Te Ao Hou
THE MAORI MAGAZINE
The Department of Maori Affairs March 1963
Treaty of Waitangi
With this copy of Te Ao Hou you will find a special free supplementary booklet: the re-print of an article, The Treaty of Waitangi, written by the Hon. Sir Apirana Ngata and first published in 1922.
At the time when he wrote this article, the significance of the Treaty of Waitangi was a frequently discussed topic among Maori people, and there were many different opinions as to the meaning of the different sections in it. This is still a subject which is often discussed, so his article is as relevant today as it has ever been.
Sir Apirana was trained as a lawyer, and had a brilliantly lucid understanding of legal and parliamentary technicalities. His analysis of the Treaty, article by article, is so clearly and simply written that even young people will be able to understand it, in spite of the complexity of the subject-matter.
Sir Apirana's original article was in Maori. Quite apart from the interest of its subject, it is so well and eloquently written that it will be of considerable value as a text to people who are learning Maori. We publish as well an English translation by Mr M. R. Jones, and this will be of special assistance to students.
This booklet is published by means of a special grant from the Maori Purposes Fund Board.
Some extra copies have been printed, and are available from The Editor, P.O. Box 2390, Wellington, at one shilling each. These extra copies have heavier covers than the ones enclosed in the magazine.
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 years £1. Rate for schools: 4/- per year (min. 5 subscriptions). From all offices of the Maori Affairs Department and from the editor.
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subscription renewals: If your subscription is expiring, you will find a leaflet, telling you this, inside this copy of the magazine. Please examine your copy carefully, and if the leaflet is there, fill it in and send it back to us as soon as possible.
back issues: A few copies of issues 14, 16 and 17 are still available at 5/- each. Copies 18 and following are available at 2/6 each. Nos. 1–13 and 15 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 nui-nga 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, Deputy Secretary.
Members: W. Herewini, W. T. Ngata, M. Orbell, E. J. Shea, M. J. Taylor.
Te Ao Hou
THE MAORI MAGAZINE
|The Blooding of the Warriors, Alan Armstrong||8|
|The Mixed Grill, Leo Fowler||15|
|Four Questions, Kaiwhakaako||3|
|Bill Kerekere and Waihirere Club, Waitangi||5|
|Which Way Are The Winds Blowing? B. Kernot||20|
|Queen Elizabeth Visits Waitangi||23|
|The Funeral of Mr Paikea, M.P.||31|
|T. W. Ratana and the Ratana Church||33|
|A Meeting of the Ringatu Church at Ruatoki||38|
|Pioneers of the Pumice, Ross Annabell||44|
|Education, A. Grey and ‘Kaiwhakaako’||48|
|Sport, Kara Puketapu||53|
|Records, Alan Armstrong||54|
|Farming, D. Wright||59|
|Haere Ki O Koutou Tipuna||63|
Our cover photo shows Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip with the Governor-General, Sir Bernard Fergusson, and Lady Fergusson, just after the Royal couple had first landed at Waitangi.
Alan Armstrong took the photographs accompanying his story on page 10. The photo on page 4 is by Ans Westra, and the drawing on page 17 by Katarina Mataira.
Te Ao Hou.
I felt I just had to write to Te Ao Hou and tell of the film called ‘Spinster’ which has been running now for quite some time not only in New Zealand but all over the world. The film has a New Zealand background and the story is based on the way of life of Maori children and people in this modern world. All I can say is it was a farce from the beginning to the bitter end …
It is a racially discriminating story in a very subtle way. There was absolutely nothing authentic about it and as it evolves around a Maori school it conveys a false impression … especially when there's a lice parade, or when a seduced Maori schoolgirl proudly announces she is with child. And the elderly chief who shocks teacher (and me) by saying Maoris love babies (an indisputable fact) and are very proud when their young girls (whether still at school or not apparently) have babies. Incidentally the word savages kept cropping up and in this day of television too …
Any intelligent Maori wouldn't mind in the least if the story was based on actual facts or if the information were correct, for we have enjoyed many films on the Maori in the past, and incidentally there was always a real Maori in the cast. The players in ‘Spinster’ taking the part of the Maori children looked like a jumble of Asians and Mexicans. However, I would be interested in other viewers' opinions on this film.
The film ‘Spinster’ has been in the country for quite a while, but it's only now reaching many country districts. We would be interested to know what other readers think about it. It is worth remembering that the film differs in many ways from the novel ‘Spinster’, by Sylvia Ashton-Warner, on which it was based, and a criticism of the film doesn't necessarily apply to the book. Miss Ashton-Warner herself apparently has some fairly strong feelings about the film—she has said that she has never seen it, and doesn't intend to.—Editor.
Te Ao Hou.
Since you are asking readers to say what they find most interesting in Te Ao Hou, I would like to say how much I am enjoying the photographs that have been in Te Ao Hou recently, especially the ones taken by Ans Westra. They are really beautiful, and full of life. I do hope you will keep on publishing this kind of picture.
Mere Richards Hamilton
Te Ao Hou.
Yes, I do have a suggestion.
What about a children's page—children's stories in Maori and English, easy words in both, so that children learning English, as they all do at their schools, may be able, seriously or otherwise, to pick up Maori words and phrases also.
They should be stories of everyday child life, illustrated of course; not Maori myths or stories, which are already in Te Ao Hou. but stories of present day child activities.
The two letters above are some of the ones we received when we asked readers, in our last issue, to say what they found most interesting in Te Ao Hou, and would like to see more of.
Children's stories in Maori is a good suggestion, we feel; we will be very pleased to publish any suitable children's stories sent to the magazine.
If there is some feature of Te Ao Hou YOU find particularly interesting—or something you think we give too much space to—we hope you will write and tell us about it.
TE AO HOU
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As always in ‘Te Ao Hou’, the views expressed in this article are those of the author alone. And as always, we hope that you will write to let us know whether or not you agree with him.
There she goes, stilting along like a rare bird, pretty and strange, a little sad maybe—not a girl and not a woman wholly.
You wonder about her. You wonder about all the eighteen-year-old girls. How are they making out you wonder, down there in Eighteen, the country you left so long ago. Is the sun as bright, is life as much fun—surely there are no worries.
A while ago I told a girl of this age (call her Mary or Pat, or Margaret), I was writing for ‘Te Ao Hou’ and that maybe she would tell me what to say. She thought of a lot of things, why it was that her parents were so old fashioned, and didn't want her to have fun … all that jazz. I tried to defend us, the oldsters, but, you know, there were some questions that were pretty hard. Perhaps we haven't explained ourselves too clearly to the young. Maybe they have a right to make us account for our actions.
We got down to four questions in the end. Here they are with my answers. How would you answer?
There's a lot of trouble in the world … I've read about the fighting in India and the Cuban thing, I read about people trying to stop James Meredith going to the University of Mississippi … how did we get into this mess. H bomb tests, the cold war, race discrimination. What sort of future have we got? Who would want to have children to grow up in the world the way it is now …
A. All right—the only answer I've got is
‘If you think you can do better, have a shot!’ But it isn't a good answer. Here in New Zealand we are a long way from trouble—at the moment. But how long have we got … well the cold war isn't the best but we've got to live with it, you can't hide in a shelter in case there's a war—you can hate injustice. violence, lies … Listen honey why don't we just skip this one, I don't have an answer on the cold war—what happened to Meredith was a crime but, chalk it up, the U.S. Government was prepared to send an Army to see that he got his rights, that the law was upheld. Would we do so much? I wonder.
This is tied up with the one before I suppose. Sometimes people are rude to my mother, I'm sure that it's because they think she's just an old Maori. Mum says that if it happens to me I have to take it—I don't see why.
A. Your mother has good manners. Some other people haven't. Maybe the shop assistant's corns were hurting. If you are sure that an assistant is treating you badly on account of your being a Maori, then you have a right to complain, but not to the assistant—find the floor manager. Be dead sure though; a nice smile and a polite request will usually win the sourest shop assistant. Try these first.
Perhaps, however, your mother means that you have to be able to take it, that you mustn't let them hit you where you live. She's right. You will have to put up with a lot of this—the Nazis, like the poor are always with us.
Another thing, my mother is always critical of any pakeha boyfriends I have. Why can't I go round with a Maori, she says. Why the objection?
A. Search me. This looks like question 2 the other way round (personally I've always thought your boyfriends a dopey lot, but that's
your business). Here are some suggestions, but you should have thought these out for yourself.
If your boyfriend goes out of his way to be polite to your mother, she will probably end up liking him. Does he give your mother the consideration he would give to his own?
She probably feels surer of her ground with Maoris.
It could be that she sees you moving into a world where you might be ashamed of her.
Boy friends have a way of becoming husbands—not everyone welcomes a Maori wife.
O.K., so your mother is a silly old woman. So you should be a silly young one? Think your way through and take your time. Your mother's fears and doubts are real to her—you must convince her that she has nothing to worry about.
I want to board in town instead of travelling in daily but I can't get a place to stay, not anywhere that's any good anyway. People don't give you a chance, it's always—‘Sorry, but …’
A. I know. The whole thing is stupid, humiliating, ugly, a stinking piece of hypocrisy. Some Maoris I grant have made it tough for the others, but that's no excuse for the daily insults which they are supposed to take. I wish that Maoris could get their heads together with pakehas of good will and experience to get some sort of accommodation bureau going.
Next time it happens just remember that there is no colour bar in New Zealand … they just don't like the colour of your skin.
Well there you are. Four questions. How do we answer them, you and I.
How do we answer the young?
How do you answer them?
Four thousand people gathered at the Maketu marae, Kawhia, on Christmas Day for the dedication of a handsome, fully carved new meeting house. The Maketu marae is situated on the site of the mooring place of the Tainui canoe, and the meeting house, named Auau-ki-te-rangi, commemorates the history of Tainui ancestors.
It is valued at more than £25,000, and is the result of 15 years' planning and labour. The opening ceremony was performed by King Koroki.
Our photo shows an impromptu action song around a fire in the evening.
‘Pakeke’ and club leaders at the Waihirere dress rehearsal in Gisborne last January: left to right, Bill Kerekere, Peter Kaua, Rongo Halbert, Arnold Reedy, Ben Brown, Henry Ngata, Leo Fowler, Heta Te Kani.
Bill Kerekere and Waihirere Club
There is an old saying, which is as generally true as most old sayings, to the effect that ‘no man is indispensable’. Bill Kerekere, President of the Waihirere Maori Club, and one of its founders, would be the first to agree that it's a true saying, but you wouldn't get much support from the Club for the idea that it applied to Bill. Not as far as the Club is concerned at any rate.
Bill Kerekere and the Waihirere Maori Club have been one and indivisible ever since the Club was formed over 12 years ago. It was formed at Waihirere, a small kaianga of the Aitangaamahaki tribe, about eight miles from Gisborne, and originally it was merely the nucleus for a haka group to represent Wai hirere in the newly formed Gisborne Annual Maori Competitions.
Since then the Club has gone a long way, gained a lot of experience and some measure of reputation, culminating in its recent honour of representing Maoridom in the entertainment of Her Majesty the Queen and Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, at Waitangi.
The Club moved its headquarters from Waihirere to Gisborne in the first year or two of its existence. Since then it has been open to any Maori (or any pakeha for that matter), and over the years the membership has included people from almost every tribe in New Zealand. While it did not set up specifically as a youth club, most of its members have been young Maori people who have come to live in Gisborne from the country.
The Club has not had an easy time. Until recently it met in whatever rooms were available and during periods when the Club was practising for competitions or for concerts, or for some Maori function, it has had to fall back on the homes of its members. Yet it managed to keep going, winter and summer year after year. Occasionally like all clubs, it had periods of doldrums when interest flagged and it was kept going only by its core of older and regular members.
There were times when the response was disappointing. You could only get a scattering of people, a handful, and the older members wondered if it was worth the trouble, the time and the worry. At other times, when there was a trip in the offing, there was a rush of old and new members. Looking back over the years it has been well worth it. There must be scores of young people, scattered over the
country, who have at one time been grateful to the Waihirere Maori Club for providing a place where they could foregather with young people of their own age and keep alive their interest in Maori cultural activities. Many of these young people have married and returned to Gisborne. Today they are bringing their own youngsters along. In fact the primary and junior sections are almost entirely children who have, you could almost say, been born into the Club.
There has been, since its foundation, a small core of members whose enthusiasm has never faded. It would be invidious to mention names, but they would be the first to agree that the source of inspiration and encouragement was their President Bill Kerekere, ably supported and encouraged by his wife Mihi and a few stalwart enthusiasts notable among whom are two other foundation members, Bub Wehi, the Chairman of the Club, and Bub's wife Nen.
About a year ago the Club had the opportunity of taking over the lease of a large cabaret right in the centre of the city. The price asked for the goodwill was extremely high, and the rent presented a further obstacle, but the older members got together, formed the Club into an Incorporated Society and undertook the liability. They've worked very hard, and managed to meet their obligations. Most of the money they've raised has come out of their own pockets, and certainly from their own efforts. There has been no outside assistance from any source.
They have had their reward in seeing the Club's reputation established and spreading. Their concert tours, their appearance on maraes in many parts of the North Island, and their two successful records, have made the name of the Waihirere Maori Club widely and favourably known.
They have played a prominent part in the Maori world of their own city and district. When a Maori welcome for visitors was desired, whether for Governor-Generals, Ministers of the Crown, or overseas sports teams such as the Lions, the Springboks, the Australian Rugby team and the Indian and Fiji hockey teams, there have been few occasions when the Club has not turned out to assist those organising the functions by giving a true Maori flavour to the entertainment.
It is this long and unbroken period of keeping their Maoritanga alive, and of affording to so many young people the opportunity of acquiring and perfecting a knowledge of traditional and modern Maori entertainment, which not only led to their being offered the honour of providing the Maori entertainment for Her Majesty at the recent Waitangi Celebrations, but which made it possible for them to accept the offer. They accepted it with humility and some misgivings, knowing that they were being given the honour of representing Maoridom and that the mana of all the Maori people was in their keeping.
Having accepted the invitation the Waihirere Maori Club set to with determination—and the term ‘grim’ determination was very often an apt one. Three to four nights a week, three to four hours a night, sometimes longer they practised. All their old members within the district rallied round and their practising average was between a hundred and a hundred and twenty. There were new songs to be learned; new tunes specially composed by Bill Kerekere for the occasion, new words, new actions. The choice of the Club to represent Maoridom at Waitangi was not, at the time perhaps, a very popular one for many reasons. But those who remember the fine presentation they made before Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh and who know that such meticulous presentation can come only from hours and hours of arduous practice, from the shelving of other interests including a good deal of family life, from inspiration and devotion, will agree that, if it was not the only choice, it is a choice that has been fully justified by events.
Various aspects of Maori health are being studied in a survey being undertaken by the Wellington Hospital medical unit survey team at Tikitiki, about 90 miles north of Gisborne, among people of the Ngati Porou tribe.
The unit's aim is to find out more about different aspects of Maori health, looking particularly at problems related to nutrition, heart disease, gout and diabetes. A similar survey was undertaken at Ruatahuna in the Urewera country last year.
The Committee responsible for arrangements at Tikitiki comprises the Reverend K. Paenga, Mesdames T. Taiapa and Hine Weka, and Messrs S. Goldsmith, L. Waikari and M. Karaka.
Haka Party from Auckland
As well as the Waihirere Club, a party of performers from Auckland, Ngati Akarana, took part in the Waitangi Celebrations; like Waihirere, they represented all the tribes of New Zealand.
This photograph of Lt. Col. Te Arapeta Marukitipua Awatere, who led the Auckland group, was taken during a rehearsal. Mr Awatere, who was born at Tuparoa near Ruatoria, is well known as a prominent Maori leader in Auckland, who combines great drive and enthusiasm with a deep understanding of Maoritanga. He is District Welfare Officer in the Maori Affairs Department in Auckland, and has been with the Department, in many different parts of the North Island, for very many years.
At the beginning of the last war Mr Awatere enlisted as a private in the Second Maori Battalion. He served with distinction in Europe and the Middle East, and was speedily promoted to the rank of Captain. He was twice wounded, won the M.C. at Mareth (Tunis) and the D.S.O. at Faenza (Italy), and in 1944, as a Lieutenant Colonel, he became the Commanding Officer of the Battalion.
