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No. 45 (December 1963)
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Te Ao Hou

The department of maori affairs December 1963

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

printed by Pegasus Press Ltd.

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

editorial address: Box 2390, Wellington, New Zealand.

subscription renewals: If your subscription is expiring, you will find 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 issue 16 are still available at 5/- each. Nos. 18 and following are available at 2/6 each. Nos. 1–15 and 17 are no longer available.

contributions in maori: Ko tetahi o nga whakaaro nui o Te Ao Hou he pupuri kia mau te reo Maori. Otira ko te nuinga o nga korero kei te tukua mai kei te reo Pakeha anake. Mehemea hoki ka nui mai nga korero i tuhia ki te reo Maori ka whakanuia ake te wahanga o te tatou pukapuka mo nga korero Maori.

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

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

the secretary for maori affairs: Mr J. M. McEwen.

editor: Margaret Orbell.

Te Ao Hou

Contents December, 1963

The Choice, Rosemary Vincent 6
The Guy, E. S. Morgan 10
Ponga and Puhihuia: Part Two 19
Te Kata Whakamutunga, Peti Hunia 31
Mr J. M. McEwen, New Secretary for Maori Affairs 3
The N.Z. Maori Council Moves Forward, John Booth 4
Maori Children in Auckland Schools, Roger Oppenheim 12
Queen Victoria School Celebrates Jubilee 25
Para Matchitt: Painter and Sculptor 26
M.W.W.L. Meets at Rotorua 30
Leadership Conference at Auckland 33
Mrs Marewa McConnell: A Teacher with a Fine Record 35
Boys' Hostel in Gisborne 36
Is Your Child Always Reading? ‘Kai Kina 53
Book reviews 50
Record reviews 55
Sport 57
Farming 59
Crossword puzzle 61
Haere Ki o Koutou Tipuna 63

COVER: Our cover photograph, taken at the Ringatu meeting at Wairoa last July, is of Mrs Ani Natana of Ruatoki. The photographer is Ans Westra.

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Is There A Colour Bar?

The Editor,
‘Te Ao Hou.’

I listened with interest to a discussion over 1ZB, Auckland, where a panel of people were picked to give their views and opinions on the above subject.

Would it be possible to publish my personal views and experiences on the subject of ‘Is there a colour bar in New Zealand’.

Question: Is there a colour bar in New Zealand?

Answer: Yes, definitely, if it persists in your own mind.

Question: Is there a colour bar in New Zealand?

Answer: Yes, if you have had an experience, observed, or heard about such a thing.

Question: Is there a colour bar in New Zealand?

Answer: I don't know. Would this be one?

I remember when I was a child of six or seven at school, we had the district nurse visit us. She inspected our heads for lice, and found a swag of them on me. Unfortunately the nurse had no idea of being diplomatic about it, so that I suffered cruelly from the taunts of my classmates. Immediately the barrier went up, from my white contemporaries, ‘dirty Maori’. That was my first realization that there was a difference in the colour of my skin. Or was it because I was unclean that I wasn't acceptable for playing games with them? Or is it that children must be cruel to each other?

I became very confused, angry, embarrassed and tearfully upset. I confronted my mother with the note that the nurse had given me and handed it to her weeping. Upon reading it, she clouted me one across the head for crying, and another for not keeping my head clean. I often wondered if that was a justified action on her part, that the nurse had made her aware of her responsibility and she was feeling a wee bit guilty about it.

Over the years similar experiences have occurred to me and to others who have come across this sort of colour barrier. Opinions differ from person to person, some laugh at their experiences, some speak despairingly about it, some just couldn't confront it, but most I noticed justified their thoughts and actions to the situation whenever the question arose.

My Opinion: Is there a colour bar in New Zealand. No, it no longer exists with me personally. It's a problem that each one must sort out for oneself. If it is possible to find the basic problem of that particular question, the other problems will collapse, because they have piled up upon one another, and it becomes re-stimulated time after time. I have found this workable to my reality, and now I am finding a great pleasure in meeting people of different walks of life and nationality. This does not solve the next person's problem on the colour bar but it does mine.

And even now whenever I feel a remark is aimed at me indirectly, these questions well up in my mind. What is it that he or she doesn't like about me? What is it that they do like about me? What is it that they can't confront? Is it a problem to them, and why does it still persist? Accept a person for what they are and I feel half your problems are solved.

N.B. My daughter, age six years, is attending a school where whites are predominant. And she is having a similar experience to the one I had when I was her age. The cry that is thrown at her is Maori bug, why don't you go to a Maori school; we don't want no Maoris at our school, go back to the Maori country. I have made a point of keeping her clean and tidy so the problem is not with her personal appearance, but the colour of her skin, nor does she possess any abnormal characteristics.

R.D. (Auckland)


The Government will, in future, subsidise £ for £ the funds passing to the Maori Education Foundation from Maori unclaimed moneys held by the Maori Trustee. In addition the government will meet the Foundation's administration costs (which last year amounted to some £3,800).

Announcing this new policy, the Minister of Maori Affairs, Mr Hanan said that the unclaimed moneys on which the £ for £ subsidy will be payable are estimated at £27,000 this financial year, £35,000 next financial year and £15,000 a year thereafter.

The effect of all this is that the Foundation income will be more than doubled.

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Mr J. M. McEwen,
New Secretary for
Maori Affairs

Mr J. M. McEwen has recently been appointed Secretary for Maori Affairs and Maori Trustee. He succeeds Mr J. K. Hunn who some months ago was appointed Secretary for Defence.

Mr McEwen is widely known among the Maori people. As a child he had many Maori friends, and from this time he has had very close ties with the Maori people. He is a foundation member of the Ngati-Poneke Association, and has been closely associated with its development. Over the years he has taken part in a great many Maori activities, and is the president of the newly-founded Mawaihakona Maori Club in the Upper Hutt. His wife, who also has a great interest in Maori matters, is president of the Wellington district council of the Maori Women's Welfare League, and also of the Awa-Kairangi Branch of the League.

Wide Knowledge of Maoritanga

His love of Maori culture dates from his early childhood. He speaks Maori fluently, and is an expert carver. Many people have said that there must be few Maoris today who have as wide a knowledge of Maoritanga as Mr McEwen. When the standard Maori dictionary was revised a few years ago, Mr McEwen was secretary of the committee responsible for this. For some years he has been president of the Polynesian Society.

He joined the Maori Affairs Department in 1935 after having worked for a private law firm in Palmerston North, and from 1941 to 1944 he served in the Army. In 1946 he gained his LL.B. at Victoria University. He returned to the Maori Affairs Department, and was appointed research officer in 1948. He became assistant controller of the trusts, titles and claims division in 1950. In 1953 Mr McEwen was appointed Resident Commissioner in Niue Island and in 1956 he became assistant secretary for Island Territories. In 1958 he was appointed Secretary for Island Territories. He

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Mr J. M. McEwen.

speaks Rarotongan and the language of Niue, and has as well some knowledge of Samoan. He has a deep interest in all things Polynesian, both past and present.

At 48, he is one of the youngest men ever to be appointed Secretary for Maori Affairs.


E nga iwi, e nga hapu, e nga reo, e nga huihuinga tangata, e noho mai na i runga i nga marae a o tatou tupuna matua, i te Ika-a-Maui me te Waipounamu whiti atu ki te Wharekauri, tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou.

Tena koutou me o tatou tini aitua e hinga atu nei e hinga mai na i runga i o tatou marae maha, kua whetu-rangitia ratou no reira e nga mate haere, haere, haere.

E aku rangatira tena koutou. Pupu ake ana te aroha, te hari me te koa i te puna o te ngakau no te mea kua whakawhiwhia ahau ki te taonga nei a i whai huarahi ai ahau ki te hoki mai ano ki waenganui i a koutou otira me penei ake kua hoki mai ano ahau ki te Ukaipo.

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E raurangatira, ma ahakoa e akitia ana tatou e nga ngaru nunui e pupuhitia ana e nga hau kikino e uangia ana e te ua i runga i te ahuatanga o enei ra; hei aha atu: engari anga atu o tatou tinana me o tatou wairua ki te arai atu i enei mea e whakamamae nei i a tatou. Otira me tahuri tatou i runga i te rangimarie me te whakaaro kotahi ki te hanga i tetahi kaupapa kia au ta tatou noho a kia mahue tika iho o tatou uri whakatupu.

E aku hoa rangatira me pehea ra e oti ai? Ma te noho? Ma te moemoea? Ma te wawata? Kahore! Ma te werawera; ma te puku mahi; ma te manawa pa, ma te ngakau tahi, me te manawanui e tupu ake ai te ora me te pai mo te iwi.

Me penei ake te ki: ‘Nau te rourou, naku te rourou, ka ora te manuhiri.’

No reira e aku hoa awhi pono tatou ki a tatou, whakatikatika i a tatou ki te whakamatautau a kokiritia me te tohe tonu kia whiwhi tatou ki nga hua rangatira o te ao hou.

Otira e te iwi taro ake nei ka kite a kanohi tatou a ka tae atu ta koutou mokai ki waenganui i a koutou kia taututaki tatou i runga i nga marae ki kona tatou mihi ai, poroporoaki ai ki a ratou ki te hunga kua mene atu ki te po a kia korero tahi tatou me te whakawhitiwhiti whakaaro ano hoki mo nga ahuatanga o te wa.

Kei mea koutou he aroha kirimoko te aroha mo koutou, kao, no te whatu manawa tonu.

Ma te Runga rawa koutou e manaaki mana ano hoki e whakato te purapura pai ki tena ki tena o tatou.

Heoi ano,
Na ta koutou mokai

J. M. McEwen

Tumuaki o te Tari Maori


The anthropologist Dr I. H. Kawharu is back in New Zealand after spending the greater part of the past twelve months in South East Asia, Italy and England. Seconded from the Department of Maori Affairs, he has been engaged in United Nations work connected with technical assistance to under-developed countries.

Dr Kawharu carried out extensive research on Maori land tenure in 1961 and 1962, and later, at Oxford University, received a doctorate for his thesis on this subject. His 100,000 word report on the consequences of the individualisation of Maori land titles, and recent trends in supervised credit is expected to be made available in New Zealand soon.


N.Z. Maori Council

Since ‘Te Ao Hou’ was last issued the New Zealand Maori Council has taken an important forward step by starting its regular monthly NEWSLETTER, a small paper designed to keep people ‘in the know’ about the Council. A free issue is sent to all Maori Committees, and anyone else can subscribe for 7s. 6d. a year. Subscriptions should be sent to the Secretary, P.O. Box 5195, Wellington.

It is intended to print news of what District Councils and Committees are doing, and also to publish in the NEWSLETTER the views and comments of anyone who cares to write and give his opinion of the Council or of Maori matters in general.

A Vote by Maori Committees

Another new step taken by the Council is something of an experiment. It is hoping to find the best way of getting the opinions of the people on important issues so that it may truly reflect the views of Maoris as a whole.

The best way that this can be done is to go direct to the Maori Committees throughout the country. They have each been sent a paper on which they are to enter their vote either for or against two proposals that have recently been put to us by the Department of Maori Affairs. Their vote then goes to the Secretary of their Executive, and the Executive's majority decision goes to the District Council and so to the New Zealand Council.

Questions at Issue

The proposals on which the Committees are voting refer to succession to small interests in land. Under the ‘£10 rule’ interests that are valued at less than £10 may be given to only one of the successors. This could mean that some people could be cut out of their parents' land altogether. One of the Department's pro-

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posals is to increase the value of these uneconomic interests to £25, which would mean that there would be less fragmentation of land titles, but more people would be cut out without receiving any compensation.

As the law stands at present it is necessary for the Judge of the Maori Land Court to apply the £10 rule if he has any doubts about a particular case. The Department's second suggestion is to make it mandatory for the Judge to apply the rule whatever his doubts.

Maori Committees throughout the country are being asked to say whether they are for or against these two proposals.

A Change in Secretary

For many years Norman (Mana) Perry has worked for the well-being of the Maori people and he has always been a strong supporter of the Tribal Committees and Executives. With Major Vercoe and others in the Wai-Ariki District he was instrumental in having District Councils re-formed and in getting the Government to agree to the establishment of the New Zealand Maori Council.

With a great many other activities connected with his church work and his business keeping him busy, Mr Perry found it necessary to let go of part of his burden and he has therefore given up the Secretaryship of the Council. Fortunately he will always be available as a consultant and adviser.

The position of Secretary has been taken over by the writer who, before this, had been Associate Secretary of the Council.

Changes in the Maori Welfare Act

The Maori Welfare Act, under which the New Zealand Maori Council has been set up, was passed last year with some sections changed from what the Council had approved. As the Minister had stated in Parliament that the Act had the support of the Council he has agreed to make the alterations that will bring it into line with the Council's wishes.

The most important changes are that Maori Committees will be given authority over the work of Wardens, that the number of members on a Committee may be increased to more than seven, and that a person may be elected to a Committee in the place where his home marae is, even if he lives some distance away.

New Committees to be Elected

The Maori Welfare Act lays it down that all Maori Committees (those that used to be called Tribal Committees) will be re-elected on the same day, the last Saturday in February in every third year. The first such election will be held next year on February 29th.

During March each Maori Committee must choose its delegates to its Executive Committee. In April the Executive chooses delegates to the District Council, and in May each District Council selects its three representatives to sit on the New Zealand Council.

The Council is hoping that next February will see a lot of interest in the work of the Maori Committees, and that plenty of good men and women will be elected to the Committees and sent on to represent their people on the Executives, the District Councils, and on the New Zealand Council.

Picture icon

Te Awamutu Courier Photo
Miss Kiri Te Kanawa, a talented Auckland soprano, has recently been having a great many successes in competition events. She took nine first places in the recent Te Awamutu competitions, and in the two classes she entered in Auckland she took one first prize and one ‘highly commended’. She is also joint winner of the Cambridge Scholarship, and took second place (winning a prize of £100) in this year's Mobil Song Quest.
Kiri, who is 19 years old, is a full-time music student at St. Mary's College. Her spare-time studies include drama and Maori.

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The radio on the dressing table began playing the Theme from Picnic, and just for a moment Meri closed her eyes and imagined herself in the Centre, jam-packed with the usual Saturday night crowd; everywhere you looked sweating, grinning faces, people happy with their independence, the boys on the stage hitching up their guitars and starting to play something else. The Theme from Picnic had been one of their favourites then, in the days when she'd practically lived at the Centre—never missed a Saturday, and been there most other nights too, including Sundays when they'd had those talent quests. What talent, too, better than anything you heard on the radio or saw on the films—and how they'd accepted it, all of them, especially her who had never imagined the day might come when she'd long to go back and not be able to; when she would sit in a blue and white bedroom, with a man's tartan dressing-gown folded at the end of the huge double bed, and beat time, in frustration, at the sound of a familiar tune.

‘If you want to go to the Centre …’ Colin had said tentatively, quite often, after they were first married. He'd never finished the sentence, and she knew he'd never finished the idea in his own mind. Supposing she'd said yes? Then, of course, he would have had to take her, and he would have stood protectively by her once they were there, trying to look with it, trying to feel with it … poor Colin, he might possibly have managed the first, but never the second.

So she'd always said, ‘No, I don't want to go’; meaning that she didn't want to go with him, it just wouldn't be the same.

She heard the motor scooter pull up outside the house, the front door open and close, and Colin's muffled voice as he greeted his mother downstairs; his mother's answering voice, and then the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. She pushed her comic under the pillow and sat up, tidying her hair.

Her husband said ‘Hullo Meri’, and kissed her lightly. Then he went over to the window and looked out, his hands in his pockets, and she knew something was up.

She waited, aware of the comic under her pillow, wishing she had the guts to take it out and let him see it; surely it was nothing to be ashamed of, reading an ordinary love comic. Everyone she knew read them. But Colin said it was bad for the mind; he said that sort of reading matter dragged you down until after a while you lived on that level yourself.

‘Ah, Meri’, said Colin. ‘I think we should have a little chat. Mother's just been saying—you know.’ He looked at her for support, for help; he wanted her to deny it before he'd even said it, the usual old thing she supposed. Living as he did in his parents' house, struggling along with little money to get his law degree, he tried hard, with a conspicuous lack of success, to keep things on an even keel.

Meri simply shrugged. ‘Your mother's always saying. What d'you want me to do? Help, she should know by now—I'm no good with them.’

‘But you must try to be.’ He turned eagerly: that was it, she must try. Make that one small sacrifice, mix with his parents who after all had been kind enough to offer to keep them both here. He was always reminding her of this, though their house, in the best part of Remuera, was more like a mansion—six bedrooms, three of them permanently vacant, constantly prepared for guests who never came; an enormous kitchen with all the mod cons that had ever been invented, two bathrooms, and three lavs altogether, a real ballroom of a lounge, and a dining room, sitting room, study, billiard room and cavernous hall besides. What did two middle-aged people want with all that space to themselves? Her own

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family of twelve, counting Mum and Dad, lived in a six-room house and always managed to pack visitors in, there was never any fuss or any obligations. Yet here, Colin's mother and father seemed to think she owed them her presence all the time; as if she couldn't feel the chill in the air whenever she was with them.

Even if her behaviour had always been perfectly correct, there would still have been a chill. Because Colin, with the great future they were always telling her about, had been forced to marry her at the most penniless stage of his life. It hadn't worried her to be a month pregnant with no wedding ring, but it had worried him and he'd done the most dramatic, the most original thing in his life when he took her to the Registry Office that day; then faced his parents and said he'd gladly give up his degree for her sake because he loved her and she was his wife.

So they'd opened the doors of the big bedroom, and said it was Colin's and his wife's for as long as they wanted it, and so was the rest of the house, provided Colin would go on at Varsity.

Colin said, ‘I know it's difficult, dear, but Mother and Dad are kind people really. You've had no chance to find out what they're really like because you've hardly talked to them. They are hurt, you know, at the way you refuse to approach them.’

‘Why don't they approach me?’

‘But it's up to you—don't you see that? Look, Meri, they've taken us in and they've accepted our marriage—after all, as Dad said, it's no good crying over split milk. They've done their bit. Now it's up to us. I'm sure you could get on fine with them…’

‘I couldn't, Colin, I couldn't.’

… You could do some cooking in the kitchen, make the sort of things that Mother doesn't know how to make …’ he gave a shy smile—‘teach her a few things’.

‘Yes? You think she'd like Maori bread?’

‘Why not?—I do.’

‘Puha? Fish-heads?’ she insisted. She sat up straight, the colour heightened in her cheeks. ‘That's what I want, right now.’ She was challenging him; he refused to accept it.

What he wanted to say was quite simple: My parents have changed some of their ideas, at their time of life, for our sake. It's not that they don't like Maoris, it's just that they've never had anything to do with them. Suddenly, we've opened up a new world to them. It's not easy for people of their age to become connected with a new world, new ways, new ideas—but good Lord, no-one can say they're not trying.

As usual, his thoughts were clear enough: the difficulty was to express them. He sat by Meri and took her unresisting, unresponsive hand, as if that would help; but it made things more complicated to feel her presence so strongly, and the presence of his baby.

‘For Johnny's sake,’ he began awkwardly.

She took her hand away; for some reason she seemed annoyed. These reasons were always beyond him.

‘Johnny's not even here yet,’ she said. ‘He won't be here for five months. It's a damn long time to sit here waiting, and it's silly to pretend to be what I'm not, just because a baby's on the way. Anyway, it's not your parents' baby.’

‘What's that got to do with it?’


‘Well anyway,’ he said, ‘I wish you'd compromise.’

And left her to wonder what compromise meant, and what difference it would make if she did it.

He had dinner along with his parents that evening. They had sent up a tray for Meri; she was not feeling well, he said, and wanted to keep her feet up.

‘I hope the poor girl's not going to have a difficult time,’ his mother said.

He listened for signs of what Meri had hinted at in his mother—lack of sympathy and understanding, impatience, dislike. But his mother merely sounded like one woman anxious about the pre-natal condition of another.

‘Apparently it's often difficult the first time,’ he said cheerfully.

His parents glanced at each other.

‘The first time,’ his mother repeated.

His father coughed. Did Colin—ah—intend to have a large family? Was it wise? Perhaps he didn't realise the expense of having a child.

‘Well, naturally, we'll wait,’ Colin said. ‘I wouldn't think of inflicting too much on you, but when we have a home of our own—well naturally, we'll have more children then.’ He was apologising to them, he was bitterly aware of how he must sound: the naughty school-boy trying to exonerate himself. He felt the atmosphere heavy with disapproval, and found himself blushing.

His mother said gently, ‘We only want what's best for you, Colin.’

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‘The cost of living is high these days,’ his father said. ‘Exorbitant really, for young married couples. A young chap on his own might get along all right …’

‘But married, and with a baby on the way,’ his mother went on ‘and studying, that's different.’

He hardly heard them; something else was going through his mind. Maori children, he thought, that's what they don't want. He looked up, looked straight at them, but he couldn't say it. He kept eating automatically. One half of him argued: we'll have a whole troupe of kids if we like. We've got our own life to lead, Meri and me; and the other half reasoned: where would you be without them, what kind of future would you have without their help to start you off? And what else could he do but study, anyway?—he'd never done anything else, never had to. When he'd finished studying, what else could he do but talk for his career, argue, cajole, reason; thumb through dusty volumes, examine evidence, question, cross-question, all for the sake of the truth and his fee.

Meri brought her own dishes downstairs, and said she would help his mother with the washing-up. Her lower lip stuck out truculently, and there was a look in her eye he had come to know lately, and wonder at. He didn't quite trust her in this mood.

‘I'll help mother, you go back to bed.’

But she refused, and his mother said, ‘Let Mary help me, it's good of her to offer.’

He couldn't leave it at that. Feeling ashamed but determined, he sat at the dining room table with his books. His father had gone to the study; the servery door between the rooms was still slightly open; he was eavesdropping in peace.

Perhaps what the two women said did not amount to much after all. His mother was always, he had to admit it, slightly overbearing with young people; and his wife, there was no getting away from it, was very often sulky.

His mother talked at some length about pregnancy: how you must do this and that, and be careful to avoid doing so and so. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘fears of having a miscarriage are natural enough; but believe me a baby is very well protected in the womb. Do you think, perhaps, a little more walking…’

‘I don't like walking,’ Meri said. ‘Not round here.’

‘No? Well there is a clinic, you know, where exercises are taught. I always feel it's such a help for a pregnant woman to mix with other expectant mothers. It makes you feel more secure.’

‘I feel all right,’ Meri said shortly.

‘I do feel, though, that the baby might benefit by a little exercise. And you'd feel so much happier, Mary. Sitting all day … constipation …’

And so on. Very little from Meri. What she did say expressed no gratitude at this concern for her welfare. He had half a mind to throw open the door, take issue with them: ‘Mother, Meri hasn't had a sheltered upbringing, she knows all about it. She's helped deliver two of her sisters' babies, she can manage her own pregnancy.’ And, ‘Meri, Mother's only trying to help. Can't you see that, can't you be gracious about it?’

But such fair-mindedness, he knew, would not be welcomed by either of them. They'd look at him and say, ‘Whose side are you on?’

And for the life of him … he didn't know what his reply would be.

