.

a

No. 15 (Rakaunui) Ko te ra i muri iho o ta te pakeha full moon.

The Months

June
July
August
September
October
November
December
January
February
March
April
May

To read this Calendar—

No. 1 (Whiro) falls on the day after a new moon on a pakeha calendar

and

No. 15 (Rakau-nui) is the day after a full moon on a pakeha calendar

1. Whiro He ra kino tenei mo te ono kai, me te hi ika, hoki. A bad day for fishing or planting.
2. Tuiea He po ahua pai tenei mo te hi koura, tuna, mo te ono kai. A good day for planting, crayfishing and torching eels.
3. Hoata He ra tino pai tenei, mo te hi tuna, koura, ono kumara ono hoki i etahi atu kakano. A very good day for planting kumaras or any seeds, also for crayfishing or torching eels.
4. Oue He ra pai mo te ono kai, he ra pai mo te hi ika. A good day for planting and fishing etc.
5. Okoro He ra pai ano tenei mo te ono kai hi ika hoki. A good day for planting, etc., also for fishing.
6. Tamateaangana He ra ahua pai mo te ono kai mo te hi ika, he ra hau, he kaha te ia tera pea e marangai. Fair for planting and fishing, windy, sea currents strong, expect change of weather.
7. Tamateaaio He ra pai mo te hi ika, kia tupato te haere ki te hi ika i nga ngaru pua i nga kohu. He ra pai ki te ono kai. A very good day for fishing, watch out for the weather. It's either a big heave or misty day, a good cropping day.
8. Tamatea He ririki te tuna, te ika, me te kumara i tenei ra engari he nui kia tupato te hunga ehi moana. Eels, fish, and kumaras, etc., are numerous but small in sizes. When boating keep an eye to the weather.

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9. Tamateawhakapau He pai mo te ono kai i te ata ki te ra-tu. Kaore i tino pai mo te hi ka pau nga tamatea. Fair for planting from morning to midday only, also fair for fishing.
10. Ari He ra kino tenei. A bad day.
11. Huna E hara i te ra pai ki te ono kai ki te hi ranei he noho mohoao te noho a te tuna a te koura. Not a good day for planting or fishing; eels and crayfish get very timid.
12. Mawharu He ra tino pai tenei mo te ono kai, he nunui te kumara e ngari kaore e roa ka pirau he ra pai ki te hi ika. A very good day for planting, but it does not keep very long, also a good day for fishing, etc.
13. Atua E hara i te ra pai, mo te ono kai mo te hi ika ranei. It's not a very good day for planting or fishing.
14. Turei He pai tonu mo te hi ika mo te ono kai, i muri o te ra tu, ki te ra to. A fair day for fishing and planting from midday to sunset.
15. Rakaunui He ra tino pai mo te ono kai, ahakoa he aha taua kai ra pai mo te hi ika kaore e tino pai no te hi tuna. A very good day for planting, etc., also for fishing and not so good for eeling.
16. Rakaumatohi He ra tino pai mo te ono kai, mo te hi ika kaore mo te tuna. A very good day for planting and fishing, and not so for eeling.
17. Takirau Takirau-maheahea, kua makoha te marama he ririki te kumara, te koura, te tuna. The moon is losing its brightness. Kumaras planted on this day are small, also crayfish and eels.
18. Oike E hara i te tino ra pai, mo te ono tai mo te hi ranei. It is only another day. It's not the best for planting or fishing.
19. Korekorete-whiwhia E hara i te ra pai mo te ono kai mo te hi ika ranei. It's only a fair day either for planting or fishing.
20. Korekorete-Rawea E hara i te po pai tenei. It's not a very good day at all.
21. Korekorepiri-ki-nga-Tangaroa He pai tenei ra atu i te ra-tu ki te ra-to. Koia nei etahi ra pai ki te patu tuna, koura, ika me nga momo kai katoa. A very good day from midday to sunset; for planting, fishing, etc. Anything planted in the Tangaroa's produces size and number.
22. Tangaroa-a-mua He ra pai ki te ono kai ki te hi ika, koura, tuna. A very good day for planting and fishing, crayfish and eels.
23. Tangaroa-a-roto He ra pai tenei ki te ono kai ki nga mahi hi ika koura. A very good day for planting and fishing, crayfish and eels.
24. Tangaroa-Kiokio He ra pai tenei ki te ono kai, ki nga mahi hi ika koura. A very good day for planting, cropping and fishing, crayfish and eels.
25. Tangaroa-Whakapau He ra pai tenei ki te ono kai ki te hi ika, koura, tuna. A very good day for planting and fishing crayfish and eels.
26. Otaane He ra pai tenei mo te ono kai, mo te hi ika koura tuna. A very good day for planting, fishing, crayfishing and eeling.
27. Orongonui He ra tino pai tenei mo te ono kai hi ika koura, tuna. He pai mo te waihanga whakaaio. A very good day for planting, fishing, crayfishing and eeling, also a good day for business.
28. Mauri E hara i te ra pai tenei he oho mauri te kai ka oma. Not a very good day for planting or fishing; fish, eels and crayfish are very elusive.
29. Omutu E hara i te ra pai tenei. It's not a good day.
30. Mutu-Whenua E hara i te ra po pai tenei kua hinapouri te ao e ai ki nga korero o neke ra. It's not a good day at all. The world is in darkness according to Maori belief.

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Pataka, The Maori Treasure Houses

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This beautiful old storehouse (pataka) is in the National Museum in Copenhagen

The photograph above shows the porch of a Maori storehouse (pataka) which is in the National Museum in Copenhagen. It is one of the most beautiful ones which have survived, and is very old. Pataka were made in all shapes and sizes; many were not carved, or else had only a little carving or painting. But as well as these, every village of any consequence had an elaborately carved storehouse which belonged to the chief, and was a sign of his authority and prestige; hence the famous saying, ‘Ko te tohu o te Rangatira he pataka whakairo e tu na i roto i te pa tuwatawata’. Carved pataka were never used to store kumara or taro; they were used only for the people's most precious treasures—boxes containing greenstone, jewellery, weapons, finely worked cloaks and baskets, and so on. Gourds containing preserved birds and rats were

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kept there, and so was dried fish, which they very much liked to eat with kumaras to give them more flavour. Many pataka, though not this one, have bargeboards carved to represent a stylized whale, with its head turned into a spiral pattern at the lower end; it was natural that on their storehouses for fish, they should put the biggest fish they were ever able to find. (In those days, whales were quite often stranded on the shore). On much the same principle, carved figures of ancestors were set there to guard the house and its contents. The ancestor who guarded the door was an especially important one. Pataka were very tapu, but in case the rats should ignore this, they were placed for safety on top of smooth poles.

There is a picture of an old one on the next page.

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Dried fish was stored in pataka. This old one stood once at the Bay of Islands.

An Old Fishing Chant

Tahuri mai, tahuri mai e Maru,
Tahuri mai e Henga,
Tahuri mai e Kahukura,
He tapa tua ko i uta,
He tapa tua ko i tai,
He tapa tua Tane,
He tapa tua Tangaroa,
Ko tapa tua a te hiri,
Ko tapa tua a te hara,
Ko tapa tua a te manuka,
Ko tapa tua a te ngahoa,
Ko tapa tua Tane,
Tangaroa e au ko i uta,
E au ko i tai e au Tane,
E au Tangaroa,

 

Turn to me, turn to me Maur!
Turn to me, Henga!
Turn to me, Kahukura!
A spell commanding success on land,
A spell commanding success on sea,
A spell commanding success, Tane!
A spell commanding success, Tangaroa!
A spell to ensure that our work is successful,
A spell to ensure that we do no wrong,
A spell to free us from anxiety,
A spell to make Tane successful!
Give a current away from the shore, Tangaroa,
A current out to sea, a current for Tane,
A favourable current in the sea!

 
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A canoe off the coast of Taranaki. Many early canoes had sails similar to this.

Ko te au a te hiri,
Ko te au a te hara,
Ko te au a te manuka,
Tena te au ka wiwi,
Tena te au karawhe,
Tena te au ka mou,
Mou ki mua waka,
Mou ki roto waka,
Mou ki tu ta mua a Tane,
Mou ki tapu kaha nui o Tangaroa,
Te waka tauiratia ana mai e koe,
Te kaha Tane, Tangaroa ko taku,
Kaha, ko te kaha a wai,
Ko te kaha a Tama Titoko,
Tena te kaha ka wiwi,
Tena te kaha ka rawe,
Tena te kaha ka,
Mou, ki mua waka,
Mou ki roto waka,
Mou ki tu ta mua o Tane,

 
 

This is the current for our work,
A current spoilt by no wrong-doing,
A current that brings no anxiety.
This current moves with a little noise,
This current ripples smoothly,
This current flows steadily,
Moving evenly before the canoe,
Moving evenly on the one side,
Moving evenly on the other side,

 
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Mou ki tapu kaha nui o Tangaroa,
Mou ki tenei waka,
Mou ki tenei tauira,
Ko koe te waka tauiratia,
Ana mai e koe te kaha,
Tane Tangaroa te w[h]anatu,
Taku kaha nei ki w[h]are pouri o Tangaroa, i tai,
Te homai,
Te herea,
Te notia,
Te nota,
Te w[h]akamaua ki tenei kaha,
Te w[h]anatu taku kaha nei,
Ki w[h]are huakina o Tangaroa i tai,
Te homai te herea te w[h]akamaua,
Ki tenei kaha,
Tena te kaha ka wiwi,
Tena te kaha ka rawe,
Tena to kaha ka mou,
Mou ki mua waka,
Mou ki roto waka,
Ko koe te waka tauiratia ana mai,
E koe te kaha Tane Tangaroa,
E rarawe taku ure ngaua.