In the last Municipal elections Mr Awatere was elected to the Auckland City Council, being the first Maori ever to become a City Councillor in Auckland.
People come back to New Zealand with some pretty odd stories at times.
We've just heard from three Maoris who all had the same experience in South Africa: the white citizens there thought that they, the Maoris that is, were Europeans.
Mr P. E. Morete, a Dunedin schoolteacher, was a bit apprehensive about race problems when he and two pakeha friends first decided to drive through South Africa. But during three days' travelling, staying at leading hotels and restaurants, they had no trouble at all. People told him that if he hadn't said he was a Maori, they wouldn't have realized it. When they did know, he got an even warmer welcome than his two pakeha friends.
Selwyn Wilson, the Northland artist whom we wrote about in our last issue, had the same thing happen to him. While travelling back to New Zealand through South Africa he decided to take the plunge by ignoring all ‘Europeans only’ signs, and says that ‘as a sort of challenge I went to shops, sections of the post-offices and public buildings which all had this sign in large letters. I was apparently unnoticed, or almost so, and was not turned out of any place. At that stage I had a considerable amount of sun-tan and did my ancestors reasonable justice. So I'm still pretty bewildered about the whole thing!’
And Mr Brownie Puriri, recently back from a world tour (see our last September issue) had the same experience with the many South Africans he met overseas. They told him that Maoris would be welcomed to South Africa in sporting teams, but that in any case, in South Africa Brownie would be taken to be a European. Brownie's comment to Te Ao Hou was that the South African idea of what a European looks like had, he gathered, been influenced by unacknowledged inter-racial marriages in the past.
‘“For your information,” they told me, “most of us have Hottentot great-grandmothers anyway, if we'd only admit it”.’
The whole thing's a puzzle, isn't it?
The Blooding Of The Warriors
My name is Himi Meihana. In the army I call myself plain Jim Mason. One hundred and fifty years ago my ancestors sailed the rivers of New Zealand in their was canoes seeking their enemies. Now my war canoe, propelled by the engine of the pakeha, thrusts its way up the rushing rapids of the mighty Perak River in Malaya and I look with pride at my taua—the men of the infantry section which I lead. They sit in the boat huddled against the flick of the spray, squinting intently at the bush-covered river bank of either side. Although there are only nine of them, they are good hard men and I remember the old proverb ‘Tini te whetu, iti te pokeao—a multitude of stars may yet be obscured by a small dark cloud’. White and brown, together as one people, they hold their taiaha of the twentieth century always ready and I feel a fierce pride in their discipline and purpose.
We spend roughly four weeks in every six in the jungle in the quiet, unremitting and, for the most part, unrewarding search for the communist terrorists. It is not easy work yet funnily enough most of the fellows seem glad to get back ‘inside’. There are the few hectic days of leave—beer, women, street-corner love, the friends from the rest of the battalion whom you have not seen for months—and then back to the job. What is it that makes us take a sensual pleasure in this silent game of stalking? Perhaps it is the spirit of the warrior calling back form the generations which have gone.
Now the canoe noses into the bank and we
throw our packs ashore and ease cramped legs for a moment before moving off. Soon we are on our way. On either side, the green wall of the jungle presses close. It is impenetrable, say those who have never been in it, but this is not so. The practised eye of the hunter sees through the chinks of greenery and searches its depths. The rubber jungle boots make no sound and the pace is slow whilst our mata taua—the lead scout—scans the track all round. Our lives may well depend on his keenness of eye. We all take it in turns to be scout for there are no stars in our team, nor, we hope, any weak links.
The air is humid and dripping and the sweat trickles down our bodies in sticky rivulets, staining our clothing an even deeper green than that of the leaves around us. The air is oppressive and fits over your flesh like a blanket. There is little sun here and the gloom of the bush is all around.
We pause for a smoko and Bob Slater, my section second in command, comes up for a chat over the map and to bludge a cigarette. He is a pakeha and my best friend. He can make more from the lines on the map than I but he says that the inbuilt compass in my head functions pretty well and that makes us quits. While the sentries move down the track from each end of the patrol, we light up and start the good old game of leech hunting. These leeches slip in everywhere, through your collar, your fly buttons, the eyelets of your boot. Whenever we stop they are there, fat and gorged. Bob and I use our cigarette ends to burn them off one another. If we pull them away they will leave their head in the flesh and the wound goes septic. ‘Reckon this joker here will be dead drunk now from all the beer he's got out of me, eh?’ laughs Sonny Pehi as he picks up the leech he has just dislodged and rolls it between his two palms until the blood comes squeezing out of the fat little body. We talk in whispers and do not use our normal voices for days. Who knows how far away the enemy is in this sort of war?
We are on our way again. A stray ray of sunlight fights its way through the canopy overhead and dapples the track. There is a flash of movement as a snake basking in the warmth makes off into the undergrowth. He must have been asleep. Usually they are gone the second they feel the vibration of our tread on the ground. There is no sign of any other wildlife except for an occasional bird. The animals are away long before we see them. Only when we lie in ambush do we catch a glimpse before they smell the scent of man and are gone.
There is movement on the track ahead and the lead scout has his shot-gun into his shoulder so fast that his movement is a blur. But it is only a stray party of Temiar aborigines with their women and children on their way to collect food from some nearby cultivation. ‘Lucky for you, abo,’ I think to myself. ‘In the days of my ancestors you would be the maroro kokoti ihu waka—the fish which crosses the bow of the war canoe. Friend or foe we would have to kill you or bad luck would surely dog our war party.’
The abo is a stocky well-built fellow with a quiver of poison darts over his shoulder and a long blow-pipe in one hand. He wears nothing except for small twist of dirty cloth. His wife stands beside him and says nothing. I give the abo two cigarettes, one for him and one for his wife. If I handed the cigarette to the woman myself it would mean I was proposing marriage. Aue ra, e tama! I can find a better wahine in New Zealand some day!
At four o'clock in the afternoon we stop, not too far away from the river. We stand-to in complete silence whilst sentries scout all around our site for many hundreds of yards out, to make sure that the coast is clear. Then while some stand and watch, we take it in turns to make our bashas ready. A little square of green plastic slung over string between two trees becomes home for the night and half a dozen parachute hammocks make a comfy hammock. The jungle night falls like a curtain so there is no time to be wasted. Bob Slater and I basha up together. He puts up the hammocks, one on top of the other, while I cook the meal. First the rice is cooked, boiled and boiled until it is dry and fluffy. Then the meat is added, made as hot as fire by the curry powder. I have a real Maori appetite. Bob doesn't eat much, so it's a good arrangement. The little tablets of solid fuel give off a flickering flame. Dicky Pomana in the next basha finishes cooking and douses the tablets with a drop of water. There is a sizzle and a puff of smoke and an acrid smell from the normally smokeless, odourless fuel. I curse him in a low voice for this bloody idleness. The smell will carry for many hundreds of yards down the river. Dicky gives a sheepish smile: ‘Kaua e wareware—don't worry’ he says. I tell him with a few choice East Coast expressions thrown in, that if I
It will be dark soon. Bob and I strip off our stinking sweat-soaked clothing and naked, but always with our rifles under our arms, we stroll down to the stream for one of the few luxuries which the jungle offers—the nightly bath. A sentry is stationed overlooking the washpoint. It wouldn't do for the bandits to catch you here, literally with your trousers down! There is a sensual pleasure in feeling the surprisingly icy coldness of the water. Then we come out and soap ourselves on the bank and wash the suds off with water scooped up in mess tins. If we wash it off in the water the soap will float downstream and its sweetish scent is detectable for a long way to nostrils attuned to the smell of the jungle.
I get dressed in my set of clean clothing from my pack and then it is time to order stand-to. The men move out to the perimeter vine which rings the camp and stand as silent as statues, straining their eyes into the rapidly deepening gloom. The jungle, which seemed so quiet before, suddenly seems to spring to life with the onset of twilight. There is the small insect which we never see but which makes a noise like a high-pitched electric motor—continuous and penetrating. Then there is the tick-tock bird or burong batok as the Malays call him. His monotonous voice goes on and on.
I walk around the perimeter vine handling out the paludrine tablets for malaria protection, watching the boys swallow them and inspecting their weapons at the same time. I pause here and there for a whispered word. ‘Kumaiti ra, e hoa’—Pat Onslow from Invercargill has chummed up with Dicky Pomana and is proud of his newly acquired Maori, even though it isn't strictly according to William's Dictionary.
The tropical twilight is shortlived. The final curtain falls with startling abruptness and it is pitch dark. Thunk! Thunk! The distinctive but quiet noise, as I rap my jungle knife on a tree, signals stand-down and the boys pick their way cautiously to their hammocks. The sentry sits close to my basha. Each of us will do an hour's stint. I would prefer a double sentry but there are few of us and anyway the beggars can't seem to stop yapping, so each man goes on alone and only for one hour.
The pattern is repeated in the morning. Just before first light, while the air is deliciously cool and sweet, everyone moves out to the perimeter vine and stands to, yawning and scratching and knuckling the sleep out of their eyes. To the accompaniment of the weird whooping of a distant family of howler monkeys, we have a hurried meal, break camp and are on our way again. During the course of the day we walk through jungle aisles, along stony stream beds where the water cools our feet, across rivers where the water wets your armpits, and balance precariously above some foaming torrent on a swaying log which has been an abo bridge for generations. We force our way, cursing and swearing quietly, through a dense tangle of bamboo, trying not to make too much noise. In such a thicket a hundred yards may take an hour and for much of the time you are crawling on hands and knees keeping a close lookout for snakes and scorpions and fuming with impatience when your pack snags on a vine or some obstacle.
A break in the monotony is the arrival at an abo village. The jungle thins out and there is a smell of woodsmoke. All the dogs in Ulu Perak seem to combine to express
their disapproval of our arrival. The headman bustles out full of importance to meet us. He wears a cast-off singlet as a symbol of status. ‘Selamat pagi, Tuan’ he greets me in Malay. Most male abos who have had contact with civilisation speak a smattering of this language. ‘Selamat pagi, penghulu’, I reply, offering him a cigarette which he accepts with eagerness. He beams as he notes the blue bands on our hats. ‘Newseelant? Orang Maori?’ he enquires and I nod. He gabbles to his wife in their Temiar dialect and she and the other women bustle about fetching leaves full of the fragrant baked tapioca root. The boys accept the food and offer cigarettes to all and sundry, from babes in arms upwards. We buy Chinese cigarettes in town at 3d for twenty for just such an occasion.
Naked little goblins of children with distended bellies rush about poking inquisitively at the soldiers' packs. The women squat in shy groups in the shadow of their huts. The young ones, those in their teens, are quite shapely and boys discuss their form in a down-to-earth way as they would a good-looking horse and make the off-colour jokes which soldiers do. The old women, and anyone over twenty-five is old because of the hard life they lead, are leathery and worn, with pendulous flaccid breasts and tired expressions. They puff on tobacco rolled in green leaves and talk incessantly. The boys barter for fish traps, blowpipes or spears and keep their eyes open for any sign that terrorists might have been using this village.
The headman and I talk of the weather and the crops—about everything in fact except the thing we're here for. Gradually the odd indirect question. ‘Ta’ tahu, tunan' says the headman, shaking his head until I fear it will fall off. It is nearly always the same. Finally we take our leave after a round of effusive and insincere farewells and fulsome compliments. For a few minutes we have talked in our normal voices then we are back in the jungle and the silence closes in. It is oppressive, almost physical in its intensity and the degree to which one can feel it. So the monotonous business of patrolling goes on, yet we are happy, the Maori especially. For the Maori was born to hunt and fight and the blood of the warrior is in our veins. There is a mystic but quite indefinable feeling of returning to something which is part of the soul of our people.
For months we have patrolled—searching
for our elusive enemy. Sometimes we see tracks. Acting on information we swoop on an abo village. Our quarry has just gone, we have been misinformed … Patience and yet more patience, frustration and yet more frustration. Our quarry escapes us, eludes us, perhaps he's laughing at us. Our taua is unlucky. Perhaps I am doomed to be he tangata hinapo—a man unlucky in battle who cannot even find his enemy. The doubts start to come. ‘Himi, old chap, how will you face up to it when you meet the enemy? This isn't New Zealand of olden times. You aren't a warrior. You are almost pakeha in everything but colour. What about your taua? They're civilised like you. Half of them are pakeha anyway and the rest only have a bit more sunburn! If they do sight the enemy, will they be as swift as a bird to catch the first fish—rere a manu tonu, ki te hopu matangohi, kei hoki te ingoa? Who can tell?’ I wonder and think I may never know the answer.
For hours at a time, for days on end we have lain in ambushes, tense and strained. This is the worst part of the jungle war, waiting and yet more waiting. Through a small chink in the greenery we watch the track. Dicky Pomana is close to me squinting down the barrel of his bren. We split the section and every four hours we relieve one another laboriously. Taking the best part of twenty minutes to do it, we worm our way out of the position backwards until we can roll down the small bank about twenty-five yards behind the position. Here we relax, stretch and eat some of our cold hard tucker. Because of the cooking smell, the only hot food will be the can of self-heating soup, cooked by lighting a wick running down the centre of the sealed can. At nights we leave the ambush after last light. This is deep jungle. Our enemy is unlikely to move at night. We will be back into position at first light.
Lying on the hard ground before sleep steals over me, I think of home—Mum, Dad and the kids and pretty Turei from the farm up the road, lying in the shadow of mighty Hikurangi. It is winter there now. There will be snow on Hikurangi where it pierces the cloud. The boys will be playing football on Whakarua Park this Saturday. The first game of the season. Wish I could be there. And here in our confined little world there are just ten of us, linked by the bond of brotherhood which one finds between men, irrespective of race and colour, when they are dependant daily on one another, perhaps for their very lives. I like these independent jobs. When our whole platoon is operating together I am but a spoke in the wheel. Here I am the hub … but the savour of command is made bitter by lack of success. They say it takes eight hundred man hours of patrolling and ambushing for every terrorist killed. Only if you are lucky will you ever catch a glimpse of this elusive fellow. Then there is a mad minute of action followed by the all-pervading silence of the jungle and nothing has changed—life is as it ever was …
Our mad minute was just like that. The communist courier seemed to materialise out of nothingness and come loping along the path towards our ambush. He was so typical of all the descriptions we had received and yet we got a shock. We had waited for such as him for months and then suddenly we weren't sure whether this wasn't a mirage, the figment of an overwrought imagination—a twentieth-century kehua with a flat oriental face and wearing tattered green clothes, hockey boots and a floppy jungle hat. Somehow we had expected something more grandiose, a khaki uniform with red star on his cap. He was close. Suddenly we all seemed to snap out of our dream together. There was no sound from those in ambush yet you could sense the gathering of strength, the tensing of sinew, the tightening of fingers on triggers.
And then, as they say in the best books about war, all hell broke loose. The force of the bullets spun the slight body around. He gave a yelp, of surprise and horror, the yelp of a trapped animal, and crumpled into a convulsive little heap. Even though there was no target left in sight, the hail of fire didn't stop for long seconds. Then, as if at a signal, the firing stopped as abruptly as it had begun and we emerged from our hiding place and looked at one another and at this crumpled thing lying on the track bleeding out its last, this thing which we had hunted and hated for so long. But the blooding of the warriors was not yet complete. Even now I relive the moment and see again the scene before me.
We turn the terrorist over. Incredibly he is still alive. His chest is a mangled cavity. His mauria ora bubbles form his open mouth as a frothy grey liquid. His lips move but say nothing. He is quite young, with the sallowness which long confinement to the jungle gives. Why is it that I feel no pity for this man, a young man such as myself? Why do I see him through a haze of red? What is
this pounding at my temples—the panting of the victor keeping pace with the shallow laboured breathing of the vanquished.