After a period of silence, with only the dishes clattering occasionally, he heard his mother again. ‘Mary, I don't want you to think I'm interfering. But do you intend to have many children?’

Oh God, no, he thought.

Meri said, ‘We haven't really talked it over yet. Depends on Colin. But I'd like a lot.’ Her voice for a moment sounded shy. ‘I'd like boys and girls, about four of each.’

‘Eight? That's quite a large family nowadays.’

‘There's twelve in mine’, Meri said, suddenly defensive.

‘Yes, but …’ If she had said, yes, but yours is Maori, he would really have had to interfere. Luckily she didn't. ‘To begin with, a lawyer's life can be very difficult to start with. Sometimes it takes years to become established.’

‘Oh, Colin'll make it,’ Meri said easily. ‘He's cut out for it.’

‘Yes, of course he'll make it.’ His mother, her voice become slightly sharp, was now launched upon her favourite topic. ‘Colin has wanted to be a lawyer since he was fourteen,’ he heard her say. ‘All of his efforts and I need hardly say all of ours have been bent towards that. He could make a very fine, very upstanding lawyer.’ Pause. ‘But in that position, natural talent is not everything. Money is important, and standards … standards are most important,’ his mother said firmly.

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Another pause. Then Meri's voice, soft and careless.

‘Yes, Mrs Groves, I know what you're trying to say.’

And his mother—‘I'm not trying to say anything, Meri, I'm merely …’ The breeze slammed the servery door, but did not shut it.

‘This damned thing,’ Meri said, and closed it with a loud, enraged bang.

Their voices rose, drifted and sank like the wind itself. He heard Meri's footsteps thudding to the kitchen door—‘Why can't you mind your own damned business?’ were her parting words—and then thudding on upstairs. The bedroom door slammed.

He bent his head and all his efforts to appear as if, engrossed in work, he had not heard a thing. His mother came in, and stood uncertainly when she saw him.

‘She really is a very rude girl,’ she said. ‘Your Mary, isn't she?’

He went to bed late. Meri seemed to be asleep, though when he touched her shoulder she moved right over to the edge of the bed, and didn't answer when he asked, ‘Are you awake?’

He knew she was; she was too tense for sleep. But he decided not to disturb her: he didn't want hysterics on his hands. And he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, he'd have to think about it. Something would have to be said, something about how natural it was for his mother to worry, she'd be just the same with a daughter of her own, if she had one. Indeed, he'd say (perhaps this would help), that was probably the whole trouble—his mother lacked a daughter and was trying to make Meri a substitute. But he'd tell her, somewhere along the line, that she had been rude and really ought to apologise. And in case that made it sound as if he was on his mother's side, he'd tell Meri he understood how she felt as well; understood perfectly. Of course, she was going to make a fine mother. It was all coming naturally to her, he could see that, and it made him feel proud …

When he woke, at seven o'clock as usual, and saw the note on Meri's pillow, his first emotion was not surprise but unpleasant anticipation. It was as if he'd been half expecting to see that note, and the only thing he wondered at was exactly what it contained, precisely how far she had gone.

Before he opened it he got up slowly, put on his dressing gown and pulled back the blinds. The light flooded in, and showed that in the open wardrobe only his own clothes, neatly pressed, hung in their place. Meri's were gone. So was her big grey suitcase. And so was she, he knew, spreading out the note on the dressing table, by the side of the transistor radio his parents had lent Meri.

His wife had written that she'd gone to her parent's place, and wanted to have the baby there. She couldn't stay here a minute longer. ‘Don't ask me to come back, because I won't. But you know where I am if you want me. I'll come back to you if you want me, because I still love you, but not to them. It's up to you.’ She'd signed it, ‘Your Meri. Arohanui.’

For quite a while he just stood there looking at the note as if something written between the lines in invisible ink might suddenly appear. But nothing did: he knew that was all he was going to get. ‘It's up to you.’ And so it was, he knew; so it was.

From downstairs came the sounds of his mother preparing his usual early breakfast. She did breakfast in three shifts; first his, then his father's and her own, lastly Meri's at about nine thirty. He scratched his head, then folded the note and put it in his pocket. No good thinking about this on an empty stomach. He'd have breakfast first, then think about it; that was the way things were done.

He opened the bedroom door and went downstairs, whistling bravely.


For many years there has been a Maori Club in Sydney, catering for the considerable Maori population there. The club has provided entertainment, welcomed visitors from New Zealand, and assisted in cases of distress.

Recently the club has been re-organised as the Maori Club Limited, and is attempting to raise sufficient funds to obtain its own premises. Its aim is to become a social and cultural centre in Sydney for Maoris and their friends, and a convenient place at which they can meet and entertain visiting friends from New Zealand. It is also envisaged that with its own premises, the club will be in a position to increase its charitable activities.

People wishing to know more about the venture should write to the Hon. Secretary, The Maori Club Limited, 4 Gladstone Avenue, Hunters Hill, Sydney, Australia.

– 10 –


Eruera had been in hospital last Guy Fawkes day, and the one before that he couldn't remember. Now everybody was getting ready for the day again, and he didn't know how to start. In the middle of the football field the master and the big boys had built a huge pile of rubbish and branches from the pine trees that had just been cut down. Then the master told them that they could make some guys at home and bring them to school. The best guys would be tied to a long dry branch that already stuck right up through the middle of the rubbish pile, waiting.

Eruera and Isaac squatted in the long grass and watched Victor and John and Rewa making a guy in Victor's backyard. Victor and John and Rewa were the biggest boys in the school. They always did things together, and they didn't talk much. They were Scouts. Their guy was going to be a good one. Anyone could see that. Eruera wished he was old enough to be a Scout. Being a Scout must make you strong and quiet, and kind to the little fellows, and good at making things like guys.

Eruera and Isaac heard Paul yelling from the road. ‘Hey, you fellas! Coming down to Muriwai's? They got a guy. Better'n theirs!’

Nino bobbed out of a hole in a hedge, as they passed his house.

‘I'm gonna be a Scout soon’, said Eruera.

‘Not’, said Paul, ‘Scouts don't have little legs.’

‘My father caught three thousand flounders last night,’ said Isaac.

‘Not’, said Nino. ‘Bet there aren't that many in the whole sea. Ask Miss James.’

The Muriwai's was a splendid guy. He had two heads, because the Muriwai twins had made that part of him. He wore very long gumboots, because Mr Muriwai was a fisherman. He was very big, and rather untidy, because there were a lot of Muriwais. But he was a happy-looking guy, and under one arm he had an old ukelele. Because the Muriwai's were like that too.

‘Come on’, said Eruera, ‘we go and make one, eh?’

In the shed behind Eruera's house they found an old coat hanging on a rail.

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‘Gee, eh? Now some paints. We'll ask Aunty Mabel’, said Eruera. Aunty Mabel was scraping flax on her back door-step when the boys arrived. Aunty Mabel's boys were all grown up, and she found a pair of Jackson's shearing pants for them.

‘I don't know what Jackson say when he come home. You run now.’

They ran, Eruera hopping along as fast as he could with the shearing pants on his head, and the legs flapping out behind him.

On Guy Fawkes day Rewa wheeled Eruera's guy to school in Aunty Mabel's wheelbarrow. Eruera hopped and ran beside him. He wasn't the best guy, but he had Jackson's trousers, and Daddy's hat, and Nana's old coat, and a sad face that his mother had sewn with wool on an old black jersey, and Eruera loved him.

‘That's a fine guy, Eru’, said the master, ‘but where are all the others?’

‘Please sir, no more’, said the biggest girl Muriwai. ‘John and Victor didn't finish. They went camping with the Scouts.’ She giggled, ‘Our baby burnt our's up.’

Everybody crowded around to watch Eruera's guy being tied to the pole on the bonfire. At playtime and lunchtime Eruera sat beside the rubbish and talked to his guy.

When it was nearly dark, Eruera, Nino, Paul and Isaac walked down the road to the football field. Already crackers were banging, and rockets and jumping jacks smoking and fizzing.

‘Please sir, now sir, the guy?’ Eruera shouted to the master as soon as he appeared. He lit some paper tucked into the edge of the rubbish pile, and up went the flames. Back went everyone as the fire grew hotter. There were sighs and chuckles of satisfaction.

Eruera watched his guy. His poor sad face slipped into his chest as the flames ran up his trousers. Eruera hid behind Miss James, and pushed his face into her skirt.

‘My guy! My guy!’ he sobbed. ‘You shouldn' hurt him.’

Picture icon

Ans Westra Photo
This picture shows a meeting of the Ringatu Church at Wainui, near Ohope Beach. On the wall of the meeting-house is one of the flags used by Te Kooti; this is now kept in the Dominion Museum in Wellington, but it was lent for the occasion by the museum. Te Kooti had a number of flags; this one was taken at Te Porere, the scene of Te Kooti's last stand, on the upper Wanganui River on the slopes of Tongariro. The symbols on the flag can be interpreted in a number of ways. Some say that the crescent moon symbolises the Old Testament, and the cross, the New Testament.

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This is the text of a paper read by Mr Oppenheim at the Leadership Conference held by the Council of Adult Education in Auckland recently. It is published here in a slightly shortened form. As always in ‘Te Ao Hou’ the views expressed are those of the author only. We hope that you will write to let us know whether or not you agree with him.

Maori Children
in Auckland Schools

The results of the population census of 1961 show that Auckland has a total Maori population of 19,847 or approximately 5 per cent. This population is, furthermore, concentrated in relatively few areas within the city.

By itself this figure means little, but we may add that this number is unlikely to become smaller, indeed if present rates of migration and natural increase are maintained it will certainly become much larger very rapidly.

The fact is of course that people, both Maori and white people, are crowding into Auckland in greater numbers every year; already almost a sixth of New Zealand's population lives in this town. It is this crowding and its speed which generate problems.

Consequences for Education

In this paper I shall discuss the consequences for education of this rapid expansion. Let me say at the outset that this will not be an essay in social science, dimensioned by statistics and boundaried by the guide posts of research. It is a blunt statement of my own views, arrived at I admit with some regard for evidence, but also slanted by what I consider to be the good life, and the well ordered state. My concern is the social pressures which come to bear on the Maori child and how schools are involved in them.

We have reached our first clue then in the hunt for consequences, the fact of a relatively large migrant population concentrated largely in the more decrepit areas of a smallish town. Already an almost classic situation is beginning to arise, one in which the older immigrants are being displaced, with attendant conflicts, by the newer people of alien culture and attitudes. This is the experience of cities such as New York, Chicago and London, and it is now, on a smaller scale, to be our experience. It is caused not merely by the movement of Polynesians, but by the movement of the whole of New Zealand's population.

Let us look for a moment at the figures so far published from the Census of 1961. In the 27 statistical areas included in Auckland city, the total Maori population increased from 5,600 in 1956 to 8,009 in 1961, an increase of 75%. Almost all areas showed an increase, the inner city accounting for 5,230. There was a decrease in Auckland central, due no doubt to re-development, and there were falls in two other areas, Mission Bay and Kohimarama. Even the white fastnesses of Remuera and St. Heliers were breached, the Maori population of the former increasing from 38 to 89 and of the latter from 6 to 18.

By way of contrast Wellington's total for 1961 was 2,620. This startling increase in the Maori population, then, is exclusively part of Auckland's development. Because of the predominant youthfulness of this population and the high birth rate the result has been a general increase in school population.

Concentration of Immigrants

In certain areas the increase, as we have seen, has led to a concentration of rural Maori immigrants, with a consequent rise in the proportion of Maori children to those of other ethnic groups; I say other, not white, because the areas which are the reservoirs for Maori population function in the same way for immigrants of other ethnic groups; Cook Islanders, Samoans, Indians, and so on.

In two primary schools in these areas, special conditions have been introduced, classes have been reduced to 25 children, teachers have been given inducements to teach in the schools, a special language class is operated, and other

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amenities provided. So far these are the only schools in Auckland city where such special conditions have been established and in neither case has it been stated that this was because of the large numbers of Maori children, although in fact Maoris formed the biggest group in each school.

So far I have been speaking about the concentration of Maori population. Now let us look at the problems which beset the children in these schools. Let me say straight away that research is woefully limited at all levels, so that much of what I say must be guess work, helped out by personal experience.

First, why do people come to the city?

In general city life is more rewarding than rural life; cities contain a variety of people, of entertainments and of opportunities which are simply not available in country districts. Living is dearer, but wages are higher and work is more readily available. Family finances can be subsidised by working mothers, living is more convenient, the city dweller has a different outlook, even in New Zealand, from the countryman.

These are the things which induce people to come to the city, but if you look at the Real Estate columns of any paper you will see that high on the list of priorities is suburban living. New Zealand cities have not so far met the challenge of urban life and many people fear the creation of a truly urban environment.

Maoris seem to be less susceptible to this variety of double-think than whites and are prepared to accept relatively indifferent housing conditions for the sake of convenient location. This of course is not wholly true, since there are often barriers of one kind or another to a Maori's living anywhere else, except perhaps a State suburb. However, the fact remains that Maoris are becoming Auckland's true urban population, along with the other ethnic groups who live in the inner city. I am not persuaded that this is a bad thing, indeed it is for Auckland generally, a good thing, in that it is gradually livening up an otherwise dead town.

Problems for Children

For children however, it poses problems. The urban dwelling child seeks his amusements in rather restricted areas and is subject to hazards which the suburbanite knows nothing about. In my experience the Maori children of the inner city were frequently insecure in their feelings towards both home and outside environments. The older children would frequently talk nostalgically of their life in the country but did not really want to return. Many had a sense of being powerless to alter their social condition. The conflict for these children lay between the freedom they would have liked and the business of having to earn a living which was soon to be thrust upon them. Remember however, that I am speaking of adolescents and that it is fairly typical of children at this stage to have contradictory wants.

On the other hand, the Maori children who were the residents of the longest standing felt superior to, or more sophisticated than, the newer immigrants. They had learned, or thought they had learned, the culture of the city. But many did so from the underside, from the importunings of old men, from what they heard and saw in the parks and streets, from what they heard from other children, and too frequently, from the disregard of their parents. If some fell into unlawful activities it was only surprising that they had not done so earlier. With restricted English, a low-literacy household, and differently geared expectations from his suburban counterpart, he may look like and be an underprivileged child. However there is so far nothing permanent about his urban status; each year a number of Maori families overflow from the reservoir areas to the suburbs, so that while some remain urban dwellers many move out, thus facing a further adjustment.

Are there Differing Needs?

Should we then draw a distinction between Maori and white children and speak of them as having differing needs? The existence of Maori schools in the country points to such a difference. The N.Z. Year Book says of the schools run by the Education Department … ‘the schools are not completely English in outlook as Maori arts, crafts, songs, legends and history are taught … methods of teaching are practical and objectives closely related to the special needs of the Maori people’. These special needs appear to be cleanliness and craftsmanship, a typically puritan pair, for the Year Book goes on … ‘In many Maori schools woodwork rooms, cookery rooms, model cottages, baths, hot and cold showers and laundries are supplied. Health education is featured in every Maori school.’

But, and here is a problem, only 26.6% of Maori pupils are educated in Departmentally run schools, while 67% attend schools run by Education Boards. These generally lack the

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special equipment provided by the Department, or else they share it with other schools. As far as curricula are concerned Maori schools use the same syllabus as Board Schools, with the exceptions noted above.

We might well ask then whether Maori children are getting a square deal educationally. Is there a case to be made out for establishing Maori schools in the city, or should it be that all primary schools should have the amenities available in Maori schools, and that methods of teaching should be ‘practical and objective’, whatever that may mean.

I think the answer is fairly clear cut. Firstly, arguments for separation for any reason, good or ill, are completely out of fashion. Secondly, it is part of the Government's policy of integration, of which I shall have something to say shortly, to transfer control of the Maori schools to the Education Boards.

The fact remains that there still appears to be a belief that Maori children have needs which white children don't have. When it speaks of the teaching of myths, games and traditions, the Education Department is probably on safe enough ground; when it speaks of health, education, manual training and the like, I suspect that there is an overtone of nineteenth century paternalism which fails to express clearly the nature of the special needs. Whatever the case it is certain that if these are amenities provided in the Department's schools but not in the Board's schools, then most Maori children don't get the benefit of them anyway.

We might ask then just what differences exist between the main ethnic groups by the time children leave primary school. When, in 1958, I was teaching at an inner city school, the most important difference was in the expectations of the children. In general the Maori children in Form II expected to make their own choice of post primary course with little assistance from their parents. Other children were receiving more parental direction. In 1956–58 most of the Maori children leaving Form II at that particular school were a year or more older than the white children. Many of them reached the age of 15 in their third form year. They mostly left school then, apparently by their own choice, so that they gained little or no advantage from their post primary schooling.

Now I don't know how widespread this situation was but I suspect that it was and still is the case in all the inner schools. How far this condition was the result of being a Maori, I don't know, nor am I prepared to guess. Clearly at that time there was a failure of communication between the school and the parents, particularly the Maori parents. Clearly there was a difference in values between the white and Maori parents, but both differed widely, in what they valued from the ‘middle-class’ teachers who had charge of their children.

The inner city schools, remember, had the children of half the Maori immigrants in Auckland and possibly many more. If there was a case for making special schools, how much greater is the case for adequate social science research into the whole field of urbanization.

Having glanced briefly at the background of Maori primary education I now want to turn to the field of educational principles. Many of us tend to think of schools as being analagous to factories; they work on the children, their raw material, and send them off after so many years crated and labelled first grade, second grade and so on for further processing. This is a particularly easy kind of analogy to make. An evaluation in terms of the amount a child knows is a similarly easy and misleading way of looking at the effectiveness of schools. Let me make a primary distinction between education and schooling. The effectiveness of schooling can be measured in terms of the amount of knowledge gained by a particular child, the number of exams passed, marks gained and so on, or so the theory runs. There are educationalists who think otherwise, that these ‘quantity’ measures may not in fact be of much use.

Relevance to Maoris

This dispute would be irrelevant to our discussion if it were not for the fact that Maori children are pitchforked into an education system which, far from defining what it thinks valuable, seems to get along on a touching faith in practical solutions.

The pragmatist's attitude to the special needs of Maori children, indeed their perceptions of what are any child's needs, will be in terms of short term goals such as subject mastery, job getting and the like. I find myself strongly opposed to this view: a person has to live his whole life in society, and though the school is only one agency in education, it cannot afford to ignore the requirements of social life. The purpose of education as I see it is to free the human intellect so that the individual may imagine, enjoy, choose, protest about and criticize, and help to alter the culture and society in which he finds himself. This is the real busi-

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ness of schools and teachers and it is not achieved by blind subservience to subject mastery.

Has all this any relevance for Maoris? I think it has. Recently there has been a good deal said about the importance of education as a sort of Jacob's Ladder to the delights of an integrated society. The reasoning would seem to be that a more extended education will help to develop a Maori middle class which will have a stabilizing effect on race relations. I agree that wider use can probably be made of educational facilities but then nobody can be smug about this. The inference to be drawn from a lack of Maori use of these facilities is that the educational values expressed have not convinced people of their worth. If this is the case, then it is for all of us to ask why.

This is not to say that a great deal of thought does not go into our educational system. Certainly the bread and butter problems of administration are being taken care of, but the real problems are those of aim, philosophical direction and social significance, and these seem to be neglected. Perhaps the area in which we stand in most need of a consideration of the importance of education is that of race relations.

Victoria Values in Education

New Zealand culture is an offshoot of the culture of Victorian England. It is provincial and has developed apart from its parent stock, so that resemblances between the two are now fairly slight. None the less many Victorian values in education are still asserted. Also, in the course of our development, we have acquired some rather flattering ideas about ourselves. The first sentence of the Maori Affairs Department's booklet. ‘Integration’ runs, ‘for many years New Zealand has been recognized as one of the nations in the vanguard of those building multiracial societies …’ This must be true, we say it ourselves.

A few lines further down there is a reference to ‘some iconoclastic individuals’ who claim that ‘this apparent harmony is more the result of self-delusion and lack of contact between the two groups than it is of genuine tolerance’. The writers concede an element of truth in this.

Auckland the Testing Ground

Auckland has now become the testing ground for New Zealand's capacity to build a multiracial society; it is in this city that the actual confrontation of Maori and white is taking place. So far the signs of tension are slight but I for one am less optimistic than the Maori Affairs Department about the future.

Let me restate a point that I made earlier. The problem is made not so much by the number of Maoris involved as by the quality of the contacts between the groups. Maoris are ‘visible’ to whites, that is they are distinguishable in a mixed group even when their actions are in no way different from those of other members of the group. For most white people the terms in which they think are those of, ‘that Maori!’ For white people Maoris are too often, ‘faceless’, to use James Baldwin's word, and the same applies to the reverse situation. Understanding of Maori values by whites or indeed by Maoris for that matter, is slight, our artists and writers have not yet sought to explain them to us, so that the relationship between the two groups is rather that of a truce, a kind of live and let live based on mutual ignorance. For the moment this may be good enough. In some areas where a scatter of Maoris through a white community is taking place, evaluation of the Maoris by the whites seems to be in terms of person to person relationships without much reference to stereotypes. But will this continue, I wonder, as more Maoris and other immigrants crowd into the city, as the white community becomes more resistant to changes over which it seems to have little control. What happens when economic levels drop, employment becomes harder to get, and money, the great leveller, becomes scarcer? In the housing advertisements one frequently reads ‘No Maoris’, ‘Europeans only’. A friend of mine buying a section on the shore was assured by the agent that ‘of course there are no Maoris in the district’. (The agent was lying: the next door household was mixed.)

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Is this situation any concern of the schools? Children seem to be fairly free of prejudice; is there any way in which they can be prevented from developing racial prejudice? There have been a number of ideas followed up in other countries; study of the background of the group, inter-group camps, increased contacts, adoption of another school, propaganda, adult education and so on. All have some worth and applied together they probably have value. Increased contact is certainly important but it is by no means the whole answer. Once more, it is the quality of the contact that counts. Consider for a moment the situation in two schools in which I have taught in the last five years. In one, a city school, all the children came from homes of lower socio-economic status, many with a very limited educational background. In this school friendships across ethnic boundaries became fewer as the children grew older, and occurred mainly in two groups: the most intelligent, and those most actively in rebellion, the outcasts.

Contact can Create Prejudice

The other school is in a middle-upper income area, where there are probably not more than four or five Maori children out of the five hundred in the school. Here these children were absorbed without comment. In one school prejudice frequently showed itself, in the other the question barely arises. Contact can create prejudice. I should like to quote to you what Norman Podhoretz, Editor of the American journal ‘Commentary’, has to say of this. Podhoretz describes his boyhood in a lower class immigrant section of New York. He tells of how he was bullied by Negro children and of how it became impossible to bridge the gap by direct communication and goes on to describe the conflict between his own feelings and his present convictions. He says ‘I have told the story of my own twisted feelings about Negroes … in order to assert that such feelings must be acknowledged as honestly as possible so that they can be controlled and ultimately disregarded in favour of the convictions.’

I would go so far as to say that most white New Zealanders do not acknowlede their negative feelings about Maoris or other nonwhites not because they do not have them, but because they do not have to do so.