 
 

Sustained by the great sacred strength of Tangaroa.
You the canoe are made strong,
The strength of Tane, the strength of Tangaroa is mine.
Whose is this strength?
The strength of Tama Titoko.
This is the strength achieved,
This is the strength obtained,
This is the lasting strength,
This current flows steadily,
Moving evenly before the canoe,
Moving evenly on the one side,
Moving evenly on the other side,
Sustained by the great sacred strength of Tangaroa,
Making strong this canoe,
Making strong this spell.
You the canoe are made strong,
You have absorbed this strength.
Tane and Tangaroa drive the canoe along,
From them comes my strength in the deep house of the sea, Tangaroa.
From the sea the giving,
From the sea the captives on the lines,
From the sea the lines pulled tight,
From the sea the catch on the knotted lines,
The sustaining of my strength,
The growing of my strength,
That I may come to the house of Tangaroa the sea and find it open.
From the sea the giving, the captives on the lines, the holding firm,
By these words of strength.
This is the strength achieved,
This is the strength obtained,
This is your lasting strength,
Moving evenly before the canoe,
Moving evenly at its sides,
You the canoe are made strong,
Yours is the strength of Tane and Tangaroa,
Many fish are biting at my hook.

Before the fishing began, the tohunga stood up, stretched out his arms, and recited this chant. The canoe, made from a tree, belonged to Tane. There was war between Tane and Tangaroa, the land and the sea. In this chant, the tohunga is trying to make Tangaroa co-operate with Tane (the canoe), and give them good weather and plenty of fish. On their return to land, the tohunga recited the chant on the next page as thanks to the gods for the fish they had caught. (For reasons of space, some of the place-names have been omitted from the translation). ‘Au’, in the last lines, means both a current in the sea, and the smoke of Tane; that is, the wood in the oven in which the fish is being cooked. The word ‘nota’ is not in any Maori dictionary; it seems likely to be related to Sanskrit ‘naddha’, a knot. There are several obscure words in the Maori; another is ‘karawhe’, which is probably a mis-hearing of ‘karewa’, to swirl.—A.S.

 
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This carving of Paikea, riding to New Zealand on the back of a whale, was made by Pine Taiapa and is on top of the meeting-house at Whangara. The story of Paikea, and another fish story about a tohunga called Te Tahi o te Rangi, are told on pages 5 and 6 of this issue.

 

Te ika, te ika i Waitotara,
Te ika, te ika i Whenua kura,
Te ika, te ika i Patea,
Te ika, te ika i Tangahoe,
Te ika, te ika i Waingongoro,
Te ika, te ika i Kawhia,
Te ika, te ika i Taranaki.
Te takina mai hoki te ika
Ki tenei rua, ki tenei one,
Te ika ki tenei papa,
Te ika ki tenei au tapu,
Te ika ki te au tapu no Tane
Ki te au tapu o Tangaroa te ika
Tere tere te ika
He ika w[h]aka-mou kaha hai.
Tena te ika ka moe,
Ko te ika o te rua,
Ko te ika o te one,
Te ika o te hohonu,
Tena te ika ka taki ki mua,
Ka taki ki roto,
Ka taki ki te turanga,
Ka taki ki te kainga,
Ka taki ki te au tapu nui no Tane,
Ki te au tapu nui o Tangaroa.

 

The fish, the fish of Waitotara,
The fish, the fish of Taranaki—
The drawing of the fish
Towards these depths, towards this beach,
The fish drawn towards this ledge of rock,
The fish drawn towards this sacred smoke,
Towards the smoke of the wood-fire of Tane,
Towards the sacred current of Tangaroa—
The fish is drawn along,
The fish caught fast on the line!
This is the fish that has been killed,
The fish from the depths,
The fish from the beach,
The fish from the depths of the sea—
This is the fish caught at the front of the canoe,
Caught at the sides of the canoe,
Taken to the landing-place,
Taken to the village,
Taken to the most sacred smoke of Tane,
By the most sacred current of Tangaroa!

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Maori Warrior's Book of Dreams

Nearly a hundred years ago, a Maori named Aporo drew in a notebook the visions which he saw in his dreams. He was a warrior fighting for the Maori King against the Pakehas and the Pakeha Queen. On 23 January 1867, while he was hiding underneath a waterfall at Poripori, he was shot by Major Gilbert Mair, a famous Pakeha soldier. Nothing else is known about his life.

But his dream drawings were saved by the man who killed him, and they are now in the Turnbull Library in Wellington. So far as we know, this is the first time that any of them have been published. We show only a few drawings here; there are many more of them in this old notebook, the pages of which are fragile now with age.

It is a kind of diary, a record of the dreams and nightmares which came to him as he lay asleep, probably in a shelter deep in the bush, one of a band of guerrillas fighting a bitter, hopeless battle against the men who wanted their land.

This is what is written on the first of these pages:

I slept because of my sadness, and in my sleep I saw this sign above me: a reddish cloud, and a flock of little birds, and a big bird in the midst of them, flying in the direction of the great cloud. They settle on the cloud with their big friend. I awoke.

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(Moe iho au i runga i oku Pouritanga ka kite au i tenei tohu i te takiwa nei. He Kapua ahua whero me te Pokai manu ririki nei me te mea nui ano i waenganui i a ratou huihui ana ratou ki te Kurae Kapua nei. Noho ana ratou i reira me to ratou hoa. Ka oho ake au.)

Above this is a painting of the great red cloud, the flock of little birds, and the big bird in their midst.

On the next page is a painting of a European ship. Beneath it is written:

This is a ship with one mast. Its sails are red.

The whole of the sea of Tauranga is red like the sails.

(Ko tenei Kaipuke he rakau tahi. Ko ona heera i ahua pu[w]hero pau Katoa te Moana o Tauranga katoa i te whero o nga Hera.)

There are other drawings of ships—one of a European ship drawn up on the shore, one of a canoe on a mountain top. Some drawings show a figure very much like a knight, wearing a cross on his breast, which may be inspired by pictures of St George.

Many of the drawings have symbolism which is hard to interpret, and sometimes the text is not easy to follow. The mysterious drawing on page 38 seems to represent the glory (kororia) of the sun; and perhaps the word on the right in this drawing, and the sign beneath it, refer to a key. The writing on the strange, poetic drawing on page 40 seems to mean ‘the post of glory’.

One page shows a miserable-looking man—‘This is an unhappy man’. (Ko te nei tangata he pakira.)

The writing beside the drawing on this page reads in translation, ‘This is Governor Grey, otherwise known as Old Grouchy. He is looking for an excuse to enable him to destroy the Maori People … he makes great speeches to his people about the bravery of the Maori’. Another drawing, illustrated on the next page, reads, ‘This is Governor Grey. He has come to deceive the Maori People. He has got them in the bag’.

There is yet another devil, complete with pitch-fork, and as beautifully drawn as these others, who is about to thrust the Maori King on to a fire.

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The two devils represent Sir George Grey; between them is a bishop, probably Bishop Selwyn.

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We wish that we could illustrate more of these pictures, but unfortunately many of them are done in watercolour and pencil, and would not reproduce well. But if you should visit the Alexander Turnbull Library in Wellington, the people there will be very pleased to show them to you.

Aporo had been educated by Pakehas, probably by missionaries, since he uses Christian symbolism to express his hatred of Governor Grey, the leader of his enemies. He had turned against Pakeha things, and the bishop is shown as being an ally of Grey's. But he knew in his dreams that it was too late to defeat the Pakeha. He made these drawings very carefully and skilfully, and his images of the great crisis in which he was a helpless victim move us now by their poetic power (the drawing on page 38 may remind some readers of the drawings of William Blake), and by the sense of impending doom which they express.

Early drawings of this kind are very rare indeed. If some other early drawings have been preserved by Maori families and are not yet generally known about, it would be of great interest if their owners were to decide to let Te Ao Hou know of their existence.

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Sir George Grey carrying off the Maori People in his bag.

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Gifts for St. Stephen's

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Mr Wallace Mangu, winner of the dairy section of the Ahuwhenua competition, and his wife, being presented with the Trophy at the Hui Topu last May.

St. Stephen's School, Bombay, received a significant gift recently from a well-known New Plymouth resident. If his gesture encourages others to do likewise, something of real worth could well be added to schools all over the country.

The donor was Mr L. M. Nutt, J.P., who is president of the New Plymouth branch of the Founders' Society and a member of a number of local organisations. For many years he has been a collector of items of Maori craftsmanship in wood and stone and bone. One Sunday recently, he presented a number of items from his collection to the school with the object of interesting the pupils in the craftsmanship of their ancestors. The gifts included weapons, adzes, three large carvings, a shell trumpet, fish hooks, ear pendants, and many other articles.