There's a sudden sound of people crashing through the jungle, and we swing around with our weapons halfway to our shoulders before we realise that they are only those off duty coming from their resting place and cursing their luck at having missed it all. They stop dead for a moment and stare at the thing. Then the spirit of the warrior drives them to demand a share in the sacrifice. At point-blank range they all empty their weapons into the quivering mound of flesh until Bob Slater's voice rings along the track, commanding and urgent, and breaks the spell. Turei Mohi, the oldest in the section with a wife and two lively children in New Zealand—devoted father and husband who a moment before has emptied a double-barrelled shot gun at range of six inches into what had been a soldier like ourselves—lurches to the side of the track and is ill. violently sick, symbolically spewing out the hate which has risen and then drained away so quickly.
We look sheepishly at one another. No one explains and everyone understands. For months you have slogged your guts out for just this moment and when it finally comes, for a short space of time you are not human. Everything that is primitive and basic and frustrated wells to the surface to make you a killer. Then it is all over. The moment of blind rage and hatred passes and again we are just plain Jim Mason, Sonny Pehi, Pat Onslow and the rest, just ordinary sorts of guys again.
Our moment has passed and we are mortals once more. But they are wrong when they say that life is as it ever was. Nothing can be the same again. The warriors have been blooded …
Work on the Te Puea Memorial Hall, symbol of the desire of the Maori people of Mangere to preserve links with the past and to provide a centre for today's community activity, is now well under way.
The £15,000 project, financed almost entirely by the Maori people themselves, is being built on ancestral land at Mangere on a Miro Street site chosen some years ago by the late Princess Te Puea.
The Rev. Keith Elliott, V.C., is to take over the Maori pastorate of Aotea-Kurahaupo, near Wanganui, replacing the Rev. Canon H. Taepa, who is moving to the Rangiatea pastorate, Otaki.
Mr Elliott was ordained in 1947. After a curacy at All Saints', Palmerston North, he became assistant missioner, Wellington City Mission (1950-52), vicar of Pongaroa (1952-56) and vicar of Pohangina (1956-59).
It will be Canon Taepa's second term at Rangiatea, where he was pastor from 1952 to 1958, before going to Aotea-Kurahaupo. He served his curacy at Masterton and was pastor at Wellington-Wairarapa (1943-49) and Wellington (1949-52).
Mr Sam Emery of Rotorua was given a formal farewell recently when he retired from the Rotorua County Council after 18 years' service. Speakers described him as one of the two outstanding Maori county councillors in New Zealand, the other being Mr Turi Carroll of Wairoa. ‘For eighteen years’, said the acting chairman, Councillor J. B. Thomas, ‘Mr Emery has enjoyed the confidence and respect of fellow councillors. The wise judgement of early councillors like Mr Emery has helped to lay a foundation of solid progress by the county.’ Other councillors also praised Mr Emery's contribution to the country's progress.
Te Ao Hou
We stand at the door of a decaying house
Gazing into the evening of legends;
A figure passes in the darkness there,
We search for the sign of his adorning—
This is the new world, Maui passes—
A surveyor in the new street.
Nga WaiLife is as the waters of the sea;
As the land that stretches far into the distance;
The eye cannot see the end of it,
The ear cannot hear the last wave;
That space alone is filled
With waters and the works of God:
God alone sifts the waters of the sea.
Ko te ahi kai koura a Tama ki te rangi:
Te Riu o-Mahu; na, Ko Te Taumanu o Te Waka nui a Maui.
A name has been given to the setting sun,
A name has been given the waters of the sea
That leap in foam at Panau;
A name for the East; a name for the darkness—
But no name is given
to the empty sorrow of the cold house:
the dead ashes
the deserted nets
That caught the sun's love on the sea at O Hau.
The dead without names are like the fruitless trees,
the barren Karaka;
the white driftwood on the dried sand.
A name is given to the hawk in the high air,
But no name is given to the forgotten song.
O Chieftain, when you stood here, O Tama, O Tama,
Beyond the waters in the days beyond:
You gave a name—a life you gave to the land—
A prayer to the shimmering sun.
The Mixed Grill
Old Pineha Harangaote, that small, elderly kaumatua, in his Maori way, acquired a modest trilogy. He was born great, he achieved greatness and he had greatness thrust upon him.
Heni Tuatope, on the other hand, was never to progress beyond a comfortable mediocrity. Unless of course you count her size. She was possibly the biggest, grossest Maori woman of all time. Yet who shall say that, in her own way, her name was not inscribed in large and legible characters on the scroll of fate.
Pineha, through a converging of genealogies, inherited so many lines of chiefly descent that he was of the upoko ariki. That is to say that he was a chief of such mana that he could speak with unquestioned authority on any marae of his own tribe, and indeed of many other tribes as well.
He had also achieved a modest greatness by his efforts on behalf of his people. As a young man he had been a disciple of Apirana Ngata, Jimmy ‘Taihoa’ Carroll and other Maori leaders. Fired by their example he had initiated many reforms and innovations among his people. Largely as a result of his precept and example they were among the most up-to-date of all Maori tribes in all things which made for material prosperity. They were noted for their fine homes, clean and prosperous farms, and for the number of their young people who achieved success in a strange and modern pakeha world.
At the same time they had preserved their Maoritanga. They were noted for the preservation of ancient customs and traditions. Young people who spoke fluent Maori were the rule in Pineha's hapu, where they were the exception elsewhere. His people performed the poi, the haka and wiata in a manner which was an inspiration to all.
In consequence Pineha was, rightly, regarded as a great man. His own people revered him, neighbouring tribes respected him, and the pakeha spoke of him almost as though he were not a Maori.
It was inevitable, therefore, that he should have greatness thrust upon him. He was made an O.B.E. and it was whispered that, should a knighthood be allotted to the Maori people, he would be the recipient. He was Chairman of his tribal committee, Maori member of the provincial Education Board, and finally, when a Royal Commission on Maori Lands was set up, he became a Government nominee and its Chairman.
For all this he remained, as most Maori chiefs remain, an humble and unpretentious person. When, once a month, his Education Board meeting took him to the provincial centre he stayed always at the Connimore Hotel, a second-rank hostelry which combined comfort and good food with unpretentious neatness.
Once in every three months he visited Wellington to preside over the deliberations of the Maori Lands Commission. Here too he stayed at an hotel which others of his Commission looked upon as below their dignity, especially as their expenses were paid.
Pineha Harangaote did not drink and did not smoke. He was a person of modest tastes. At home he ate, uncomplainingly, the somewhat unimaginative diet supplied by one of his mokopunas who kept house for him. As this grand-daughter had a husband and many children, as Pineha was not a rich man, and as the husband was an incapacitated returned soldier with only his pension for income, the fare in their home was plain. In consequence Pineha enjoyed his food when he stayed at a hotel. It was on one of his visits to Wellington that he was first introduced to a mixed grill. He was taken to lunch, at one of the
leading hotels, by a Cabinet Minister. The Minister happened to order a mixed grill and Pineha, always ready to try anything once, followed suit.
Like all men of fundamentally simple tastes Pineha was capable of great enthusiasm for simple things. He developed such an enthusiasm for a mixed grill.
When, later in the course of one of the Commission's meetings, there appeared to be a deadlock over which of several courses should be pursued Pineha used the mixed grill as an example and a simile.
‘Each of the courses which have been suggested,’ he said, ‘is a course of merit. But, unfortunately, each course contains something which will act against its success. Let us be like that pakeha cook at the hotel and, taking the choicest bits of each course, combine them to a mixed grill which will give us the best features of each course without a surfeit of any.’ Thereupon he analysed the various suggestions, pointing out their strengths and their weaknesses and, without difficulty, persuaded his fellow Commissioner to adopt what was afterwards known as his ‘mixed grill’ policy. That it proved a success has no bearing on this story other than the fact that it made Pineha even more a devotee of the mixed grill than before.
Pineha was too wise in his generation to try to make his mokopuna introduce the new delicacy into her limited cuisine. He continued to eat, with apparent relish and without complaint, the food she put in front of him.
It so happened that on his next visit to the provincial centre to attend the Education Board meeting, Pineha encountered Heni Tuatope just outside his hotel. Heni was the chef and Pineha was tempted to introduce the subject of mixed grills, but conversation took a turn in a different direction.
‘Tena koe, Heni.’
‘Kia ora, Pineha.’
‘Kei te aha koe?’
‘Kei te pai, kei te pai.’
Salutations were barely over when the woman laid her massive hand on his arm.
‘Heh Pineha, you fellows fix those scholarships today, eh?’
‘My boy Hoera, he go for that scholarship, eh! He the good boy, my Hoera.’
Pineha made non-commital sounds and prepared to go on his way. Heni's huge hand detained him.
‘Heh, Pineha, good thing if that Maori boy get the scholarship, eh? Too many times pakeha boy get that scholarship. My boy, Hoera, get it, good thing for the Maori people, eh!’
‘Now look, Heni,’ Pineha explained. ‘Scholarships are recommended by teachers. The Board only confirms them. If Hoera's been recommended he'll get it. If he hasn't he won't. There's nothing I can do about it.’
Heni looked at him in patent unbelief. Her massive frame quivered in indignation and affront.
‘Upoko kohua, Ngati, Manere,’ she shot at him, and turning on an indignant heel hurried into the hotel.
At lunchtime that day Pineha ordered a mixed grill.
‘I'm sorry,’ the waitress said, ‘it isn't on the menu.’
‘I know,’ Pineha agreed. ‘But ask Heni to cook me one.’
Heni was a good cook. She was normally a reasonably obliging chef, but she was a woman of determination and she was out of friends with Pineha.
‘Kahore,’ she said when the waitress bore Pineha's request, shaking her head to emphasize the negative. ‘Mixed grill she no on the menu. No mixed grill.’
Pineha shook his head sadly when the message was brought to him but made no protest and ordered a steak.
‘Really Heni,’ said the waitress to the chef. ‘It wouldn't have hurt you to give the old gent his mixed grill. You've got everything cooking, it's only a question of putting a bit of each on the one plate …’
‘You mind you’ tables,’ Heni retorted. ‘I mind my cooking, eh!’
‘But,’ the waitress protested, ‘he's a big chief …’
Heni shook her head as an assertation of independence.
‘He may be big rangatira on his own marae, he just a taurekareka in my kitchen.’
Pineha, rightly or wrongly, put down the refusal to his having refused to use his influence in the matter of Hoera's scholarship. Next mealtime he again ordered a mixed grill. Again it was refused. Now though Pineha was a mild and temperate man he was capable of great determination. He wouldn't have been the great man he really was without it.
He wasted no time in argument. He set about getting his own way in another manner. First he ordered a grilled kidney as an entree.
Having disposed of that he ordered a small entree of grilled sausage; this he followed with an entree order of grilled steak. If he couldn't get his mixed grill in one order he was content, meanwhile, to get it piecemeal.
When he paid his bill on departure the following day he mentioned to the manager his regret that he couldn't get a mixed grill with his meal. The manager seemed surprised.
‘There shouldn't be any difficulty about that,’ he said. ‘I'll have a talk with the chef before you come down next month, Mr Harangaote.’
But when Pineha ordered mixed grill on his next visit he again met with refusal. As before he made no complaint. As before he worked his way through the entrees and again, when leaving mentioned the matter to the manager without mentioning Heni's name.
‘I'm awfully sorry, Mr Harangaote,’ apologised the manager. ‘Old Heni's stuck her toes in for some reason. If it was something more important I'd insist, but Heni's been with us for years, she's worth her weight in gold. I just wouldn't dare to upset her by insisting.’
The stalemate continued for some years. With unfailing regularity during each day of his monthly visit Pineha ordered a mixed grill. With equal regularity Heni declined to supply it. Without fail Pineha ordered his succession of grill entries. The waitress reported to him that Heni was hopping mad.
‘She knows it's you gets all these little entrees,’ she told him. ‘She says one day she'll stop them. Me, I don't think she can do that. There just isn't anything she can do about it.’
There wasn't. The issue remained an issue until it became almost a tradition. The story spread from the dining room to the bar, from the bar it percolated through the town. Eventually Pineha's fellow members on the Education Board heard about it and fondly twitted the old man about it. He was a great favourite and their teasing was affectionate and mild. Old Pineha just smiled.
There came a day when Pineha missed his monthly visit.
‘Where's that Ngati Manene taurekareka?’ Heni asked the waitress. ‘That old fellow give in, eh? Change his hotel?’
‘I heard he's sick,’ the waitress said.
Heni dropped the subject but from the way she tossed her head and slapped the pans around it was clear that her sympathies did not go to the invalid. When a second month went by without Pineha coming to the hotel Heni went so far as to ask the manager if he'd heard anything about the old man.
‘Why, Heni?’ asked the manager, surprised. ‘I had an idea you didn't like the old gentleman.’
‘Just curious, eh!’ Heni said, loftily.
‘Matter of fact,’ the manager said, ‘I was talking to the Chairman of the Board, in the bar, only this morning. He tells me Mr Harangaote is pretty sick. Can't eat. Just fading away. Pity. He's a fine old man; credit to your Maori people.’
Heni tossed her head and went back to her kitchen without further remark. A week or two later Pineha was moved from his local hospital to the Provincial Hospital where he could be under the care of a specialist. The change seemed to do him little good. He lay there, day after day, eating little, saying less. He lay with lack-lustre eyes.
‘Just fading away,’ the nurse said to the ward sister.
It was Heni's husband who brought her the rumour. He was entertaining a few friends with a few flagons when Heni arrived home one night.
‘I hear Pineha Harangote he almost kamate’ he said. ‘Rongo here said he got the makutu sickness, eh?’
Heni stopped pouring her beer. She remained, flagon poised, as she looked at the men.
‘Who say he makutu'd?’ she demanded.
‘My cousin belong Ngati Manene,’ Rongo told her. ‘My cousin say Pineha told Maori Commission all Ngati Manene land should be made consolidated block. My cousin say Toraire, the tohunga, he not want his land consolidated. He say Toraire makutu Pineha.’
Heni looked at the men without speaking. She was a modern Maori and she didn't quite believe in the old witchcraft. But even modern Maoris don't like to meddle with makutu.
‘Serve him right’, Heni's husband said. ‘If it not been for him our Hoera get that scholarship, eh?’
‘Oh! Ka ti te turituri, ehoa,’ Heni snapped She left her beer untasted and went off to bed.
Next day she went to see the manager of the hotel. He listened to her and shook his head, doubtfully. When she left he rang the hospital and asked to speak to the matron.
That night was visiting night at the hospital. Old Pineha lay on his bed, his wasted hands folded on his thin chest.
‘The old Maori gentleman's not too good,’ the ward sister said to the nurse.
Pineha had no visitors. He wanted it that way, it seemed, for he gave them no encouragement. Many had visited him when he first came into hospital, but Pineha just lay there and seemed uninterested in them. Even the Chairman of the Board had resigned himself to a weekly token visit. Pineha took no notice of the throngs of visitors who passed his bed. He might have been miles away.
He sensed, rather than saw, Heni when she came to his bedside. He recognised her but he did not smile or make any sign.
Nor did Heni smile at him. She just stood there, a huge, untidy figure clutching a huge, untidy parcel.
‘Tena koe, koro,’ she said, at length.
‘Tenoa koe, Heni.’ His voice was so weak it was hardly a whisper, barely audible.
‘Kei te aha koe?’
‘Kei te pai,’ he responded, but Heni could see that all was far from good. She put her huge, untidy, brown-paper parcel on the locker behind the old man's bed. She bent over him and put her huge, coarse hands ever so lightly on the old man's frail shoulders and pressed her nose gently to his in the hongi greeting.
Tears coursed down her fat cheeks. Whether from sentiment or from sheer physical weakness tears welled from the old man's sunken eyes and mingled with hers. He lifted a wasted hand and feebly patted her massive, quivering shoulder. She straightened up, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief which seemed ludicrously small for so large a woman.
‘Enoho ra,’ she said, and turned away.
‘Haere ra.’ The old man's voice was so weak that she barely heard him. She left the ward still dabbing her eyes with that ridiculously small bit of linen. Hardly had she gone when the nurse went over to the old man.
‘Well!’ she said with professional brightness. ‘A visitor? That's nice. Oh, and a parcel too! Shall I open it?’
The old man made no reply. She thought he shook his head.
‘Come now,’ coaxed the nurse. ‘I'm curious, if you're not. Besides, it's nearly bed-time and it'll have to be unpacked and put away.’