Would increased contact between Maori and white children help? All I can say is that I don't know, but as a practising teacher I am ready to try it and to this end am attempting to arrange a series of exchanges between my own class and one in the inner city involving each class spending one day a week for some weeks in the other's school. I am not sure that the value of this will be lasting but it is worth a try.

A Mutual Ignorance

At least part of the problem of race relations in the school is the teachers themselves. The child does not know what the teacher wants or doesn't much value it, and the teacher is ignorant of what the child has been taught to value. Teachers are recruited from the middle class on the whole, and their models of good behaviour and the good society are middle class ones. Their pupils, however, may have quite different models. Maori teachers are recruited from almost the equivalent stratum of Maori society. Each may be faced with a similar dilemma in understanding Maori pupils, with the Maori teacher perhaps a little worse off since he or she will be expected by some magic to be hip to what Maori children think, want, and do.

Although I have no programme in race relations I think that at this point at least something can be done by the simple expedient of ensuring that teaching trainees have a really tough course in race relations with special reference to New Zealand. This approach could be extended, I think, to secondary school students as part of their social studies work.

There are other reasons for suggesting this. Consider, for a moment, the ways in which ethnocentricity can express itself in New Zealand thinking. In an infant classroom I have heard children singing ‘Ten Little Nigger Boys’, there is a popular book called ‘Little Black Sambo’ and another reader on sale in Auckland called ‘Nigger My Dog’, or some such title. A child hears phrases like to work like a nigger, the nigger in the woodpile, to Jew someone out of something, to be as black as a nigger. Or hears a parking meter called a Jewish juke box, a certain kind of beetle called a Maori-bug, and he may even go to see such a thing as the ‘Black and White Minstrel Show’.

More Subtle Attitudes

These are crude examples of white superiority attitudes. But there are more subtle kinds of ethnocentricity, attitudes of tolerance and patronage, of the some-of-my-best-friends kind. Most subtle of all is the kind of attitude held

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often enough by white liberals. Here the supposition is that Maoris become acceptable as they become less Maori and more like middle-class whites, as they show the favoured forms of diligence, temperance, and the like. There is also a counter attitude in which Maoris are admired for their simplicity and vitality.

Do not think that these attitudes are held only by whites. Maori children quite often carry the same or similar attitudes, and one is as likely to hear an anti-Negro or anti-Semitic remark from them as anyone else, although of course one encounters a reverse version of the white forms of prejudice where these are directed specially at Maoris.

Teachers are no less likely to be prejudiced than anyone else in the community and though in the only case that I know of where a teacher acted in a discriminatory fashion toward Maori pupils this was very strongly disapproved by his colleagues, nonetheless these same people often enough displayed innocently prejudiced thinking. Because I have seen a good deal of this kind of thing and have run all too frequently into the most astounding over-simplifications of race-relations problems I think that the time is overdue for this to become a compulsory part of teacher education.

The Problem Areas

In talking to you about Maori children in Auckland schools I have tried to indicate to you the problem areas which I consider to be important. I have not discussed the curriculum area, not because it is unimportant but because there are many better minds than mine at work on the problems of what and how to teach children. I would say that at the moment there is a fair amount of goodwill in the schools towards the Maori parent and the Maori pupil. Most of my colleagues assure me that they are only too willing to discuss their children's progress with parents but they find few who are willing to come along. I think that you should take advantage of this goodwill.

If my discussion has centred on the school and the problems of race relations then it is because I think this is a matter of the greatest importance. You may have wondered why I have used the word white instead of the usual euphemism Pakeha or European. The reason for this is because the difference between the two main groups is first one of skin colour and only secondarily one of culture. The gap of culture will narrow far more quickly than the gap of colour.

I have tried to show also the way in which the colour-gap, if I may use the term, is a theme in New Zealand culture. There is much more to say on this point. Earlier I said that I was not optimistic about the future and remarked elsewhere that I have no programme for improved race relations. I suppose you will want me to account for these statements so I had better do so now.

Total Integration Unlikely

If you are an optimist you will look forward to a time when New Zealand is a fully integrated society. I, on the one hand, think total integration highly unlikely; nor do I think it so terribly desirable. The key to an interesting life is surely variety, and cultural variety is the stimulus for much that helps to make life more interesting. However there is another barrier to integration and this is the history and traditions of the white society. This society is sick in its feelings toward other peoples and has even succeeded in communicating this sickness to them; remember the Maori children who are prejudiced against Negroes and examine your own attitudes. If we wanted other proof then we need only say two words, Warsaw and Hiroshima. The ghetto and the fire bomb are not the products of healthy societies, yet their philosophy still continues. The most that can be hoped for is that there will be fewer sick people, or that a social climate can be created in which it is unprofitable to work this sickness out in prejudice and discrimination. Children in schools at the moment are not, for the reasons I have outlined, receiving the stimulus to think out the problems of the relations of Maori and white, and this is a subject to which you might give thought.

The Conscience of our Society

What can be done. I am suspicious of recipes whatever name is attached to them and I think that official moves in the race relations and educational fields can only be slow and related to specific cases. You cannot legislate people into knowledge nor can you expect much from the man in the street. It remains then for us to become the conscience of our society in all matters of race relations. White New Zealand needs the services of the needle that punctures the pompous phrase, the piece of pious humbug. Social problems are not a product of numbers alone; they exist as the product of ideas in the minds of individuals. It

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is you the Maori people who must goad us, the whites, into looking within ourselves for the source of our actions, and you must do likewise. The role of the education system in this is important.

To conclude I should like to quote to you a passage from the American Negro writer James Baldwin whose eloquent essay, ‘Letter from a Region in my Mind’, I recommend to you. Although he is speaking of the American situation there is much here of importance to Aucklanders also.

He says …

‘If we … and I mean the relatively conscious whites and the relatively conscious blacks, who must, like lovers, insist on or create the consciousness of the others—do not falter in our duty now, we may be able, handful that we are, to end the racial nightmare and achieve our country, and change the history of the world.’

Ponga and Puhihuia
The Story So Far

On the opposite page we begin our second instalment of ‘Ponga and Puhihuia’. The first instalment, which appeared in our September issue, told how Ponga, a young chief from Awhitu who was not of very high rank, and Puhihuia, the beautiful high-born daughter of the chief of Maungawhau, fell in love when a party of young people from Awhitu visited the people of Maungawhau (Mount Eden). They secretly agreed that Puhihuia would return with Ponga when his party left Mount Eden; she ran after them as they were going overland to their canoe at One-hunga and although her people pursued them, they reached the canoe in safety. Ponga had caused the lashings of the other canoes there to be cut, so that the people of Mount Eden could not at once pursue them.

We publish below an interesting letter concerning this story.

The Editor,
‘Te Ao Hou’

It was pleasing to see my old favourite the story of Ponga and Puhihuia re-printed in ‘Te Ao Hou’.

I have in my possession a booklet, a translation of ‘Ponga and Puhihuia’, written in 1927 by the Rev. H. J. Fletcher. In the foreword Mr Fletcher says, ‘This old story of Ponga and Puhihuia dates from about the middle of the 17th century. A version was first published in Maori in the year 1854 in Sir George Grey's ‘Mythology and Traditions of the New Zealanders’. A translation of the same was published in 1855. In John White's ‘Ancient History of the Maori’ Vol. IV, there is a much fuller account of the same event. Unfortunately White's book is rare in the land, and the story little known. As a picture of the life and conversation of the old time Maori it is unsurpassed, and should be as well known to Europeans as the story of Hinemoa of Rotorua, or Te Huhuti of Hawkes Bay.

‘The original Maori of White's version is full of misprints, but some years ago the late Mr S. P. Smith lent me a copy he had corrected for his own use; he also supplied me with the meanings of many words not recorded in any published dictionary. Mr Smith also suggested that Mr White has added considerably to the original Maori from his own knowledge of Maori life and customs. The story is remarkable not only for its clear account of Maori life, but for its astonishingly large vocabulary. The original Maori of 50 pages contains upwards of 1,000 distinct words.’

My copy of the Rev. Fletcher's translation was given to me by Mr G. Allwright of the Polynesian Group of Palmerston North.

I have never heard the story of Te Huhuti of Hawkes Bay. I wonder if someone from there could send it along to ‘Te Ao Hou’ so we could all add it to our store of precious stories of our land.



The story of Te Huhuti, who swam across Te Roto a Tara (near Te Aute) to her lover, is in Sir George Grey's ‘Nga Mahinga a Nga Tupuna’, published in 1854. The story did not appear in the translation of this book which appeared in 1855, but it is in the recent (1956) edition. (‘Polynesian Mythology’, edited by the late Mr W. W. Bird). The version given there is not a very long one, and we would be most interested to hear from anyone who may be able to supply us with some more details.

In reprinting White's Maori text we have done our best to correct his misprints.

– 19 –

This is the second instalment of the old story ‘Ponga Raua Ko Puhihuia’, which we are reprinting from volume IV of John White's ‘Ancient History of the Maori’ (1889). The English translation is based on White's one. The tribes concerned in the story are Nga-iwi at Maungawhau (now Mount Eden in Auckland) and Ngati-Kahokoka at Awhitu and Tipitai (on the South Manukau Heads). A summary of the story so far is given on the opposite page.

The Story of Ponga and Puhihuia
Ponga Raua Ko Puhihuia

Heoi ano ko te iwi i uta ra, parau (raruraru) kau noa iho, i te kore waka mana hei whai (aru) i te tira tamariki nei.

Ka hoe nei te waka o Ponga ma, he takaniti koa no aua tini tamariki ra kia wawe te puta ki waho ki te au o te awa hoe ai, kia mamao i nga tangata o te pa ra e tu mai ana ano i te tauranga, e rupahu noa ana, e kupu kino ana ki a Pongo ma.

Koia ratou, aua tini tamariki ra, i kore ai e noho tika i ona wahi i ona wahi. Ko te tino ariki o ratou, i a ia nei te patu pounamu i homai ra e te matua o Puhihuia, i te ta o te waka a ia e tu ana, he whakahau tana i ana hoa kia maia, kia kaha te hoe. Ko Ponga te mea o ratou i noho mai i te hiku o te whati i te wa i oma mai ai a Puhihuia i muri i a ratou a, koia ko Ponga te mea i eke mutunga mai ki te waka, koia ra te take ona i noho ai i te kei (whakarei) o te waka, a, i a ia te hoe urungi; otira ko tera e tu ra te kaithotohu mo te waka. Ka hoe nei ratou, a, ka taka ki waho ake o te kokoru e tika mai ana i te Whau, ka hiko atu taua tangata e tu ra i te ta o te waka, ka mau ki te hoe roa, ka ki atu a ia ki a Ponga, ‘Haere koe hei kaituki i ta tatou waka’. Ka whakatika atu a Ponga. Kiano a ia i tae ki te wahi e tu ai te kaituki ka whakatika tetahi ano o nga uri ariki, ka tu hei kaituki mo te waka ra, a, ka noho noa iho a Ponga he wahi ke i te tangawai o te waka, me te mau ki te hoe hei hoahoa mo era e hoe ra. Ko Puhihuia i noho i te whakarei o te waka; i tana ekenga mai ano ki te waka, haere tonu atu a ia ki reira noho ai, he mea hoki he tino uri ariki a ia, a, ko to te ariki nohoanga ia ko te whakarei o te waka, no te mea i nga wa o mua, i nga ra o nga waka i whiti mai nei i Hawaiki ki enei motu, ko te whakarei o te waka tu ai


Because of this (the fact that the lashings on their canoes had been cut), the men on the shore (the Nga-iwi of Mount Eden) were completely baffled, for they had no canoe in which to pursue the party of young people. Ponga and his companions paddled their canoe with great haste, so as to gain the open sea as soon as possible and escape from these people of Mount Eden, who still were angrily shouting abuse at them from the landing-place.

Therefore the young people in the canoe did not take the seats to which their rank and birth entitled them. The young chief of supreme rank with whom Puhihuia's father had exchanged his mere was standing in the centre of the canoe, urging on his companions. Pongo, having stayed at the rear of the fleeing party when Puhihuia was escaping, was the last to board the canoe, so he was in the stern, and held the paddle which guided her according to the instructions of the chief, who stood in the centre of the canoe. They had paddled as far as the bay at the portage of Te Whau, when the chief who was standing in the centre of the canoe took the steering paddle, and said to Ponga, ‘Go and chant the songs to keep time for the paddlers’. Ponga started to make his way there, but before he reached the place another young man who was senior in rank stood up and began to chant the songs for the paddlers, so that Ponga sat down in the centre of the canoe at the baling place, took a paddle, and assisted the other rowers. Puhihuia was sitting in the stern. She had taken her place there as soon as she went on board the canoe, because she was of the highest rank and because the stern was where those of supreme rank usually sat.

This was also where the wananga (the miniature

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te wananga, a, he tapu taua wahi o te waka. E kore te tangata teina me te tutua e tae atu ki reira noho ai. A ko te kaiurungi o te waka hei te tino ariki rawa a ia, no te mea ki taua wahi i te wananga a ia e noho urungi ana, na reira a Puhihuia i haere ai ki reira: nei koa ko nga waka o enei ra, ara, i nga wa i a Ponga ma kua kore te wananga e mahia ki nga waka i te mea hoki, i mahia ai te wananga ki nga waka tu ai, he mea mahi ki nga waka anake e hoe ano i te moana nui, a, ma nga whati, ma nga tangata e heke ana i o ratou whenua tupu, e hoe noa atu ana i te moana nui ki te rapu whenua ke atu ma ratou; ka tu ai te wananga ki te waka, ko te atua o te heke ki roto ki te wananga noho ai, ki te ai atua ia te heke; ki te kore he atua, ko taua wananga ra te kaitohu aitua, a ko te karakia a nga tohunga o te heke ka anga atu ki te wananga hirihiri atu ai.

I noho a Ponga i te whakarei o te waka ra i a ia e urungi ana i te waka, tena e unga (tonoa) e tana hoa, i ki mai ra kia tukua te hoeroa ki a ia, ka haere ke atu a Ponga, a, ka mahue a Puhihuia i te taha o te tangata i a ia ra te patu pounamu. Ka taka te waka nei e hoe ana i waho ake o te awa i Paruroa, ka nanao (toro) iho te tangata e urungi ra ki taua patu pounamu. Ka whakaaria (whakaaturia) atu ki a Puhihuia ka mea atu a ia, ‘E ko tena to patu, te patu a to matua i whakahekea mai ki a au ta tatou manatunga mau ai, tena to patu hei koha mau ki o tatou ariki i Awhitu’.

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘He tane au kia mau i tena patu? Hua atu mau, ma te uri tane, tena mea te manatunga e mau, kei riro ki a au ka kiia a ona ra e aitua ai, i poke i te ringa wahine.’

Ka mea atu te tangata ra, ‘Ano ra hei koha mau, mou i whati mai nei, i haere mai nei koe i enei teina ou. Oti me haere ringa ware koe ki te aroaro o o tatou kaumatua ki te pa e hoe atu nei tatou?’

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia. ‘Kia rua hoki he hokohoko? Kati ano ra ki a au; ko taku e mau i a au nei. He tangata te tangata i te mea e kore ana ona popo, ka popo, ma toke tena, ma weriweri.’

Ka mea atu te tangata ra, ‘I a wai ia nei nga hinu rautangi i maua atu ra e te ope nei?’

Ka ki atu a Puhihuia, ‘He taonga i tukua ki te tahua, a, i whiwhi i te tokomaha, i marara noa atu, kaore i a au tetahi.’


temple of the sea-god, in whose care seafaring people place themselves) was situated in the days when the great canoes came here from Hawaiki. This part of the canoe was therefore sacred, and no one of junior rank or of low birth could go and sit there. The steersman of the canoe would have to be a chief of the highest rank, because he would sit and steer at the place where the shrine of the god was; therefore Puhihuia went there to sit. However, later canoes, in the days of Ponga, ceased to have the wananga placed in them. It was placed only in those which went out to sea, in those in which people were escaping for some reason, or in those canoes in which people were migrating from their own lands and voyaging across the open sea to seek new lands. In these the wananga was placed, with the god of the migration inside it, and here the priest chanted the incantations. If there was not a god in the wananga the incantations were chanted to the temple itself.

Ponga sat in the stern of the canoe while he was steering; but when, at the request of the young chief who told him to give the steering-paddle to him, Ponga went to a different place, Puhihuia was left in the stern beside the young man who had the greenstone patu. When the canoe was off Paruroa this young chief who was steering took the greenstone weapon in his hand. He showed it to Puhihuia, saying, ‘O young woman! there is your weapon, the weapon of your father, which he gave to me. It is an ancient heirloom, and as such, it was given into my charge: accept it as your gift to our high chiefs at Awhitu.’

She replied, ‘Am I a man, that I should hold such a sacred thing? I would have thought that it would be for you, in the male line of supreme chiefs, to hold such an heirloom. I will not take it, lest, when misfortune arises, it be said that the cause of it was that this sacred thing was contaminated through being held in the hand of a woman.’

He answered, ‘Accept it; and let it be a gift to our chief at Awhitu for your having run away from there, and having come here in the company of us, who are your juniors in rank. Will it be right for you to go into their presence without a gift in your hand? Will you go with the empty hand of a poor person into the presence of the chiefs at the pa to which we are now paddling?’

She answered, ‘Should an exchange be twice repeated? No: I shall take with me only that which I now possess. While he lives, a man is a man; but then, he is food for worms

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Ka mea atu te tangata ra, ‘Ano ra i uia atu ai, hua noa kei a koe na e mau ana, koia na to kupu hokohoko’.

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘Tae to pakiki, kite atu ano koe i a au, e haere mai ana maua ko Ponga; a, i noho tahi nei maua i te waka nei, a ka ui ano koe?’

Heoti ano ka whakatika te kotiro ra, ka haere, ka noho rawa atu i te taha o Ponga i te waka ra.

Ka hoe nei, a, ka taka ki waho ake o Puponga te waka nei e hoe ana, ka ngahau noa iho te waha o etahi i te waka nei ki ta ratou wahine ariki e mau atu nei, a, ko te kaituki koa nana ano tana tuki i tito hei whakamohio ma te pa i Awhitu. Kua tu-a-ahiahi koa te ra, a, he marino noa iho te moana, hore he hau, hore he aha, a, e rangona atu ana ano te reo tangata o Tipitai e enei e hoe atu nei i Puponga.

Ka tuki te tangata ra, a, ka penei na etahi o ana kupu:

Toia, tiaia,
Kapakapa tu ai
Te tau o taku ate;
Rarapa mai ai
O karu e Puhi. Toia!

Ko tetahi tuki tenei:

Nui noa au rongo,
Ki Maungawhau ra;
Ka noho tenei
Ki Tipitai nei e.

E hoe ana te waka ra, a, ka taka ki te au o Puponga, ka mea atu ano te tangata i te hoe roa ki a Puhihuia, ‘E ko, tenei to patu, ko te patu a o tupuna, ko te patu rongonui nei ko Kahotea.’

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘Ki a koe ano ra mau ai tau patu’.

Ka ki atu te kaiurungi ra, ‘Kati rapea taku koha ki a koe, penei rawa ake e kore tatou e u ki Tipitai’.

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘Nau au whakaaro; naku aku whakaaro’.

Ka mea atu ano a ia, ‘Kati hoki ra ta taua tohe ki te patu a o tipuna i maioha ai; e kore te ringa ware e mau i te patu nei, hei koha mau ki enei matua ou, hei maungarongo mau me o matua o Maungawhau ki enei matua ou. He rongo te rongo o mua, he mau te mau o te moana e hoea nei e tatou, a, ehara koe i te moho e ngaro ai i a koe nga mate o te iwi ki nga ika o te moana nei te kati i era ko tenei e ko, nau to haere ki enei o tou iwi, koia ahau i mea ai ki taku oha ki to ringa mau ai, kia ai he mea, maku koe e awhina.’


and an object of disgust.’

He asked, ‘Who received the oil scented with rautangi which was taken by our young people to your pa?’

She replied, ‘It was placed on the marae and many people received some, and it was widely shared; but I did not take any.’

He said, ‘I asked my question, as I thought your remark concerning a double exchange referred to the scented oil.’

She said, ‘You are impertinent and inquisitive. You can see, and have seen, that I came here with Ponga, and am going with him; also, I sat next to him in his canoe. Yet you ask questions.’ She rose, and went and sat down next to Ponga. The canoe went on; and when they were off Puponga those in the canoe were glad at heart because they had in their canoe Puhihuia, the highest-born of all the tribe; and in his joy, the man who chanted the time for the rowers sang a song of his own composing to tell the news to those in the pa at Awhitu. It was early evening; the sea was quite calm and there was no breath of wind, so that the voices of people at Tipitai could be heard by those paddling along off Puponga. The man who chanted the time sang, these being some of his words:

Pull on! Dig the paddle deep!
How my leaping heart bounds
As brightness
Shines from thy eyes,
Puhihuia! Pull on!

And this is another of his songs:

Though thy fame at Maungawhau
Was spread aboard, and heard in distant lands,
Thou deignest to live at Tipitai!

They paddled on, and when they were halfway across the harbour from Puponga, the young chief who was steering said again to Puhihuia, ‘O young woman! accept this, your weapon; it is the weapon of your ancestors; it is the famous weapon called “Kahotea”.’

She answered, ‘The weapon is yours, and you must keep it’.

The steersman said, ‘I shall be forced to end my overtures of kindness to you; and we will not land at Tipitai’.

Puhihuia said, ‘You may think your thoughts, and I will think mine’.

He said, ‘Let us end our contention over the weapon of your ancestor, which has been handed down through many generations. The hand of a low-born person shall not touch this weapon. It was offered to you as a gift

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Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘Ko koe o taua te mohoao, te kite koe na Ponga ahau i awhina i a tatou i oma mai ra ki Onehunga, nau te kite i a au i neke mai nei i te wahi e nohoia na e koe, ka noho ahau i te taha o taku i mohio ai, o ta taku ngakau i mea ai, i ta taku hinengaro i manaaki ai hei awhina i a au.’

Ka mea atu ano a ia, te kaiurungi ra, ‘Kati, e mea ana koe ko Ponga hei ariki mou?’

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘Apaia’. Ka mea atu ano te tangata ra, ‘Ae, e pai ana; waiho i tau’.

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘He aha koe, he aha a ia te pai noa ai au hei ariki a ia moku, nau ko te aha? He tapu koia koe te kite ai i te uaua ngaki kai, i kiia ai te pena me koe, “Ko te toa taua he toa paheke”, a, i kiia ai a Ponga u a Ponga, “Ko te toa ngaki kai te toa paheke”. Naku, na taku ngakau, taku i kite, a, penei rawa ake, kia mate ra ano ahau, ka wehe ai maua ko Ponga.’

Ka mutu te tautohe a te hunga nei i konei, a, kua tata te waka nei ki Tipitai. He mea koa ko nga kupu a te kaituki ra kua rangona e te tangata whenua i te pa i Awhitu, kua heke katoa iho ki raro ki tatahi ki te matakitaki i te kotiro ra, kua mohio noa ake nga kaumatua ki te rongo o te pai o te kotiro nei, o Puhihuia o Maungawhau, a, na nga kupu nei o taua kaituki i mea nei,

Nui noa o rongo,
Ki Maungawhau ra,
Ka noho tenei,
Ki Tipitai nei e.