A Welcoming Haka

The scene was one which many old boys of the school can clearly visualise. A brilliant afternoon in late summer, the school gathered beneath the great clock tower, a party 40 strong stripped to the waist and clad in piupiu and tapeka. Three stand apart ready to challenge the visitors when they advance up the drive beneath the plane trees.

The only new things are the floor mats spread on the closely clipped green lawn, mats that bear an array of treasures of other times and another culture.

After he had been welcomed, and greetings had been exchanged, Mr Nutt explained the reason for his gift. For the past five years, he said, the beautiful and historic Church of St. Mary at New Plymouth had held a Maori-Pakeha weekend.

It had been his and his wife's pleasure to billet pupils from St. Stephens. He had been distressed to learn that the school did not possess any Maori artifacts, ‘those treasures of the past which so vividly display the craftsmanship of your ancestors’, and he felt the school lacked something by their absence.

He was firmly of the opinion that the rising generation must retain a pride in its ancestry, its history and its culture. ‘Extract the best qualities of your traditions, amalgamate those with the best qualities of the pakeha and you will go far.’

The school showed its appreciation in no uncertain way, perhaps the most impressive being the rendering of an action song especially composed for the occasion.

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Today the sand-hills are being covered with marram grass and pine forest.

Te Taou and the Sandhills

For the last million years restless Tai Tama Tane, the Tasman Sea of the Pakeha, has been casting up sand on a thirty-mile beach just north of Auckland. In the beginning the tiny grains collected and grew into a long narrow bar separating the ocean from what was to become the harbour of Kaipara. The years went by and this sand began to grow upwards upon itself until it formed a range of hills, a continuation of the higher Waitakere ranges, running parallel to the coastline. More sand emerged from the sea to form a beach, and then an ever-widening stretch at the western base of these hills. A chain of fresh-water lakes appeared between the hills and plains of sand and as the centuries rolled on, the whole of this land became clothed with forest. Kauri, karaka, puriri, rewarewa and lesser trees grew to maturity, the rakau katoa to cover the naked skin of Papa. And no man saw them.

A hurricane came with lightning, and the forest was burned and laid low. The ocean cared not and continued to throw up sand from its depths. When the west wind blew, the sand went flying away inland once more, covering the dead trees and making new hummocks and hollows. In some places where hills were low and the wind keen, the sand evaded the lakes set out like sentry posts to guard the remnants of the forest, and crossed the long dividing barrier to smother the fertile land beyond.

This was the land that the people of Te Taou gained by conquest early in the eighteenth century. They saw where the children of Tane had been smitten by Tawhirimatea, and saw Tangaroa, ceaselessly throwing up sand for Hauauru, the west wind, to spread across the land.

As they considered these things, this hapu of Ngatiwhatua saw a parallel between the story of the sandhills and their own history. First there had been the time of their beginning in Aotearoa. This was around 1300 A.D., when some people of the Mahuhu canoe had landed on the low sandbank at the entrance of the Kaipara harbour. Then a great storm and the sea had come destroying their homes at Taporapora and casting the people about like trees in a gale so that they were scattered and forced to find new homes. Most of them went north; from there, together with some of the people of Mahuhu canoe who had always lived around Doubtless Bay, Ngatiwhatua began to drift south again, over-running the human obstacles in their path.

When Ngatiwhatua had migrated as far as Poutu on Kaipara North Head, they were con-

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fronted, if they wished to continue south, with the task of defeating the men of Waiohua, Ngaririki and Kawerau. As the lakes and hills of their ancestral home had long defied the onslaught of the sand dunes, so the people of these tribes resisted the invasion of the lower Kaipara. It took Ngatiwhatua all the years between 1680–1730 to gain this territory. During this time there were many skirmishes on sand and beach as first one side and then the other won a victory. The great Ngatiwhatua chief Haumoewharangi, who led the earliest war parties, was killed there, and so was the giant warrior Kawharu of Kawhia, whose aid had been sought by Ngatiwhatua.

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Special machines are used for planting marram grass. Leather jackets and goggles protect the men against the sand.

Ngatiwhatua attach most importance to the battle of Otakinini, a pa on the west side of the mouth of the Kaipara river, as marking the final conquest of lower Kaipara; but to the hapu of Te Taou, the important battle is the one fought at Waionui lagoon. Kaipara South Head, within sight of the sandhills that had already cost them dearly. This took place at the end of the sixteenth century. The warriors of Haumoewharangi, the Uri o Hau, in making one of their attacks on the Ngaririki, had killed Nganaia, a man of note among the defending tribe. In return for this, Ngaririki killed the chifetainess Tou Tara of the Uri o Hau. This ancestress of the Reweti people died through a spear (tao) wound in the breast (u) and so the hapi of Ngatiwhatua to which she belonged took the name of Te Taou.

Settlement in New Lands

Te Taou trace their origin as a hapu from this battle, and also from another ancestress of that time, Makawe, a daughter of Haumoewharangi. After the invasion of the newly-won lands following the battle of Otakinini, Makawe lived at Te Makiri, a pa on the Kaipara river, just south of Helensville. Here, around this pa, in an area between Kaukapakapa and Taupaki, Te Taou grew up. Many of their pa sites were on the west of the Kaipara river and many had been the homes of the earlier owners of the land. Te Taou territory extended in the west to the coast at a point behind the triple pa sites of Waituoro, Taipu a te Marama and te Heke which stand on the western range near Helensville. To the north along the sandy peninsula, Ngatiwhatua proper and Uri o Hau held sway.

As the name Taipu a te Marama indicates, this pa stood on sandy country. The famous Oneonenui pa near Muriwai is another pa with a self-

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explanatory title. Te Taou came to know the sandhills very well, and every prominence which rose unchanging above the sea of sand gained a Maori name. The long beach was known in the south as Muriwai, and in its northern stretches as Rangatira; and the lakes, small and large, each had a name given in memory of some event in the past.

Legends to add significance to the sandhills came into being. Remembering the great Kawharu of whom Ngatiwhatua said, ‘His face was as long as from my fingertips to my elbow’, the lakes stretching from Muriwai settlement to South Head became ‘the footsteps of Kawharu’, and Te Taou believed that it was to Paeroa, an area on the dunes near Wharepapa, that Rona had fled after bringing down the wrath of the moon upon his family.

Braving the risk of an encounter with taniwha in the very deep and blue lakes, they dug cause-ways between these stretches of fresh water. Through this inland waterway, which in many places can still be seen, the people of Te Taou, and probably residents of an earlier age, hauled their canoes.

No eels were found in the lakes, but there were fresh water mussels, crayfish and waterfowl. On the coast, which was also an important highway, there were toheroa and excellent fish, with sometimes the gift of whales from Tangaroa.

Te Taou did not always cross the changing contours of sand on peaceful missions. There are many stories of people running to the sandhills to escape or ambush war parties. The battles of Haumoewharangi and Kawharu had scarcely passed into history when Waiohua under Kiwi of Maungakiekie pa, Tamaki isthmus, began another series of battles on the sandhills and country round about.

The Desart Coast

Soon after this, Captain Cook sailed by, describing the land as ‘The Desart Coast’. Soon after that again, Ngapuhi began attacking the Kaipara, seeking Te Taou with varying success among these hills.

By the time the first pakeha came, Te Taou knew every aspect of living in the sandhills, and generations of their forbears were in their last long sleep in hidden burial places among the dunes. Te Kawau, not yet christened Apihai, was their paramount chief and Ngapuhi under Tareha were laying waste to their homes.

In July 1820 Te Kawau brought the first white men to the district. They were Samuel Marsden, the pioneer missionary, and Mr Ewels, a companion from the ship, Coromandel. Their visit was short but Marsden and Ewels had time to walk on the great sandhills. The pa to which they came and in which they spent the night was Ongarahu, on a ridge at Reweti; and Marsden's names lives on in Te Tou o te Matenga, the title given to a hill which stands in the sand behind Ruarangihaerere.

Marsden was back in Te Taou country that November. One of his missionary companions, the Rev. Butler, wrote eloquently in his diary of the feeling of awe and desolation and the protecting love of the Almighty which he experienced when he surveyed the ‘immense tracts of sand which much resembled a deep snow in Winter, with here and there a stunted bush growing through it … and the tremendous roaring surf

Pakehas Come to Stay

that is seen and heard for many miles.”

Six years after this, Te Taou, through fear of Ngapuhi, joined the exodus from Kaipara to Waikato. Te Taou did not see their sandhills for a decade and when they returned there, the whole pattern of Maori life had changed. Tribal warfare had been ended by the missionaries with a series of peace-making meetings and more and more Pakehas were coming to New Zealand to stay.

Te Taou lived on in their villages near the sand until about 1870. The principal settlements were those of old, Oneonenui, Ongarahu, Kopironui and Pahunuhunu, near Ohirangi. At Ongarahu in 1865, Te Kawau gave shelter to the crew of the cutter ‘Petrel’ which had been wrecked on the Muriwai coast, and a mission base at Pahunuhunu, the home of Aoihai te Wharepouri. Here Bishop Selwyn planted two Norfolk pines which are still standing today, and visiting ministers held services in the chapel near the sand.