The old man took no interest whatever as she proceeded to unpack the parcel. First she took off the brown paper. This removed, the parcel looked even more huge and ungainly
in a wrapping of closely fastened blanket. The nurse rummaged in her pocket and brought out a pair of scissors. She snipped away the stitches which held the blanket tightly sealed. She peeled the blanket away and revealed a bright aluminium container.
‘Well I never!’ she exclaimed. A close observer might have thought her less surprised than she sounded. The old man was no close observer. He showed not the slightest interest. Using the blanket to protect her hands the nurse carefully opened the container. An appetising smell permeated the ward.
‘My!’ The nurse sniffed, appreciately. ‘Well, of all the things for that Maori woman to bring you!’ She sniffed again, a Bisto sniff. ‘Well, I never!’
Odour, sniff and exclamation aroused the old man's faint curiosity.
‘Show me?’ he demanded.
He raised himself slowly and weakly on his elbows. The nurse held the container down, low, where he could see it. Steam rose from it. A delicious smell, doubly delicious to the old man, emanated from it. On a plate inside the aluminium container lay a steaming hot mixed grill; a small piece of steak, a piece of kidney, half a sausage, a small cutlet, all swimming in rich, steaming gravy.
‘Try just a weeny-teeny bit,’ coaxed the nurse. ‘It looks lovely.’
Slowly the old man shook his head. He lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes. The nurse looked at him, puzzled. Tears coursed down his sunken cheeks, but there was a smile on his lips, the first she had seen since he came into the ward. He looked different, somehow. Calm and peaceful and, somehow, triumphant. Even as she watched he fell sound asleep, still smiling.
‘I believe the old Maori gentleman's taken a turn for the better,’ she reported to the ward sister.
The first annual poukai to be held outside the Waikato took place at Kokohinau Pa, Te Teko, last January. Close on 2,000 people, including Princess Piki, were present.
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Which Way Are The Winds Blowing?
I suppose there were many more likely places where one would expect to find Maoris on the borough council than Pukekohe, the market-gardening centre near Auckland. For twenty-five years or more we have become accustomed to hearing unpleasant reports which generally reflected poor understanding between the various races living in the district, but particularly between Maoris and Pakehas. Yet in the elections of November last the people elected their first ever Maori borough councillor, Mr Bill Proctor, in a keenly fought election.
Successful gardeners on the Hill will tell you good crops don't just happen—the soil must be well prepared in advance. And better understanding between the people is being cultivated, apparently with good results. For more than a year before the elections I was living in Pukekohe, and I took a long, hard look at the situation. Part of the time I lived with Bill and his most hospitable family, where the distinction between boarder and guest scarcely exists, and I was well placed to observe the Maori life about me. Add to that my membership in the tribal committee and my teaching at the Maori School, and you probably feel that my observations were biased. You may be right. Anyway the following is a summary of my observations and impressions as a visitor to the town.
My first impression was also the most striking and lasting. As a newcomer I found board with a European family and went daily to the school and attended Maori gatherings. I found myself living in two scarcely compatible worlds. Passing from one to the other was like passing through a heavy door that closed firmly behind, cutting me off entirely from the other world. Europeans were curious to know what was going on among the Maoris, while Maoris, though always courteous, were somewhat reticent, perhaps suspicious, because my private life was entirely unknown to them. Such a state of affairs is not surprising when we remember that not so many years ago Maoris were confined to the gardens for employment and accommodation, and contact be-
tween the two races was very limited. This is no longer true because Maoris are no longer confined to the gardens for accommodation, and consequently their choice of occupation has been extended considerably.
Credit for this change must go to the housing scheme of the Maori Affairs Department. Over sixty Maori families live in good homes in residential areas of the borough, and the vicious circle has been broken. Contact on a wider and more informal basis is now possible; though a certain carry-over from the past persists, it gives every appearance of breaking down gradually. On the whole, Maoris have responded to their more fortunate circumstances very well and this is matched by an equally encouraging response from Pakehas. There have been some disappointments on both sides, but this really underlines the overall success of the scheme.
It is unfortunate that Europeans tend to accept their Maori neighbours in terms of their own values and attitudes, and therefore miss the peculiar quality of Maori values which have their own virtues. One imagines this type of integration as being a two-way affair but to date the effort has come entirely from the Maoris.
A case in point is the tangi. There are no facilities in the town for the holding of tangis, and the people have resorted to holding them in their private homes. Instead of appreciating the difficulties of the bereaved relatives, and recognising the virtues of the tangi, Europeans generally complain of the nuisance they cause. I attended many tangis in Pukekohe but only rarely did I see other Europeans present.
‘Equality’ Not Enough
This is a comment on the peculiar nature of the relations between the races in New Zealand, and can perhaps be traced back to the school. New Zealanders are brought up to the ideal of equality, but the special feature of equality is that it applies at the individual level, and is incapable of reconciling cultural differences. No differences are made between Maoris and Pakehas at school, which aims to fit the pupils into the European life of the community, when Maoris reject Pakeha values in preference to their own, (‘going back to the pa’) they are regarded by Europeans as having failed the test of equality.
Nevertheless the emphasis nowadays is on common interests and co-operation in joint enterprises, instead of on the differences dividing the people. One interesting thing about this is that it has come from the top, from prominent Pakehas and Maoris, rather than a movement from the bottom to the top. In other words, co-operation is not being established nearly so readily between householders and neighbours. This is why the town can boast a Maori borough councillor despite the rather feeble communication at the individual level.
Maori leaders have lost little time grasping the opportunities that have come their way, and such positive action is now paying dividends. I was present when the Mayor, Mr S. C. Childs, sought the co-operation of Maoris in the borough Jubilee Queen Carnival last year. The Maoris responded by sponsoring their own Queen, and raised over £1,800 to take second place in the four-cornered contest. These results were very gratifying to all concerned. The Pakeha response was quick and equally effective, in assisting the tribal committee to organise an Education Foundation appeal.
Behind these developments, and in a way
at the very heart of them, stands Bill Proctor, a man of great energy and vision, leading the people to a more respected place in the community. Outspoken to the point of bluntness, he is not easily turned aside from a task once he sets his mind to it. Early in 1962 Bill initiated the establishment of a Credit Union for the benefit of the Maoris of the district. To save it from the fate of many similar enterprises undertaken by Maoris, he was careful to ensure that it was properly constituted, and enlisted the aid of several professional Europeans to supervise the running of the Union. The Credit Union is a positive approach to the problem of Maori credit, and a project of real promise.
The mixed Maori population of Pukekohe have given themselves a name—‘Nga Hau E Wha’ (The Four Winds)—which expresses their varied backgrounds. The Four Winds of Maoridom appear to have been caught in the stronger current of change, and it is worth-while considering the direction in which they are blowing.
A group well-known in the Bay of Plenty, Wairoa and Auckland districts as the Maori Presbyterian Missions, has been working in Wellington for the past six months. The group meets at an old manse in Thorndon under the direction of the Reverend Tom Hawea, who has with him Miss Mary Kahukura, the first Maori Presbyterian deaconess to be ordained to the Maori Synod of the Presbyterian Church of New Zealand. Their work is to help young Maoris with housing and other problems met when they first came into the city, and this will later include hostel visits, and work with borstals, prisons and hospitals.
Miss Kahukura's experience before being ordained included work as a ‘trammie’ in Auckland and as a worker in munition factories, hospitals and institutions. Before being ordained at St. James' church, Newtown, on November 14, she spent three years at the Maori Theological College, Whakatane, and eight months at the Deaconess College, Dunedin.
She was brought up by Miss I. D. Paulger, who was in charge of mission work at Maungapohatu for 23 years before retiring to Brikenhead, Auckland, where she now lives.
Tragic Bus Accident
Just as ‘Te Ao Hou’ was going to press, word came of the tragic bus accident in which fifteen Maoris, returning from the Waitangi celebrations, lost their lives, and twenty more were injured. It was the worst road accident in New Zealand history.
Ten of the victims came from Reweti Pa, near Helensville; four were from the Onehunga district, and one was from Napier. Their names are: Mr Peter Tapene, aged about 61, of Onehunga; Mr Eddie Porter (Eriata Uruamo), aged 78, of Reweti; Mrs Molly Povey, aged about 48, of Reweti; Mr Karaka (or Clark) Wiapo, aged 68, of Helensville; Mrs Miri Nathan, aged about 55, of Reweti; Mrs Emma Nielson, of Napier; Mrs Beryl Abraham, aged about 78, of Helensville; Mrs Colleen Margaret Sheffield, aged 41, South End, Helensville; Mrs Dolly Bidois, about 48, of Te Pua, Helensville; Mrs Leuia Kidwell, of Reweti, and her daughter, Miss Celia Kidwell, aged 17, of Reweti; Mr Ben Kingi, about 50, of Woodhill, Helensville; Mrs Maringi Kaa, Crawford Avenue, Mangere; the Rev. Ropata Pouaka, aged 63, of Onehunga; Mr Steve Nathan, aged 69, of Te Papapa.
Mr Karaka (Clark) Wiapo, of Helensville, was an elder in the district. Mr Wiapo, a former New Zealand Maori Rugby representative, had been presented to the Queen at Waitangi the day before.
Mrs Colleen M. Sheffield was the wife of Mr E. D. B. Sheffield, a farmer of South End, Helensville. She had just completed a history of the Helensville district to be published to coincide with the Helensville centennial celebrations this month. She contributed articles and poetry to ‘Te Ao Hou’ for many years; a long article by her, ‘Te Taou and the Sandhills’, appeared in our last September issue.
Mr Peter Tapene, of Onehunga, was Chairman of the Onehunga-Mangere Maori Tribal Committee and a member of the National Council of Tribal Committees. He was also a co-chairman of the Maori Education Foundation in Onehunga, and last year he topped the poll in the Onehunga Borough Council election.
Haere ra e nga Rangatira:
Haere ki o koutou tupuna matua kua rupeke ki te po.
Queen Elizabeth Visits Waitangi
People began to gather at Waitangi several days before the great day, Wednesday the sixth of February, when Her Majesty the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Philip, landed there to greet their subjects.
A large camp for Maori visitors was set up at the Te Ti Waitangi marae, close to the Treaty House. Field kitchens and more than 200 tents were provided by the Army, and by Saturday parties of visitors were arriving from all over the country.
They began as a trickle, but soon there was a flood; up to 3,000 people had been expected at the camp, but well over 4,000 came. The helpers in the kitchens worked over-time, twelve people fitted themselves into each tent instead of eight as originally planned, and room for everyone was happily found.
Then at last it was Wednesday. Everyone had been anxiously wondering about the weather, but it turned out fine and warm. By this time there were some 20,000 people there, 5,000 of them Maori: the largest picnic that Northland had ever seen. At 10 a.m. the royal white ship was seen approaching, and half an hour later Her Majesty the Queen and Prince Philip landed to greet the people of New Zealand.
On that morning the Queen drove ceremoniously to the Waitangi National Trust Estate, was welcomed by the Prime Minister and his cabinet, and visited the Waitangi Treaty House. But for the Maori people, the most important event in the morning was the presentation to Her Majesty of a number of eminent Maoris who represented all the districts and tribes of New Zealand. The ceremony took place outside the meeting-house on the Waitangi marae; we publish some photographs of it on pages 26 and 27.
Here are the names of the people who were presented:
From the South Island—Mr Joe Karetai, Mr Manny McDonald, Sir Eruera Tirikatene, M.P., and Lady Tirikatene.
From the Wellington district—Mr J. K. Gray, Mrs Martha Hirini, Mrs L. A. Jacobs, Mr Lui Paewai, Mr Wi Walker, Mrs Paeroa Wineera, Bishop Panapa, Mr C. W. Hawkins, Mrs Kuini Te Tau.
From the Wanganui district—Mr Metekingi Takarangi, Mrs Maiangi Marumaru, Mrs Iriaka Ratana, M.P., Mr Tame Kimi Tamou, Mrs Hana Nicholas, Mrs Hinekorangi Bishop, Mrs Rangitahi Hakaraia, Mr Titi Tihu.
From the Gisborne district—Mr George Henare, Mrs Kara Henare, Mrs Hemaima Smith, Mr and Mrs Hetekia Te Kani Te Ua.
From Rotorua and the Bay of Plenty—Mr T. Blake, Mr Paul Delamare, Mr P. H. Leonard, Mrs P. H. Leonard, Mrs Nohotihi Minarapa, Mr Iki Pouwhare, Mrs Karauria Tahuriorangi, Mrs Puihi Te Amo, Mrs S. White, Mrs Rangione Bennet, Mr Pataua Waaka.
From Waikato—Mr Charles R. Davis, Mr M. Rotohiko Jones, The Rev. Ngapaka Kukutai, Mr Te Uira Manihera, Piki, daughter of Maori King Koroki, Mr Hare Piahana, Mr Barney Raukopa, Mr Henare Tuwhangai, Mr Denis Royal, Mr Pei Te Hurunui Jones.
From Auckland, including South Auckland —Mr Sonny Kaihau, Mr Tom Kirkwood, Mr Naina Taka, Mr Reihana Tataurangi, Mr Manihera Te Kopa, Mr Timi Paora, Mrs Pera Taua, Mr Matiu Te Hau, the Rev. Waka Kukutai, the late Mr Clark Wiapo.
From Northland—Mr Ihaka Ihaka, Mrs Te Aira Maioha, Mr Michael Ngawaka, Rev. Henare Paraone, Mr Wiremu Keina Poata, M.C., Mr Mihi Tipene, Mr Mohi K. Tito, Mr Waaka Weir.
The main event of the day took place in the evening. Then the Queen was formally welcomed to Waitangi: the three ceremonial darts were thrown by the challenger (Arapeta Awatere) and retrieved on her behalf of Hone Heke Rankin, and the thunderous chanting and leaping of the haka group paid tribute to
In the speeches that followed, one theme was uppermost: the great significance to the people of New Zealand of this day, the sixth of February.
One hundred and twenty-three years ago, the most important event in New Zealand's history had taken place at Waitangi; and, as each of the Maori chiefs made his sign on the Treaty, Captain Hobson, the first Governor of New Zealand, spoke these words to him: ‘He iwi tahi tatou’ (‘We are now one people’).
The great audience assembled there, and in particular the Maori people, were very much aware of the momentous nature of that agreement, and Sir Turi Carroll, the President of the New Zealand Maori Council, in formally welcoming the Queen on behalf of the Maori people of New Zealand, expressed this in his speech:
‘Your Majesty's presence once again underlines for us the deep significance of the compact that was freely agreed to on this very spot by the representative of Queen Victoria, your illustrious great-great-grandmother, and by the ancestors of so many of us gathered here today …
‘We gladly offer today, on this anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, to renew the spirit of that compact and, above all, to reaffirm our loyalty to the Crown.
‘I am voicing the wishes and sentiments of your Maori people in urging that it should ever be remembered that the Treaty has always been the basis of the relationship between Maori and pakeha,’ Sir Turi said.
Sir Turi asked the Queen fully to ‘understand and sympathize with the desire of the Maori people to press for the embodiment of the Treaty in the country's Statutes', and said also that ‘We can conceive of no better manner in which this day can be commemorated, than for its historic significance to be marked by its declaration as a national holiday.’
The Prime Minister, Mr Holyoake, spoke of the honour the country felt that the Queen had consented to meet her people on the spot
Mawai E Hari
Mawai e hari te kupu te aroha
Ki te manu kotuku e tu ake nei
Ma aku ringaringa e whaka mana me whirinaki whirinaki
Ka eke ki runga
Ko wai tenei e tu atu nei
Ko te iwi Maori e tu atu nei
Kia ora kourua haere mai.
Who Will Convey My Message
Who will convey my message of loyalty to my Sovereign who sitteth before me.
With my very own hands will I bear it to my Sovereign on high and to her consort.
Who am I that darest to approach thy sacred presence?
Tis I, Tis the People of Aotearoa.
Good luck, welcome, and then farewell.
Upper left: Piki, daughter of Maori King Koroki, speaks to the Queen. Lower left: Mr M. R. Jones of Otorohanga is presented. Below: Mrs Eruera Tirikatene meets the Duke.
where the Treaty had been signed, and spoke also of the great importance of the Treaty, and the spirit of the Treaty, saying that it was ‘the very core about which our life together on these islands has been and must always be shaped …
‘It is fitting that each year men and women should gather here to do honour to those whose agreement 123 years ago laid the foundations of our national life.