I mohio ai ratou kei te waka e hoe atu nei taua puhi nei e kawea atu ana, koia ra te take i heke katoa iho ai te iwi ra ki tatahi matakitaki ai. Hui mai te iwi, te koroheke, te kuia, te tamariki, hui mai, hui katoa mai, ka tata noa ano te waka ra ki uta, ka kite mai a uta i te kanohi o te tangata o te waka nei, ka pa te powhiri a tera i uta, ka mea, ‘Haere mai-i-i,


from you to your elders at Tipitai, as a gift to bind the peace which has been made between them and those of your elders at Mount Eden. Peace was made in days of old, and there is food in the fish of the sea which we are now crossing; and you are not ignorant of the fact that because of these fish, death has come to many of both our tribes. I had thought that you would wish that such deaths and the cause of them should for ever cease; and now, O young woman, that you have come to this branch of your tribe, I had wished to put this heirloom into your hand, that I might have the honour of protecting you.’

She answered, ‘Of us two, you are the more ignorant. You have seen that I was in the protection of Ponga when we ran to Onehunga; and you could not help but see that I came from where you now sit, and am sitting beside Ponga, he who is known to my heart, he whom my spirit embraces. He will be my protector.

The steersman said again, ‘Then, do you say Ponga is to be your lord?’

She answered, ‘Certainly I do’.

He said, ‘Very well; let it be as you say’.

She answered, ‘Who are you? And what is he, that I should not take him as my lord? And what can you do? Are you so sacred that you cannot work in the plantations? Of such as you it is said, “The path of the warrior is a slippery one”; and of such as Ponga it is said, “Those who cultivate the soil have also a dangerous life”. My heart and I have found ourselves a man, and only death shall part me from Ponga.’

The dispute between the young chief and Puhihuia was ended, and the canoe was approaching Tipitai. The songs of the chanter who sang to keep the time had been heard by the people of the pa at Awhitu, and all of them came down to the beach to see this young woman, for the elders had already heard of the noble and beautiful Puhihuia of Mount Eden. This is the song of the chanter who sang to keep the time:

Though thy fame at Maungawhau
Was spread abroad, and heard in distant lands,
Thou deignest to live at Tipitai!’

They realised that this nobly-born girl must be aboard the canoe that was approaching, and that is why they all came down to the beach to watch.

All of the people had gathered there, old

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haere mai-i-i’. Ka ta te manawa o te kaihoe, ka titiro ki uta, katahi ra ano ka whakatika te kaiurungi ki runga, karanga atu ki era i uta, ‘Ko wai anake ena e noho mai na i uta?’

Ka oho mai era, ‘Ko matou katoa, ko o matua, ko o tupuna.’

Ka mea atu ano a ia, ‘Kati mai i kona, kia rongo koutou katoa i taku kupu. Ko au tenei, ko ta koutou potiki, i oraiti mai au i o tatou whanaunga i Maungawhau; na Ponga te kohuru i a au. I noho pai te huinga katoa o te tira tamariki nei i te aroaro o era o o tatou whanaunga; ko Ponga i kohuru i a au. E noho atu nei te kotiro puhi nei, te tino o te uri ariki o Maungawhau, na Ponga i kahaki (mau) mai, te kiia e ia tana ki ki a au i te wa i kohuru ai a ia i a au, kia mea atu ai au, “Kati; kaua e murua te marae o to tatou tuakana; waiho ano tana potiki ki a ia”. Nei ra, ka taka mai matou ki te nuku o te ara, ka tata mai ki Onehunga, tena rawa a Ponga kei te kahaki (mau) mai i te puhi nei i muri o matou. Te ohonga i oho ai te pa ra ka whaia (aru) mai matou, he ohorere no taku mauri, koia au i ki ai i tenei, “Whatia te turi, poua ki te ara, kopere taua”. Te tino rerenga o matou ki te waka, pa rawa mai te kaiwhai (aru) i a matou, kua puta ke mai matou ki te moana, ka to te iwi ra i ana waka, a, na te mea kua tau tini te wa i noho pai ai koutou ki a ratou, me ratou ki a tatou, kua pirau nga herehere o nga rauawa o nga waka; toia ka toia, papahoro noa nga tangata ki te whenua, koia na te take i kitea oratia mai ai au ki a koutou. Ka hoe mai nei matou, a, ka ta taku manawa, katahi au ka pouri ki taku takaniti mai i te iwi ra, te noho atu, ka tuku atu ano i te kotiro nei ki ana matua. He ao te ao i enei ra, ko tenei kua pouri kerekere, penei rawa ake, apopo, tu ana te hoariri i te one o Tipitai, a, mau ka maia e maia, mau ka ngohe ka ngaro koe i te ngaro a te moa.’

He noho ki raro te noho o te iwi e whakarongo mai ra i uta, mutu kau ano te kupu a te tamaiti ariki nei, katahi ra ano te tino tangata o te pa nei o Awhitu ka whakatika ki runga; ko ia anake i tu ki runga, ka uhi te kakahu o te mano e noho ra ki te mahunga, ka ahua taua. Ka ki mai te kaumatua ariki o Awhitu, ‘Haere mai, haere, hoea ano te kotiro na ki tana kainga. He tika to kupu na te tau aio i he ai te tuitui o nga rauawa o nga waka o to iwi na i ora ai koe. Ko tenei, e kore au e pai kia takahia a runga o te rongo taketake e te kotiro na. Haere mai, haere e hoki ki Maungawhau, a, nau ka patua i te ara, na Ponga tena, ehara i a au.’


men, old women, and children; everyone had gathered there. When the canoe was quite close to the shore and those on land could distinguish the faces of those on board, the people on the beach called in loud chorus the welcome—‘Come, Oh come!’ The rowers in the canoe stopped paddling, and as they all looked at those on shore, the young chief who steered the canoe rose and asked, ‘Who are those who are sitting on the shore?’ He was answered by the crowd on shore, ‘We, your elders and parents are all here’.

He said, ‘Stay where you are, so that you may hear what I have to tell you. I, your child, have had a narrow escape from the hands of our relatives at Mount Eden, and my death or my murder, if it had taken place, would have been caused by Ponga. All the young people of our party conducted themselves in a quiet and peaceable manner towards our relatives at Mount Eden, but Ponga acted like a murderer toward me. Here with us is that young woman, sacred and of most supreme rank, the daughter of the lord of Mount Eden, who has been kidnapped by Ponga. He did not tell me at the time that he intended to commit a theft, or I would have said, ‘Do not do this; do not rob the home of our senior relative, but let his child remain with him’; but when we had travelled some distance, and had come near to Onehunga, unknown to us, Ponga was in the act of taking the young woman from her home. All the warriors rose, and with their weapons followed us. I was bewildered by the suddenness of the fright that came on me when I saw that we were pursued by an enemy, and therefore I gave the order, “Bend your knees, bow your heads, and let us flee”.

‘We fled on till we reached our canoe, and by the time our pursuers had got to the beach we were far out in the water. The enemy at once rushed to drag their canoes to the sea; but because you and they have been living so long in peace, the lashing of the top-sides of their canoes had become rotten, so that in attempting to pull their canoes to the sea the side-boards came away from the bodies of the canoes, and those who were attempting to move them fell over on the ground; otherwise, you would never again have seen me alive. When we had paddled some distance towards home, and I had time to think, I felt angry with myself for running away from those people, instead of staying and sending this young woman back to her parents. Daylight is light, but now darkness is deadly gloom, and

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Te tino whakatikanga o te kotiro ra, o Puhihuia ki runga, ka powhiri ki ana ringaringa, a, roa rawa e powhiri ana ki era i uta, ka mau ki ona, ka unuhia, ka mau ki te kakahu o waho, ka whiua e ia ki te aroaro o Ponga, kei to roto atu, ka peratia ano. Ka tae ki te roto rawa, ki te kakahu muanga ki tana kiri, ka mau a ia ki tana whitiki karetu, whatuia iho a runga o te kakahu kotahi e mau ra i a ia, ka tatuatia ki tana hope, ka tu kiri kau ana ringa me tana uma. Katahi ra ano ka toro tana ringa matau ki era i uta, ka karanga a ia, ‘E te iwi e, titiro mai ki a au’. I te wa ano i tu ai te kotiro ra ki runga, kua titiro mai te iwi ra ki a ia, me te mihi a ratou ki te tu rangatira o taua kotiro ra. He wahine pai taua kotiro nei, he roa a ia, he mawhatu te makawe, he kiritea; ko te tinana, koia ano kei tetahi koare nei te pai me te ngohe noa.

Ka karanga atu ano a Puhihuia, ‘E tika ana to riri, e he ana to riri. To tika, ko te mate mou i a au te ngaki; to he, ko to whakapae teka ki a Ponga. Naku ano taku haere mai; nou tenei he, te titiro koe ki te pai o te tamaiti, o Ponga, ka pupuri kia noho i konei i to kainga, kaua e tukua ake ki taku pa. Mei tukua ake ko ana hoa anake, penei e noho mai ana ano au i taku marae; nei koe, nou te kohuru i a au, tukua ake ana e koe te whakangaoko i taku ngakau, a, rere kino ai au ki te pai o to tamaiti. Ehara i a au te he; nou tena kohuru i a au.’

Mutu kau ano te kupu a te kotiro ra, tahi ano te pekenga o Puhihuia, tau rawa atu i roto i te moana, e kau ana, a, u noa ki uta. Ko te iwi ra tena e noho mai ra i uta, ka rere he wahine, ka rere he wahine, poto katoa nga wahine e noho mai ra i uta ki te wai, ki te whai (aru) mai i te kotiro ra. Ko te hunga ra tena i te waka parau kau, noho hu noa iho, kihai i oho, i aha. Ka kau te kotiro ra, a, u noa ki uta, u kau atu ano ki uta, tu ana ano a ia i roto i te wai, to nga turi te wai ki a ia, ka tu atu a ia, ko te tini wahine ra haere tonu atu ki uta noho noa mai ai ko ratou, ropu ano, i ko mai o te ope tane.

Ka karanga atu ano a Puhihuia, ‘Ko au tenei, ko Puhihuia. Naku taku i kite, e kore au e taea e te tangata te ki e, “Penetia, peratia”; mau ka pono i a koe to kupu kia hoki au ki Maungawhau, penei rawa ake, a te po


by tomorrow your enemy will stand on the sandy beach of Tipitai; and if you are brave, well and good, but if you are weak you will be lost, even as the moa.’

All the time he was speaking the crowd who were listening on shore were sitting down, but as soon as he had ended his speech, the head chief of Awhitu rose, but not one of the crowd followed his example. All sat in silent dread, each covering his head with his cloak. The old chief said, ‘Welcome, welcome! but you must leave! Take the girl back to her home. Yes, you are right; it is because of the years of peace that the lashings of the canoes of our Mount Eden relatives have become roten, so that you escaped. I will not allow the girl to break the bonds of peace between us. Come, welcome, but you must now go back to Mount Eden, and, if you are killed on the way there, that will be Ponga's fault, not mine.’

Straight away Puhihuia rose and beckoned with her hands towards the crowd on the shore. After beckoning for a long time, she took off the outer garment she had on and put it down beside Ponga, and so with the next. Readjusting the inner garment which she wore next to her skin, she doubled the part which covered her shoulders down in a fold around her waist, bound it round her with a karetu belt, and stood there with her arms and breasts uncovered. Then she stretched out her right arm towards those on shore, and said, ‘O people! look at me.’ All the time she was standing there the people had been gazing at her and expressing their admiration of her noble figure and attitude. She was a fine-looking woman, tall, with curling hair, light skin, and supple as a sapling of the forest.

Again she called, ‘Your anger against me is right, yet it is not just. You are right in blaming me, as I may be the cause of the evil which may fall on you; but you are not just in falsely accusing Ponga. I came here of my own accord, but I blame you for this: why did you not see how handsome this young man Ponga was, and keep him here at your home, and not let him come to my pa? If you had allowed his companions to come to my pa without him, I should have still been there; but you dealt treacherously with me, so that I could not restrain my feelings: because of his beauty I rushed recklessly into love. I am not to blame. It is you who have behaved badly towards me.’

She stopped speaking, and with one bound

Continued on page 38

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Over a hundred Old Girls line up for the roll call.

Queen Victoria School
Celebrates Diamond Jubilee

Queen Victoria School, in Parnell, Auckland, this year celebrates its 60th anniversary. Many Old Girls of the school, with other visitors, gathered together for a service of thanksgiving to mark this occasion. The service, held in St Mary's Cathedral Church, was conducted by the Sub-Dean the Rev. P. M. Keith, with the assistance of the Rev. Canon Mangatitoki Cameron. A challenging address was given by the Rt. Rev. W. N. Panapa, Bishop of Aotearoa.

The official welcome, which followed in the Parish Hall, was attended by many distinguished guests. One of those present, Mr Dick Ormsby, had also been there to witness the laying of the foundation stone in 1901. Two others among the many speakers were Mr Tipi Ropiha, formerly Secretary for Maori Affairs, and Mrs Bella Taua, the retiring President of the Old Girls' Association.

Later, over a hundred former pupils responded to a roll call held at the school, pupils in each decade falling in behind their appropriate standard. There was especially warm applause for the nine old girls who represented the 1903–1912 decade, Two of these, Mrs McGruther (Daisy Ormsby) of Pirongia, and Mrs Brown (Eliza Kingi) of Te Kaha, were foundation scholars.

In the evening, two hundred and fifty guests sat down to a jubilee dinner.

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A carved tribute to those former pupils who are no longer living, was presented by a foundation scholar, Mrs McGruther of Pirongia, to Kay Cherrington of Otiria, this year's head prefect.

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Para Matchitt: Painter and Sculptor

Para Matchitt comes from the East Coast; he was born near Tokomaru Bay and spent most of his childhood at Te Kaha. After this he went to St Peter's Maori Boys' College in Northcote, then to Auckland Teachers' College. It was there that he became interested in art, and after leaving the Teachers' College he spent a year in Dunedin taking a course in the teaching of art and crafts. After this he took a position as an art and crafts specialist with the South Auckland Education Board.

Apart from his time in Dunedin he has had no formal training in art, and it is only during the past two years that he has exhibited his work. But he is already becoming widely known as an artist, and he has received a number of commissions for his sculpture.

Began As Abstract Painter

Mr Matchitt began as an abstract painter; it is only recently that he has turned to figurative painting. Some of his formal motifs are derived from motifs found in Maori art. Using these in an entirely original way, he has evolved a robust and vigorous style which is very much his own. The starting-point for his paintings is usually a traditional Maori story, but though the reference to the story gives his work another dimension of meaning, here again his interpretation is an entirely new one; like all good artists, he is interested in doing something which has not been done before.

Two of his paintings were hung in this year's National Bank mural competition. One of them, ‘Te Wehenga O Rangi Raua Ko Papa’ is illustrated on page 28. The strength and unity of design of this painting, its vitality and directness, and its attractive muted reds and ochres, would surely make it a wonderful mural. I wonder if any of the other people who saw the exhibition felt as I did, that for this purpose it would be more satisfying than the more academic and anecdotal painting which won the competition.

Most of his sculpture so far has remained closer than his painting to the old Maori designs, but here again the traditional style is interpreted in a spirit unmistakably his own.

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Photography by Ans Westra
The sculpture on the opposite page represents Kiwa, god of the sea, diving up through the water. The painting below is entitled ‘Whiti te Ra’, from the haka, ‘Ka Mate Ka Mate’.
Para greatly enjoys his work in the schools, but his weekends are especially precious ones, for as he travels to schools as far south as Opotiki, he can spend only the weekends with his wife and two small daughters at their home in Hamilton.

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This painting of the separation of Rangi and Papa is by Para Matchitt.

The Story of Rangi and Papa

Rangi is the sky, the father of all things; Papa is the earth, the mother of all things. In the beginning there was darkness, and these two, the earth and the sky, lay together. They had many children, who lay between them. It was dark for many ages; there was as yet no world with its bright light.

Then their children began to wonder what kind of thing the light could be. They wearied of the narrow space to which they were confined, and wished to separate their parents, so that there could be light. Then they came together to decide whether it would be better to kill their parents or to tear them apart. The fiercest of the children of Rangi and Papa is Tu, the god of war. It was Tu who spoke first, and he said, ‘Let us kill our parents!’

Then Tane, the god and father of forests and of all things that live in them, or that are made from trees, said, ‘No, we will not kill them. It is better to drag them apart, and let the sky be far above us, and the earth lie beneath our feet. In this way the sky will become a stranger to us, but the earth will stay close to us as a mother.’

All the brothers agreed to this except for Tawhiri, the father of winds and storms; and he, being afraid that his kingdom was about to be overthrown, was angry at the thought of the separation of his parents.

It is from this happening that there comes the saying found in the ancient prayers, ‘Darkness, darkness, light, light, the seeking, the searching, in chaos, in chaos’; this tells of the way in which the children of the sky and earth sought for some way of dealing with their parents, so that human beings could increase and live.

When at last they had agreed to this plan,

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Rongo, the god and father of the cultivated food of man, stood up to tear apart the earth and sky; he struggled, but he could not part them. Then Tangaroa, the god and father of fish and reptiles, stood up to try his strength; he also struggled; but he could not part them. Then Haumia, the god and father of the food of man which grows without cultivation, stood up and struggled; but he also failed. Next, Tu, the god and father of warriors, stood up and struggled; but in vain.

Then at last Tane, the god and father of forests, slowly stood up, and he struggled with his parents; but he could not part them with his hands. So for a moment he stopped, and he placed his head on his mother the earth, and rested his feet against his father the sky. He strained his back in a mighty effort, and he tore apart his parents; they shrieked and groaned as they cried out, ‘Why are you parting us thus? Why do you commit such a terrible crime as to tear your parents apart?’ But Tane did not stop, he did not listen to them; far, far beneath him he pressed the earth; far, far above him he thrust the sky. It is because of this that there is the saying in the ancient prayers, ‘It was the fierce thrusting of Tane which tore the sky from the earth, so that they were dragged apart, and darkness became known, and so did the light’.

As soon as the sky was torn from the earth there was light in the world, and crowds of human beings were discovered who were the children of Rangi and Papa, and who had been hidden until now between the bodies of their parents.

Then Tawhiri, the god and father of hurricanes and storms, was angry with his brothers, because against his wishes they had torn apart Rangi and Papa, and he was afraid that the world would now be too pleasant and beautiful. Because of this he followed his father Rangi to the sky above; and from there he sends the earth mighty winds, dense clouds, dark thick clouds, fiery red clouds, clouds of thunder storms, and clouds swiftly flying. In the midst of these Tawhiri himself sweeps wildly on, and makes war against the creatures that live on the earth.

But in spite of the evil rage of Tawhiri, the human beings who had been hidden between Rangi and Papa increased in number now, and flourished upon the earth; and it is from these first men that we are all descended.

And through all this time the vast sky has not ceased to mourn the loss of his wife the earth. Often in the long nights he weeps, and drops upon her breast those tears which men call dew. And often the loving sighs of Papa go up towards the sky; and when men see these, they call them mists.


Mr John Waititi, who is well known for his work with Maori people in Auckland, has been seconded for two years to the position of assistant to the officer for Maori education, Mr D. M. Jillett. He is at present Maori language officer to the Education Department.

Mr Waititi's new duties will be concerned with Maori education generally throughout New Zealand, with special emphasis on the teaching of the Maori language. He will be based in Auckland.


Mr Hamana Mahuika of Ruatoria has received the O.B.E. in the Queen's Birthday Honours this year.

Mr Mahuika has given long service to the education and welfare of his people. He is a member of the Ngata College Committee of Management, being the representative of the Horouta Tribal Executive.


T. Ormeby (Waitomo) won the New Zealand Maori golf championship at Rotorua last September when he beat C. Hurihanganui, Springfield, Rotorua, 2 and 1.

Ormsby, who plays No. 3 in the Waikato team, was in top form. Hurihanganui could not match his long hitting off the tees but was sound on and around the greens.


We would very much like to be able to print more news in ‘Te Ao Hou’, and would be grateful for more contributions from readers—accounts of meetings, weddings, obituaries, photographs, and anything else of interest. They don't have to be long, and they don't have to be very carefully worded; you can leave this to the Editor, if you wish. We are always glad to receive stories, articles and poems, also. All contributions published are paid for.

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Photography by Ans Westra
An impromptu action song by some of the official party on the opening night.

Maori Women's Welfare League
Meets at Rotorua

The annual meeting of the Maori Women's Welfare League, held in Rotorua this time, was a most successful occasion; as always, the discussions were lively and most worthwhile, and the delegates and observers who attended it thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

This year the Rotorua District Council and the Tawhiti Isolated Branch tied for first place in the contest for the Te Puea Trophy, which is awarded for the best annual report. Second place was won by the Christchurch Isolated Branch.

Essay on League's Aims

Recently ‘Te Ao Hou’ saw an essay on the League's motto ‘Tatau Tatau’, which seemed to us to be a very fine expression of the aims and aspirations of the League.

Here is the essay, written by the Whakaki Maori Women's Welfare League, which is a member of the Kahungunu District Council in the Wairoa area.


It is right and fitting that this Organisation of Maori Women's Welfare Leagues should have been destined to choose as their motto ‘Tatau Tatau’, humble words from that great statesman and orator, Sir James Carroll. Words that he may have used often in his debates and speechmaking, particularly on the marae, to rouse waning enthusiasm, or to placate impatient or even hostile minds. What would have been his reactions had he forseen that some day his words were to be the staff and guide of the women-folk of his own race?

Women who have had the initiative and commonsense to realise that there was a definite need for an Organisation such as this.

Steadfast in their belief that, in united effort, much can be achieved for the betterment and progress of a people.

Who aim to promote fellowship and understanding between the two races of this country.

Who will extend a helping hand to their lesser fortunate kin in times of distress and hardship.

Who are better equipped to accept the challenges of new ventures and an ever-changing way of life.

Who, though of different religious beliefs, know the spiritual uplift of united prayer.

These are the fundamentals and the core upon which this simply phrased motto is founded.

‘Tatau Tatau’ means ‘Let us be united’—

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Mrs Te Ao Petera (left) and Mrs Wairama Orupe, both of Ruatahuna, are foundation members of the League. They were among the many people who attended the Conference as observers.

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Mrs R. Wright (left) and Mrs E. Serjeant were the two delegates from the Hamilton District Council.

when we are united, we are strong. In unity there is strength of purpose and of deed.

‘Tatau Tatau’, meekly spoken, can do much to soothe and pacify. It creates tolerance and kindness whenever it is required.

‘Tatau Tatau’, with its repetitive formation similar to the pattern of the haka, and spoken just as boldly, becomes a challenge.

‘Tatau Tatau’: together we will do all things conducive to the attainment of our aims and objects. If this be so, we then are truly living our motto!

Kia Ora, wahine ma, Tatau Tatau.

Betty Hunia who wrote this story is from Te Teko. She is in the sixth form at Auckland Girls' Grammar School.

Te Kata Whakamutunga

E haere ana ahau ki te hararei. I te iwa karaka o te po a te Taite, ka haere taku tereina mo Okaihau. I tuku ahau i te teihana o Whangarei. I tae atu to matau tereina i te rua karaka i te ata, a, ka noho ahau ki te kainga o taku hoa.