As the Pakeha cry for land became greater the old chiefs of Te Taou, Apihai Te Kawau, Hikiera. Paora Tuhaere, Uruamo, Otene, Wharepouri and their sons sold much of their ancestral territory, keeping small reserves for themselves and their people. They sold the sandy acres as well as the arable, and gave white men the possession of the land right to the Tasman Coast. And it happened that after almost a century and a half, the sandhills of Te Taou became significant to them only for the wahi tapu among them, and as a pathway to the coast of the toheroa and sea fish.

The nature of the sand, like life itself, had changed for Te Taou. It was their enemy now, spreading over many of the old pa sites and threatening, in its march from the sea, to engulf those people who stayed in its path. By 1870 the sand, like some greedy taniwha, had swallowed much of that portion of the Ongarahu pa in which Te Taou lived, so that a new pa had to be found. This second Ongarahu, a mile to the east, is above the west side of the Reweti railway station and is the present marae of Te Taou, complete with church, cemetery and ‘Whiti te Ra’ meeting house.

The sandhills kept rolling forward as the years went on. The Pakeha settlers who lived in their shadow were worried about the relentless drift of the dunes, but they seemed as powerless to stop

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the flow as were the people of Te Taou.

The first white man to attempt to halt the sand was Mr Richard Monk, who took up land at Woodhill in 1870. Mr Monk employed Renata Poata Uruamo and others of Te Taou in planting poplars, marram and experimental grasses from Australia on the sand at the back of his farm. The marram flourished and the poplars can still be seen from the main road to Helensville.

Later, another Pakeha who attempted single-handed to check the sand was Mr Richard Hoe of Reweti. This man was a friend of all Te Taou and had greatly admired their tohunga chief, Otene Kikokiko. In the 1920s Mr Hoe planted marram, lupin and pines, but though these grew well his efforts were of as little use as trying to empty a lake with a canoe baler. Still the sand came on, creeping over hills and spilling into valleys until the dunes just south of Woodhill were only half a mile away from the main road.

The 1930s were hungry years in New Zealand. Not only was the sand hungry for the land but men were often hungry for food. To give men work and a little money, the Government established relief camps, placing the men in Public Works. And in 1932 men were brought to begin planting the sandhills with lupin and marram. So that this could be done, the Pakeha owners of the sandhills sold their useless acres to the Ministry of Works for a nominal sum.

At first few of Te Taou found work on these sandhills in which they had once lived. But they were interested in the planting, and were pleased that the burial grounds of their people were respected by the Ministry of Works.

The first camp was a little north of Woodhill, and others were built near the sand at Reweti and Muriwai. The men who lived in them slept in canvas tents and worked on foot in all weathers, doggedly continuing their battle over the years. Then in 1936 some pinus radiata were planted amongst the marram and lupin, and at last the sandhills closest to peoples' farms and homes were stopped in their advance.

A Transformation

In the thirty years since this work started, a complete transformation has taken place. Where the great hills of sand once blew about for miles in ever-changing patterns—the ‘immense tracts … like a deep snow in winter’ which the Rev. Butler had described—there are now dark pine-forests, all flourishing in different stages of growth. The State Forest Service took over from the Ministry of Works in 1951, since skilled foresters were needed by this time. There is some cover now on all the dunes except for a strip still owned by

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Mr Durban Pairama

Ngatiwhatua; there are 7,000 acres of forest, and by 1965 they should be planting 1000 acres more each year. From the slat fences, reminiscent of the pa palisades of old, which are there to make the new sand form into hills, to the dark panorama of pines beyond, there is little to remind any Te Taou of the great sea of sand they once owned. The lakes nearer Muriwai, ‘the footsteps of Kawharu’, are now obliterated. One area which was once a garden for kumara and taro is now a nursery for the young pine trees.

At the same time that the scope of the planting is expanded, the older trees must be pruned and thinned. The sale of some pine products has already begun, and in the future, as the trees reach maturity, this will be greatly increased.

Work for Te Taou

One of the first of the Te Taou people to work regularly in the forest was Kelvin Povey, who began there in 1952. Mr Povey, who traces his descent from Renata Aperehama, soon put his skill with machinery to good use. Together with Mr M. Jonas and Mr I. Lloyd, he invented a planting machine for the marram grass. This small machine, mounted on a Ferguson tractor enables two operators to plant five acres of marram a day. Mr Povey later helped to perfect a larger machine, a multiple of three machines on one frame, which is towed by a D.7 and plants eighteen to twenty acres of marram a day. Six men, many of them of Te Taou lineage, sit under cover in this large planter.

Today, many people of Te Taou work in the forests. Every day more of them are tending the pines for eventual milling, while others drive gang and supply trucks, and Durban Pairama is an all-round driver of note, handling at various times the

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grader, heavy trucks, the D6 and D7. All the Maori men working in the Woodhill Forest have some Te Taou connection or have married women of this hapu of Ngatiwhatua.

Still more people will be needed in future and for our young folk this great project, which is so intimately connected with their past, will be a wonderful place of employment in the future. Apart from regular workers, whole families often take a hand in extra work in the weekends, packing marram and lupin seed, making a happy Te Taou occasion of the job.

This then is how many of our people live today. With homes on our ancestral reserves we work in a Pakeha economy on the land that was once the sandy domain of our people. Some may mourn the past and the fact that we cannot now offer visitors to the marae at Reweti our traditional shellfish, but all admit that the reclamation of the dunes has brought us nothing but good. In the forest and on the sand we work in harmony with men of other races who still respect our customs and wishes. The old wahi tapu are all fenced off today and left unplanted, and the seaward face of Oneonenui has been set aside as a tapu area because of the hundred Waikato who were once slain there. The future of Te Taou is ably guarded by the men of the State Forest Service. They, with Te Taou among them, work forever with the sound of the ocean in their ears, fighting a constant battle on the ancient sandhills with the sand continuously cast up by restless Tai Tama Tane.

 

Sir Turi Carroll, Sixth Maori Knight

continued from page 3

boards, was for eight years president of the A. and P. Association and was Chairman of the Farmers' Union provincial executive.

After the Second World War, Sir Alfred offered 1700 acres of the family property for the rehabilitation of Maori soldiers. He was a member of the district rehabilitation committee.

Awarded the O.B.E. in 1950, he was invested by the Queen during her visit in 1954.

He has been Chairman of the Ngati Kahungunu Tribal Executive for very many years, and was closely associated with the late Major Te Reiwhati Vercoe in the formation of the New Zealand Council of Tribal Executives. At the recent inaugural meeting of this body he was elected as its President, and he is also the Council's nominee to the Board of Trustees of the Maori Education Foundation.

Sir Turi Carroll is the sixth Maori to receive a knighthood; the others are Sir James Carroll, Sir Maui Pomare, Sir Apirana Ngata, Sir Peter Buck, and Sir Eruera Tirikatene.

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Father Henare Tate

Second Maori Catholic Priest

The Rev. Henare Arekatera Tate, who comes from Motuti, near Panguru, was ordained on 30 June as a priest in the Roman Catholic Church. He is the first Maori ever to be ordained for the diocesan priesthood, and the second Maori ever to become a priest.

Hundreds of Maoris from all over the country came to Auckland to be present at Father Tate's ordination and at his first Mass, and then to take part in a Maori reception for him in the Trades Hall in Hobson Street.

This gathering was organized by an Auckland committee headed by Mrs Whina Cooper and Mr W. Hotere, and an estimated 2000 Maoris took part altogether in the various functions.

Father W. Te Awhitu, the first Maori to become a priest, took part in the celebrations, and Father Tate's parents and other members of his family were also among the guests of honour.

Father Tate will be returning to Panguru, in Northland.

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Brownie Puriri's World Tour,

Continued from Page 7.

friendly—‘In fact I felt more at home in English hotels than in some of these pubs I've been to in New Zealand.’

After this there was a long flight right across Europe and the Middle East to Hong Kong. He flew all the way, and enjoyed flying very much, but found that ‘physically I landed at a place, but biologically it took a while for me to catch up with myself, if you see what I mean.’ This is hardly surprising seeing that his whole trip was crammed into only two short months.

Hong Kong is a wonderful place, he says, though ‘many readers will know the Maori saying that a bird needs feathers to fly with, and unfortunately this bird had started to moult by this time.’

At all the places which he visited, Brownie met and talked to the people concerned with social services, with race relations and with industry; his welfare work in New Zealand naturally gave him an especial interest in these things. In Hong Kong he was impressed with the work which the Government and the churches are doing under difficult circumstances. The people are very cheerful, and honest too (‘they are good business people, that's different’). There is little juvenile delinquency, even very humble homes are kept clean, and people are happy. They accept help if they must, but are a proud people and don't go looking for hand-outs.

A Chinese family will give up its modest accommodation to sleep on the pavement in order to save the money to enable one—just one—of the family to learn to read and write.

He spent a day in Australia and was very fortunate in meeting some relatives there, Huia Rika and the Tipene family (Mrs Tipene is a sister of Mr Hone Heke Rankin of Kaikohe).

And what were his main impressions, we asked Brownie, after visiting all these places and all these people?

He feels that people throughout the world have much the same problems; that the world is much smaller than it used to be; that we as Maoris don't realise the opportunities that exist at our own front door. He found that Maori qualities are shared by many other peoples as well; that Maori warmth, spontaneity and communal values are very possibly more typical of the human race than are the Pakeha versions of these things. He thinks we are all too complacent, too smug in this country and he talks wistfully about the civilized drinking overseas, especially in England.

