Te Whētiwara O Poronīhia
Polynesian Festival, 1972

Ua Sao Le La O Samoa

‘The Samoan Canoe has broken through the reef’

‘Ka to he ra ka rere he ra’

The sun has set, a new day is born. How very true this is from our point of view, for our participation in the New Zealand Polynesian Festival has given us Samoans from Wellington, something to think about.

Living on Mataatua Marae alone has revived memories of home (Samoa). It has given our generation food for thought. The festival was a success and a milestone was passed.

Our welcome by the Tuhoe people at Mataatua, and living as Maoris has reminded us of our culture left behind on the shores of Hawaiki with our coming to New Zealand and now we are determined to revive it. Take it from us that it will be a

different story at Rotorua next year, should there be another festival.

No longer shall we go as guest performers and as amateurs. Now that our canoe is in sight of land, we plan to pull it ashore, As far as the Samoan group is concerned there is to be a follow-up action to this operation. We are going to see this through by reviving our dances and national activities. So much interest has been created that we have formed ourselves into a permanent culture group in the Hutt Valley.

And what of the hospitality of our host Tuhoe of Rotorua? In my language all I could say is: Tuhoe malo teu malo le fa'aaloalo. Ua fo'i le va'a le mama ua lomi ua malie le va'ai. Fa'afetai. In Maori presumably it could mean, Tuhoe, mou mou kai, mou taonga mou mou tangata ki to po. No tribute could be adequate or fitting. From the minute we landed on the marae until we left, it was home away from home all over again. And to be privileged to sleep on the marae was an experience. Tears were shed, (this is true Polynesian parting) and deep inside our hearts we told ourselves we will return, and this we will do—return to Mataatua.

The competitions were a treat to our young members (who went planning a sightseeing tour of Rotorua which never eventuated) who as amateurs are now determined to go back polished and as real Samoan entertainers, next year. The Maori groups showed our members uniformity in its wide sense; the Cook Island group, rhythm to the beat of drums, the tin cans and goodness knows what; the Tokelauans, gracious moments and gently does it; and for Niueans, all energies preserved was the caper. But what of us—just wait and see. We know we can do better. Here is a classic example. We beat ‘Little Samoa’ our Auckland brothers and that speaks for itself. Any tiny brother who annoys a big brother deserves a lesson or two. And now that ‘Little Samoa’ (Auckland) is hurt it is enough evidence that in a festival next year the Samoan competitions are going to be hard to judge. All groups are out to win. We are looking forward to the acid test and let it be done in the true Polynesian spirit.

A new day is born: To ka rere he ra. Ua sau le aso fou.

Soifua. Hugo R. Stanley

The Rev. Kingi M. Ihaka, M.B.E., J.P., Chairman of the Festival Committee, gave this address of welcome to Their Excellencies the Governor-General and Lady Porritt at the official opening of the first New Zealand Polynesian Festival at the Sportsdrome, Rotorua.

Korohi pō… Korohi ao
Ko Rongo i tūria ki te mātāhau o Tū,
Tū te winiwini, Tū te wanawana,
Tū i whakaputaina ki te whai ao,
Ki te ao mārama
Tihe… mauri ora!

Te pou! Te pou!
Te tokotoko i wherangi,
Te tokotoko i whenuku,
Tukia! Tōkia!
Ko te mumu, ko te āwhā,
Ko te mānihi kaiota,
Takere, panapana,
Ka rau i runga,
Ka rau i raro,
Ka whai tāmore i runga,
Ka whai tāmore i raro.
Tena ko te pou,
Ko te pou no Rongo
He rongo!
Unuhia i te rito o te harakeke
Kei hea koe, e te kōmako, e kō,
Whakataerangitia!
Rere ki uta, rere ki tai,
Kī mai ki ahau, ‘He aha te mea nui?’
Māku e kī atu ki a koe,
‘He tangata! He tangata!’

E ngā iwi, e ngā mana e ngā reo, kua manaakitia tātou e ngā rangatira o Te Arawa; kau paenga te taha ki a tātou. Nā reira, tēnā tātou katoa!

Te Arawa, our hospitable hosts, have already welcomed the participating groups and their supporters, in order that we, both Maori and our brethren of the Pacific Islands, may ally ourselves with our hosts, not only to welcome you, Your Excellencies, but also to assure you of our steadfast loyalty to the Crown.

In my prelude, I quoted a saying attributed to a high ranking lady of my tribe. Freely translated, it reads. ‘Ask me: what is the greatest of all things? I will answer: Tis a human being: A human being.’ It is because of our concern for human beings, primarily for those who are classified as Polynesians, that we have promoted this festival, confident that partnership in action will greatly contribute to the betterment of race relations in this country. We have always desired to meet one another on a common ground, and this has proved successful in a few areas. But never before in the history of this country have we—the various ethnic groups under the umbrella of Polynesia—come together, not as rivals, but as a united front, to provide what I believe to be the first of many New Zealand Polynesian Festivals.