I te po o te Paraire, ka whakatikatika matau katoa mo tetahi kanikani e tu ana i tetahi wahi, e kia ana ko te ‘Sky Lounge’, a, e timata ana i te tekau ma rua karaka. I a matau e whakatikatika ana, ka tae mai a Pita, te tungane o taku hoa, ma runga i tona motoka, he ‘Ford Fairlane’. I tenei, ka tino koa taku ngakau, no te mea he tino rawe te ahua o tona motoka ki ahau. Ka haere katoa matau, a, tae noa ki te whare kanikani. I to matau taenga atu, ka tiro mai nga Pakeha me nga Maori ki a matau e tuku ana i tenei motoka. E whakaaro ana pea ratau, ko wai ra enei Maori. He tauhou ano hoki oku hoa ki tenei wahi.

Heoi, ka uru matau ki roto i te whare kanikani, a, ka tirotiro haere ahau. Mohio tonu nga tangata o Whangarei he tangata tauhou ahau, ina hoki, tata tonu te ngahoro mai o aku karu. Ki oku nei whakaaro, he tino rawe hoki te whare kanikani nei. Kaore e rite ana ki nga kanikani e mohio ana ahau i taku kainga. I reira, he tamariki anake te nuinga o nga tangata e kanikani ana; engari i tenei wahi, ko ahau pea te tino tamariki o tenei iwi kanikani. I ahau e kanikani ana, ka kite ahau i etahi o oku hoa kura, no Aakarana nei. Mutu kau ana ta matau kanikani, ka hoki matau.

I muri ake o te hapa ka ki mai a Pita kia haere katoa matau ki te kaukau i Moerewa. Whakaae tonu atu maua tahi ko taku hoa, a, ka haere katoa matau me o matau kaka kaukau. Te taenga atu ki reira, ka kite ahau he awa noa iho te wahi nei, a, tino makariri ana te wai. Korekore ana ahau e korikori. Ka titiro atu ahau ki oku hoa e kaukau ana, ka whakaaro ahau he tino ika nga tangata o tenei

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wahi. Ka titiro mai hoki ratau ki ahau me te whakaaro peo kaore nga tangata o Te Teko i te Maori. Mutu kau ana ta ratau kaukau ka ki atu ahau, ‘Me hoki tatau katoa ki te kainga!’ Ehara hoki tenei mahi, te kaukau i te rima karaka i te ata, i te parekareka ki ahaua, e mate moe ana hoki ahau.

Katahi ka oma mai tetahi o nga tane, ka hopu i oku waewae. E pohehe ana ahau, kua porangi te tamaiti nei; kaore hoki ahau e mohio ana kei muri ano tetahi e whakatikatika ana ki te hopu i oku ringaringa. Kia roa ke, katahi ano ahau ka mohio kei te whakaaro ke nga tahae nei kia whiua atu ahau ki roto i te wai. I tenei wa kua haere ke oku kaha. Ka whakaaro ahau kaore he take o te whanawhana i a ratau, engari mehemea ka whiua ahau, me haere mai ano tetahi o nga tane nei ki roto i te wai, maua tahi. I taku mohiotanga kei roto ahau i te wai, ka titiro ahau, ko ahau anake. Kei runga katoa nga tangata e kata ana. Kei roto i te wai ahau e wiriwiri ana, a, e tata tonu ana te tangi. Ka kau mai ahau ki uta; kaha tonu taku riri. Ka kata mai hoki nga tahae nei, katahi ka tino kaha rawa atu taku riri. Heoi ano, ka whakaaro ahau, ahakoa te nui o o ratau waha ki te kata, kaore ahau e kata atu.

Tae atu ana ahau ki te motoka, ka tikina atu e ahau taku koti, a, haere atu ana ma tetahi huarahi kaore ahau e mohio ana. Ka tiro mai pea nga tangata nei ki ahau e riri ana, a, ka noho puku katoa ratau. Roa noa atu, ka tae e riri ana, a, ka noho puka katoa ratau. Roa noa atu, ka tae mai te motoka i muri i ahau, a, e whakaaro ana pea ratau, ma wai ra o ratau e korero mai ki ahau kia piki atu. Katahi ka korero mai a Pita, ‘Haere mai e Peti. Kauaka e porangi. Kua mohio nga tangata nei no ratau te he, a, e pirangi ana ratau ki te korero atu ki a koe. Haere mai!’ Ka haere tonu ahau. Ka whai tonu mai nga tangata nei. I tenei wa kua kore ke ahau e mohio me pehea atu ahau. Ka whakaaro ahau, a, ka puta mai tetahi maramatanga ki ahau. Me hinga ahau, kia kite mai ai ratau kei te mate ahau.

Katahi ano ahau ka hinga. I ahau e hinga ana, peke tonu mai oku hoa ki te kawe mai i ahau ki runga i te motoka. Ahakoa te mamae o a ratau pakipaki ka whakamate tonu ahau i ahau. Kaore ahau e huaki i oku karu kei kata hoki ahau. Ka timata ahau ki te whakawiriwiri i oku ngutu, he tohunga hoki ahau ki tenei mahi, a, ka rongo atu ahau ki nga korero, ‘E hoa, hoatu a tatau koti! Kei hea te paraikete?’ I tenei wa kua pirangi ke ahau ki te kata; ina hoki he tino hata kehi no ratau. Engari tino tika taku makariri.

Ka haere te motoka, ka takoto ahau i runga i te turu o muri, me taku mahunga i runga i nga waewae o taku hoa. Kei mua katoa nga tane e nohonoho haere ana i runga i a ratau. Tu ana nga kotiro i muri. E whitu katoa matau i haere. I ahau anake te turu o muri. Ka roa ta matau haere ka taukaha hoki o ratau waewae i te tunga haere. Hei aha maku.

Ka roa e haere ana, ka rongo ahau i oku hoa e korerorero ana mo te hoko kai. Ka whakaaro ahau me oho pea ahau ki te kai, engari me waiho aku kata kia tae ki te kainga kei kore ratau e hoko kai mai maku, a, kei kino ranei taku moenga i a ratau. Ka kai matau, a, ka haere ano.

I te taenga atu ki te kainga ka hamama taku waha ki te kata! Naku te kata whakamutunga.


The First Maori midshipman in the New Zealand navy is John Stewart Kiri Kiri, who has recently returned from a period of overseas training.


The Maori village opened recently at the Polynesian Cultural Centre at Hawaii is easily the most eye-catching of the six model villages at the Centre. (The other villages are Hawaiian, Tongan, Samoan, Fijian and Tahitian.) The Polynesian Cultural Centre, which is considered to be the greatest tourist attraction. Hawaii has had to offer in recent years, has been built by members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and all profits will go to provide students from other Church schools in Polynesia with scholarships to the Church College of Hawaii.

Much of the carving to be seen in the Maori village was done at Temple View, near Hamilton. The man responsible for the general supervision of the building of the village is John Elkington of Porirua, who with his wife (the former Waitohi Wineera of Porirua), and others in the group, has been spending some months in Hawaii attending to the final erection of the village. The Te Arohanui Maori Concert Party, whose members come from all over New Zealand, spent two weeks at the Centre during the opening, afterward going on a tour of the United States.

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at Auckland

Last July in Auckland there was a highly successful Leadership Conference, the first of its kind to be held there for some years, which produced a great deal of interesting and energetic discussion concerning the Maori population of Auckland. Perhaps the clearest sign of the value of the meeting, and the importance of the matters discussed is that on the last day one of the subjects debated with most vigour was: how soon would Auckland be able to have another conference along the same lines? There is so much to work out, and so many people interested in the questions involved.

After the opening ceremonies on the first evening the guest speaker. Mr C. M. Bennett, Assistant Secretary for Maori Affairs, who until recently was New Zealand's High Commissioner to Malaya, spoke on the place of Malaya, and Malaysia, in the modern world.

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After the ceremonial welcome to Mr C. M. Bennett, Assistant Secretary for Maori Affairs, Adult Education Organiser Mr Koro Dewes (on floor) gets a dig from three of his fellow participants, Messrs Huta, D. Hansen, and B. Nepia.

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Photography by Ans Westra
Mr Timi Paoro (Jim Paul), a leader of the Ngati Whatua people, speaking at the opening.

During the conference four speakers read specially prepared papers dealing with different aspects of Maori life in Auckland; after each paper had been given the delegates divided into groups to discuss what had been said, later bringing forward their conclusions and resolutions at a final plenary session.

All of the speakers had much of interest to say. One of the papers, ‘Maori Children in Auckland Schools’ given by Mr Roger Oppenheim, is published in a slightly shortened form on page 12 of this issue of ‘Te Ao Hou’; we only wish that we had the space to publish the other papers also.

An Inescapable Question

Mr Harry Dansey's paper, ‘Being a Maori in Auckland’ was an eloquent general discussion of the situation in which the 20,000 Auckland Maoris find themselves. After speaking of the antiquity of Maori associations with Auckland—‘one of the ancient meeting places … one of the highroads of Maori history’, he discussed some of the implications, both material and spiritual, of the Maori migration to the city. In particular he spoke of the question which, he suggested, confronted city Maoris in an especially inescapable form: ‘whether to be a Maori with all its cultural implications, whether to be what is in effect a brown Pakeha, or whether to strike a balance between the two’.

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Mr W. Karaka gave an interesting discussion of the place of Maoris in trade unions. He emphasised that the role of the Maori worker in a trade union was in no way different from that of any other worker, and that any differences—such as the fact that it is rare to see a Maori in trade union leadership—are of Maoris' own making. He also discussed problems in the Pukekohe district, saying that in the opinion of the Auckland Labourers' Union the Maori workers in the market gardens there are being exploited.

Mr A. Awatere, in a paper on ‘Maori Workers in Auckland’, provided a great deal of information on the new opportunities and responsibilities experienced by Maoris coming to live in the city, and outlined the many different institutions and organisations which are working to assist them to find the most suitable employment in this new environment.


Mr Patrick Tapa has won an annual award for the best Maori apprentice motor mechanic in the Wanganui district.

Patrick is the son of Mr and Mrs J. Tapa of Wanganui. This is the second time that he has won the award.


Some of the Maori pupils at the School for the Deaf in Kelston, Auckland, are ‘breaking their hearts’ because of a lack of letters from home and someone to take an interest in them.

This was said at the Maori Leadership Conference held in Auckland recently.

There are about 50 Maoris at the school—more than half the total pupils. Many of them are from country districts. The conference urged Maori families in Auckland to fill the gap by taking one or two of the children into their homes at weekends.


Members of the Tuwharetoa Maori Trust Board appointed by the Governor-General for three years have recently been announced.

They are: Hepi Hoani Te Heuheu, Te Takinga Arthur Grace, Robert Reremai Keepa, Turau Te Tomo, John Takakopiri Asher. Harry Rihia, Hiriweteri Mariu, Paterika Hura, Huriwaha Maniapoto and Rongomai Nana Te Heuheu.

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Keri Ngapera Kaa

Keri Kaa and Amster
Reedy Head Students'

Keri Ngapera Kaa, a second-year student at Ardmore Teachers' College and this year's College President there, is the first woman ever to hold this position; previously, the job had always gone to a man.

Keri is the daughter of the Rev. Tipi Kaa from Rangitukia, who is the Vicar of the Waiapu Pastorate. Her mother, Hohi Kaa (formerly Whaanga) is from Wairoa. Keri attended the Queen Victoria School for five years, and for another year went to Auckland Girls' Grammar. After this she spent a most interesting year in the United States on an American Field Service Scholarship, then went on to Ardmore.

She says that her position as President has been a tremendous experience.

This year the position of Vice-President, and Men's President, is held by Amster Reedy of Ruatoria. Amster's father is Apirana Turupa (‘Pera’) Reedy. His mother Matekino (‘Dolly’) comes from Tikitiki: her maiden name was Taipa. Amster was formerly Head Perfect at Ngata Memorial College. He is a member of Ardmore's flourishing Maori Club, is in the First Fifteen there, and is a keen sportsman. Like Keri, he is enjoying his work at the College very much.

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A Teacher with a
Fine Record

Mrs Marewa McConnell, who has just been appointed head teacher of the Ahipara Maori School near Kaitaia, a grade five school of 201 pupils, is perhaps the first Maori woman to achieve a position of this kind.

Mrs McConnell was born at Rapaki on the Lyttelton Harbour, and is a member of the Ngai Tahu tribe. She is the elder daughter of the late Eruera and Hana Manihera, and is the granddaughter of the late Hone Taare Tikao, a Ngai Tahu chief of Canterbury and Banks Peninsula renown.

For a time she was a pupil teacher at the Lyttelton District High School, and she also attended Canterbury University as a part-time student. She trained at the Christchurch Teachers' Training College and was a member of the students' executive council in her senior year.

When she had finished her training at the high school she became a sole teacher at the Port Levy School and later at the Rapaki School, both on the Lyttelton Harbour.

In 1935 Mrs McConnell became infant mistress at the Wai-iti Maori School at Lake Rotoit [ unclear: ] .

She married Mr C. A. McConnell, and when the Second World War came, she and her young son returned to her home at Rapaki, where she taught throughout the war years.

Taught at Horoera

In 1946 she and her husband were appointed to the Horoera Maori School, a small two-teacher school situated between Te Araroa and the East Cape. Mrs McConnell was the head teacher of the school, which had a roll of 45 and was then one of the most isolated schools in the East Cape district.

In 1950, when Mr McConnell had completed his training at Ardmore College with the first intake of special teacher trainees, he and Mrs McConnell were appointed to the Paparore Maori School, north of Kaitaia. Today this is

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Mrs Marewa McConnell, the head teacher at Ahipara Maori School.

a grade four school of 82 Maori and European pupils. Other members of the staff are Mr E. J. Thompson, the Maori All Black, and Miss M. Henry.

Mrs McConnell is a member of the Kaitaia College Board of Governors.

She is known throughout New Zealand as an arts and crafts specialist, along with Mrs M. Isaacs, of Orouta Maori School. They work with Maori arts specialists wherever courses are held.

With her appointment to the Ahipara Maori School, which has a pre-school department of 25 four-year-olds, Mrs McConnell will be extremely busy. Her new staff consists of Mrs P. Nathan, Miss Abbott, Miss Cave, Miss F. Berghan, Miss P. Subritsky, Mr D. Albert, and Mrs M. Dawson.

She has three children, the eldest of whom is Riri, 26, a corporal in the Royal New Zealand Air Force. Her daughter Hui-a-re [ unclear: ] , 20, recently married Mr Peter Wilkinson, jr., of Kaitaia. She is a teacher at Kaitaia Primary School. Her youngest son, Terence, 17, is a pupil at Kaitaia College.

Mrs McConnell is also an excellent dance pianist, and for years has been a leading figure in orchestras and social musical occasions.

– 36 –

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Left to right: at the back, John Kershaw (from Ruatoria), Ray Grace (Te Karaka), and Leroy Evans (Te Araroa). In front, Trevor Leaf (Te Araroa), Du Rangihuna (Te Araroa). Lennie Bartlett (Te Karaka), Punoa Ngarimu (Ruatoria) and Richard Karaitiana (Manutuke).

Boys' Hostel at Gisborne

These photographs were taken at the Waiteata Maori Youth Hostel at Gisborne, which provides a ‘home from home’ for boys between the ages of 16 and 21 who have come from country districts to work in Gisborne.

The hostel was opened last year by the Salvation Army, with a financial subsidy from the Maori Affairs Department. Formerly a guest-house, the building in its renovated form provides comfortable accommodation for 32 boys. The manager, Mr A. Waugh, and Mrs Waugh (formerly Mrs Myrtle King, from Tokomaru Bay) exercise a wise but not overstrict supervision, and make every effort to obviate the loneliness and bewilderment that the boys often feel on their first contact with city life.

Apart from the dining room and usual offices, there is a comfortable lounge for the boys' use, and the old ballroom has been converted into a large recreation room, with a piano and facilities for table tennis and other games.

Though the hostel is run by the Salvation Army, it is non-denominational, and most denominations are represented by the boys who are there at present. The tariff at the hostel is £3 10s.; this includes all meals.

– 37 –

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The boys in this comfortable hostel bedroom are Punoa Ngarimu, Leroy Evans, and Ray Grace.
Ans Westra Photography

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The boys cheerfully take it in turns to do small chores such as dishwashing and lawn-mowing. Here, Punoa Ngarimu, Trevor Leaf and Du Rangihuna give a hand with the washing-up. The hostel cook, Mrs Whangapirita (from Ruatoria) is in the background.

– 38 –


Continued from page 24

nei moe ana maua ko Ponga i te heihei o te wahapu o te moana nei. E kore au e tae atu ki uta; nou a uta, naku te moana.’ Katahi ra ano nga tini wahine ra ka pa, ka tangi ki a Puhihuia, ka aue nga wahine ra, ka hamama te waha ki te tangi, me te tu atu ano te kotiro ra i te wai; roa noa e tangi ana nga wahine ra me te manu mai ano te waka ra i waho tata ake ano o Puhihuia. I hoe mai hoki te waka ra i muri i te kotiro ra i te wa ona i rere ra ki te wai. Hore kau he kupu a te hunga i te waka, hore kau ano hoki he kupu o era i uta, ko te tangi aurere anake o nga wahine ra, ko te pihipihi o te ngaru e aki ana ki te one i Awhitu, ara i Tipitai. Noho tonu mai te tini tangata ra i uta, ko te uhi anake o a ratou upoko ki o ratou kakahu.

Ka oho ano te kupu a te tangata i a ia ra te patu pounamu nei, a Kahotea, te tangata e urungi ra i te waka ra, he mea korero noho tana korero. Ka karanga atu a ia ki era i uta, ka mea, ‘He kai e roa te tau ka hauhakea: he whakaaro, ngaki iho ano, hauhake tonu ake. E noho ana koe ki te aha? Taria koe e oho kia kitea mai nga waka o to hoariri ka ungutu nga ihu ki te take o te pa. Tena rawa Nga-iwi te whai (aru) mai nei i ta ratou kotiro i tahaetia mai nei e Ponga, a, ka noho tena koe? He aio tonu koia te tau? Hua atu he raumati, a, he hotoke; he ra e whiti ana, he whatitiri e rarapa ana? He moho koe ki te uira o te rangi, a, he kuare koe ki te karu whete me te pukana o Nga-iwi?’

Tu tonu a Puhihuia i te wai, hore he kupu, hore he korikori, hore he aha. Ko Ponga, i noho hangu tonu mai ano hoki a ia i te wa ano i pahure mai ai te waka ra i Onehunga, a, tae noa mai ano ki a ia e noho atu nei i te waka. Te tino whakatikanga o Ponga, ka tae ki nga kakahu a te kotiro ra i waiho ai ki a ia, ka mau hoki ki ona, takaia iho ki tana mahunga, ko te kakahu ona i takaia ki mua ona hei maro, katahi ra ano a ia ka tae ki te niao o te waka whakahoro marere i a ia ki te wai, ka kau a ia ki uta, ata kau marere kei maku nga kakahu e putoi ra i runga i tana mahunga. Ka u atu a ia ki uta, haere tonu atu, a, ka tae ki a Puhihuia e tu mai ra, tu atu ana a ia i roto ano hoki i te wai, i te tuara o te kotiro ra; tae atu a ia, ka tahuri atu te kotiro ra, ka titiro atu ki a ia, kahore kau he kupu a raua ki a raua.


she left the canoe and jumped into the water, and swam toward the shore. First one woman in the sitting crowd rose, then another and another, until all the women who had been sitting there had rushed into the water towards her to welcome her on shore; but those in the canoe sat like people bereft of their senses, and not one of them uttered a word. Puhihuia swam till she could feel the ground with her feet, and stood in the water, which came up to her knees; but the women who swam out to meet her went back on shore and sat together in a group, apart from the group of men.

Then Puhihuia called out again, ‘I, Puhihuia, stand in your presence. What I have found is mine. I am not, and will not be, amenable to the order of any one who may say, “Do this”, or “Do that”; and, if you persist in saying that I must return to Mount Eden, by the time the midnight comes to this day I and Ponga will sleep in the foam that the sea-surge makes on the bar of this harbour. I will not come on to the dry land. The dry land is yours; the ocean is my home.’

Thereupon the crowd of women burst into a loud lament, and with streaming tears they wept aloud; but Puhihuia still stood in the water. Loud and long the women wept, while the canoe floated a short distance away from the place where Puhihuia was standing. When Puhihuia had cast herself into the sea those in the canoe had paddled in and followed her; but no one in the canoe uttered a word, and no voice was heard from those on shore save the deep loud wail of the sorrowing women, nor any sound save the surging of the waves breaking on the shore at Tipitai. All the crowd sat on shore in silence with their heads covered with their cloaks.

Again the young chief who had the green-stone mere Kahotea and who was steersman of the canoe spoke, while still seated, to those on shore and said, ‘It is a year before a food-crop is ripe for harvesting; but when the thoughts and plans of man are planted, the crop is ripe at once. Why, O chief and people, do you sit, and do nothing? Will you wait, and when the canoes of the enemy are seen approaching, when their prows are close to your pa, only then will you rouse yourselves to action? Even now, the warriors of Mount Eden must be pursuing their young woman of supreme rank, who has been stolen by Ponga; do you intend to sit silent and motionless? Does the year ever remain calm through al

– 39 –

Taro (roa iti) kau ano, ka whakatika te tino kaumatua o te pa nei, o Awhitu, ki runga: kite kau atu ano nga wahine e tangi nei i a ia ka tu ki runga, ka whakamutua te tangi a ratou, ka whakarongo ki ana kupu; e kore hoki e tu noa te rangatira ki runga, kia whai take e korero ai, katahi ra ano ka tu.

He roa koa te one o Tipitai, a, he roa te wahi o taua one e nohoia nei e te tini tangata o te iwi nei, o Ngati-Kahukoka. Ka tu te tangata ra, ka haere, puta noa ki tetahi pito o te kapa tangata e noho i te one ra, ka tahuri mai ano a ia, ka haere mai, puta noa mai ki tetahi pito o te kapa ra, kihai i kuihi te waha, kihai i aha. Ko te mere anake i te ringa, ko te kahu waero ki a ia mau ai, ko te hou huia ki te mahunga, ko te upoko i tuoho ki raro, titiro haere ai a ia i te one e takahia ra e ia.

Hoki atu, hoki mai i mua, ara i te taha ki te moana o te kapa tangata e noho ra, e haere ana a ia, me te titiro atu taua tini tangata ra ki a ia; kopiko atu, kopiko mai, me te whai tonu nga kanohi o te tini ra i a ia: ko era koa i te waka, tau tonu mai te waka, ko ratou ia, i titiro makutu mai ano hoki ki te kaumatua e haere ra, e kopiko atu ra, e kopiko mai ra, i mua o tona iwi: tae atu a ia, taua kaumatua nei, ki tetahi pito o te kapa tangata ra, ki te wahi i nohoia e te nuinga o nga kaumatua o te iwi nei, katahi ra ano ka maranga tana upoko ki runga, a ka tu a ia, ka titiro ki te kotiro ra raua ko Ponga e tu kau mai ra i te akau, i roto i te moana.