Maoris have been most fortunate, he feels, in retaining their own identity, and this has been partly due to enlightened Government action.

There are two other things he is emphatic about. Though he is so much a Maori, Brownie Puriri went overseas as a New Zealander firstly, as a Maori secondly. And he is more than ever sure now that this is the best country in the world.

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Maori Education Foundation? Who for? You on best bets or me trying to swot?’

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– 49 –

In our last issue we re-printed, in a slightly modified form, a translation of the story of Tuwhakairiora, a famous Ngati Porou ancestor. We print here the first instalment of the original Maori text, written by Mohi Turei of Rangitukia and first published in the Polynesian Journal in 1911. The second and last instalment will follow in our December issue.

Tuwhakairiora

Ko Poroumata raua ko tona wahine ko Whaene he rangatira, he mokopuna na Porourangi. Ko to raua iwi ko Ngati Ruanuku. Ko nga hapu nunui i roto ko Hore, ko Mana, ko Te Koreke, ko Te Mokowhakahoihoi, ko Te Pananehu, ko Te Pohoumauma.

Ka mahi te iwi i te kai, ka kawe ma Poroumata, i te hinu, i te ika, me era atu kai katoa. Ka hi te iwi i te ika, ka haere nga tumau o to Poroumata pa ki nga awe ki te tiki i nga ika i tena ra, i tena ra; nawai ra i pai te tiki, kua kino. Kua riro ma ratou e tango na ika i nga taumanu. Ko nga ika i mahue atu ka kotia mai nga tātā, nga whatu-aro, nga upoko o nga hapuku. Kua uru hoki nga tama ki taua mahi. Ko ia kaore i te mohio: tana he atawhai tonu i te iwi.

Ka whakatakoto whakaaro te iwi kia patua a Poroumata. I tetahi po ka titiro ia ki te po tu i waho i te Omanga e taruru ana, ki te Ika o te rangi me nga Patari, ki te tae pukohu tataiore e taipua ana i nga maunga. Ka ki ia ‘He marino tua-ukiuki apopo, he kawatawata tātā moana te koangiangi; ka haere au ki te moana.’ I te ata ka eke ia ki tetahi o nga waka, ka tae ki te taunga. E kupapa ana te tini o nga waka. Ka warea ia ki te mounu i ona matau. Ka kamo nga whatu o nga tangata o te ihu ki o te tā, me o te tā ki o te ihu. Ka pera katoa nga tangata o nga waka ra, ka kamo katoa, me te tohu mai kia patua. Ka patua, ka mate. Ka pokaia te puku me te ngakau, ka maka ki te moana, ka pae ki uta. Waiho iho hei ingoa mo te wahi i pae ai, ko Tawekatanga o te ngakau o Poroumata. Huaina iho ki te taunga ko Kamokamo. E mau nei ano aua ingoa.

Ka mate ra a Poroumata, ko wai hei ngaki i te mate? Kei te hari ra hoki te iwi, ka kai noa ia i ana kai. Ka tangi nga tamahine ki to ratou papa, a Te Ataakura, a Materoa, a Tawhipare. He roa te tangihanga me te mamaetanga o nga wahine nei ki to ratou papa.—Kati tera.

Ko Tumoana-kotore, hei mokopuna ano ma Porourangi, raua tahi ko Poroumata. Ka moe a Tumoana-kotore i nga wahine tokorua, ko Rutanga te tuakana, ko Rongomai-tauarau te taina. Tokorua moe anake i a ia. Ka puta ta te tuakana, ko Hinemahuru. Ka puta ta te taina, he tama tane, ko Ngatihau.

Ka mate a Tumoana-kotore, ka rite nga ra e tangihia ana ki to te rangatira tangihanga. Ka takaia, ka kawea, ka whakairia ki runga ki te kauere, e tata ana ki Waiomatatini. Ko te toma koiwi, ko Parororangi, kei runga tata ake, kei te maunga. Kia taka te tau, kia pirau, ka kawe ai i nga iwi ki taua toma. Ka hoki nga tangata whakairi ki te kainga, ka whiti i te tahi awa iti nei, ka pa te waha. Ka tu, ka whakarongo. Ka karanga ano. Ka ki ratou, ‘Mehemea tonu ko te waha o te koroua nei.’ Ka whakahu ake ratou, ka akiaki iho te waha, ‘Kei te ora tonu au, tukua au ki raro.’ Ka hoki te whanau, ka tukua, ka wetewetekia nga takai. Ka titiro ake ki te kauere ra, ka whai te waha, ‘E titiro tonu ana aku whatu, ka whakairia oratia.’ He maha nga tau, katahi ka tino mate.—Kati tera.

Ka moea e taua tama, e Ngatihau, a Te Ataakura, te tamahine a Poroumata, hei wahine mana. Kei te tangi tonu ki tona papa; ka hapu, ka whanau, he wahine; ka tino kaha rawa tona tangi ki tona mamae, ki tana mahara hoki he tane hei ngaki i te mate on tona papa. Ka huaina e ia te ingoa ko Te Aomihia, ko nga ao i mihi ai tona papa, i haere ai ki te moana i mate ai.

Ka hapu ano ia, noho rawa atu raua ko te tane i Opotiki. Kei te tangi tonu ia ki tona papa. I a ia e tangi ana, ko takatakahi te tamaiti i roto i tona puku. Katahi ia ka whakatauki iho:—

E i, kia takatakahi koe i roto i a au, he tane, E ea i a koe te mate o toku papa.

Whanau ake he tane. Ka huaina te ingoa ko te ingoa o tona tipuna, ko Tumoana-kotore-i-whakairia-oratia. Ka whakapotoa ki te karangatia, ko Tuwhakairiora.

Ka atawhai ia ki tana tamaiti, me te mahara

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– 51 –

tonu ka ea te mate o tona papa i tana tamaiti. Ka tanumaia te ewe; kiia iho te wahi i tapukea ai ko Te Ewe o Tuwhakairiora. Ka mahia e nga tohunga te tamaiti ki a ratou karakia Whakanihoniho, Whangawhangai, Iho-tau me era atu karakia. Ka tupu, ka pakeke, me te whakarongo tonu ki nga tohunga mahi i a ia e korero tonu ana i te whakatauki a tona koka.

Kua uru ia ki nga whakawai riri, kua pa ia a ia te tangata. Kua uru tonu ia ki nga whawhaitanga nui, kua puta tonu ia ki te kainga ahi, kua okooko i nga rakau o te tutakitanga o nga motumotu. Kua hinga te parekura nui, ko Paengatoitoi. Kua haere ona rongo-toa, kua mohio ia ki te tohu toa o te riri e hinga ai te hoa-riri. Katahi ia ka poroaki iho ki te iwi: ‘Hai konei, ka haere au ki te whakatauki a toku koka, e korerotia nei, e rongo nei au: noku pea e takatakahi ana i roto i a ia, ka ki iho nei:—

‘E i, kia takatakahi koe i roto i a au, he tane, E ea i a koe te mate o toku papa.’

Kua mohio te iwi ko te mate o tona tipuna, o Poroumata, ka haerea e Tuwhakairiora. Ka mea te iwi kia nui te ope, hei kawe i a ia ki te mate o tona tipuna, o Poroumata. Ka kiia e ia ‘Kati, ko au anake e haere. Tena ona iwi hai kawe i a au.’ Ka haramai ia, ko ia anake.

Tera nga rongo ataahua o nga tamahine a Te Aotaki, o Ruataupare, raua ko Auahikoata, kua hau noa atu ki Opotiki. Ka tae mai ia ki te ngutuawa o Wharekahika, ko nga wahine ra e kohi pipi ana, me nga tamariki wahine, o raua hoa, e noho ana i te taha o te ahi, me nga kakahu e pukai ana. Ka patai ia ki nga tamariki ra: te kianga mai ko Ruataupare raua ko Auahi-koata. Ka mahara ia ki nga rongo kua puta atu ra o nga wahine nei. Kua eke ia ki runga o nga kakahu noho ai. Kai te riri mai nga tamariki ra, kai te titiro mai nga wahine ra. Ka haere nga tamariki, ka korero atu, ka ki mai raua, ‘Tena koa, ki atu, kia mauria mai o koutou o maua kakahu.’ Te taenga atu o nga tamariki, ka whakatatanga ia, ka riro atu, ka noho ano ia. Kei te kakahu nga wahine ra, kei te titiro whakatau mai ki a ia, ki nga tohu o te rangatira, o te toa, e mau atu ana i runga i a ia. Kei te mea hoki ia ki tona kore i patai ki nga tamariki ra ko tewhea a Ruataupare.

Kakahu ana raua, na nga tamariki i mau nga pipi. Ka ahu mai ki te pito ki te tonga, ki Nukutaharua, ko te ingoa o te one nei ko Kaiarero. Ka mamao mai raua, ka whakatika ia. Kei te takahi haere atu i nga tuouae, kei te penei. ‘Koia nei ranei o Ruataupare, ara ranei ko tera ra?’ Ka takahi haere atu i o raua tapuae. Ka tahuri mai raua, e pera ana te takahi atu i o raua tapuae. Tae noa ki te pekanga, peka tonu hoki ia, whai tonu i muri i a raua, tae noa ki te pa ki Te Rahui. Ko tenei pa no Uenuku-te-whana; kua mohio ke mai ia ko te pa i runga i te aromaunga to Te Aotaki. Ka pahure te pa ra, whai haere tonu ia i nga wahine ra. Katahi ka kaha te haere a Ruataupare ma kia wawe to raua papa te rongo, ka ata haere atu hoki ia.