‘It is all the more appropriate that we do so here tonight on the eleventh anniversary of the accession of our beloved Queen to whom, in the spirit of the Treaty of Waitangi and as one people, we offer our respect, our loyalty and our devotion.’
The loudest cheers of the day greeted the Queen, when, in her reply, she made specific reference to the subject.
‘Today, before you all, I want to renew those pledges and to assure my Maori people that the obligations entered into at Waitangi go far deeper than any legal provision in any formal document.
‘Whatever may have happened in the past and whatever the future may bring, it remains the sacred duty of the Crown today, as in 1840, to stand by the spirit of the Treaty of Waitangi, and to ensure that the trust of the Maori people is never betrayed.’
The Queen said she would do her part.
‘But remember,’ she added, ‘that these pledges are given on behalf of the self-governing people of New Zealand, and her democratically elected Government. Therefore each one of you bears some responsibility to maintain the provisions and foster the spirit of the treaty.
The action song and haka groups gave really magnificent performances as they added the kinaki, the complement, to the ceremonial speeches.
It was an evening that will do much to increase the fame and mana of Maori dances and music, both here and overseas. Prince Philip was so impressed by the standard of the Maori singing at Waitangi, and later at Napier, when the royal visitors were greeted by the poi and action songs of the girls of St Joseph's Maori Girls' College, that he suggested that thought might be given to sending a Maori group to compete in the great festival of song, the ‘Eisteddfod’, in Wales.
The Funeral of Mr Paikea, M.P.
Mr Tapihana Paraire Paikea, M.P. for Northern Maori since 1943, died on 7th January at Kaiwaka, following a serious illness. He was 43 years of age.
Mr Paikea—or ‘Dobbie’, as he was affectionately known—was born at Batley, Otamatea, and educated at Wanganui Technical College. He was a member of the Ngatiwhatua Tribe, and the son of the late Hon. Paraire Paikea, who was a minister in the Labour Government and a distinguished leader of his people.
‘Dobbie’ Paikea assisted his father on the Maori Advisory Council from 1935 to 1937 and later joined the Maori Affairs Department. At this time he was a 16 ½ stone, 6 ft. 4 in. Otamatea rugby representative, but later he turned to playing league in Auckland for the Manukau Club.
At the age of 23 he entered Parliament as successor to his father.
During World War II he volunteered four times for active service, his application being rejected on medical grounds on each occasion.
From 1957 to 1960 he was chairman of Parliament's Maori Affairs Committee.
Mr Paikea is survived by his wife and nine children.
Tangi at Otamatea
Three thousand people attended the tangi at Otamatea Marae which is at Tanoa, near Maungaturoto. This was one of the biggest gatherings of Maoris in Northland for some years.
The service began with speeches of welcome by Messrs Henare Toka Paikea and Hone Heke Rankin.
The Postmaster-General, Mr Kinsella, who represented the Government at the funeral, said all would miss Mr Paikea, his great sayings and his cheery face. ‘For twenty years he represented the people of the Northland—people who over the years have grown to a great people,’ Mr Kinsella said.
‘I know of no man,’ said the Leader of the Opposition, Mr Nash, ‘who understood, so feelingly understood, the customs, the tradition and the actions of the Maori people. Mr Paikea was a man of natural gentleness with a love for all people.’
Mrs Iriaka Ratana, M.P., who spoke on behalf of all the Maori people in New Zealand, said she hoped Mr Paikea's successor ‘would be someone who can see into the future and take with him the best of the past, so we will build up to be a better people than we are. It is the only way I can express my sadness, knowing “Dobbie” so well.’
Sir Eruera Tirikatene praised Mr Paikea as a man of many qualities, a tireless worker for his people in spite of ill health.
The ceremonial orations over, the cloak-draped casket was carried in procession behind massed brass bands to Kakaraea Maori cemetery, a short distance along the riverbank.
Ratana bandsmen acted as pall bearers.
After the service the mourners returned to the marae where a large hangi was opened. This consisted of two bullocks, four pigs and two sheep and about half a ton of potatoes.
Subsequently there were discussions concerning the successor to Mr Paikea.
T. W. Ratana and the Ratana Church photos
This photograph shows the most important event in the year for the Ratana Church: the service in the Temple, held annually on January 25th, which commemorates the day of birth of T. W. Ratana, the founder of the Ratana Faith. ‘Te Ao Hou’ is very grateful to Mrs Puhi Ratahi, the President of the Ratana Church, for allowing us to take this picture and to publish it. We are told that we are the first people ever to be permitted to photograph the interior of the Temple, and we feel that this is a notable example of the special regard and affection which Maoris have for ‘Te Ao Hou’.
We publish here accounts of two meetings held last January; of the Ratana meeting on the 25th January, and, in a following article, of the Ringatu ceremony on 1st January, which is the most important event of the year for the Ringatu Church. Over the year in ‘Te Ao Hou’ we have published articles and news items concerning many different Maori organisations, including nearly all the different religious denominations and movements to be found amongst the Maori people. Religion is so integral a part of Maori life, so closely bound up with all other aspects of social
existence, that it would be quite impossible not to include it in a Maori magazine.
‘Te Ao Hou's’ policy is to report on all matters of interest to our readers, except that we do not concern ourselves with politics. This is too complex and contentious a subject, and one too closely bound up with personalities, for a quarterly magazine such as this, with limited space at its disposal, to concern itself with. We do not, therefore, discuss the political aspects of the Ratana Movement here. But we feel that many of our readers, especially those people who do not belong to the Movement, and to whom some of the facts may be unfamiliar, would be interested in a brief account of the history of the early years of the Ratana Church.
In times of uncertainty and unhappiness there are always leaders who arise with a message for the people, and to act as their mouth-piece. And very often, since religion is an expression of men's deepest emotions, these leaders preach a new version of the old religion: that is, they are prophets. It is not only among Maoris that prophets have appeared; they are to be found wherever a society is faced with the break-up of its old customs, and with a sudden and confusing period of adjustment to new, alien ways of life. They were and still are very common in Africa, for instance, and they were to be found throughout the Pacific.
Many Maori Prophets
There have been very many such prophets among the Maori; the best known ones were Te Kooti, the founder of the Ringatu Church, and Te Whiti of Taranaki, who also founded a religious movement which still survives.
In Taranaki at the turn of the century, Te Whiti and his disciple Tohu were still alive.
When they died, T. W. Ratana is believed to have grown into their ‘power’.
Tahupotiki Wiremu Ratana was born in 1873 at Parewanui Pa, towards the mouth of the Rangitikei River. He was the son of a prosperous ‘gentleman farmer’ of aristocratic descent. He is reported to have been moody, impulsive and wild as a lad; he rode horses furiously, and drank heavily. But when he was in the mood for work, there was no ploughman or stacker in the district to equal him. When Ratana was a boy, his aunt Mere Rikiriki, a locally known prophetess and faith-healer, made a prophecy that he was the one, spoken of by Te Whiti and other prophets, who would arise to lead his people. He visited his aunt often, gaining some knowledge of the psychology of faith-healing and, it is said, something of her power. Some other important influences in his life were the Church of England and loyalty to the crown from his father's side, and Methodism, interest in Te Whiti and a bitterness against the Government from his mother and wife.
The social conditions to be found amongst most of the Maori people at this time are well known. In North Auckland, the Bay of Plenty, the Waikato and in the South Island, frequently landless, backward, withdrawn from educational influences and often very bitter, the people waited the coming of a new messianic leader. Apirana Ngata, Maui Pomare, Peter Buck and many others had done very much to help, but at this time they were still fighting a very hard battle. Tribal antagonisms were still strong, and in many districts the great mass of people, the morehu, remained stubbornly aloof from developmental schemes, educational and otherwise. Nor was help always available. Superstition was widespread, and tohunga were making capital out of the illness of the people. The First World War unsettled them still further.
In the spring of 1918 the great influenza epidemic struck New Zealand. It carried off five times as many Maoris as Europeans; most of T. W. Ratana's relatives died among the rest. The remedies of tohunga and doctor alike were ineffective, and the people's morale was badly shaken.
In this time of great unhappiness, ‘voices’ came to Ratana. Periods of apparent insanity and heavy drinking alternated with reading of religious literature and meditating. Then,
Once a year, after it has been formally opened, people are permitted inside the Museum to look at the astonishing collection it holds.
Kaua hei mataku … Ratana kua meatia koe hei Mangai moku kite mata o te whenua. Whakakotahitia te Iwi Maori ki raro kia Ihoa o nga Mano he aroha hoki tenei na Ihoa kia koutou. (Fear not … Ratana I appoint you as the Mouthpiece of God and for the multitude of this land. Unite the Maori people, turning them to Jehovah of the Thousands, for therein lies their salvation.)
According to the legend, Ratana went inside and told his family, who thought he was mad or drunk. He began to doubt his own mind, but then, legend says, he saw reflected in the clockface a shining light. He turned and saw an angel blazing with great splendour, repeating the message. The ‘Mangai’ (‘Mouthpiece’) was to turn the people from their belief in tohungaism and superstition, and bring them back to faith in Jehovah: to heal their spirits and bodies, and unite the Maori Race.
During the months that followed the fame of the prophet spread rapidly. A constant stream of people began to arrive at the hitherto isolated farmhouse; some were accommodated in the house and outbuildings, many brought tents, and others built themselves lean-to shacks. By 1919 a flood of followers were coming from all over the country, and the area began to take on the appearance of a shanty town.
By now Ratana was devoting all his time to the ministry. At first he told the people that after visiting him they should return to their homes. But many would not go, and after a time Ratana invited them to stay.
Ratanaism began as a religious revival, though soon faith-healing became most prominent. (Pakeha newspaper sensationalism concerning the ‘Maori Miracle Man’ was one quite important reason for his becoming famous so quickly. It must be remembered that at this time pakehas, too, were taking a keen interest in spiritualism and faith-healing.) The ‘Mangai’, the ‘Mouthpiece’, became a symbol, a leader indispensable to all active social life, so that all that later occurred to affect his people was seen as his doing. As a teacher and God's mouthpiece he brought them hope, but as the mouthpiece he was soon to have no choice but to move the way the people wanted him to. As this happened, the movement changed its character. Although it has always remained primarily religious, it changed around about 1927 to be, as well, an economic, social and political association working for Maori welfare. As such it appealed to both old and young, to both backward and forward looking elements in the Maori population. Since this time Ratanaism has had two aspects: ‘Ture Wairua, piki te kaha’ (‘The Spiritual Works, seek faith’) and ‘Ture Tangata, ki kopu’ (‘the Material Works, fill the stomach’.) Some people joined Ratana through idealism; some because it gave them a function and status as members of committees and church dignitaries; some from political ambitions; some, because of a variety of grievances. It was no easier to distinguish between these different motives, in any individual case, than it has ever been to do this in public organisations.
Unfortunately we have not the space to say much about the later amazing history of the church. In the early 1920's Ratana made triumphant tours around New Zealand, preaching against the superstitions of tohungaism, and, at the peoples' request, taking possession of many objects—articles of clothing, walking sticks, greenstone, carving, etc.—which had
Inside the Museum are the crutches and wheelchairs of those who discarded them after Ratana's ministrations, and such old objects, formerly tapu but made noa by Ratana, as the walking-sticks and spectacles of departed relatives.
In 1928 the Temple was built, a formidable achievement. This is the central symbol of the Faith, and when it was first built it must have looked rather like a cathedral in a medieval village, towering over the humble dwellings which clustered around it in Ratana Pa.
Today the old houses at Ratana Pa are being rapidly replaced by new ones, and many other signs of the transitional times forty or thirty years ago have also disappeared. But the membership of the Ratana Church in this new age is still, in spite of Ratana's death in 1939, much the same as it has been for thirty years. In 1926, it was 11,567 (18% of the Maori Race), and ten years later it was 16,337. In 1956 the census returns gave membership as 18,776; this is approximately 13% of the Maori population. At the annual hui last January, when the photographs accompanying this article were taken, 7,000 people, coming from most parts of New Zealand, gathered at Ratana Pa. Except for the nature of its religious services and political discussions, the hui had much in common with the other large gatherings which are becoming increasingly common in Maori-dom today. Like these others, Ratana meetings serve also as social gatherings, with cultural competitions, talent quests, dances for the young people, and a chance for old friends to get together again.
Many of the facts in this article are taken from the book ‘Ratana’, by J. McLeod Henderson, written in 1955 as a thesis for a university degree. The book has not been published, but typewritten copies are available at some of the main libraries.
A Ringatu Meeting At Ruatoki
In the Ringatu Church the two most important religious meetings are those held each year in the first days of January and the first days of June. At these times, as well as at smaller monthly meetings, the people gather together to give thanks to God for having looked after them since their last meeting; to ask forgiveness for their sins; and to pray for His blessing in the future.
Last January ‘Te Ao Hou’ was a guest at a Ringatu meeting held, as it is each six months, at Ruatoki. We learnt much about the Ringatu faith from the kind explanations of the President of the Church, Mr Paul Delamere, and from many of the other people there, and it was at this meeting that Ans Westra took the photographs on these pages.
The Ringatu Church was founded by Te Kooti. Te Kooti is, to say the least, a controversial figure, and partly because of this, outsiders' attitudes towards Ringatu have sometimes been rather puzzled, even disapproving. In the past, much of the district in which the followers of Ringatu mostly live (the Bay of Plenty, the Ureweras, and parts of the Gisborne district and East Coast) was rather remote from the main centres of population. Many Ringatu followers led rather isolated lives—isolated, that is, from pakehas; Maoris do not lead lives isolated from each other. The people of the Ureweras, in particular, had retained many of the old attitudes and customs, and this made some outsiders suspicious of their religion. In past years this
suspicion was sometimes mutual; many of the people in this district had a substantial distrust of pakehas. However it is not necessary to like pakehas in order to worship the God of the Christian Bible.
The old distrusts have mostly gone now, Ever since 1938 the Ringatu Church has been organised according to a constitution which established it as one of the legally accepted churches of New Zealand, and later, a register of those Ringatu ministers (‘tohunga’) authorised to perform marriages brought it into line with the requirements of the Marriage Act.
But even today, despite the special romantic, imaginative appeal which the Ureweras and their inhabitants have always had for so many New Zealander, not many people other than its 5,000 members know much about the Ringatu Church. It has few written records, does not actively seek converts, and has very little desire for publicity. There is one good book on Ringatu, ‘The Upraised Hand’, by William Greenwood (published by the Polynesian Society, 1942), but even today most of their sacred texts and prayers are kept safe from inquisitive persons with notebooks and tape-recorders; the long, complex medleys of Bible passages are committed to memory in the old Maori way, and no books are used during religious services.
During our conversations with Mr Paul Delamere he made two points in particular which, we felt, explained a great deal about Ringatu to people who are new to it.
‘The great thing about Ringatu,’ he said, ‘is
that it is a New Zealand religion. Every country has its own religions, its own denominations. Ringatu and Ratana; they are the main religions that grew right here in our own country. They belong here.’
The sacred texts of Ringatu, the inoi (prayers), waiata (psalms), panui (scriptural passages) and himine (hymns), are all taken directly from the Old and New Testaments; Ringatu beliefs are very literally derived from the Bible, and definitely do not, as is sometimes conjectured, include what is vaguely thought of as ‘old heathen magic’.
But since a people's customs and attitudes always influence the manner and nature of their worship, Ringatu meetings naturally have much in common with traditional Maori meetings. For the monthly meetings, people arrive at the marae by car and truck on the evening of the 11th, bringing their bedding with them in the usual Maori way. As usual, discussions in the meeting house go on far into the night, and the meeting is a social occasion as well. A series of services are held from the 11th to the 13th; these are strictly supervised, and must be attended by everyone on the marae. The services have practically no outward formalities and the ministers (who never receive payment) wear no vestments. The long Biblical passages and prayers are recited or chanted from memory, with no musical accompaniment, in an atmosphere which is in a way informal and relaxed, but which bears witness to the deeply felt spirituality and mysticism so often to be found among the Maori people. The climax of the proceedings is the communal meal, the ‘love feast’, on the morning of the 12th, held in commemoration of the last supper. Cannibalism was so repulsive to Te Kooti that, probably judging the Eucharistic service from a somewhat High Church angle, he considered it better to have nothing to do with the partaking of the bread and wine, and instituted instead this spiritual communion service.