Roa noa ka titiro ki te waka ra, ki te tira tini taitamariki i haere nei ki Maungawhau, katahi ra ano a ia ka peke, me te whanawhana nga waewae, ka oma a ia, a, tae noa ki tetahi pito o te pito o te kapa ra ano, ka tupeke a ia i reira, ka whana nga waewae, tutu ana te one i ana rekereke, ka hoki mai ano a ia; he ata haere mai tana haere mai, a, ka tae mai ano ki te puni kaumatua nei, katahi ra ano a ia ka tupeke ano, whana nga waewae, tutu ana te one, ka pa tana waha, ka mea, ‘Aue, aue, i a au e!’ Ka oma a ia ki tetahi pito o te kapa ra, ka tupeke, ka whana nga waewae, ka tahuri ano a ia, ka karanga, ‘Aku uri e, ka toro te ao’. Ka hoki ano a ia, me te ata haere ano, me te tuohu ano tana upoko, titiro ai nga kanohi ki te one, tae atu a ia ki te puni kaumatua ra ano, ka tu a


its days? No; there is summer, and then there is winter: the sun shines, and then the thunder is heard. Are you ignorant of the lightning of heaven? Are you ignorant of the meaning of the glaring eyes of the men of Nga-iwi?

Puhihuia still stood in the water; she did not say anything, nor did she make the slightest movement. Ponga also sat in silence, as he had done ever since the canoe had left Onehunga. But now he suddenly stood up; taking the garments Puhihuia had left with him he tied them round his head, and his own garments he tied round himself with a belt, and taking hold of the gunwale of the canoe he gently let himself into the sea and swam to the shore. He swam carefully, lest he should wet the garments around his head, and when he landed he went straight to where Puhihuia was standing in the water and stood behind her. When he reached her, she turned and looked at him; but neither of them spoke to the other.

After a time, the head chief of Awhitu rose once more; and when the weeping women saw him stand up they ceased to wail, and listened to what he had to say. A chief does not rise for nothing; only when he has reason to speak does he stand up.

The beach of Tipitai is a long one, and Ngati-Kahukoka were sitting spaced out along a considerable stretch of it. When the old chief rose, he began to walk, and when he had reached one end of the space occupied by the people, he turned and walked back to the other end. He did not utter a word. He held a greenstone mere in his hand, and wore a dogskin cloak; his head was decked with huia feathers. He kept his head bowed, looking at the sand over which he paced. Thus he paced to and fro between the sea and the sitting crowd, who watched him as he walked back and forth, following with their eyes his every movement. Those in the canoe, which was still floating off-shore, also watched, as though bewitched, the old chief pacing back and forth before his people.

He had reached one end of the sitting crowd, where most of the old men of Tipitai were sitting, when he lifted his head and stood there, looking at Puhihuia and Ponga, who were still standing in the water. Then for a long time he looked at the young people who were in the canoe. Then, with a jump and a spring into the air, he ran to the other end of the crowd, then he gave another jump and sprang in the air, dashing up the sand with his heels. Again he paced back, walking in a calm and

– 40 –

ia ka titiro atu ki te waka ra.

Ka powhiri tana ringa, ka karanga, ‘Taku potiki, haere mai; ka ora mai na koe i te mate. E rua nga kai o te ao nei, he kai ma te kopu, he kai ma te tinana; he kai te kai ma te kopu e ora ai te tinana, a, e ruaki ana taua kai, a, e raoa ana te tangata i taua kai: kai atu te tangata kia ora ai a ia, a, e mate ana. He kai ano ta te tinana. Na Tu tera. Matika (whakatika) te tangata ki te kawe i tana riri kia ea, ka kai a ia i te kai a Tu; he mate ngatatahi aua kai nei; haere ki whea, he mate, noho ki whea, he mate; ngaki i te kai, he mate, noho i te aio o te tau raumati, he mate uruta: i mate mai ano i a Maui ra ano, a, e mau tonu nei te mate. E taku potiki, ora mai koe i tena mate au, a, e tohu ana koe e kore ano koe e mate? Tena nga mate a Tura kua pa ki a koe; e noho puku na i roto i a koe te aitua; ma tou tapepa noa ka pono te aitua ki a koe. E taku potiki, he mate anake to te ao nei. Haere mai ki te kainga.’

Katahi te kaumatua nei ka tahuri, ka titiro atu ki te kotiro e tu mai ra i roto i te wai, ka karanga atu a ia, ‘E taku mokopuna tuakana, e ko, haere mai ki enei matua tupuna ou. Ehara i a koe te mate, no mua mai ano te mate. I noho tane kore hoki i ana ou tupuna wahine, a, he mea tipako he tane e te iwi mana? Nana ano raia i titiro he tane mana, koia kei a koe, nau tau i kite. “He kura pae na Mahina i kitea, e kore e hoki atu ki tana rangatira.” E ko, kahore he tapau moenga a ou tupuna ariki i nga ngaru o te moana nei; kei Mua ratou e tanu ana; waihoki e kore koe e pai kia kauhoe noa i te akau i kauria e te taniwha nei, e Kaiwhare. Haere mai ra e taku potiki ariki; ka noho tahi taua. Nau tau, a, naku tau. Kia mate ana, ko taua tahi. Haere mai e taku potiki ariki.’ Ka haere atu te kaumatua ra, ka tae atu ki te kotiro ra, ka tuku ihu, hongihongi ana, ka mutu.

Ka mau te ringa o te kaumatua nei, ka arahina te kotiro ra e ia, a, ka ahu whaka te pa. Haere tonu raua, me te whai (aru) atu ano a Ponga i muri tata, mau haere ai ano nga kakahu ra i tana upoko; ko te kakahu i whatia ra hei maro mo te kotiro ra anake tana kakahu i a ia e haere nei i te kaumatua nei; ko ta Ponga kakahu i takaia ra hei maro mona anake tona kakahu. Ka haere nei taua tokotoru, a, ka puta ki mua o te kapa wahine i tangi ra, pahure kau atu ano taua tokotoru ki mua o era, ka whakatika aua wahine nei, ka whai (aru) atu i taua tokotoru, ka pukana te wahine, ka harihari mo te kotiro ra, me te


deliberate manner until he reached the place where the old chiefs sat. Then he gave another jump, and again dashed the sand up in the air with his feet, crying out, ‘Oh, woe is me! Oh, woe is me!’ Then running along again to the end of the space occupied by the sitting crowd, throwing up the sand at every step, he turned again, crying, ‘O my children! the world is all in a blaze of fire’.

He walked back in a quiet manner with his head bowed and his eyes fixed on the sand, and when he was near to where the old chiefs were sitting he again stopped and looked at those in the canoe. Beckoning with his hand, he called, ‘Come, O my child! you have escaped from death. There are two kinds of food in this world: there is food for the stomach and food for the body. The food for the stomach is for the body's well-being, but at times man vomits it up and is choked with it; man eats this food to give him health, but at times it makes him ill. And the body has also its kind of food, but this is of Tu, the god of war. When man goes to war to satisfy his revenge for evil done, he eats of the food of the god of war. There is death in each of these two kinds of food. Go where you will, death is there. Live where you will, death is there. Plant your crops, death is there. Live in the calm of summer, death comes suddenly upon you. From the days of Maui death has been everywhere, and still is everywhere. Now, O my child! you have escaped from death; but do you think that you will never die? There are the evils of Tura, which will come upon you. Even now there are sitting in silence within you innumerable evils, and by the mistakes you may make in our old customs evil will fall on you. O my child! all is death in this world. Come to our home.’

Then he turned and looked at Puhihuia standing in the water, and called out to her, ‘O my granddaughter, who is yet my elder in birth and rank, O young woman, welcome! We your elders, welcome you. Evil and death did not have their origin with you; evil and death are of old. Did your ancestors live husbandless, and did the tribe choose a husband for your mother? No; she found and took the husband of her own choice. How brave and how daring you are! You have chosen and determined whom you will take as your husband, and, as the lost plume of Mahina, it shall not be given back to its former owner. O my child! your ancestors have never slept on a mat laid on the foam

– 41 –

parare te waha o aua tini wahine ra ki te karanga i nga harihari karanga manuwhiri. Haere nei enei, ano ka pahure i te kapa tangata e noho ra, ka whakatika nga mea taitamariki, ka whai i enei, i nga wahine nei, ko nga kaumatua o te puni ra i noho, pahure kau ano nga taitamariki o taua kapa tangata ra, ka tu tetahi o nga kaumatua ra, ka powhiri ki te hunga i te waka ra, ka mea, ‘He noho aha ta koutou, te u mai ai ki uta; kia tere te haere mai, hei ope arahi i ta koutou ariki ki te pa; waiho te hiku o te tira haere ko matou, ko o koutou pakeke. “He puapua to te whainga, he hiku taki to te haere”.’

Ka u mai aua tini tamariki ra, ka mahue te hiku, ka haere ratou i muri tata o te tini tamariki i haere ra, katahi ra ano aua pakeke ra ka haere atu i te hiku. Te take i haere atu ai aua pakeke ra i te hiku, mo te kupu a to ratou rangatira i ki atu ra ki a Puhihuia, ‘Nau tau, naku tau; kia mate rawa ake, ko taua tahi’. He mea hoki, ki te puta he taua ma Nga-iwi ki a ia, a, ki te mau tonu te hiahia a taua wahine ra ki a Ponga, ma te mate ra ano o taua rangatira me tana iwi ano o Ngati-Kahukoka ka riro ai ano te kotiro ra i ana matua; koia ra te tikanga o te hiku o te haere i whakahokia mai ai e aua pakeke ra, he tohu arai atu mo te tangata tiki mai i te kotiro ra.

Ka peke te tini tamariki ra ki uta, haere ake ano a ia, a ia me tana hoe, me tana hoe, mau haere ai i te ringa hei patu, a, i haere kapa tonu aua tini tamariki ra, whai atu ana i muri i te ope e piki ra ki te pa. Ko te waka ra tena, ka toia mai e nga ropa ano o taua tira tamariki ra ki uta, poua ana nga tia i te one, herea ana te waka e ratou, a, ka mau, whai (aru) atu ana ratou i te ope ra.

Kua tu-a-ahiahi koa te ra, kua tata te to te ra, ka piki te kaumatua ra, me te arahi i a Puhihuia, a no ka tata ki te pa, ka puta mai nga ruruhi me nga koroheke kongenge, ka pa te karanga, me te tawhiri i a ratou kakahu. Haere tonu atu te tokorua ra, a, te marae o te pa, tomo tonu atu raua ki te whare o taua kaumatua ariki ra, whai haere tonu atu a Ponga. A no ka tapoko ratou tokotoru ki te whare, ka mau a Ponga ki nga kakahu e putoia ra i tana upoko, ka whakahoroa atu ki te kotiro ra, ka mau a ia ki ona, ka kakahu. Ko te kahu i whatia ra hei maro mona, unuhia ake e ia, ka mau ki waho i te whare, a, whakanoia (whakairia) ana e ia ki te pou ano ana i whakatu ai i waenganui o te marae kia maroke. Ko Ponga i haere ki te whare o ona


of the waves of this sea, but they are buried near to Mua; nor would it be right for you to swim in the sea where the taniwha Kaiwhare holds his rule. Come, O my child of noblest birth! Come, and you and I will live together. You have chosen what you have chosen, and I have chosen that which you have chosen; and if death comes, you and I will die together. Come, O my child of most supreme rank!’

The old chief waded out in the water and when he reached Puhihuia he offered his nose in greeting, and they hongi'd. Then he took her by the hand and led her to the shore and toward the pa, closely followed by Ponga with the garments still tied around his head. Puhihuia was still wearing only the garment she had round her waist, and Ponga also was wearing only his short loin-cloth. When the old chief and Puhihuia had passed in front of the group of weeping women, they all arose and followed the three of them with grimaces, shouting and glaring with their eyes in honour of the presence in their land of Puhihuia, the famous one, the highest-born of the tribes. Next followed the young people of the tribe. When these had passed where the old men and women were sitting, an old man rose, and waving his hand to those in the canoe, said, ‘Why do you stay on the sea? Come quickly on shore, and go with the crowd to welcome your supreme lord to our pa, and let us, the old people, bring up the rear. “The warrior has his shield, and the rearguard has its commander”.’

The young people of the canoe landed, and took their place behind the young people who followed the weeping women; and the old people closed in at the rear. The old people took this position to indicate their willingness to follow the decision of the old chief who was leading Puhihuia, when he said, ‘You have decided and I agree, so that if we are to be killed we will die together.’ By this saying he meant that if a war-party of the Nga-iwi of Mount Eden were to attack him, if Puhihuia still wished to have Ponga as her husband, then not till he and his people the Ngati-Kahukoka had been overcome in battle would Puhihuia be taken back by her people to her home. And hence the old people brought up the rear, as a sign that any attack on them would be met by resistance.

When the young people jumped on shore each one carried his paddle with him as a weapon, and all followed in line of battle

– 42 –

matua. Ka mau ki ona kakahu, kahuria ake, ka puta ano a ia, ka haere, a, noho ana a ia i te mahau o te whare e nohoia ra e Puhihuia.

Ka ka nga hangi, ka poki, ka maoa, ka hukea, ka takoto ki te marae. Ehara i te mea he mea tuku-a-kai ma te pa; he mea tuku-a-kai ma te ope manuwhiri. Ka maoa te kai ra, ka hui te tini o te tamariki, haere ake te tane, te wahine, ka mau ki ana kai, ka pa te waha (mangai), ka hari i te hari kai nei:

Ko Tu, ko Rongo.
Ko Tu, ko Rongo.
Paia ngo (ko) nga tahi
Potehe, potehe,*
Potehe te kai
Ki raro ki te whenua

Ka haere mai te ranga kawe kai mai, ka takoto, takoto ake he kotahi ano te puranga. Ka tu ano taua koroheke i arahi mai ra i a Puhihuia, ka mau ki te rakau, he mea tiki e ia ki te tahora whawhati mai ai, he manga kawakawa taua rakau, ka haere a ia, ka tu i te taha o te ranga (kauika) kai ra, ka pa tana waha, ka mea,—

‘Te kai nei e, te kai nei.’

Ka patua taua kai ra e ia ki te manga o te


behind the group that was going up to the pa. The canoe was pulled to the shore by some of the slaves, and was tied there to poles stuck in the sand.

The sun had nearly set as the old chief, leading Puhihuia, ascended to the pa. As they approached the pa the aged men and women who were inside came out and waved their garments and called the welcome of old. The old man went on and when they reached the marae, he led Puhihuia into his house, followed by Ponga; then Ponga gave the garments he had carried on his head to Puhihuia. She took the garment she had worn round her waist and spread it out, and hung it up to dry on a pole set up in the centre of the marae. Ponga went to the house of his parents and dressed himself, then went and sat in the porch of the house where Puhihuia was staying.

The ovens were lit and covered over and when the food was cooked it was set out on the marae, not for the people of the pa, but for those who had been to Mount Eden. When they brought the food before them, the boys and girls of the pa carried it in small baskets; and in taking it from the ovens where it was cooked to where it was placed on the marae they went in a group formed in lines of three or four deep, singing in chorus the song,—

It is Tu, it is Rongo,
It is Tu, it is Rongo,
Paia and Ngatahi.
It is consumed,*
The food is consumed under the earth,
It is consumed.

They placed all the food in one heap. Then the chief stood up with a twig in his hand, a branch of kawakawa which he had gone out of the pa to take from a neighbouring shrub, and went and stood near to the heap of food, and called out, ‘This food, this food!’ and struck the heap of food with the branch of kawakawa which he held in his hand, and again said, ‘This food, this food!’ Once again


*The only meaning the Williams dictionary gives for ‘potehe’ is ‘short’, which does not seem suitable here.

Following the Rev. Fletcher's translation (see the letter on page 18) we have translated it by ‘consumed’, but we do not know whether or not this is correct. We would be most interested to hear from any reader who could throw any light on the meaning of ‘potehe’.

Tu and Rongo are of course the old Maori gods of war and peace; but the third line of the song is also obscure.

– 43 –

kawakawa e mau ra i tana ringa, ka pa ano te karanga,—

‘Te kai nei e, te kai nei.’

Ka patua ano te kai ra e ia ki taua manga rakau, katahi ra ano a ia ka tahuri, ka titiro ki a Puhihuia, ka pa tana karanga, ka mea,—

‘Te kai nei ma Nga-iwi katoa, puta atu ki hea, ki hea.’

Ka hoki mai a ia, ka noho, ka whakatika atu a Puhihuia, ka mau te take rarauhe i kitea e ia i te marae e takoto ana, whatiwhatia ana e ia, ka mau ki aua whatiwhati rarauhe, ka haere, a, ka tae ki ko mai o te kai ra, ka poua aua whatiwhati rahurahu ra ki waho mai o te kai ra, a, ka hoki mai ano a ia ki te taitamaiti i a ia te patu pounamu nei, a Kahotea, a, ka toro tana ringa, ka tangohia mai taua mere ra i te ringa o taua taitamaiti, a, hoki ano a ia ki te kai ra. Ka whiu te patu ra ki mua ona, ka oioia te patu ra, ka pa tana karanga,—

‘Te kai nei e, ma Ngati-Kahukoka, ma ia hapu ma ia hapu, puta noa i ona rohe; ma ona mohio e kite nga wehewehenga nei, i poua nei e au ki te whatiwhati rarauhe.’

Ka hoki te kotiro ra ki tana nohoanga i te mahau o te whare ra, noho tahi ana i te taha o Ponga, a, nana i tuku a Kahotea kia kawea ano e Ponga ki te tangata i tukua mai ai taua patu ra ki a ia e te matua o Puhihuia.

Ka tu ano te kaumatua ra, ka tae ano me tana manga kawakawa ki aua kai ra ano, ka patua e ia tetahi wahi o aua kai ra, ka pa tana waha, ka mea,—

‘Te kai nei, ma Puhihuia te kai nei.’

Hiko atu he wehenga ano no aua kai ra, ara, nga wehenga o aua kai nei, kei waenga o aua aruhe ra i poua e Puhihuia, ka pa ano te patu a te kaumatua ra, ka karanga ano,—

‘Te kai nei, ma Ngati-Kahukoka i Awhitu.’

Hiko atu, ka pa ano tana patu, ka mea,—

‘Te kai nei ma Ngati-Kahukoka i Waiuku, puta atu ki Te Akau.’

Ka pa ano tana patu, ka mea,—

‘Te kai nei ma Ngati-Kahukoka i Waikato, puta noa i ona rohe.’

Ka pa ano tana patu ki tetahi wahi ano o aua kai, ko te wehenga mutunga o taua rarangi kai, kua oti katoa hoki etahi wehenga e ia te karanga, a, ko te mea mutunga tenei, ka mea a ia,—

‘Te kai nei, ma Ngati-Kahukoka o ia wahi o ia wahi o te ao nei.’

Ka hoki mai a ia, ka noho, ka whakatika atu nga tangata ma ratou aua kai, ko o Awhitu tangata na ratou i mau nga kai ma era i


he struck the heap of food with the branch and said, ‘This food is for all of the Nga-iwi, wherever they may be’.

He came back, and Puhihuia rose, and took a fern-stalk which she found lying on the marae, and broke it into short lengths, and stepped up in front of the heap of food and stuck the pieces of fern into the ground on the far side of the heap. Then she went to the young chief who had the greenstone weapon Kahotea, and putting her hand out, took the mere from his hand, and went back and stood near to the heap of food. She made sweeping movements in front of her with the weapon and then, making it quiver in her hand, called out, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka (the people of Awhitu), for each of the sub-tribes within its boundaries; and let the learned of these tribes know for whom this food is intended by the pieces of broken fern I have stuck up before this heap of food.’

She went back to the place she had occupied in the porch of the house, and sat beside Ponga; she then gave the greenstone weapon to Ponga, who carried it back to the young chief to whom her father had given it.

The old chief rose again, and took his kawakawa branch and going to the heap of food struck one part of it, saying, ‘This food is for Puhihuia’. Striking another portion, which was marked off from the other food by the fernstalks stuck up by Puhihuia, he said, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka of Awhitu’. Striking another portion, he said, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka at Waiuku, including those at Te Akau’. He struck another portion, and said, ‘This food is for the Ngati-Kahukoka of the Waikato, and for all of them who live within the boundaries of that district’. Striking the last portion, all the other portions having already been named, he said. ‘This food is for those Ngati-Kahukoka who may be in any other place whatsoever’.

He came back and sat down, and the people to whom the food was allotted stood up; those appointed from Awhitu took the portion allotted to the Awhitu people, and the Waiuku people took the portion which was for them. The food dedicated to the men who were related to those of Awhitu, but were now residing at Waikato, Pokeno, and Tamaki was taken by their Awhitu relatives.

There remained the food apportioned out for the Nga-iwi (Mount Eden) people; but Puhihuia, as representative of that tribe, did

– 44 –
– 45 –

Awhitu, ko o Waiuku tangata na ratou i mau nga kai ma era i Waiuku, ko te tau tangata manuwhiri nei ki Awhitu ki Waikato, ki Pokeno, ki Tamaki, na ratou i mau nga kai ma nga tangata noho manuwhiri o aua wahi i Awhitu.

Toe ake ko nga kai ma Nga-iwi, kihai a Puhihuia i whakatika ki te tiki i era; a, he mea whakatika tu ano e ia, e Puhihuia, i te wahi i nohoia ra e ia i te taha o Ponga, ka pa tana reo, ka mea, ‘Kei hea ia nei te tangata whakatuturi ki te kawe wai ma tana ariki, ma Ponga? Tu mai kia kite atu au.’ Ko te iwi o te pa ra, i te wa ano ka hukea nga hangi, ka hui katoa mai, te iti, te rahi, te rangatira, te tutua, te koroheke, te ruruhi, te wahine, te tane, te mea ora, te turoro, te hake, te haua, poto anake mai ki te marae o te pa nei kia kite i a Puhihuia, a, i te whakahoronga ano hoki o te kai nei, e noho nui ana aua tini ra i te marae, kapi katoa te marae, heoti ano te wahi i atea ko te wahi i te kapa i te kai ra.

Ka tu te pononga o Ponga, te mea e uia nei e Puhihuia, ka tu a ia ki runga, ka karanga atu a Puhihuia, ‘Ko koe ia nei i whakatuturi ki te wai mo to ariki?’

Ka ki atu a ia, ‘Ae’.

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘He aha te tino mau a Wahine-iti?’ Ka ki atu te ropa ra, ‘He wai’.

Ka ki atu a Puhihuia, ‘Na te aha i toko ake te hiainu?’

Ka mea atu te ropa ra, ‘He kai’.

Ka mea atu a Puhihuia, ‘Ae, a, na te ahu whenua ki te mahi tetahi. Nau au i kitea mai ai ki konei, nau i whakatuturi koia au i kawe wai ai ma to taua ariki; na taua wai ra i kawea ra i kitea ai te whakaaro a Ponga ki a au, me taku ki a Ponga; nau tena he; e ai he mate mo taua, na “Te mau o Wahine-iti” te take o to taua mate. Mau e karanga ta taua kai e kiia nei ki toku ingoa.’