Korero atu ana raua ki to raua papa ki nga tohu o te rangatira, me nga tohu o te toa, me te whai tonu mai ia i muri i a raua. Ka hotu te mauri o Te Aotaki, ka pumanawa, ‘E i, tena pea ia ko to korua tungane, ko Tuwhakairiora, ina te rite o a korua tohu.’ Ka patai ia, ‘Kei whea?’ ‘Ina tonu e haramai nei.’ ‘Kaore ia i puritia atu i te pa ra ra?’ ‘Kaore!’ Ka whakatauki ia: ‘Kati, tukua mai ki Hikurangi, ki te maunga e tauria e te huka.’ Ka ki ki nga tamahine, ‘Rakai i a korua ka whanatu ki te karanga ki to korua tungane.’ Kua mohio ia na tona pumanawatanga i whakaatu, ko Tuwhakairiora. Ka tu nga tamahine i te mataihi katau o te marae, me to raua koka, me Hinemaurea. Ko ia ki te takiwa ki te mataaho, e tapapa ana i runga i te paepae nui o waho, e titiro whakatau atu ana. Kei te pohiri te iwi me nga tamahine. Ka tu ki te marae, ka roa e tu ana. Kei te titiro te iwi ki nga tohu o te rangatira, o te toa, ki te ta-kotuku, ki te parekarearea, apititia ai, poua ai ki te upoko, me te kakahu paepaeroa, uhia iho te mahiti, me te taiaha-o-kura ki te ringa.

Kei te tu te iwi me nga tamahine, kei te wehi i a Te Aotaki. Kei te tapapa tonu ia, kei te titiro tonu atu ki a Tuwhakairiora. Ka roa, katahi ka whakatika atu ka mau ki te pakihiwi maui, ka numia ki te pakitara maui o waho o te whare ka heke atu raua ki te wai-rere, ka tohia e Te Aotaki a Tuwhakairiora. Ka mutu nga karakia a Te Aotaki ka werohia e ia a Rangipōpō; kihai i roa ka ki te reo o te whaitiri paorangi ki nga iwi i te taha hauauru o Pukeamaru, puta noa ki nga iwi i roto o Wharekahika, me nga iwi o te taha moana i Taungaihe, i Owhiunga, nga tini o te Ngutuau. Ka ki nga iwi ra, ‘E, ko wai ra tangata nei, ina he akiaki tonu a Te Ootaki i te whaitiri paorangi?’ Kei te tu tonu raua, ka karanga ano ia ki a Rangipōpō, ‘E pou, e pou, e pou, whakaaraara, whakaaraara, whakaaraara; whakaaturia to mokopuna; e tangi.’ Ka huri te tangi o nga whaitiri ki te taha tonga o Pukeamaru ki runga ki nga pa ki Puketapu, ki Kotare, ki Te Rangihuanoa, ki Tarapahure, ki Totaratawhiti, ki Okauwharetoa, me era atu pa. Kei te tu tonu raua. Ka ki te waha o te whaitiri tuatahi, o Haruru-ki-te-rangi, kei te whakarongo nga pa ra. Ka mutu tera, ka ki ano te waha o te rua o nga whaitiri, o Whetuki-ki-te-rangi, ki runga ano ki nga pa ra. Ka mutu tera, ka ki ano te waha o te tuatoru, o Ueue-ki-te-rangi. Kei tenei ka ki nga rangatira me nga iwi o roto o nga pa ra, ‘Ehara te whakararu e wawahi nei a Te Aotaki i tona maunga, i Pukeamaru; apopo taua te rongo ai i te korero.

To be concluded in our next issue.

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Records

The Maranga Club
[Kiwi LC-3 12in. 33]1/3 LP

This is a Maori disc with a difference. There is not one action song or haka to be heard in the recording, which consists mainly of items of a religious or semi-religious nature. The record is notable as presenting two compositions of considerable interest by a Maori composer, Arapeta Awatere. The first, ‘Maranga’, shows a skilful blending of the old and new in Maori musical idiom and some attractive part singing. Opinion will doubtless be divided on the merits of superimposing narration on choral items although this does make a Maori composition more intelligibile to Pakehas. The second work, ‘He Tangi mo Maharaia Winiata’, also contains some good singing. Unfortunately the narration accompanying it is most indistinct.

Two popular songs, ‘He Rau Tutu’ and ‘Pokarekare’, are included. ‘Pokarekare’ is the most obvious example of a fault from which most of the items suffer—repetition rather than progression. In this song two verses are sung twice through and one is sung four times, each verse being interspersed with the chorus. The listener who does not understand Maori and have the interest of the words to sustain him will grow tired long before the song comes to an overdue close. The major work ‘Maranga’ is similarly marred a little by overstatement of its themes. By and large however, it is a composition of beauty and originality and a welcome addition to the repertoire of Maori music.

The singing of the choir is disciplined and precise and the conductor, Mr Awatere, keeps a firm hand on them to prevent the stridency which often mars Maori choral singing. The solo singing however is curiously expressionless. I have a feeling that there is more scope for adventurous harmonies with this fine choir than is evident on the record, but doubtless it is only a beginning. A serious school of modern Maori music embodying a harmonious blending of the traditional and the twentieth century has yet to come but ‘Maranga’ could well be the forerunner of such a development.

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Books

The Pitcher And The Well
Paul's Book Arcade, 15/-

‘In the beginning there was a very small boy and a very big river. A poverty-stricken home in a small, drab New Zealand town. It rained endlessly … of course I knew no other place, so at the time it seemed a pleasant enough home town. It was home, you see.’

This is the anonymous autobiography of a New Zealand airman. He wrote it during the last war while he was lying in a German prison hospital suffering from injuries from which he eventually died. It is written in the form of letters to a friend in New Zealand, but this is really only a way of giving his book a convenient framework; perhaps all autobiographies are best written either as letters or in the form of a diary.

The slightly pompous introductory blurb says that ‘the author found in his job as navigator of a British bomber a life more satisfactory than he managed to find in peace-time. He hadn't done very well either as a careerist or as a man. In war he found a more creditable sense of achievement …’

He was a brilliant navigator, and his accounts of his war experiences are very vivid and exciting. ‘The Pitcher And The Well’ is certainly, as has been said, one the best of all war books.

In my opinion, though, the most notable thing about this book is that it is the first really mature autobiography written by a New Zealander. The self-portrait that he presents is a very frank one, and in many respects it is far from flattering. But this is clearly due more to a most unusual self-knowledge and honesty, to a tough intelligence and to adult emotions, than to any very remarkable iniquity on his part.

Any good autobiography tells us something new about ourselves; a good autobiography by a New Zealander tells us more than most.

If you once start this book, I'm fairly sure you'll be hypnotised into reading every word of it.

Native Trees

This is another addition to Reed's very useful ‘Nature in New Zealand’ series. Like the rest, it has clear, attractive illustrations, is simply written by an expert, and is most inexpensive.

Sixty-nine trees are illustrated and described; these are selected ‘for their usefulness, beauty, curiosity or abundance’.

Anyone with an interest in trees will find it invaluable, especially since it fits into a pocket so easily. —M.O.

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FORESTRY
and working plans

In any business correct planning is important, and never more than for a long term enterprise. But when it deals with assets of the magnitude of New Zealand's forests, a well-considered plan is a first essential. The New Zealand Forest Service, for each forest under its care, prepares a Working Plan. It prescribes every operation for the life of the forest. And while it provides for continuity of management, it can be revised to incorporate new methods and techniques. The Forest Service maintains constant research to secure maximum yields per acre, a maximum use of wood from thinnings, and a maximum financial return. As with any other business, the management of timber crops is expected to be prudent and profitable. And this is the task of the New Zealand Forest Service.

Forestry is forever

Issued in the interest of forest protection by The New Zealand Forest Service.

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Sport

Maoris Play

In the last issue I suggested that for Maoris, taking part in summer sports is, in general, influenced by their personal and racial habits, by their living in the country, and by a number of other factors that don't usually apply to Pakehas.

In this issue I want to throw a whole lot of ideas into the melting pot and let them stew. Perhaps you will have the answers immediately, perhaps not—the aim being a better appreciation of Maoris in sport—or should one say, of sport in Maori life.

Not Organisation Men

There are few available and accessible sports that Maoris haven't had a go at. But the important point, I feel, is the manner and degree of participation. How many Maoris are active members of tramping clubs for instance, or deer stalkers' associations, or skin diving organisations? The answer, of course, is practically nil. When you are talking about things Maori, the very use of the words ‘organisation’ and ‘association’ seem out of place. This is particularly so in the sphere of sport.

On the whole, Maoris have not yet developed into individuals, in the sense in which Pakehas might be called ‘individual sporting men’. Maoris usually play not so much for the sake of the sport, or for their own sakes, as because it is the fashionable thing to do at the time—which means conformity to a group activity. For example, when a Maori kills a deer or pig during a hunting expedition, he sees to it that nothing is wasted, but that all edible food—which is just about everything—is brought back home.