The second of the two remarks made by the President, Mr Paul Delamere, which seemed to us to explain a good deal, was this:
‘To us, Te Kooti is like St Paul. St Paul was a really bad one—he held the coats while they stoned Stephen—but later on he changed. It was the same with Te Kooti.’
Te Kooti was the founder of the Ringatu Church. Except that Ringatu members do not pray to Te Kooti, one might say that their attitude towards him is roughly similar to that which members of many Christian denominations have towards saints; especially similar, perhaps, to the attitudes towards saints which were current a few hundred years ago. Te Kooti was banished to the Chathham Islands on what is now widely accepted as a trumped up charge. All his companions in prison were members of the wild Hauhau sect. He converted them to his new faith, Ringatu; the upraised hand, the only token of Hauhauism which they retained, changed from being a magic gesture believed to ward off pakeha bullets, to being merely an affirmative sign employed at the ending of a prayer. Later Te Kooti led his followers out of bondage and back to their homes. He fought against his enemies till finally, out of weariness, they granted him a pardon; and he gave to his followers at that time a new expression of the Christian faith, one which made it possible for them to worship the Christian God in their own way, without allying themselves with the pakehas whom they hated: a new hope and guidance in those terribly troubled times.
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Constitutional Changes in Maori Organisations
A new Act called the Maori Welfare Act has been passed by Parliament, and revises and replaces the Maori Social and Economic Advancement Act, 1945. Many of the Provisions of the latter Act have been repeated in the new one.
In outlining the Bill to Parliament, the Minister of Maori Affairs, Mr Hanan, said it effected an important change in the constitution of what have hitherto been called Maori Tribal Committees and Maori Tribal Executives. Mr Hanan said the change was probably the final one in the evolutionary process through which these organisations have passed.
Under the new Maori Welfare Act, Tribal Committees will become known as Maori Committees and they will comprise seven members. Tribal Executive Committees will become known as Maori Executive Committees.
The District Maori Councils of Tribal Executives become simply District Maori Councils and the New Zealand Maori Council of Tribal Executives becomes the New Zealand Maori Council. Each District Maori Council appoints three members to the New Zealand Maori Council.
Mr Hanan said that one purpose of the Bill was to express in clearly defined terms the constitution, functions and powers of the various official Maori organisations that have been established by the earlier legislation.
The Act provides that the Maori Committees will be elected in February, 1964, and every three years thereafter. Committees in existence at the passing of the Act continue to function until the 1964 elections.
The new Act repeals the Tohunga Suppression Act 1908. Mr Hanan said that special legislation of this nature no longer seemed necessary. He felt that the general law could deal adequately with the situation.
A memorial to the late Father Augustine, Venning, S.M., veteran of the Catholic Maori Mission, was unveiled at Pakipaki last December.
The new inscription was covered by Father Venning's own korowai cloak until the ceremony. The cloak was removed by Mr T. Putu, Otaki, and a wreath was laid by Mr K. Ransfield, also of Otaki.
While heart disease is the leading cause of death for both the European and Maori races, influenza, pneumonia, gastro-enteritis and tuberculosis continue to take a heavy toll of Maori life.
This is stated in the annual report on medical statistics of New Zealand for 1960 which has just been published.
In 1951 Tb. disease was second only to heart disease as a cause of death in the Maori, and sixth in the European. In 1960 it was no longer a leading cause in the European and occupied 10th place in the Maori.
Pioneers Of The Pumice
At the foot of the craggy Horohoro bluffs, 10 miles south-west of Rotorua, there nestles the homesteads and meeting-houses, the haybarns and cowsheds of the first Maori land settlement scheme to pioneer the pumice country.
The Horohoro Bluffs rise abruptly as a giddy, 500 foot high escarpment to form the rugged bushclad plateau that runs back to the Mamaku Range. At the foot of these bluffs the land is gently contoured, but in the twenties the hummocky plains were deep in fern and stunted manuka. Horohoro's three ancient settlements, summer homes of the kumara-planting Ngati-Tuara, were deserted, overgrown, and tumbledown. The tribal meeting-house ‘Kearoa’, built in 1888, was shifted in 1922 to Rotorua, whence most of the tribe had gone after a gum-digging exodus earlier in the century.
Scrub and Pumice
Wilderness it was, and wilderness it would have remained for at least another generation had it not been for the vision of Sir Apirana Ngata, farseeing Minister of Native Affairs in the late 1920's. Sir Apirana Ngata began burning the midnight oil in long discussions with Arawa leaders in 1927. Their plan: to turn Horohoro into a Maori settlement scheme.
Plans started to crystallize in 1930, when the first group of settlers moved on to the 10,000-acre Horohoro block. The scheme was a daring one. In those days cobalt was unheard of, and stock died like flies in the ‘bush-sick’ pumice country. Few people believed that untrained Maori farmers could ever ‘make a go’ of the Horohoro country.
Sir Apirana Ngata was as wise as Solomon. The scheme was planned for the benefit of Horohoro's original Maori owners, the Ngati-Tuara, but Sir Apirana knew that the Ngati-Tuara had never shown any agricultural leanings. To encourage them along the right road he included in the team of picked settlers a party of 14 Kahungunu importees from Wairoa. The Wairoa people had for generations been farm workers and farm owners, and Sir Apirana brought them in to act as a match to light the flame of agriculture among the Arawas and their sub-tribes of Rotorua.
The plan worked. Men of two tribes, whose ancestors possibly once fought each other with meres, were soon flighting a new type of duel with plough and haymower, slasher and axe. Success was measured in acres cleared per man, and not in adversaries slain.
Times were tough at first. The depression was beginning, and money was short. Most of the settlers were starving before they were selected for the scheme, and they weren't much better off after selection. They were paid at subsistence-level rates. They lived in tents while they toiled on communal projects, clearing land, fencing, building the frugal ‘Ngata-type’ houses.
They ploughed with single furrow ploughs pulled by a pair of horses—some of them broken in from the brumbies that roamed the surrounding plains. Their first school was a tent, in which the pupils froze in the frosty blasts of winter. When the scrub was cleared, Horohoro became a treeless, windswept plain, almost as bleak as Siberia.
A Tough Struggle
Horohoro's pioneers lacked many of the things that the modern generation takes for granted. They had no trace elements, no tractors, no electric power, no knowledge of how to ‘bring in’ the pumice. Most of them had been educated only to primary school level.
Their pioneering was a grim, hard, trial-and-error struggle. They made mistakes, and some of them lost heart and pulled out of the scheme. Others came as replacements, and some of them failed also, but the battle was eventually won. The hard, barren land turned greener year by year.
Horohoro today is an Eden, and the pioneers have left a rich legacy for the new generation. The things the pioneers lacked most—education and trees—they provided in double measure. Horohoro is studded with shelter belts and plantations and forests, with hedges and orchards. Horohoro boasts one of the best endowed Maori schools in New Zealand.
The leaders of the Ngati-Tuara and the Ngati-
Kahungunu settlers built a new agricultural community, but they preserved the best of their ancient culture. The new Horohoro sprang up around two tribal meeting-houses—the Ngati-Tuara's ‘Kearoa’, brought back and re-erected on a new central site, and the Kahungunu's ‘Rongomaipapa’, built nearby.
The chairman of the first school committee, the late Raharuhi Puraru, O.B.E., gave Horohoro Maori School something of which no other school in the country can boast—an historic talisman almost as old as history.
Long before the Pakeha came to New Zealand a well-worn Maori trail led from the Waikato round the southern end of Horohoro Bluffs to Rotorua and the coast. At a point where the trail passed round the bluffs a pyramid-shaped rock protruded from the hillside. It was a sacred stone, known to the Ngati-Tuaras as ‘Te Turi O Hinengawari’—the knee of Hinengawari. The tribal stories state that Hinengawari was a great Arawa priestess who invested the stone with supernatural powers to protect her people. She ordered the people to pay homage to the stone by laying green branches before it when ever they passed. When strangers passed by and failed to pay homage, the supernatural powers of the stone came into play, causing a sudden change in the weather. Locals were thus warned of the presence of potential enemies.
Construction of the Rotorua-Atiamuri Road caused the old walking trail to fall into disuse, and a generation began to grow up which knew nothing of the powers of the famous tribal talisman. Mr Raharuhi Pururu decided to shift the stone to a place where it would not be forgotten. He brought the stone down from its centuries-old resting place, and in a special ceremony on November 30, 1937, the stone was placed behind a carved totara fence at the entrance to Horohoro school, and consecrated by a Maori Anglican minister.
Horohoro schoolchildren still regard the maintenance of the carved enclosure and the weeding of the stone's surrounds as one of their most important responsibilities. Many of them pay homage to the ‘knee’ before important examinations or inter-school sports fixtures. The stone is said to bring good luck—provided you really believe in Hinengawari's magical powers.
Led by Raharuhi Pururu, Horohoro's early school committees and parents toiled unstintingly to make their school as good as any in the land. With tractors and scoops they gouged out 7000 cubic yards of earth to landscape a sloping hillside into gardens and football fields. They planted shelter belts of pines, laid out gardens of shrubs. They built a model meeting-house, and gave their best carver, the late Taimona, to carve its magnificent
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panels and instruct the school's senior pupils in the ancient art. The meeting-house today is used as the school's library and cinema.
The settlers gave land for a school farm, run at first as a dairy farm, and switched over later to sheep. For years the school wool clip has been ploughed back into educational amenities such as a movie projector, a radio, library books and other equipment.
Still ‘Pioneers’ Today
In the sphere of agriculture, Horohoro has been a valuable testing ground for pumice farming. The huge land settlement schemes of today drew benefit from Horohoro's past.
Since 1930, Horohoro has produced four winners of the coveted Maori farming award, the Ahu-Whenua Cup, presented by the former Governor-General, Lord Bledisloe, to help uplift Maori agriculture. One of the cup winners, Mr Foley Eru, is still farming at Horohoro. He was a member of the original band of Ngati-Tuara pioneers, and he and his wife can tell some harrowing tales of what it was like roughing it back in 1930.
Even today, the Horohoro country is still being pioneered. Five new settlers were brought in only this year to take up new blocks of land adjoining the original 10,000 acres. All of them are young Maoris who won their blocks in a Maori Affairs ballot. They were selected purely on their merits as farmers. Tribal backgrounds counted for nothing, and though some would have difficulty tracing their descent to any particular tribe, the Horohoro district settlers turned on a most hospitable welcome dance to the newcomers.
Typical of the 1962-style ‘pioneers’ is Tom Collier, 26-year-old sharemilker from Galatea, who has won a 169-acre block within a mile of Horohoro settlement. Tom and his wife Honey are flat out to ‘make a go’ of a long-awaited chance to get a farm of their own. They paid down the required deposit of £100 from money saved during three years sharemilking, when they ran pigs and even a cockerel fattening enterprise to bolster savings.
Tom moved on to a farm complete with modern house and cowshed, fences and stock, but there is plenty of work ahead of him.
Although Horohoro settlers have not erected a statue on the marae to commemorate Sir Apirana Ngata, who made their pioneering possible, they have preserved his name in a fitting manner. Two roads have been named after him—the Apirana North Road, and the Apirana South Road, and there is also a third memorial high on the slopes of nearby Mount Haparangi. Sir Apirana's initials, ‘A.T.N.’, were planted in living pine trees during a Maori afforestation programme of the thirties.
Pioneers have left a rich legacy for the modern generation. These pupils of Horohoro Maori School enjoy amenities of one of the best endowed schools in the country.
Play Centre in Mangakino
One of the most pleasant features about a voluntary group working in a community is the natural way the people in the group mix together. Recently at Mangakino Play Centre on a Saturday we had a full morning session of children at play under the supervision of a Pakeha mother assisted by a Maori mother. Present also were Maori and Pakeha fathers, 16 of them. These with a few more mothers and around 20 children, Maori and Pakeha, enjoyed the morning play session.
For some fathers this was their first sight of a Play Centre and the first sight of their children at play in a centre. For some fathers it was the first time in a long while that they had taken time off from the garden, the car, the races and the local to spend it with their young sons and daughters.
How did the children react? Superbly. They showed what the equipment was for by using it all morning. No upsets, no squabbles, just 20 busy children at work playing with the equipment their fathers and mothers had helped to make.
Mess Gained Meaning
At first the array of equipment looked pretty messy to a few fathers with tidy minds and back yards. Dough, water, finger paint, paint can make a mess. So can sand and clay. Blocks and jig saws make their own kind of mess. But with a few mothers who understand children and the purpose of the equipment, with the alert eye of a trained supervisor, and the genuine feeling of friendliness from the parents, along with a dash of pretty sound understanding from the fathers—the mess seemed somehow to gain some meaning. The paint went on paper—as did the finger paint. The sand stayed in the pit as it got shaped into tunnels and roads. The dough found its way
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to the ‘oven’, and the blocks got used first one way then another and replaced after use.
The idea of a Saturday meeting of pre school children and parents to give fathers and mothers a fuller look at their children and the equipment is a practice we can recommend to all parents.
Here in Mangakino, the Play Centre has been running for nearly 12 years but has changed a little since the closing of the hydro dam works. From a large centre catering five mornings a week for 100 or more children, it now is about the same size as most Play Centres, a comfortable group of families housed in a local hall.
The morning session was one of three held during the day and was followed in the afternoon by a discussion among parents on the kinds of equipment to add to the already good supply; and how by setting out the room and having more parents carry out a programme of study of children at play, the children could benefit even more.
In the evening a social-discussion raised the burning questions of the best way to live and work in the family for the welfare of all—and enjoy it.
Sponsored by the Regional Council of Adult Education, Auckland University, organised by the Mangakino Play Centre, this day programme proved good fun and experience for us all.
The twenty candidates who gained highest marks in the English section of the Government Maori Scholarship examinations have been awarded £10 merit awards by the Maori Education Foundation. The award winners are—
Hiraina Lambert, Papanui Junction School, Taihape; Audrey Murray, Punaruku Maori District High School, Northland; Nihipora Kereama. Tawera Maori School, Whakatane; Rebecca Heperi, Rahiri Maori School, Northland; Waima Nathan, Pouto School, Dargaville; Tu Williams, Whangaparaoa Maori School, East Coast; Colin Leaf, Waimamaku Maori School, Northland; Robert Shadrock, Makomako School, Waikato; Morgan Solomon, Waikatea School, Wairoa; Eruera Koopu, Toa Toa School, Bay of Plenty; Brenda Mauriohooho, Arohena School, Te Awamutu; Judith Witere, Opoutere Maori School, Waihi; Moera Kingi, Poroti School, Whangarei; Valerie Thompson, Punaruku Maori District High School, Northland; Richard Ngata, Ormond School, Poverty Bay; Roderick Wharepapa, Opoutere Maori School, Waihi; Leonard Walker, East Cape School, East Coast; Henrietta Ngata, Mangatuna Maori School, East Coast; Ngaronoa Hadfield, Waimamaku Maori School, Northland; Emma Henare, Whakaangiangi Maori School, East Coast.
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Starting at Secondary School
Summer is ending and the children are back at school. For most, the time for settling down in new classes is over and the year's work is well started; others have had to make a bigger change, that of starting at Secondary School.
For you parents the biggest thing has been paying out a lot of money for uniforms, for the children there has been the scary experience of going to new schools, of becoming small fry again, of starting on new subjects and meeting new demands.
The Secondary School
Before we go on let's look at secondary schools for a moment. When you were young the last year at primary school may have meant passing Proficiency, gaining a scholarship and going to one of the famous Maori secondary schools. For many others, both Pakeha and Maori, it meant leaving school in Standard Six and going to work.
Today this has changed. The Proficiency Exam has gone, thank goodness, and the way into the secondary schools has been made easier.
Just why is this?