Ka tu taua ropa ra, ka haere ki taua wehenga kai i karangatia nei ki te ingoa o Puhihuia, ka pa tana karanga,—

‘Te kai nei e, ma Ponga te kai nei. Te kai nei e, ma te tini rangatira tamariki i hoe nei ki Maungawhau te kai nei.’

I noho puku te iwi e pae i te marae nei, a no ka taka ki aua kupu a te ropa nei i tukua nei te kai nei ma taua tini tamariki, katahi ra ano ka puta te umere, ka mea ratou, ‘He tika, he tika koia kei a koe; tukua te kai ma Ponga ki ana hoa, na ratou tahi hoki te kahurangipounamu o Maungawhau i kawe mai ki konei; koia kei a hoe.’

Katahi ra ano aua tini tamariki ra, te


not rise and take it away, but rose and stood where she had been sitting at the side of Ponga, and asked, ‘Where is the slave who was deaf to the call of Ponga when he called for water? Stand up and let me see you.’

At the time when the earth ovens were being uncovered, the people of the pa had all gathered on the marae, chiefs and commoners, men and women, both old and young, the healthy and the sick, the crippled and the lame and the maimed; all had gathered on the marae to see Puhihuia, and when the food was laid out this great crowd was sitting on the marae covering it all, the only unoccupied space being the place where the food was heaped.

Ponga's slave, having been requested by Puhihuia to do so, stood up. Puhihuia asked, ‘Are you the man who was deaf to the orders of your lord?’

He answered, ‘Yes.’

Puhuhuia asked, ‘What was considered by Wahineiti to be the most important food?’

He answered, ‘Water.’

She asked, ‘What causes thirst?’

He said, ‘Food.’

She said, ‘Yes; but industry is also another cause. And it is through you that I now find myself here. You turned a deaf ear to the commands and requests of your lord for water, and I had to go and fetch water for our lord, and by that act of mine in fetching water for Ponga I discovered his love for me and mine for him: it was your fault; and if any evil befalls you and me it will be on account of “the delicious morsel of Wahineiti” (water). It is for you to distribute, in my name, the food that has been allotted to me.’

The slave stood up and went to the portion of food which had been named for Puhihuia, and called out, ‘This food is for Ponga. This food is for the many young chiefs who paddled to visit Mount Eden.’ Not a voice had been heard from the crowd on the marae, but when Ponga's slave proclaimed that part of the heap apportioned to Puhihuia should be given to the young chiefs who had visited Mount Eden, a loud chorus of voices said, ‘Right, right! you have acted nobly. Give the food intended for Ponga to his companions who helped to bring the nobly-born one of Mount Eden to our home. You have done nobly.’

The young people, men, women, chiefs, and slaves, rose and took the portion allotted to them, and spread it out on the marae before

– 46 –
– 47 –

wahine, te tane, te rangatira, te pononga, i haere katoa i a Ponga raua ko Puhihuia, ka whakatika, ka mau ki taua kai, ka mahora ki te marae, i te aroaro o Puhihuia raua ko Ponga, a, kai tahi ana ratou i aua kai ra. Kai puku ai nga taitamariki tane, o nga rangatira o taua tira i haere nei ki Maungawhau, ko etahi o ratou, ko nga ropa me nga wahine i kata; kai ai me te korerorero; te noho puku o etahi he hae ki a Ponga e noho tahi ra, e kai tahi ra i a Puhihuia.

Ka po te ra, ka taki hokihoki te iwi i te marae ra ki te whare manuwhiri o te pa, noho nei, noho nei, a, ka roa, ka mea atu etahi o ratou ki etahi ano o ratou, ‘Me aha te waka e tau i tatahi ra?’

Ka mea atu etahi, ‘Me to ano ra ki uta’. E pari ana te tai, a, kua tutuki ki uta, ka puta tetahi o aua kaumatua ra ki waho ki te marae, ka karanga, ‘Me huri taua ki tatahi ki te to i te waka ra ki te urunga’. Ka maranga te pa nei, kihai i roa kua aua noa mai te waka ra te to ki uta.

Ka hoki mai tera i te to i te waka ra, ka puta te tangata nana ra i arahi atu a Puhihuia ki te pa, ka mea, ‘E huri taua ki te whare manuwhiri’. Ka ka te rama kapara i roto i taua whare, ka poto katoa te iwi ki roto, ka mea taua kaumatua, ‘He aha he whakaaro mo taua, nei hoki te manu nei a te pipiwharauroa, kua tae mai ki to taua puni, e ki ana, “Whiti, whiti ora”. Ko wai ka hua, ko wai ka tohu, ae, he ora? Nei pea te tamariki o Maungawhau te tu nei, kia penei rawa ake apopo, tu ana i o taua aroaro. E ngaro ianei, ka hae pea ki ta ratou mahuarangi ka riro mai nei ki a taua noho ai. Heio ano te wa e kiki kupu ai taua.’

Ka tu he tangata, ka mea, ‘Naku hoki i tiki, i to mai te mokopuna a Hotunui, i wehi ai au i tena tamaiti, ana haere mai me tana patu?’

Ka mea tetahi, ‘Nana ano ra a ia i haere mai ki konei, mana taua e hauhake’.

Ka mea atu te tamaiti i a ia ra te patu pounamu nei, a Kahotea, ‘Nei te patu a te matua a Puhihuia i homai ai ki a au hei maunga rongo taketake ki a koutou ko aku tupuna. Te titiro a Ponga ki taua tikanga, pikitia ana e ia ki te tikanga kohuru ana, i tahaetia mai nei e ia te kotiro puhi o taua pa. Kahore kau aku whakaaro ki te taua e haere mai nei;


Puhihuia and Ponga, and ate together in their presence; but the young chiefs of the party which had gone to Mount Eden ate in silence; others, the slaves and the women, laughed, chattering among themselves as they ate. The young chiefs were silent because they were jealous of Ponga, for sitting beside Puhihuia and eating with her.

It was now dusk, and the people began to leave the marae and go the house set aside for the visitors, where they sat and talked over many subjects. When they had been sitting there for a long time, some of them asked the others, ‘What shall we do with the canoe floating there off the beach?’

Some said, ‘Let us go and drag her up high and dry.’ The tide was coming in, and an old man out on the marae called and said, ‘Let us all go to the beach and drag the canoe up to the landing place.’ A crowd went, and it was not long before the canoe was hauled far up on to dry land.

When the canoe-draggers had returned, the old chief who had led Puhihuia up to the pa called and said, ‘Let us meet in the visitors' house;’ and when the kapara torches had been lit in the house, and all the people had assembled inside it, the old chief said, ‘What must be our policy? The pipiwharauroa (shining cuckoo) has come to our home, and is singing, “Shine, shine to life;” but who can say, who can predict, that it be life? The young men of Mount Eden may now be roused to anger, and tomorrow they may stand in our presence; and certainly they have every reason to be jealous, as the nobly born one has come to live with us. This is the only time we shall be able to hold a council.’

One rose and said, ‘Was it I who went and dragged the granddaughter of Hotunui to this place, that I should fear the weapons of those young men? Let them come with their weapons.’

Another said, ‘She has come here of her own accord: then let her harvest our crop (lead us in battle).’

The young chief who had the greenstone weapon Kahotea said, ‘Here is Kahotea, the weapon of the father of Puhihuia, that he gave to me to bind firm the peace which is between them and you, my elders: but Ponga did not heed this token; he ignored it by acting treacherously towards me, and stole the daughter from her parents and brought here—she who was the most noble of that pa. I do

– 48 –

he kotahi au, ara, he patu ano taku, noku te he, ae, tena, no tau tangata ke, hei aha au i mate noa ai?’

Ka whakatika tetahi tamaiti ariki ano o taua tira i haere nei ki Maungawhau, ka mea, ‘Ki te mea ka moe matou ko aku hoa i roto i te Wharekura, a, ka tikina mai matou ka pokea e te atua, e kore te mea kotahi e rere; i poke te mea kotahi, ka poke katoa; waihoki ko te kotiro na, e kiia nei na Ponga te ngakau ki a ia i rere mai ai i a tatou, kua pokea a Ponga e te aitua, a, kua pokea katoatia tatou, te iti, te rahi, te wahine, te tane o taua tira i haere nei ki Maungawhau.’

He roa noa atu te korero a te iwi nei i taua po, he tangata i pai, he tangata i kino ki te mahi a Ponga, otiia i noho puku a Ponga, waiho noa te whakapae mona kia korerotia e taua iwi nei. A no ka poto katoa nga kaumatua te whai ki, katahi ra ano a Puhihuia ka tu ki runga, i te taha tonu ano a ia o Ponga e noho ana, ka mea atu a ia, ‘E aku tupuna, e aku matua, he aha kei a au kei te ware, na koutou te mana, ma koutou te kupu; ehara i a Ponga te he nei, na koutou, i tuku ake i a Ponga ki te pa i aku matua, te titiro koutou ki te pai o ta koutou tamaiti, a, ka pupuri ki konei noho ai; te tukua ake ko etahi anake o a koutou uri rangatira, kia tono mai ratou i a au kia haere mai kia noho i konei. Penei e kore au e whakama te mea atu ai au ki era, “E kore au e tae atu”. He uri rangatira ratou, a, he aha hoki au, te whakapaea ai e au na koutou au i kohuru; tukua ake ana te tino tangata o Ngati-Kahukoka ki taku aroaro, a, pai noa taku ngakau ki a ia, a, haere mai nei au i a ia. Ehara i a ia te take, ehara i a ia te kupu; naku ano i kitea mai ai au ki konei; na koutou tenei he, te waiho ai a Ponga ki enei whenua, kia riro ana i te kotiro a etahi ano o koutou; nei koe, whakaaria ana e koutou ki a au, a, rere noa au ki a ia. A, ka tahi nei ranei te wahine ka rere ki tana tane i pai ai, ko au nei anake? E pai ana te kupu a te tini o koutou, he ahakoa, he wahine au, penei rawa ake apopo pukana ana aku kanohi ki tena taua e kiia na, ahakoa taku kotahi, ahakoa te kotahi o Ponga, a, me noho puku koutou, ka aha, ka hoki au? E kore, e kore, ko taku rironga tenei i a Ponga, a, Paerau atu ana.’

Ka whakatika te kaumatua o te iwi nei, ara, te tino ariki o Ngati-Kahukoka, ka mea, ‘E pai ana e te iwi, kua puta a koutou kupu, e pai ana, nana maua ko taku kotiro ka patua, ka mate, e taea hoki koa te aha. Nana ka


not make any account of the war-party that is coming here; I am only one of many, and I have but one weapon. If the evil had originated with me, it would have been incumbent on me to take part; but, as it has come on us by the act of a distant one (that is, one of low rank), why should I be killed for nothing?’

Another of the young chiefs who had visited Mount Eden rose and said, ‘When I and my friends sleep in a wharepuni, and one of us is visited by a god and is infected by him with a disease, he is not the only one who is infected, but all in the house suffer from the same infection. Even so, in regard to the young woman who, it is said, was invited and brought here by Ponga: if Ponga is to bear the consequences for an evil act, all we who paid a visit to Mount Eden must be implicated, the small and the great, the men and the women.’

The discussion continued far into the night. Some of the speakers approved and others condemned the acts of Ponga, but Ponga himself kept silent, leaving the accusations against him to be discussed by the tribe. When all the elders of the tribe had spoken, Puhihuia rose from where she was sitting at the side of Ponga, and said, ‘My elders, why take such notice of me, who am of low birth? As the power is yours, you have the right to speak. The evil of which you speak (my having left my home and come here to live with you and to take Ponga as my husband) did not originate with Ponga; you were the cause of my acting as I did. You allowed Ponga to visit my parents’ pa. Why did you not see the beauty and noble bearing of Ponga, and keep him here with you, and allow only the other noble young chiefs of your tribe to visit my people? If these others had asked me to come back here with them to live, I should not have hesitated to say to them, “I will not go with you.” They are of high birth; and what am I? Why should not I charge you with being the cause of the evil that has been done to me? You allowed the most noble-looking man of the Ngati-Kahukoka to come into my presence, and my heart approved of him, and I accompanied him to this place.

‘He did not cause me to do this, nor did he give me any advice; it is by my own decision that I am here. It was you who brought about this evil. You should have kept Ponga in this land where he could have taken one of your own daughters; but as you held him up

– 49 –

huri atu koutou, a, ka mahue maua hei kai ma te patu a Nga-iwi: haere atu ra ki Waiuku, haere atu ra’.

Ka mutu te korero, he mea hoki, e kore te whare korero, e puta he kupu ma tetahi tangata i muri i te kupu a te tino ariki. Ka hokihoki te iwi nei ki o ratou whare moe ai, na te kupu a te kaumatua ariki nei, e penei ai te ki a etahi o te iwi nei, ‘He tika te ki a to tatou ariki, na te kotiro nei i pai mai ki a Ponga, kati me awhina e tatou, a nana ka parekura, e pai ana: kia toa’.


to my gaze I loved him, and shall take him as my husband. Am I the first and only woman who ever chose for herself the husband she desired? I approve of what most of you have said; and, though I am a woman, if tomorrow the war-party of which you speak rush into this pa I will dance the dance of war; and though I am but one, and though Ponga is but one, and though you sit still and keep silent, what then! Do you think I shall return to my home? No, no! I am bound to Ponga, even to the world of the spirits!’

The elder who was head chief of the Ngati-Kahukoka rose and said, ‘It is well, O people! You have spoken; and if I and my daughter are killed it cannot be helped. If all of you turn away from us two, and we are left as food for the weapons of Nga-iwi of Mount Eden, who can say it should be otherwise? Yes, go, depart to Waiuku!’

Thus ended the conference that night. And, as was the custom, no one might speak after the supreme chief had spoken. Those who were assembled there went to their different places to sleep; and as they went, some of the tribe were heard to say, ‘The words of our lord are just. If the young woman likes Ponga, let us support her in her decision; and, if war does follow, let us be brave.’

In the grey dawn each warrior bound on his war-belt and took his weapon, for each knew the meaning of the words of their lord and leader when he said, ‘If I and my daughter are killed, it cannot be helped’. He meant that he would not allow Puhihuia to be forced to abandon that on which her heart was set, and if a war-party came to take her away he would not allow her to be taken, and the Ngati-Kahukoka must be brave to keep her.

The last installment of ‘Ponga and Puhihuia’ will appear in the March issue of ‘Te Ao Hou’.


The Kingi Tahiwi Challenge Cup for Maori action songs was won this year by the Wellington Anglican Maori Club.

The Maori choir contest which formed part of this year's Wellington Competition Society's festival of arts was won by the Ngati Poneke Young Maori Club. Sponsored by the newspaper, The Dominion’, this contest had a first prize of £100. It was an overwhelming success, with many choirs of a high standard taking part in it.


Maori residents of Christchurch and the surrounding districts have decided to raise £2,500 to buy a section for a proposed marae, or community centre.

Canon Te H. Kaa, who convened the meeting on behalf of the Christchurch National Marae Organisation, said the raising of £1,250 with a Government subsidy of an equal amount could buy the section, which was already available near the Rehua Maori Hostel in Springfield Road.

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The Strangest War

I must confess that I found Edgar Holt's ‘The Strangest War’ rather disappointing.

It is unlikely to impress anyone who already has any sound background of Maori history, because it appears to be mainly a digest of what has already been written. There is little evidence of the first hand research which would contribute new data, or which would allow its author to give the student a new and original perspective. Furthermore, those who are already familiar with the background to the Maori war and its personalities will be a little inclined to question the scholarship of one who states that Wiremu Tamihana was the son of Te Rauparaha, when he was in fact the son of Waharoa.

It was, indeed, somewhat of an ambitious project to try to compress into 263 pages of letterpress an adequate outline of events from Hobson's time to the end of the Te Kooti campaign. The result has been, I think inevitably, an over-simplification of a historical period which teems with complications.

A Redable Introduction

In spite of these criticisms of the book as an authoritative addition to the already existing literature on the period, it is not without value for those who are approaching the subject of colonisation and the resultant wars for the first time. Mr Holt, if he lacks authoritative scholarship, tells his story in an easy and attractive manner. For the beginner his book makes easy and interesting reading, and he has succeeded at least in conveying to those seeking it, a readable and compact outline of the history of the period. I suspect that this is mainly what he set out to do. If, having read ‘The Strangest War’, the reader is inspired to dig more deeply into the wide bibliography the author furnishes, Mr Holt can be considered to have done a reasonably good job.

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Ratana: The Origins and the Story of the Movement

Earlier this year, when ‘Te Ao Hou’ published an illustrated article on the Ratana Church, we mentioned an eloquent and thoughtful book about Ratana, written by J. McLeod Henderson, which existed only in typewritten form. Now the Polynesian Society has published a book by Mr Henderson which is based on this earlier work, and which will be of the greatest interest to all who wish to know more about the Ratana Movement and its founder.

In her introduction the President of the Church, Puhi O Aotea Ratahi, says:

‘In the past it has been the policy of the Church not to publicise its teachings which have been given by word of mouth in the Maori language. But many of the younger members have leaned so heavily upon the Pakeha tongue that they have known very little of the history of their faith and to them I would recommend this book. Many old friends who have made their contribution to it have passed on, but their knowledge is not lost to us.

‘When the author came to us he expressed a desire to relate the story of the birth and growth of the Ratana Church. Since then he has stayed with us often and his many questions have been answered during the years of our friendship. E mihi ana ahau ki a Hemi mo tona awhina i ahau ki te whakatakoto i tenei hitoria hei titiro ma nga uri whakatupu.

‘May all readers, Maori and European, old and young, derive from this work a better understanding of the wonderful power and achievements of our Founder, Tahupotiki Wiremu Ratana, Mangai.’

The book discusses the background from which Ratana arose—the bloodshed, the unjust land confiscations, the loss of the old religion, the confusion and despair. It shows with sympathetic insight the people's need of a leader, and of symbols which would be real to them; and it tells how Tahupotiki Wiremu Ratana, in filling this need, brought them new hope.

The outline of the history of the Ratana Church which the book gives is a fascinating one, and includes a great deal of material which is not readily available elsewhere. Other books will undoubtedly be written about Ratana, and this volume, as the first general book to be published on the subject, necessarily covers a great deal of ground in a fairly short space. But it will surely take its place as one of the indispensable books for all who have an interest in our country's history.


O Te Raki: Maori Legends of the North

Not a great deal has so far been published concerning the legends of the North. ‘O Te Raki’, a pioneer work in the field, gives pleasantly written accounts of stories which range in their setting from Te Reinga in the north to the Kaipara district in the south. There are stories concerning almost every important centre of population, and also an interesting section on fishing customs.

The fine illustrations by Eric Lee-Johnson show, as they look today, many of the places which are mentioned in the stories.

‘O Te Raki’ is particularly well produced, and is certainly one of the most attractive books to have been written about the North.

The New Zealand Maori in Colour

This is a big book of colour photographs of Maori life, past and present. The photographs are by K. and J. Bigwood, and the text is by Harry Dansey, the well-known Auckland journalist, of part-Maori descent, who has written extensively on Maori matters.

The photographs appear to have been designed to some extent for the tourist market, but many of them are most attractive, and the book will certainly be popular. The best pictures are perhaps the most informal ones; the photographs which are posed are not always so successful. A number of the pictures consist of elaborately arranged ‘set pieces’: in one photograph for instance, we have two old carvings, two dried human heads, two muskets, a small sailing ship, a decaying log, and a quantity of ferns and other greenery, all brought together in what is described as being a ‘symbolic composition’. Opinions will differ as to the value of an approach of this kind.

Harry Dansey's text is lucid, perceptive, comprehensive, and very readable indeed.


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Is Your Child
Always Reading?

Why do people think reading ing is a waste of time? I have heard lots of mothers and fathers say things like this—

She does nothing—just sits around and reads.

I have to hide books from him or he'd read all the time.

Why does he waste money on books? He's mad about them.

Of course not all children like reading but many children, especially when they are about 12 to 14 years old, seem mad about books.

I am writing this for families that have a boy or girl who is mad about books.

This is What You Should Do

You should be happy and help your child as much as you can, because reading is important.

Do not think your child is wasting his time by reading books. You send your children to school not only because it is the law but also because you know it will help them. They must learn not only to read and write but also how to think, work and do things with other people. They must learn these things if they are one day going to be happy and useful adults. And reading books is one of the best ways of learning them.

If your boy liked to play football you would show him how to run and to catch and kick a ball and if you did not know these things you would ask somebody else to teach him. You would be surprised if he was then immediately good enough for the All Blacks, wouldn't you? He would have to train and spend years practising all these things.

Now reading needs practice too. Children learn how to read at school, just as a boy has to be shown how to drop kick a football. Boys play football for fun but they are learning new tricks and improve at the same time. Boys and girls also read books because they like stories but at the same time they are learning new words and ideas and getting more used to ones they know. That's why reading is not a waste of time. It is fun but it is also a very good way of learning.

I think some parents do not like this. I just said children learn new ideas from books and this is something that many grown-ups do not like. Adults do not always like their children to know more than they do. Quite a few Maoris I know are frightened their children will laugh at them for not knowing things they know. Or perhaps these grown-ups are unhappy if their children learn new ways, different from their ones. Of course, many Pakeha parents are like this too. They are ashamed of what they do not know.

This is a bad way of thinking. It is quite common for a child to know more about cars, or machines, etc., than his mother or father. Do not be worried about this. If you cannot answer your boy's questions tell him to ask his teacher, or better still, get him to look it up for himself in a book. He can look in the school library or ask at a public library if there is one near where you live.

I said at the beginning that you should be pleased that your child likes reading books. I also said you should encourage your girl or boy to read. Here are some things to do.


Give him spare time to read. He should help with work about the place like everybody else but let him keep a special time just for reading. Try to give him an hour a day when he will be able to read without being interrupted to do jobs or go messages.


Encourage him to borrow books from the school or public library. He will probably know about these but he can ask his teacher about them.


Help him to keep his books tidy. If he borrows books from school or a library he will want to keep them clean and neat. It is best if he has a special cupboard for his books out of reach of little brothers and sisters who might ruin them. Tell him how to make paper covers to put over books he has borrowed.


Buy him books for birthdays or Christmas. If he likes reading they are the best presents.

Here are some books which you could ask

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your children if they have read. They are very good and do not cost very much.

Big Red by K. J. Kjelgaard

A story about a boy in America who trains his own gun-dog.

He Went With Magellan by L. A. Kent

A boy sails in the first trip around the world.

Animal Kingdom by Renee Guillot

A collection of stories about African animals with beautiful pictures.

Prelude by C. H. Abrahall

A true story about a girl from the back-blocks of Tasmania who becomes a world-famous pianist.

Cue for Treason by Geoffrey Trease

A spy story about a boy and girl in London in the time of Shakespeare and Queen Elizabeth.

Here are five Puffin books. These are paperbacks you can buy or order from any big bookshop. They cost only a few shillings each.

Man Shy by Frank D. Davidson

A story of a heifer that runs wild on an Australian station.

White Riders by Monica Edwards

Children dress up themselves and their horses as ghosts to frighten away people who want to make their beach a holiday camp.

Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome

A famous children's book about an English family who go sailing and camping.

Smoky the Cowhorse by Will James

The life story of a horse. Told with a lot of cowboy words—this makes it more difficult.