‘Maori Rules’ Apply

Does he do this for himself, and his own personal glory? Personally, I don't think so. According to the Maori rules of the game, the proper

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The famous Maori wrestler Keita Meretana is back in New Zealand again, after wrestling professionally in Honolulu, America, Great Britain, Australia and India. Dressed in Maori costume, and giving a vigorous haka before each contest, Keita was a top-line wrestler on British television programmes.

thing is that gains should be shared. So when this sport is played according to ‘Maori rules’, it is similar to top-line sport in that ‘fun’ is not so evident as seriousness, and rigid rules and codes.

The same principle applies in fishing and the other food gathering activities which are sporting and social parts of Maori life.

This is why, is a Maori doesn't turn up to rugby regularly every Saturday, his lack of attendance depends upon various factors that his Pakeha colleagues sometimes can't understand. He may have felt tired or wanted to play billiards or see a movie or go to a hui on that particular Saturday. The fact that he should have given notice of his pending absence doesn't seem very important. His attitude towards the game as a game is more relaxed; the significance of his participation depends on his feeling himself part of the social group concerned.

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– 57 –

Farming

A Battle in Northland

Great fighters in earlier times, Maori people of Northland are today winning another battle—the battle of the land.

In a region rich in history but poorer until now in its output of primary products, Maori farmers are showing that given the opportunity and the finance to make a start they can wield the ploughshare as before they wielded the mere.

Today the grass is growing on Maori farms in Northland. Today, with phosphate, lime and trace elements, the fertility of poorer soils is being lifted and the butterfat yield is mounting.

Success at Kaipara

One who has given a lead is Mr Ross Wright, a 42-year-old-ex-Maori Battalion major who in 1946 became a rehabilitation settler on the Okahukura block fringing the Kaipara Harbour. Some 23 miles west of Wellsford, this block takes in part of the sandy strip that runs from Helensville to the Waipoua forest. Part of the block is hilly clay country destined for sheep farming. The rest is sandy loam which is providing a good living for dairymen like Ross Wright.

When I visited Mr Wright's farm early last year he described the property as a little bit of the Waikato transplanted to Northland. This may have been a fairly accurate assessment but the fact that the farm can now be likened to the Waikato has a good deal to do with the calibre of the man who is farming it. True, he has not had to contend with some of the problems of men on the heavy clay country but this detracts little from a fine achievement.

As a rehabilitation settler, Ross Wright was given a decent start but in his 15 years on the property he has improved it out of all recognition. He has cropped and resown his pastures to better grass. He has fenced and drained and top-dressed and bred good stock. He and his East Coast wife have worked and saved and saved and worked.

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Mr Ross Wright farms near Kaipara Harbour.

The result is that from his 111 acres Ross Wright is producing nearly 30,000 pounds of butterfat in a season. He has found the time and the cash to build two haybarns, a garage and a piggery and to begin planting belts of gums and hedges.

Yes, the Wright family now has a car but that is only a recent acquisition and when there are six children in a family a car is not really an extravagance.

Further North

Recently, on another North Island walkabout, I journeyed to Parengarenga, 15 miles from Cape Reinga on the Aopouri Peninsula. This is different country from Okahukura. Most of it is gumland clay and it is swept by the winds from the sea but here 29,000 acres of Maori land are being developed for Maori settlement.

Heavy dressings of phosphate and lime are being applied by the Lands and Survey Department and judging by the way the new grass has come in, this land will indeed be an asset by the time it is handed back to the Maori Affairs Department for settlement.

The development of such land as Parengarenga augurs well for the future of Maori farming in Northland, as does the effort being made by those farmers already settled at Te Kao and Ngataki, two areas immediately to the south.

As I looked at some of the farms at Te Kao and Ngataki in the Far North I thought again of Ross Wright and his progress in lower Northland.

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Could these far-northern settlers emulate their lower-northern cousin? I think that with encouragement and perserverance on their own part they can, but in the face of greater difficulties of soil and climate, their way may be harder and longer.

The Aopouri have shown themselves to be a progressive community whose proud boast at one time was that they had a man in nearly every Government department. And the Te Kao District High School was one of the first Maori schools of its type established.

Te Kao is 40 miles from the dairy factory at Awanui and the Northland wanderer reaches it along a fiercely corrugated road from which his tyres churn a pall of dust. This is rugged territory where many European refinements have yet to make their mark. The people are a happy group, augmenting their diet with a multitude of home-grown vegetables and fishing in such bountiful waters as those of the Parengarenga harbour.

Farmed for 30 years or more, the Te Kao district was one of the first areas of Maori land development in New Zealand. The area was a mass of multiple titles which were gradually straightened out when the Department of Maori Affairs advanced money for approved men to buy out other owners.

In the Ngataki area, which is Crown land, 11 farms were specifically developed as a block for settlement. Development here started during the Second World War, and most of the Ngataki settlers are people who came originally from Te Hapua.

The two settlements are almost exclusively devoted to dairying and the objective of the Department of Maori Affairs is to set up a man and his family on an economic unit. The Department provides mortgage finance for both freehold and leasehold tenures, loans for further development by the occupier and technical supervision to encourage progressive techniques.

Two Problems

Settlers in both areas face two major problems—the high cost of fertiliser necessary to raise fertility and the winds which rapidly dry out the sandy soil and shorten the production season.

Progress, however, has been steady if not spectacular. Some years ago one of the Te Kao settlers received a congratulatory telegram when he became the first to reach a target of 10,000 pounds of butterfat. Since then others have exceeded this figure and the aim now is to get farms producing 15,000 pounds in a season.

Mr Griggs, a departmental field officer, has embarked on an ambitious programme aimed at improving the kikuyu-dominant pastures, providing reserves of supplementary feed and lengthening the production season. Judging from the enthusiastic response he is getting from the settlers, his methods should yield very worthwhile results.

Something has been heard from time to time of Maori farming difficulties both in Northland and on the East Coast. These difficulties revolve mainly round the problem of multiple ownership but if this problem can be resolved the future for Maori farming in Northland at any rate is one which seems rich with promise.

The Rev. Father A. Venning, S.M., died in Hastings on June 21st after a brief illness, at the age of 78.

Father Venning was well-known to the Maori people, especially in Wanganui. From 1914 to 1936 he was the superior Maori missionary at Jerusalem, the first New Zealander to take up that position. Up until that time all Roman Catholic missionaries had been Frenchmen.

In 1936 Father Venning was transferred to Otaki where he stayed until 1945. He then spent 17 years at Waitara, before going to Paki Paki, where he was stationed at the time of his death.

Father Venning's district was a wide one. He used to ride a horse to Taranaki to visit parishioners, and often travelled as far as Taihape and Owhango using both rail and horse transport on these journeys.

At Greenmeadows in 1959, he celebrated his 50 years of priesthood.

A distinction in the law relating to adoptions as in affects Maoris and Europeans is made by the Adoptions Amendment Bill introduced to the House of Representatives.

At present where an applicant for an adoption order is a Maori and the child is a Maori, the application is made to the Maori Land Court and any appeals which may result are made to the Maori Appellate Court. European adoptions are handled by the Magistrates' Court.

With the passing of this Bill, all applications, Maori or European, would be made to the Magistrates' Court and appeals would be to the Supreme Court.

The only provision remaining which distinguishes between Maoris and Europeans permits a magistrate, at his discretion, to direct that in cases affecting Maoris, the functions of the child welfare officer may be exercised by a Maori welfare officer.

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Gardening

Flower of the Taro

If there is any one thing that can link us with the far-off days when our Maori ancestors were moving south from their tropical home to this land hauled from the ocean by the mighty Maui, that thing is the food of olden times. And in particular, it is the cultivated plants native to warm climates that were brought here and tended with loving care for century after century.

Some of these plants are very rare today. They had to be carefully cultivated and when European varieties of vegetables were introduced which needed less care and which produced a greater crop, the old varieties languished. Perhaps it was sentiment alone, the care which is the right of an old friend now fallen on bad days, which enabled them to survive.

But in the old-time taro lies a link with those far-off days. It is a link that was brought to mind at Auckland recently when a taro in the garden of a Kohimarama resident flowered. This is a very rare event indeed and excited comment from people who make plants their special study.

The taro flowers and sets seed in some of the islands of the tropics, New Guinea for example. New varieties arise from cross-pollination of the flowers and the subsequent growth of the seeds, although something new will occasionally arise from what botanists call a ‘sport’. While the taro seldom flowers here, there are nevertheless a number of varieties which the Maori of old distinguished one from another and gave distinct names to.

Now if the Taro does flower and set seed in New Zealand, then the varieties can be explained. If it does not set seed we now know that it does flower—then the varieties must have been brought to New Zealand as varieties. It follows that a useful line of investigation leading to more evidence as to ancient Polynesian voyaging can be followed by tracing the types of taro through the Pacific.

The plant that flowered was in the garden of Mr A. T. Pycroft at 7 Edmund Street, Kohimarama. Mr Pycroft, whose knowledge of New Zealand's flora and wild life has been built up over a lifetime of study, realised the significance of the flowering. He and the botanist at the Auckland

We regret that in our last issue a mis-print occurred in Theo Schoon's article on growing gourds. The top line in the second column should refer to 15 feet–not to 15 inches.