Schooling and Education
The most important reason, I suppose, is that everybody now realises that to live in the modern world a person must be able to do more than read and write. Unskilled labour is beginning to disappear, or at least, to become a false name—every job requires some sort of skill. However, there's another reason for the change—one, I think, that we New Zealanders are not too clear about. It is this, that to understand what happens in the world, to make wise choices, to think critically about science, art, religion, politics, a person must have an education, and to gain this he must have a longer period of schooling.
Let's be clear about it, though; schooling is not education. A middle-aged Maori lady whose wisdom I thoroughly respect never passed Standard Three, yet she is an educated person. Her school was living, and that, in the long run, is the one where we learn most.
Different courses suit different children; because Rangi's sister took Commercial that's no reason why she should too. Children seldom know for sure what it is they will want to do when they leave school. Take notice of what they say but also talk it over with the teacher or headmaster before the year is out. If you are still not satisfied get in touch with your local Vocational Guidance Office; this is a branch of the Education Department whose officers are specially trained to help with this kind of problem.
The secondary school day doesn't stop at three o'clock; some of the work has to be done at home. A child in Form Three will probably have about an hour and a half's homework to do. This means that the child must have at least that much time in the evening without interruption.
The best thing of course is a bedroom with a small table, a reading lamp and a bookcase, and NO, repeat NO interruptions. Work simply cannot be done if the radio is on, other children are playing about, grown ups are talking, or there is one eye on the TV set.
If you have dinner early, say before six o'clock, there will be time for homework to be got out of the way and time over for reading, talking, radio listening and TV watching, all important activities for growing boys and girls. While I think about it, why not consider excusing the high-schoolers from some of the household chores, washing the dishes for instance, if that time is spent on doing homework. If you think children should do the dishes then let them off something else, peeling the potatoes perhaps. Tell the younger children that they have to help out because so-and-so goes to high school now, and has other important things to do.
You might, at this point, be thinking that all this is impossible in your household, but there are other possibilities. In one district, I know of a retired teacher who has the children in to work in her spare room in exchange for lawnmowing and hedge cutting; in another the headmaster opens up one of the classrooms for a couple of hours at night. There is always something that can be done if you are keen enough.
New Zealand's Ladies' Table Tennis Champion was Te Ao Hou's sportswoman of the year for 1962. Netti has retained the national title for the past three years and at only 19 looks like wearing the crown for some time yet. No doubt she is looking forward to the winter season, now close at hand, and is likely to be harder to beat than ever.
Snell, who broke the 880, 800 metres and one mile records, all within the space of a few days has done a tremendous amount for New Zealand sport.
Reid, that unpredictable man, also created a world record when he hit 15 sixes in a total of 296 during the 1962/63 Plunket Shield series.
No. 1 driver for the Cooper Works team and third in the 1962–63 world championship.
Brian Reidy and Bill Harrison
Outstanding Rugby League players who did so much to give the Kiwis their crushing wins over Great Britain.
The same can be said too of Herewini, Yates and Nathan for their part in the defeat of Australia in the 1962 Rugby season.
An Aucklander who, apart from being the most photographed girl at the Perth (Empire) Games ran second in the hundred yards.
Others who helped to keep New Zealand's name to the forefront of international sport during 1962 were, Don Clarke in Rugby, the young boxer Kino with fine performances at the Games, Vic Haddon, Murray Halberg, and Marise Chamberlain and the Maori golfer Godfrey who after excellent amateur performances turned professional.
There was very much more and the few mentioned above are a fair indication of the progress made in New Zealand sport in 1962.
I would like to pay a special tribute here to the late James Grbich, the well-known Rugby player who was killed in a motor accident last year. Jimmy was born in the Kaitaia district and educated in Hamilton, later coming to live in Wellington. He was always to the fore in Rugby activities wherever he went, and he will be missed by very many of his fellow rugby players and I am sure, by the numerous spectators who enjoyed Jim's type of rugby play.
He was a gentleman on and off the field and a true ambassador for the Maori people.
This article is being printed in January and by the time Te Ao Hou is published in March some of my speculations may probably be disproved. However it makes speculations more exciting.
In the 1962 roundup only few Maoris were mentioned in dispatches—but looking at 1963, perhaps?
On her present form, after winning the North Island ladies' single tennis championship, Ruia will win the National ladies' single tennis title for 1963. Ruia is showing zest and determination that she lacked in 1962 when finishing runner-up in the National champs. I think if she comes back into form Ruia could still make a place for herself as one of the ‘greats’ in international tennis. Anyway here's hoping.
Well he is now a pro., and after the settling-in period he will I am sure perform as well if not better than New Zealand professional Charles. Godfrey has youth, talent and determination; all he needs is experience to capitalize on his brilliance and New Zealand will have another outstanding professional golfer. To the young aspiring Maori golfer, Godfrey must be proving a tremendous boost.
Doreen has certainly proved she has got what it takes to compete at international level. We will hear a lot more of Doreen and I think this year there will be a number of women's national sprint records being created by this young and brilliant sprinter.
Herewini and others
If there are not at least six Maori Rugby players in the 1963 All Black side then there are a lot of players I have never heard of—and I have heard of all the good ones.
A couple more speculations—
Netti Davis will retain her National Table Tennis title.
Albert Pryor will make the All Blacks.
New Zealand will beat the Philippines in its first match in the Davis Cup series.
Kirimamae Sings With The Alex Lindsay Orchestra
Kiwi EC-21 7in. 45 rpm. EP
Kirimamae (Phyllis Williams) and the Alex Lindsay Orchestra of Wellington have combined to produce a second recording of Maori songs with strings. This should prove even more popular than the earlier record (Kiwi EC-20, reviewed in an earlier issue of Te Ao Hou), containing as it does such well-known but seldom recorded songs as ‘I Runga Nga Puke’ and ‘Taumarumaru’. Ngata's ‘Haere Mai Ra e te Kawana’ is a stirring reminder of a great occasion in modern Maori history. The highlight of the record for me, however, is Phyllis Williams's version of the Tuwharetoa poi chant ‘He Oriori’. In a rich evocation of the quality of voice used by the kuia of olden times when singing laments and chants, and backed by a haunting viola obbligato, Phyllis Williams makes the chant a beautiful blend of the ancient and the modern.
Mrs Williams's interest in Maori music dates from her childhood at Tolaga Bay, thirty miles north of Gisborne, on the East Coast. She was attracted by the songs of the Maori workers on her father's sheep station and set to work to collect and learn them for herself. Much later she was tutored and instructed by such experts as the late Sir Apirana Ngata, Bishop Herbert Williams and Materoa Reedy. Her collection of waiata became one of the most extensive of its kind. Unfortunately it was burnt when the old Williams homestead at Matahiia Station was destroyed by fire. Gradually however Mrs Williams re-established her collection and added to it.
An Honoured Name
Phyllis Williams is no stranger to radio and concert audiences in this country but it is on her own East Coast amongst the people of Ngati Porou that she enjoys herself most. I well remember some years ago, attending a concert in the famous Uepohatu Hall at Whakarua Park, Ruatoria (where the great Ngarimu V.C. Hui was held). The generator had broken down and the hall was lit by pressure lamps. One of the stars of the show was Phyllis Williams—the only Pakeha in the concert party. Every time she stood to lead a song or dance there was a burst of spontaneous and warm applause from an almost entirely Maori audience who knew an expert performer of their own music when they saw one. Early in her singing career Phyllis Williams was
Mrs Williams is no singer with a superficial interest in Maori songs performing them from a desire to give a little character to her repertoire. For her, the study of the song and story of the Maori has been undertaken because of a deep love and abiding interest in the race from which the music stems. Performed by a Pakeha singer against the background of a string orchestra, yet with the timeless Maori flavour meticulously preserved, both the Kirimamae recordings are an expert fusion of two cultures and an intriguing blend of the old and the new. They should have a place in the collections of all who have a genuine regard for Maori music.
Bill Kerekere Plays Evergreens of Melody
Kiwi EA 78 7in. 45 EP
bill kerekere made his first recording appearance some time ago in a brief excerpt as accompanist to Larry Adler (Kiwi LC-5, ‘A Treasure Chest of Maori Music’). The cover note in one place says that Adler ‘gave a demonstration’ to Kerekere on the art of piano accompanying. I recall thinking at the time that if the record were the grounds for judgement, Mr Kerekere could well afford to give Larry Adler a few
Now Kiwi have featured Bill Kerekere in his own right and he thus becomes the first popular Maori pianist on record. He plays in the modern style but mercifully does not belong to the school which are so carried away by their own virtuosity that one can only guess at the original tune amidst the jumble of ‘variations.’ Although Mr Kerekere improvises with zest and ingenuity—he is an able exponent of the rippling arpeggio and the counter melody against his own accompaniament—yet he is careful not to overplay his hand. The melody comes through strong and clear, but with plenty of light and shade. The result is a sparkling little record which is playable over and over again.
This Is Maureen Kingi Maori Songs With Strings:
Kiwi Lc-8 12in. 33⅓ LP
Maureen Kingi, of Miss New Zealand 1962 fame, makes an encouraging debut as a singer on this record which is also a get-together of some of Kiwi's best known artists. Because of this the disc is something of a mixed bag (as indeed it is intended to be), but there is plenty of variety and the result should please Miss Kingi's fans.
The first side is of Maori tunes and also features the Maranga Club and the Harrison triplets. I hope in future that the Triplets stick to pop music (which they sing well) and leave Maori music alone (which they sing badly). Miss Kingi has a clear sweet voice heard to best effect in ‘Matangi’ and ‘Pokarekare’. The former is one of the best versions I have heard of this song and contains a fine baritone solo. ‘Hokihoki’ and ‘Po Atarau’ contain English interpolations by Miss Kingi explaining the meaning of the Maori verse. This device seems a favourite with Maranga and can be used very effectively to enhance the interest of a particular song. Unfortunately, in this instance, Miss Kingi and the Choir compete with one another for a hearing and the Choir wins hands down.
Apart from this however, the backings by the Maranga Club are well done and do a great deal to enhance the items on the Maori side of the disc.
Side two is music in the modern Pakeha manner which many Maoris in this country seem to perform with more avidity and better results than the Pakeha. As Miss Kingi says in her spoken introduction, the aim of the record is not only to present some of the best-loved Maori songs but also numbers which are sung today by all New Zealanders. Hohepa Mutu makes a welcome though brief appearance on this side of the disc in a duet with Maureen Kingi, ‘Indian Love Call’.
DICTIONARY OF MAORI PLACE NAMES, by A. W. Reed. A new and enlarged compilation of MAORI PLACE NAMES, now out of print, and giving known meanings rather than simple translations. This book is the result of many years of painstaking research and while it is intended for tourists and travellers or for home use, it will also satisfy the Maori scholar, because of its accuracy. Price 12s. 6d.
CONCISE MAORI DICTIONARY. The standard popular dictionary for all who are interested in the Maori language; this new edition has been completely revised and reset, and has a new cover design. It contains 6,000 words and their meanings: English-Maori, Maori-English. Price 12s. 6d.
LILLIPUT MAORI PLACE NAMES. The entire contents of DICTIONARY OF MAORI PLACE NAMES reprinted into a book measuring only 2 in. × 1 ½ in., containing over 550 pages. Even the illustrations are included. Price 5s.
LILLIPUT MAORI DICTIONARY. The complete text of CONCISE MAORI DICTIONARY republished in miniature format, but with clearly legible type. An economy edition for students and an interesting souvenir for tourists and travellers. Size 2 in. × 1 ½ in. Price 5s.
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Published by A. H. & A. W. REED182 Wakefield Street Wellington
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Northland: A Regional Magazine
Special Waitangi Issue, 2/-
‘Northland’ is an unpretentious and attractive quarterly magazine concerned with history and literature in North Auckland. It is owned by the community, through a non-profit society, and publishes articles, reminiscences, short stories and poetry by North Auckland writers. This special Waitangi issue commemorates the visit of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth to Waitangi, and has a number of very interesting articles on the history and significance of the Treaty, and of the National Reserve which commemorates it.
Any publication of this kind must inevitably be somewhat uneven in quality, but ‘Northland’ always contains much of interest even to those of us who live far away from the North.
People up there are very fortunate to have a magazine which is doing so much to foster a greater understanding and interest in the region's very lively past and present. It naturally publishes much of Maori interest, and among its Maori contributors two names at least, those of the artist Muru Walters and the poet Hone Tuwhare, are widely known.
Mutton On The Menu
‘Mutton on the Menu’ is a highly entertaining book, as easily digested as toheroa, pork bone and puha. The story is that of a young Englishman who has been sent out to this country by his father in order to be toughened up by an uncle, a typical Kiwi sheep farmer.
The author portrays the New Zealand situation, and of course race relations. The message rings loud and clear—that although Maoris and Pakehas have lived side by side for the last hundred years, they are still certainly not living together.
The Kiwi farmer's stereotype of his Maori neighbours is a very typical one: they are lazy, good for nothing in particular, and given to appropriating things which strictly speaking are not their own property. In this case there is a certain basic truth in this, but it is not until Hori has an accident that the Kiwi comes to see his good points as well, and they really become friends. Furthermore, by this time accounts had been squared between them, everyone has had his revenge on everyone else, and everyone is happy.
Maoris and Pakehas should read this book; I think they will enjoy it as much as I have.
When The Rainbow Is Pale
dear Reader, this book is hardly worth the mentioning. It is about Jack Rutherford, a man who lived for about ten years from 1816 with Maoris. In his introduction to the book the author writes pleasantly and intelligently enough of his interest in the three or four facts upon which the book is based. Once the story begins, however, the author writes down, presumably to the level of his hero, who, so the book says several times, is an illiterate.
As the story goes the American brig, ‘Agnes’ is attacked by Maoris seeking revenge for the drowning of one of their womenfolk. The crew is killed and eaten except for Rutherford and a lad who are enslaved. They run away but meet a war-party advancing to attack the village from which they have escaped. The lad is killed but Rutherford manages to warn ‘his’ village of the danger and the village is saved. For this he is given his freedom.
From then on he shares fully in the life of the village, its simple routines and cannibal feasts, its councils and cannibal feasts, and its wars and cannibal feasts. Rutherford is made a chief, is heavily tattooed, has an enemy, and two wives, and comes to enjoy cannibal feasts. Yet he remains a pakeha and one day he sails away. This happens when he reveals to the crew of a ship off shore, a plan to attack the ship as the ‘Agnes’ has been attacked.
Years later he returns to the village, knowing that he will be killed for his past deceit, but not caring so long as he can spend one night in the whare that had been his home. His old enemy, who has become the chief, is looking forward to killing Rutherford in the morning but Rutherford dies during the night. This provides the local missionary with a powerful argument for the Christian God and when the book ends there is a sense that Rutherford has done something useful at last.
The author is a lawyer and there is some gratuitous nonsense about Roman law and Maori customs. The love story is weak. The author's idea of life in the Maori village is vulgar.
Gentle Reader, this book is not recommended.
This is a new, enlarged version of a book which has proved very popular with women who make their own clothes. It is clear and easy to follow, and equally valuable for school and home use.
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Auckland — MORRINSVILLE — NEW PLYMOUTH
Some Basic Questions
Another season is drawing to a close and at this stage it would perhaps be as well to consider in what ways production and monetary returns could have been increased. Farming at the present time is still very rewarding to the efficient farmer who is producing somewhere near the potential of his property and doing so in an economic manner. There are many farms, however, on which production is such that with mortgage repayments and running costs taking a big percentage of the income, it is very difficult to achieve a fair standard of living without taking casual seasonal work. This usually results in further deterioration.
There are certain basic fundamentals which are necessary for farming. The first requisite is the ability and will to work and work consistently. Generally it is a matter of working alone, which some people just do not seem to be able to do over any length of time. It is particularly important to work to a plan and an objective as many have the capacity to work but suffer a sense of frustration when no real results are forthcoming. It is essential to analyse the property carefully and consider its strengths and weaknesses. It is both unwise and foolish not to observe and seek information when necessary from successful neighbours, and, probably more important, to take advantage of trained Government Departmental Field Officers who are employed for the specific purpose of assisting farmers. Farming is a way of life which requires keen interest, consistency and hard work over a long period. If these essentials are lacking, take up another occupation.