The Young Detectives by R. J. McGregor

A story about criminals and children on an English sea-coast.

These books are best suited to boys and girls in Forms 1 and 2. I will tell you about books for other ages another time.


The first Maori minister of religion to work in Indonesia has been appointed by the National Council of Churches in New Zealand. He is the Rev. Lane Tauroa, of Te Kuiti, who is expected to leave for Java with his wife and two young children early in December.

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Very Many Maori Records
Now Available

Some readers remark on the fact that often our reviews of records appear many months after the records come on the market. The reasons are simple. ‘Te Ao Hou’ is a quarterly magazine. The space which can be devoted to record reviews is limited. The number of Maori recordings coming on the market at present makes it difficult for your reviewer to keep pace with them.

Ten years ago almost the only Maori records available on the market were a few 78 r.p.m. shellac discs recorded many years ago. Today the catalogue of recorded Maori music is rich

Picture icon

J. Heycoop Photo
The Mauriora Maori Entertainers: from left to right, Taite Kupa from Hastings, Joe (Whiro) Tibble from Te Araroa, Kim Porou from Gisborne, Agnes Paipa from Hastings, Ratu Tibble from Te Araroa, and Dawn Nathan (leader of the group) from Lower Hutt.

and varied, with all styles, sizes, speeds and degrees of quality. The benefits of this are many. Maori entertainment groups have been encouraged to strive for the generally higher standard required before committing their efforts to record. If their efforts command a good sale, the successful ones then reap a steady benefit from royalties. Secondly, Pakeha and Maori New Zealanders have the opportunity to have in their homes examples of the only music which is distinctively of this country. Thirdly, overseas tourists are able to take back to their own countries mementos of New Zealand in a form which not only evokes happy memories but which can well attract their friends and relatives to come to these shores to see and hear for themselves.

One of the foremost firms in the field of Maori (and Pacific Island) recordings is Viking Records Ltd. of Wellington, who export large numbers of their discs to all parts of the world. Already their Polynesian catalogue lists 71 titles with more to come out shortly. This is no mean achievement for a firm which has only been in existence for six years. Now this enterprising company are first in the field with two Maori recordings in stereo. They are reviewed below.

Sing Along in Maori with the
Mauriora Entertainers

This is a polished performance indeed from a surprisingly small group. Consisting of six enterprising young Maoris—Dawn Nathan of Wellington, Ratu and Joe Tibble of Tikitiki, Taite Kupa and Agnes Paipa of Hastings and, a later addition, Kim Porou of Gisborne—the Mauriora Entertainers have been in existence less than two years. During this time they have not performed publicly, yet they have appeared on two records as well as filming a number of short ‘spots’ in black and white and colour for the National Film Unit. Each of these features a Maori song or dance, and they are due for release soon both in New Zealand and overseas. They will be seen on television and in the cinema.

This is a group with big ideas and the enterprise to back them up. At present the leader, Dawn Nathan, is in the United States working for the Government Tourist Bureau and making arrangements for the remainder of the group to join her there at the end of this year. In the States the Entertainers hope to stage intimate performances of Maori items in night

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clubs and the like, as well as appearing on radio and television. If this record is any indication, they should be worthy ambassadors of their race and of New Zealand as a whole.

Unlike many other groups, the Mauriora Entertainers have not debased their Maori items by tinkering or gimmicks. Most of the items are gay and tuneful and in a style easy on the European ear without being the usual collection of Maori words to hackneyed American tunes. There is a typical Maori flavour and harmony about their singing. Even when the group do sing European tunes—two of Sam Freedman's—they have a Maori theme, are in keeping with the rest of the disc, and make very pleasant listening.

Criticisms of the disc are that with such a small group the stereo medium is not fully exploited except in ‘Pakete Whero’. The chants would be better with a guitar, and the men's calling is intrusive in the Poi Waka. Poi sounds would help to give the poi items more life and distinctiveness.

On the cover are the words of the songs (unfortunately without translation) which make for added interest. Those who buy this record will, I am sure, enjoy it.

Sweet Sounds of the South Pacific

This is another record featuring the Maori Girls' Choir of St Joseph's College, Hastings. An earlier recording by this choir was reviewed in issue 41 of ‘Te Ao Hou’. The singing is excellent, and is generally free from the uneven patches which tended to detract from the overall quality of their other recording. The items are well chosen and where Pakeha tunes are featured they are not sufficiently recognisable for this fact to be obtrusive.

The album-like cover is attractively coloured and printed with a seductive photograph inside of a girl who is definitely not Maori. This is a pity. So also is the lack of information on the cover about the items or the choir, for this is always of interest to both overseas and local purchasers.

The quality of the recording is good both in the monoaural and stereo versions.

The Rev. Arthur John Seamer, who for twenty years was general superintendent of the Methodist Maori mission, died in Hamilton recently, aged 85.

Mr Seamer, who retired in 1941, is survived by a son and a daughter.

Picture icon

Dr Peter Tapsell of Rotorua, a specialist in rheumatoid arthritis, recently attended the annual conference in Sydney of the Australian Rheumatism Association, being the only New Zealand surgeon invited to attend.
Two years ago, Dr Tapsell started the country's first rheumatoid arthritis unit at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Rotorua. This invitation is a recognition of the progress which the unit is making.


A group known as the Maharaia Maori Culture Group has been formed at a meeting at Judea Pa, Tauranga. Named after the late Dr Maharaia Winiata and inspired by his ideas, the group's main objective is the preservation of Maori culture.


Mr Charles Moihi Bennett, the former New Zealand High Commissioner to Malaya and the only Maori to have headed a diplomatic post, recently attended, with Mrs Bennett, celebrations in Kuala Lumpur in connection with the establishment of Malaysia. They were the special guests of the Malayan Government.

After this Mr and Mrs Bennett visited Formosa as the guests of the Chinese National Government.

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I, George Nepia,

In many places the first edition of this book was sold out as soon as the copies appeared, and many thousands of lovers of Rugby football will be forced to wait until the second edition is printed. This must surely indicate that, though George Nepia belongs to an era somewhat detached from those of Bob Scott and Don Clarke, the mighty deeds of the man, and his remarkable achievements on the playing fields of Rugby, remain as vivid today as they were thirty or forty years ago.

The book was written jointly by George and Terry McLean. The latter needs no introduction to those who follow the game, for his writings are legion. Of his part in producing the book, Terry says that the book is George Nepia's, with Terry assisting here and there.

The choice of the title, a most unusual one, was Terry's. While walking along Lambton Quay one evening, he noticed in a bookstall the title of a book on Roman times entitled ‘I, Claudius’. Why not ‘I, George Nepia’? For even as was Claudius on the fields of battle, so was George on the playing fields of Rugby.

Pursuit of Perfection

Early in the book we see George as a boy unaware of the brilliant talents within him. We see him struggling with inner forces trying to unleash themselves upon the physical world. He is carried along the tide of despair and fear. In his frailty, he is fighting against these strong forces, and in the end he is almost an emotional wreck. Then, on the fringe of adulthood, he learns to control and harness these forces to such an extent that they become his friends rather than his enemies. From now on the reader thrills to the apparent ease with which success comes to George.

He perfected his kicking, tackling and fielding techniques. He became the master of the spiral kick and became the only man to utilise it with devastating effect. He learnt to kick with either foot with perfection and to increase his kicking distances.

He played at five-eights for the Hawkes Bay team in 1923 and 1924, perhaps a little above average. Observant Maori students of Rugby saw the makings of a grand fullback in George. They tried to persuade Norman McKenzie to place him in that position, without success. The story of George's selection as a fullback for the North Island Maoris against the South Island Maoris for the Te Mori Rose Bowl in 1924, and of his elevation to the honoured position as custodian for the 1924 ‘Invincibles’, reads like a romance.

Bitterness over South Africa Decision

George became very bitter over the decision not to send any member of the Maori race to South Africa as a member of the All Black teams. He devotes much space to the development of his argument against this policy of the New Zealand Rugby Union. He and Jimmy Mill were omitted from the 1928 team which visited South Africa. No Maori team was selected to play against the visiting South African team in 1937. The great J. B. Smith was left out of the team which made the trip to South Africa in 1949—a bitter blow, says George. Then came the controversy of recent times when the country was split into two camps over the non-inclusion of Maoris in the last team to visit South Africa.

George, the perfectionist in everything he does, becomes delightfully the ordinary human being when he talks enthusiastically about life as a family man at Rangitukia on the East Coast. Huinga, his wife, guide and counsellor, is by his side. There is humour among the scrub-enclosed football fields of the Coast, and here George found peace and happiness in the lush pastures of the Waiapu Valley.

The book is copiously illustrated. For a book of its size and quality, the price is amazingly low. I strongly recommend it to all as a book, by a Maori, about a Maori and his success in a Pakeha world.


Twenty-two girls from Hukarere Maori Girls' School paid a weekend visit to Wellington recently. They were the guests of Chilton St James Girls' College, at Lower Hutt.

The girls also visited Parliament Buildings, where they met the Minister of Maori Affairs, Mr Hanan, and Sir Eruera Tirikatene, member for Southern Maori.

It is planned to make the visit an annual one, with each college alternatively visiting the other.

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– 59 –


Cattle Diseases
and Their Cure

Herd wastage from disease stems from five major sources. These are sterility and abortion, mastitis, bloat, T.B. and the metbolic diseases. Included under this heading are milk fever, grass staggers and acidosis.

Abortion in cattle is most commonly due to the diseases brucellosis and vibriosis, though leptospirosis and trichomoniosis also occur. Brucellosis is usually the main source of trouble and should the incidence of dead born calves exceed the New Zealand average of 2½%, veterinary diagnosis should be sought. There should be no question as to the advisability of vaccinating calves six to eight months of age with Strain 19, but there are farmers who still neglect this essential safeguard.

As a result of Strain 19 reducing brucellosis to low levels throughout the country, vibriosis is more often found today. The cows may abort at any time during pregnancy. It is a true venereal disease passed from cow to cow by the bull. Veterinary aid is necessary and an effective control is through artificial insemination with bulls free from the disease.

Temporary Sterility

Apart from lowered herd fertility following abortions, by far the greatest problem is getting the herd in calf when required. This is known as the temporary sterility problem, responsible for the spread of calving characteristic of all herds. 80% of the healthy cows in the herd should be in calf after the second round of mating. However, if at the completion of mating 6% of empty cows are still empty it is still probably a healthy herd and if sufficient time was available even the majority of these cows would conceive. There are problem herds, however, where these figures are very different and much research work has failed to diagnose the real source of the trouble. Practical methods in control of mating will do much to ensure a high conception rate. The following points should be noted:—


Before each cow is mated two heat periods or an interval of at least 30 days should be allowed after calving. Earlier mating increases the chances of the bull becoming contaminated, and in addition cows are less likely to get in calf.


Conception is at a maximum a few hours before and a few hours after the end of heat, so that mating too early in heat is undesirable.


The fertility of the bull is important and can be affected by excessive use when young. 15 heifers are sufficient for a yearling bull under natural mating conditions.


Handmating should be practised and records kept. This also ensures that the bull's service is not reduced by too frequent servicing of cows.


Bulls should be kept in good condition as a poorly fed bull will have reduced fertility.


Every farmer is conversant with the use of penicillin in the control of mastitis and the incidence has been considerably reduced. Early detection is the key factor and much can be done to reduce the incidence by hygienic shed routine. The use of clean running water controlled by a valve in a dropper line is recommended, together with inspection of the milk before applying cups.


This is most prevalent in the spring and autumn period of flush clover growth, and the incidence can be reduced if there is mature feed available at these times. If a serious outbreak occurs it is often best to put the herd on supplementary hay and silage, plus limited grass until the pasture matures. This is often not possible and the spraying of pastures with cheap oils is necessary. Penicillin can also be used but this has disadvantages where the incidence is frequent and high. However, proper grazing management and the avoidance of clover dominance in the swards should always be the main consideration.

Milk Fever

Occurs in late pregnancy and most commonly within two days after calving in older (five years and over) cows. The cow goes down and appears semi-conscious. Some cows are more susceptible than others, and it is more prevalent in over-fat cows and where there is a high level of feeding prior to calving. It is caused by a fall in the calcium level of the blood. A bottle of calcium borogluconate injected under the skin will result in an immediate recovery unless the disease has reached an advanced stage or is complicated by grass staggers or acidosis. As a prevention, overfeeding should be avoided before calving.

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– 61 –

Crossword Puzzle 42

Picture icon

Solution to No. 41.


1. Warm up.
2. Secretary.
3. Fold, layer
4. Pigeon.
5. Dim-sighted.
6. Stretch out, disturbed.
7. Run.
8. Belonging to.
10. Bladder.
11. Vine.
14. Up, above.
16. Silly person, fool.
17. Wasting sickness, consumption.
20. Appear, come out.
22. Nose.
23. Watch, look at.
27. Avenged, paid for.
29. Although, in spite of.
30. Snow, ice, frost.
31. Where?
33. Breastplate, cloak of fine flax, town in South Taranaki.
34. Payment, wages, price, revenge.
38. Calm, peace.
39. Table.
40. Tomorrow.
42. Round about, winding.
47. Face towards, come, go.
50. Night, year.
52. I don't know.
53. Breath.
56. Shake, tremble.


1. Listen.
10. Warrior, store.
12. September.
13. Spear, cook in oven.
15. Auckland.
16. Brisk, anger, incite.
18. Different, of another kind.
19. Those.
20. Drown.
22. The fibre in flax.
24. Down, below.
25. Measure.
26. Morning.
27. Be assembled, gathered together.
28. Follow, pursue, chase.
29. Kind.
32. To fish.
33. Sour thistle.
35. I, me.
36. Raised storehouse.
37. How great.
41. From, by.
43. Stumble.
44. Fence.
45. Scoop up, hem in.
46. Unripe, uncooked, eat raw.
48. Rotten, worm eaten; pointed, sharp.
49. Beautiful.
51. Fixed, settled, at rest, satisfied.
53. How many?
54. Showery, unsettled weather.
55. Gun.
57. Your (pl.).
58. Day, world.
59. Topknot, betrothed woman, wind.
60. Achieve, be able.

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– 63 –


Mrs Ani Taihuka

A prominent Gisborne personality, Mrs Ani Tai-huka, has died at her Gisborne residence in her 68th year.

She first came to Gisborne as a leader of the Kahungunu Maori Concert Party which toured New Zealand prior to and during World War I, was one of the leaders of Waihirere Club, and was a leading exponent of poi dancing.

She was the wife of the late Katini Taihuka and the daughter of Hariata Kerekere and Whereri Ripohau. A member of the Aitanga Mahaki tribe, with tribal affiliations in Taranaki and Hawke's Bay, she was educated at Hukarere College.

Her daughter, Kui, pre-deceased her by two weeks. She is survived by three children, Barney, Tilly and Marenia, and several grandchildren.

Mr ‘Rastus’ Rehu

The death of Mr Mason (‘Rastus’) Rehu, of Granity, has removed one of the district's most popular figures.

Mr Rehu went to the West Coast from Taumarunui about 14 years ago. He worked at Greymouth, Reefton and Westport, mainly on contracting work and bulldozer driving, before going into the sawmilling business.

Mr Rehu is survived by his wife and two children.

Rev. H. Paraone

The Rev. Henare Paraone (Henry Brown) died at Kaitaia last August after some weeks of ill health. An Aupouri and Ngati Kahu leader and a Church of England minister, he had been stationed in the far north since 1931.

Mr Paraone was said to be one of the finest preachers in the Maori church, and was a most brilliant orator on the marae. The tangi was held at his home settlement of Waimanoni, and the funeral was at Awanui.

Mr Kahi Takimoana Harawira

Mr Kahi Takimoana Harawira, a chaplain to the 28th Maori Battalion during the Second World War and vocational guidance officer in Auckland until 1955, has died, aged 71.

Mr Harawira was born at Te Kao and educated at the Te Kao Native School and at Te Aute College. For two years he was a teacher at Te Aute College.

After the First World War, in which he served at Gallipoli, Mr Harawira attended the Te Rau Anglican Theological College in Gisborne. He was ordained at St. Mary's Cathedral, Auckland, in 1921. He was a Maori missioner in several Anglican parishes in the North Island before becoming chaplain to the 28th Maori Battalion at the beginning of the Second World War. Mr Harawira returned from the war after three years' service, holding the rank of major. He became a vocational guidance officer in Auckland and held this position for 12 years.

He played a prominent part in the work of Moral Rearmament and in recent years took part in MRA missions to India and South-East Asia, Brazil, Tonga and Europe.

He is survived by his wife, two sons and a daughter.

Mr Nutana Wiki

Mr Nutana Wiki, an elder of Te Aupouri tribe, died recently in Kaitaia hospital and was buried at Te Kao. In his younger days he was a noted New Zealand rugby player.

Mr Wiki, who was about 82, had considerable influence among his people through his example as a hard-working farmer and a good citizen. He participated in the original development scheme launched by Judge Acheson in the Te Kao district and he took a full part in other movements such as the creation of the Aupouri Trust Board.

His wife, who died some years ago, was a daughter of Mr Henry Norman of Te Hapua. They had five sons and six daughters.

Mr W. K. Smiler

A prominent leader in the Wellington Maori community, Mr Winiata Kaihote Smiler, died at his home at Naenae last July, aged 46.

Mr Smiler, member of a well-known Gisborne Maori family, held a B.A. degree and a Diploma of Social Science. At the time of his death he was a teacher at Naenae College. He was previously first assistant at Rangatahi College, Murupara.

He was at one time a welfare officer for the Maori Affairs Department in the Levin district and a teacher at the Wellington Correspondence School. He was vice-president of the Ngati Poneke Young Maori Club and treasurer of the Ngati Poneke Maori Association. He was also chairman of the Taurarua Maori Tribal Committee.

He leaves a wife and seven children.

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Mrs Hinemarie Tirikatene-Bailey

The death has occurred of Mrs Hinemarie Tirikatene-Bailey, aged 33 years, wife of Charles Bailey of Waitara, and daughter of the Hon. Sir Eruera and Lady Tirikatene. Mrs Tirikatene-Bailey died on 4 September 1963. She leaves four young children: three daughters, Tiri-Marie, Ra and Tania, and a two-months-old son, Charles.

Mrs Tirikatene-Bailey was affiliated with the Ngaitahu tribe through both parents, with Ngati Kahungunu through Lady Tirikatene, and also with Ngati Toa through her father. Her husband is the eldest child of the late Rangi Bailey and Mrs Hariata Bailey, of Waitara.

Born at Mohaka, Hawkes Bay, she attended both the Ratana Pa and Kaiapoi Primary Schools, and the Rangiora High School, North Canterbury. She was also a graduate of the N.Z. Academy of Hairdressing and Beauty Culture and practised in Wellington before undertaking secretarial work for her father, during the latter years of the first Labour Government when Sir Eruera was Minister representing the Maori Race on the Executive Council. In this capacity she travelled extensively with her father, and became well-known throughout the length and breadth of New Zealand.

Upon marriage in 1950, she moved to Waitara where her husband's family are old identities. There she took an enthusiastic interest in her husband's farming activities and, together with him, established the Waitara Landrace Stud.

She was president of the Waitara School Committee and a member of the Waitara Parent-Teachers Association. Together with her husband, she participated actively in the community life of the district, and undertook much voluntary social work.

Her tangi was held at Manukorihi Meeting House, Manukorihi Pa, Waitara. Her father, Sir Eruera, and her younger brother, Rino, who are both Ministers in the Ratana Church, conducted the funeral service.

Mrs Rotu Rangi

Mrs Rotu Rangi, a leading Maori social worker, has died at her home at Ruatoki, aged 79.

A daughter of the late Mr Numia Kereru, a leader of the Tuhoe people, she was educated at Hukarere Maori Girls' College, Napier.

When she returned home she assisted European mission workers to establish the Church of England faith among her people at Ruatoki. So successful was her work that in 1905 a mission house was established next to the Ruatoki School. Later a church was built on the marae.

Mrs Rangi was an active member of many organisations throughout the district.

She is survived by her husband, the Rev. Wharetini Rangi, and three sons.

Mr Teahauru Kapua

The death occurred in Taupo recently of one of the oldest and most respected leaders of the Ngati-Tuwharetoa people, Mr Teahauru Kapua. He was 86 years old.

Mr Kapua, who spent most of his life in the Taupo district, was an elder of the Tuwharetoa and of the Ratana Church.

With perhaps only one exception, he was the last surviving link with the very beginning of the Pakeha settlement in the district, and, indirectly, with the Te Kooti rebellion. He was probably the one surviving member of Tuwharetoa who remembered seeing Te Kooti's arrival in the district.

An authority on Maori culture and arts, Mr Kapua played a leading part in the district, keeping alive the traditions and customs of his people. He was one of their most respected orators and had a thorough and comprehensive knowledge of Maori law.

He spent most of his early life in the Tokaanu-Turangi district and it was only in later life that he moved to Mokai. His associations with the district as a whole, however, were extensive.

Mr H. K. Pohe

Mr Heperi K. Pohe, a former Taihape district resident, died suddenly at National Park recently at the age of 66 years.

In his younger days the late Mr Pohe played Rugby for the Huia Club. He was also well known for his ability to break in horses.

He lived at Turangaarere for many years and during his long association with the district he was employed on Mr A. Gregory's farm at Turangaarere for six years. He subsequently settled at National Park. He is survived by his wife, five sons and three daughters.

Mr Tiaki Hira

A widely acknowledged leader of the Waikato-Maniapoto peoples, Mr Tiaki Hira (generally known as Jack Hira) has died at Tuakau, aged 88.

Mr Hira was the speaker for three Maori kings—the late King Mahuta, the late King Rata and the present King Koroki. He spoke on their behalf at meetings in many parts of the North and South Islands.

Born in Onewhero in 1875, Mr Hira was one of the first pupils of St. Stephen's School, which was then in Parnell. He farmed in the Tuakau area nearly all his life until his only son, Mr Johnny Hira, took over 11 years ago.

Steeped in Maori tradition, Mr Hira was popular and respected figure in Tuakau. He was a strong supporter of the late Princess Te Puea Herangi, and like her and many other Maori chiefs and leaders, he was buried on Taupiri Mountain.

Mr Hira is survived by his wife and son.

We are always grateful to those readers who send us obituary notices. They should be sent to The Editor, ‘Te Ao Hou’, Box 2390, Wellington.

[Registered at the G.P.O., Wellington, for transmission through the post as a magazine.]

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Ko te whakaaro o nga kai hautu o nga iwi katoa o te Ao kia tohungia nga kararehe me nga manu katoa ahakoa nei kei hea.

I raro i tenei kaupapa he waahi nui e pa ana ki nga tangata o enei motu. Ko enei manu ara te kuaka he manu heke mai, i nga tuawhenua o Alaska me Siberia.

Ko tenei manu kua oti te rahui e te Kawanatanga o Amerika me te Kawanatanga hoki o enei motu no te mea e patua kino n [ unclear: ] ia ana.

No reira ko te tumanako o te whatu-manawa me tohu tenei manu a e inoi atu ana ki te hunga whaiwhakaaro:


Na Te Tari
Kaitiaki o nga Manu

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