War Memorial Museum, Dr R. Cooper, studied the rare flower and watched it carefully to see if it set any seed. Unfortunately it didn't. The apricot-coloured bloom, which was shaped like a candle 11 inches long, wilted and died before any seed matured.

Dr Cooper, who has made a special study of the taro—and the kumara too— thinks that the taro may flower in years like the present when there has been a particularly long, hot summer. He said that it seems to be the practice of highly cultivated root vegetables not to flower or to flower very rarely.

But the flowering, which was reported in local newspapers, did bring in reports from other people who had noticed the same occurrence in their gardens. There were four reports from Auckland itself and one from Hikurangi. These will be investigated, mainly to see if the plants are the old Maori taro or specimens of the kind more recently introduced. Mr Pycroft believes his to be one of the Maori variety for he procured it many years ago from a place inland of Opua.

Perhaps some who read this may have noted a flower on their taro this autumn. Dr Cooper would be interested to hear of it. It might help to add a little to the wonderful story of the voyages of our ancestors in the long ago.

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Milestones in New Zealand History No. 1 of series

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Artist's impression after an oil painting by Kennett Watkins in Auckland Art Gallery

THE COMING OF THE MAORI

The Maoris may not have been the first inhabitants of New Zealand. But, as far as the Maoris are concerned, their legends, passed by word of mouth down the centuries, tell of a Society Islands explorer named Kupe, who, about 925 A.D., followed the south-west flight of the long-tailed cuckoo and visited Te Ika a Maui (the fish of Maui)—the North Island —and Te Wahi Paunamu (the place of greestone), as the South Island became known.

Many minor migrations sailed down the long sea roads to New Zealand during the next 200 years, so that, when the famous Toi arrived about 1150, he found the Bay of Plenty and the Hauraki Gulf already inhabited. It was probably one of the early migrations that settled the Chatham Islands, whose people became known as Morioris.

Finally, about 1350, came the renowned Maori “fleet”, as it is commonly called. Originating from “Hawaiki”, the legendary homeland somewhere in Polynesia, the great voyaging canoes brought the intrepid travellers from whom the Maori people of today proudly trace their origin.

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Picture icon

SOLUTION TO No. 36.

Crossword Puzzle No. 37

DOWN

1 Build
2 Wake up
3 Silent
4 Gunwale: side board of canoe
5 Land
6 Fault, wrong
7 When
8 Stand
9 Rain
10 Four
11 Numerous, important; shield
12 Baptism
17 Cheek
18 Noise
20 Mount, get on
21 Place close together
23 Poor, having no property
25 Addressing a girl
29 ‘Pathway over the Sea’—name of the new Cook Strait Ferry
30 Path, way
31 Strike, happen
33 Entrance to hinaki
34 Moon on 12th day
36 Now, today
42 Long after, approve
43 Laugh
44 Be understood, apprehended
47 Heap up, pile; extort
48 Old Lady
49 Gun
51 Day, Sun
52 Is it not so?

ACROSS

1 War party; 140 troops
10 Follow
13 Industrious
14 Hiss; raise up
15 From, belonging to
16 Yes
17 Fend off; push back
19 Former times
22 Swelling up
24 Group, force
26 Int. expressing surprise
27 It were better
28 Well up, spring; flow in dribbles
29 Gale, storm, rain
31 Cling
32 Level, undulating
35 Giddy, aching
37 Urge on
38 These
39 For
40 Clay
43 Village, home
45 Agree
46 Breath
47 Vine
49 Chick; sodden
50 Flute
53 God
54 Soldier
55 Avenged, paid for

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HAERE KI O KOUTOU TIPUNA

Mr Tenga Takarangi

The death occurred on June 29 at Wanganui, after a short illness, of Mr Tenga-Iterangi Takarangi. He was aged 64.

Mr Takarangi was one of the most widely-known and respected Maoris in Wanganui. He was of the Te Atihau (Whanganui) and of the Ngata Whiti Tama tribes, the latter being a subtribe of Tuwharetoa. He attended the Wanganui Collegiate School from 1911 to 1915 and was known for his prowess on the Rugby field.

As a farm cadet he worked in Taihape and was a former Taihape and Rangitikei Rugby representative.

Mr Takarangi joined the staff of the Maori Affairs Department in 1942. From 1947 until his retirement he was employed on titles work.

Putiki Pa always claimed his interest. There were very few projects carried out there in which he did not take a leading part.

Mr Takarangi was co-chairman of the Whanganui provincial committee of the Maori Education Foundation Fund. He did not spare himself in any way in raising funds for a cause close to his heart.

He also figured actively in missionary work for the Anglican Church at Putiki. He was a member of the vestry, and was vicar's warden. He was also a member of the Wellington Diocesan Maori Church Board.

Many hundreds of people from all over the country attended his funeral at Putiki.

He is survived by his wife, Mrs Rangitaamo Takarangi, and an adult family. A son, Flight-Sergeant Takarangi, died on active service with the Royal New Zealand Air Force, in World War II.

Mrs Takekore Manuera

Mrs Takekore Manuera, of Kaitaia, died recently at her home. She was 56 years of age.

Her body was laid to rest at Te Kao cemetery beside that of her father, Eru Ihaka, late leader of the Aupouri tribe.

The gathering at the tangi was one of the largest held in the district since the death of her father in 1937. Relatives gathered from far afield, including two of her sons who are in the army. Eru Manuera is a cadet at the Officers' Training School, Portsea, Melbourne, Australia, and his brother Rawhiti is stationed at Papakura Military Camp.

The funeral service was conducted by one of her brothers, the Rev. Kingi Ihaka, Wellington, and the Rev. H. Parsons.

Her death marked the passing of a distinguished member of the Maori race, both from her descent (she is a great grand-daughter of Paraone Ngaruhe, one of the two chiefs who signed the Treaty of Waitangi on behalf of Te Aupouri) and from her character.

Mrs Manuera had come to live in Kaitaia in 1949 after the appointment of her husband as Maori Welfare Officer for the Mangonui and Whangaroa districts.

She is survived by her husband and three sons. Mr Hemi Manuera Jnr. is a member of the office staff of the Kaitaia Dairy Company. The two younger sons, after successful careers as pupils of Kaitaia College, each became head prefect, won the William Robert Friar Memorial prize for the best cadet in the Northern Military District, and chose military careers.

Mr J. H. Waretini

The death occurred at Auckland recently of Julian Heru Heru Waretini, eldest son of Waretini Eparaima and Ataraita Waretini, of Ngati Tuhourangi. He was in his 59th year and was not married.

Mr Waretini was educated at the Whakarewarewa School and Te Aute College. At the age of 17 he entered the Government lighthouse service and served on the Hinemoa, Tutanekai and Matai.

During the Second World War he sailed with the Second Echelon as a member of the Maori Battalion and served in England and the Middle East before returning to New Zealand with the first furlough draft in 1943. He later served in Italy and was Mentioned in Dispatches during the Florence campaign.

On returning to New Zealand in 1945 he rejoined the Matai and was later a member of the New Zealand crew for the Monowai. When the Monowai was paid off in 1960 he was the only remaining member of the original crew.

Mr Waretini then joined the Tofua but was forced by ill-health to resign about nine months ago. He is survived by two brothers and one sister.

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Mr Rangi K. Utiku

The death occurred on June 22nd of Mr Rangi K. Utiku, a Taihape resident well-known in athletic circles.

He was vice-president and official coach of the Taihape Amateur Athletic Club, and the holder of the N.Z. Athletic Association coaching badge.

He was in charge of the jumping events when the N.Z. athletic championships were last held in Palmerston North.

He was a former member of the Taihape School Committee, and was also prominent in Anglican Church activities, until recently being vicar's warden.

Mr T. T. S. Pratt

The death occurred at the New Plymouth Hospital recently of a well-known former Waitara Maori concert party leader and Rugby enthusiast, Mr Tani Tangitehinga Sunny Pratt, aged 49.

Himself a son of a widely renowned haka leader, Mr Pratt formed two major concert parties during his life, the last of which was discontinued at Waitara three years ago after a life of seven or eight years when a number of its members left the district. He was also one of the hardest-working members of the Atiawa Rugby Football Club, to which he devoted many years. He is survived by his wife and two children.

Mr Te Rakaupai Te Akau

An elder of Ngati Hinemihi, Te Rakaupai Te Akau, died recently at Kauriki near Manunui, King Country.

Te Rakaupai was the eldest son of Eruera Te Akau, a leading elder of the Ngati Hinemihi subtribe of Ngati Tuwharetoa and Maniopoto tribes. He farmed on his own land at Kauriki near Manunui. The tangi was held at Kauriki marae.

Mrs Te Pura Taka

The death occurred on May 4 of Mrs Te Pura Taka, wife of Mr George Taka, of Prospect Terrace, Pukekohe.

Mrs Taka was a foundation member and past-president of the Maori Women's Welfare League—of which she was a representative of the Honouring Age Committee—a member of the Tribal School Committee in Maori Welfare work in Pukekohe.

Mrs Taka also played a prominent part in the Queen Carnival which raised funds for the Maori Hall in Pukekohe.

She was highly respected by both Maori and Pakeha residents, and her passing will leave a tremendous gap in Maori welfare work.

Mrs Taka is survived by her husband and three children.

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