Grass Comes First
In this country we are grassland farmers, and our first consideration is to have pastures capable of producing as much palatable feed over as long a period as possible. The quality of the pasture determines the amount of stock a farm will carry and hence your potential income. The dominating factors in pasture growth are climate, soil fertility, drainage and the composition of the sward.
Mr W. Maki of Takahiwai, Whangarei, who won first place in the dairy farm section of the 1962 Ahuwhenua contest. Commenting on Mr Maki's win, the judge said that he was a natural stockman, who had already achieved the high average of 289lbs of butterfat per cow, with the likelihood of even greater returns in the next few years. The winner of the sheep and cattle section was Mr Kingi Grace of Tokaanu, a thoroughly experienced stockman whose work showed many interesting features. Second place in the dairy section was awarded Mr & Mrs C. Rutledge of Te Kopuru, Dargaville, and third place in this section went to Mr J. W. Hedley of Hoe-o-Tainui, near Morrinsville. In the sheep and cattle section second place went to Mr J. J. Reid of Kaikohe, and third place to Mr A. Whata of Rotorua.
Consideration should be given to the suitability of the pasture species in relation to the climate and soil type. Perhaps the most important item in the farming budget is manure and it is essential to apply the correct amount of the best fertiliser for your kind of country. You should seek expert advice on this.
After pasture production, the next logical consideration is stock. Good quality stock are essential, and they must calve at such a time as to allow a
full season's production. Late calvers, ‘slips,’ empty cows and short season producers are uneconomic and cost money. It is useless spending money on the one hand growing grass and losing money on the other hand feeding it to unproductive stock. It essential to be correctly stocked and stock carried should be such that there is sufficient feed for late autumn and winter period. Replacements should be at least 20–25 per cent of effective herd numbers and well grown well bred 2 year heifers are is essential to be correctly stocked and stock carried should be such that there is sufficient feed for late autumn and winter period. Replacements should be at least 20–25 per cent of effective herd numbers and well grown well bred 2 year heifers are is essential to be correctly stocked and stock carried should be such that there is sufficient feed for late autumn and winter period. Replacements should be at least 20–25 per cent of effective herd numbers and well grown well bred 2 year heifers are essential if per cow and per acre production is to be of a high level. It is no good paying high prices for well bred pedigree bulls unless their progeny are well reared. This is essential to avoid a heavy death rate, or undersized yearling and 2 year-old heifers which achieve half the production of which they are inherently capable. On farms where A.B. is used good rearing of young stock is a must, as the outlay is considerable and increased production must more than cover cost.
When you are reviewing the season's production, it is a good idea to plot the total butterfat at the
A Regional Magazine
NORTHLAND is a community-owned quarterly magazine founded to provide a vehicle for Northland and former Northland writers and others.
The editor is interested in receiving historical articles dealing with Northland, also stories (maximum 2,500 words), poems, reminiscences and humorous items, wood-blocks, lino-cuts, line drawings and photographs.
Subscription rate, 8/- per annum post free.
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end of each month on a simple graph.
By joining up the butterfat levels at the end of each month you will obtain a production curve. This curve will show upward and downward trends during the season and will reflect feed short-ages and seasonal fluctuations due to droughts, floods, etc. In most cases, however, the downward trends particularly common in August and September reflect reduced levels of feeding. An intelligent study of the graph will help in adjusting your management in the following season so that costly season drops, although perhaps only temporary, are eliminated.
Calving dates must be carefully decided upon after taking climatic and district conditions into consideration. In many cases a simple advancing or retarding of commencement of calving can increase production considerably. With time of calving correctly set grazing management should be suitably adapted. Grazing management during the autumn determines the amount of winter and early spring grass available and hence production in the ensuing season. A decision should be made on which paddocks to close for A.S.P. and paddocks should be cleaned up and systematically closed from March onwards. If possible cows should be fed hay and silage on more confined areas in the latter stages of lactation. At least half acre of A.S.P. per cow should be regarded as a minimum requirement.
Research has shown that for top production the most important period for feeding cows is 6 weeks before to 6 weeks after calving. Ruakura has found that a minimum of 10 bales of hay plus 1 ton silage per cow is necessary for the herd and replacement stock. If no silage is available hay should be increased to 17–18 bales per cow. These figures can be increased according to length of district winters.
Where summer droughts or extremely dry conditions prevail summer cropping as part of a pasture renewal programme can be considered, say 4–5 acres of soft turnips.
There are many factors of management to be considered, a most important one being the handling and milking of the herd, which will be discussed in a later edition. At this stage past management should be reviewed and in the light of experience and advice the ensuing season's management can be improved.
Solution to No. 38
Crossword Puzzle 39
|1.||A native tree—white pine|
|3.||Large N.Z. insect; Dirt, excrement|
|4.||Pass by, go|
|5.||The first victim in a battle; the first fish|
|6.||Swarm around, infest, molest|
|10.||Sound of voices, singing|
|32.||Avenged, paid for|
|33.||Wonder, marvel at|
|34.||Common shoal fish, proverbially like a woman|
|38.||For, since, inasmuch as|
|40.||Be hampered, distressed|
|48.||Print, dash, strike|
|51.||He, she; current|
|1.||A native tree; yellow|
|6.||A native tree—the black pine|
|12.||Able, possible; Collar bone|
|13.||Head. ‘Upane —’|
|16.||Power station on the Waikato|
|19.||Long (time), when|
|20.||Different; snap, scream|
|27.||Int. expressing surprise; beget|
|28.||Fortified village; happen|
|29.||Stake, specially for tethering a canoe|
|30.||Fat, oil, grease|
|34.||Set fire to|
|35.||Large mountain parrot of New Zealand|
|44.||A shell or husk; face a certain way|
|45.||Bald on top|
|46.||Extinguish, put out|
|52.||Interjection in poetry|
He Tangi Mo Pako Heka
Na Rihari Te Wiremu
Ko te tangi tenei mo taku hoa kaumatua mo Pako Heka, i mate ia i te timatanga o te tau nei (o 1962). He uri ia no Wheru raua ko Te Ikanui me etahi atu o nga tupuna o Te Aupouri. He tohunga ia mo te whakapapa, mo nga tikanga katoa e pa ana ki Te Aupouri, a nana hoki ahau i manaaki ki enei mea.
Tera te tai ka ngunguru mai i raro i Wharo
He mihi ki te wairua e rere atu nei—ei.
Ki a koe e Pako e te Puru nui a Rua
Na Wheru koe na Po na Ruanui—ei.
He wananga o to iwi, he pukenga pukorero
He puna waiora mo nga whakatupuranga o naianei—ei.
For the Home
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Titori iho ra ki te toka ki Tauroa
Ki te wahi i mahue ai i Tumoana—ei.
E tu ke atu ra ko Whangatauhitia
Te puke whakaihi i nga ra o namata- ei.
A, ka rere noa koe ki Tawhitirahi
Ki te pa rongonui o Te Aupouri—ei.
E kai ana te marama i runga i tou kainga
Kia whakarongo ki nga tai e rua e mimihi mai ra—ei
Kia mahara e Pa ki nga mahi a nga tupuna
Ki te pakanga ki te rangimarie o nehera—ei.
Ka noho marara matou ki nga hau e wha
Ko te uri morehu na nga toa o mua—ei.
Haere ra e Koro ki te rerenga wairua
Rukuhia ra ki te ara ngongirua—ei.
Ina whiti tau haere i te ao-turoa nei
Ko to taenga tena ki te ao-marama—ei.
Tera pea tatou e tutaki ano—e—
I te mara o te Matapuna o te oranga, ei.
1 Wharo: Kei te one ki Ahipara. Na Tohe tenei ingoa.
3 Puru nui a Rua: He kupu tenei mo te tangata tino rangatira.
4 Wheru: Ko te tuakana o Te Ikanui, tungane o Kupe: ko enei nga tupuna o Te Aupouri katoa.
Po: Ko te ariki o runga o Kurahaupo.
Ruanui: Ko te tangata o runga o Mamari: he tupuna tenei o Te Aupouri me era atu o nga iwi o Te Tai-tokerau.
5 Pukorero: Ko nga tikanga, whakapapa, me era atu o nga taonga Maori.
7 Tauroa: Kei Ahipara—ki te pakeha ko Reef Point taua waahi.
8 Tumoana: tupuna o Te Aupouri o Te Rarawa hoki. I hoki atu ia i konei ki Hawaiki.
9 Whangatauhitia: Ko te puke whakaihi o Te Aupouri. I noho te iwi ki konei i to ratou hekenga i Hokianga ki Muriwhenua, Kei Ahipara tera maunga.
10 Tawhitirahi: Kei Te Kao tenei pa.
13 E kai ana: Ara, e whiti mai ana te marama o te marama.
14 Nga tai e rua: Ko te tai hauauru ko te tai rawhiti hoki.
20 Ngongirua: Ara, wairua.
HAERE KI O KOUTOU TIPUNA
Mr Philip Samuel
The death has occurred of Mr Philip Samuel, a Maori evangelist and elder of the Morrinsville district.
Known to fellow Maoris as Weka and to Morrinsville's older identities as Billy Samuel, he began in 1931 to preach the gospel to members of his race in Morrinsville and later in all parts of New Zealand. He played an important part in taking Christianity into Maori homes, and witnessed the transformation from squalid living conditions to homes established in new houses.
The burial took place in Rukumoana Cemetery where, as a last tribute, the hundreds of Maoris representing Dominion-wide tribes sang the hymn “How Great Thou Art.”
Mrs N. R. Mitchell
Mrs Nataria Rangimangeo Mitchell, 75, wife of Mr J. Z. Mitchell, died last December at Ohinemutu.
She was the daughter of Rotohiko Tangonui Haupapa and Te Ririu Hamuera Pango, both of the Ngati-Tunohopu clan of Ngati-Whakaue.
Her father was instrumental in having the education reserves in Rotorua and was the only Maori to sit on both the Rotorua Town Board and the Pukeroa Hill Trustees Board.
Both traced descent to those who came from the seven canoes of the last migration from Hawaiiki and were well known in the Arawa Confederation of Tribes domain.
She was the mother of Mrs Witarina Harris, Wellington, Mrs Francis Taylor, Otaki, Mr Hamuera Mitchell, Mrs Peggy Morrison and Mr Sonny Mitchell, Rotorua.
Mrs M. Te Rangi
Mrs Maraina Heke Te Rangi died recently at Whangarei. She was a descendant of the Ngatiwhatuia tribe and a chieftainess in her own right.
Born in the Kaipara district, Mrs Te Rangi lived most of her life in the Mangakahia district, where she farmed with her late husband.
She was a prominent social worker among the Maori community and a staunch supporter of the Church of England.
Mrs Emma Weepu
A former well-known resident of the Arahura Pa, Westland, Mrs Emma Weepu, died in Wellington recently at the age of 71 years.
Born at Arahura, she was the second daughter of the late Chief Hoanui and Emma Tainui.
She lived at the Arahura Pa until she left to reside in Wellington five years ago. Her husband, Mr Iahia Weepu, known mostly as Dick Webb, pre-deceased her two years ago.
Mrs Weepu is survived by two daughters, Nellie (Arahura) and Eli (Wellington) and four sons, Hoani (Chief) Nokitika; Dinny (Craigieburn), Bill and Tom (Wellington), and the late Bob, Sam, Fred and John were also sons.
There are also 21 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren.
Mr Rikihana Carkeek
Mr Rikihana (Bunny) Carkeek, a prominent leader of the Ngati Raukawa tribe of Otaki, died at his home in Otaki last January. He was 73 years of age.
The tangi was held at Raukawa marae and the funeral service at Rangiatea Church, Otaki.
Mr Carkeek was a veteran of the First World War, in which he was a lieutenant in the Maori Pioneer Battalion.
Prominent in both Maori and civic affairs in Otaki, he was a steward of the Otaki Maori Racing Club and was a leading member of most Maori organisations in the district.
Mr Hokimate Fox
One of the best known leaders of the Ngati Porou tribe in recent times, Mr Hokimate Fox, Waipiro Bay, East Coast, died at Te Puia Hospital last December.
Mr Fox was a first cousin to the late Sir Apirana Ngata. He was a noted leader in county and Maori affairs and was a well known sheep and dairy farmer.
Mr Fox was chairman of the Ngatiporou Dairy Company's Directorate for the past six years, a member of the Waiapu County Council, chairman of the Hikurangi South Tribal Committee, and a member of the Ngata Memorial College board of governors. He is survived by his widow, two sons and six daughters.
A.N.Z. EXPERIENCE AND TRADITION OF SERVICE IS UNCHALLENGED!
This tradition of service, this background of experience has as its origin the first Bank established in New Zealand. In the 120 years that have passed since then, A.N.Z. Bank has seen the development of farming, the growth of trade, the increase in every New Zealander's need for friendly advice and assistance in the often complex world of finance. Throughout New Zealand, in almost every city or town, there is an A.N.Z. Bank Branch or Agency. Here modern and comprehensive Bank services are offered, services that because of experience gained over the years have been designed to cover every need.
Ko te Peeke o A.N.Z. he Roopu whai mona!
Koia nei te Peeke kaumatua i Aotearoa nei a nana hoki i Whakatakoto te kaupapa awhina i raro o nga mahi tuku moni, mahi paamu whakatu whare me era atu whakahaere i roto i nga 120 tau kua taha ake nei. E ki ana nga kaikorero me te huruhuru ka rere te manu ara mehemea he whaakaro tou kaua e wehi ki te haere ki te Peeke o ANZ i tou takiwa, no te mea kei reira nga tohunga hei awhina i a koe.
Mrs Te Amohaere Gardiner
Mrs Te Amohaere Gardiner, who died recently at Whakatane, aged 67 years, was the eldest daughter of George Powell (Hori Pawa), a leading elder and chief of the Ngatiawa sub-tribe of Matatua.
She attended Queen Victoria Maori Girls' College 1910–1911, took up Mission work at Paeroa with the Rev. Cowie, later Bishop Cowie of Auckland and married Tamehana Gardiner of Ngati Pikiao of Te Arawa, later a member of the Arawa Trust Board.
Te Amohaere was a very active member of the tribe, and was in many organisations during the First World War, being Secretary and Treasurer for the Sub-tribe Ngati Tamateatutahi a Kawaiti sub tribe on Ngati Pikiao. She was chairman of the Waiti Nahue School, Rotoiti, and associate to the returning officer at Rotoiti. Besides being one of the original members of the Health League under Nurse Cameron, she was a member of the Mother's League at Te Teko, and was also active in fund-raising organisations during the second World War.
Mr T. P. Winiata
Mr Tamihana (Tom) Pakaketaiana Winiata, secretary of the Otaki Maori Racing Club for the past 10 years, died suddently last November at his home, aged 64.
Mr Winiata was widely and favourably known through his association not only with racing, but also with a large number of other organisations. He was a prominent Mason, being Past Worshipful Master of Otaki, No. 72.
He had a long association with bowling, as a player and administrator, being vice-president of the Otaki Outdoor Bowling Club and patron of the Otaki Indoor Bowling Centre.
Mr Winiata was prominent in tribal affairs, was a New Zealand Maori Rugby representative in 1923, and was at one time a member of the Maori Rugby Advisory Board.
He is survived by his wife and an adult family.
Mr Peter Karehana
Mr Petera Karehana, also known as Mr George Gardiner, a prominent Maori elder of Matakana Island, Tauranga, has died, aged 90.
He was educated at the Bethlehem and Matakana schools and spent all his life in the district, farming with his sons on the island.
Mr Karehana was a leading elder and chief in the Ngaitirangi and Ngaitiranganui tribes, first chairman of the Matakana Tribal Executive and a foundation member of the Mayor Island Trust Board.
As a young man he was a prominent Rugby player in the Bay of Plenty.
A large number of people attended the tangi at Rangiwaea Pa on the island.
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Tohungia Nga Manu Maori
Ko tenei manu te Kaka ko te tahi o nga tino manu a he manu whakapaipai hoki. Kana e patua. Awhinatia mai matou ki te tohu i tenei manu kia kore e whakangarahia rawa atu i te mata o te whenua.
Na Te Tari
Kaitiaki o nga Manu