Nowhere else in the whole of the Pacific, is there anything approaching the array of Polynesian talent that exists here. I am confident that eventually we could provide Polynesian entertainment on a scale, and of a standard, which could not be equalled anywhere in the world.

I believe that the reception by the Maori people to Her Majesty the Queen and members of the Royal Family at Gisborne in 1970, was a most spectacular and moving performance. This acted as a stimulus to those of us who have been concerned with the preservation of Maori culture as well as concern for the type of entertainment which has been labelled as ‘Maori’, to do something positive in this field. We felt that the time was opportune for the Maori to exhibit his talents and perhaps recapture the spirit of his ancestors, to compose his own songs, chants, haka and so on, rather than rely on the latest pop tunes, to move him to write lyrics.

We felt also, that here in our country we have the best racial climate in the world, to promote through song and dance an even warmer climate in our relations one with another. It was natural then, that we should invite our Polynesian brethren in New Zealand to join us, with the result that we have five groups representing the Samoans, Tongans, Tokelauans, Niueans and Cook Islanders with us today.

Let me hasten at this stage to assure the non-Polynesians that we have no intention of excluding them. We welcome them and we hope that they will join our ranks, provided that what they display is of Polynesian origin.

It is encouraging, Sir, to note the marked interest in things Maori by a fair section of our New Zealand society. I am particularly impressed with what a number of schools are doing in this respect, and I have no doubt that when more qualified tutors are available, more and more schools will take advantage of their services. I would suggest, however, that there are still more important avenues available for propagating this. I am looking forward to the day, for instance, when radio and T.V. announcers will include as part of their normal Iangauge, Polynesian phrases. It would be good to be greeted on a cold wet morning by, ‘Kia Ora!’ or ‘Tēnā Koutou!’ or ‘Talofa Lava!’ or ‘Kia orana koutou katoatoa!’, instead of ‘Good morning’ when one is still tugging away at blankets to keep warm. If you, Sir, during the remaining months you have with us as Governor-General can convince someone of the beauty of the Maori and Polynesian languages and incorporate them in radio and T.V.—not as an extra, but as part and parcel of the daily routine, I am sure we all will be most grateful. But there is a proviso to this plea. It is simply this: please ask them to pronounce the words correctly.

May I, as chairman of the New Zealand Polynesian Festival, now extend our warmest gratitude to the Government, and the Maori Purposes Fund Board, for supplying us with the bulk of our financial needs. There were also some business firms and Maori Trust Boards which assisted. Provided we can depend on these sources, plus a marked increase from the business world, for funds, and provided further that the Maori and the Polynesian people support us, we intend to make this an annual Festival.

At a wedding banquet, the supply of wine proved inadequate. Because of a miracle, a further supply of a more superb quality was obtained. The master of the house complained that the more palatable wine was served last. Your Excellencies, the more palatable section of the Festival will follow soon.

Before you address us, however, let me add this. I feel that it is most fitting that the first New Zealand Polynesian Festival should be held during your term of office as Governor-General, because you, Sir, are the first son of the land to hold such an exalted office, and as a New Zealander, you have carried out your onerous task with great dignity. You and Lady Porritt will leave our shores before the end of this year, with our

love and affection and I express the hope that you will both return one day to enjoy the friendships you have made here.

Kia hora te marino;
Kia whakapapa pounamu te moana;
Kia tere te karohirohi i mua i to korua huarahi.
May peace be widespread;
May the sea glisten like the greenstone,
And may the shimmer of light guide you on your way.

To which I may add the words of the Psalmist, ‘The Lord preserve your coming in, and your going out, from this time forth, and forever more.’

Your Excellencies, I am greatly honoured and pleased, on behalf of this Festival, to present you with these gifts of our aroha.

E iti noa ana, nā te aroha.
Though small, ‘tis all that love can give.
Tēnā korua! Tēnā tātou katoa! Talofa lava.
Kia orana koutou katoatoa.

Replying to Rev. Ihaka's speech, His Excellency said,

‘Tena koutou, aku hoa.

‘This is surely a great day for New Zealand! Only once before have representatives of all the Maori tribes been gathered together

on one marae for a common purpose—and that was on the famous occasion of the Maori welcome to Her Majesty The Queen at Gisborne during the Captain Cook Bicentennial Celebrations two years ago. Today we add to representatives of all the Maori tribes (17 teams from eight Maori Council Districts)—some hundred or more of our friends from the Pacific Islands— from Samoa, the Tokelaus, Niue and the Cook Islands. Indeed it is a noble and historic gathering!

‘Remembering, as we should do on such an important occasion, our worthy and revered ancestors and forbears—it is not

difficult to picture their amazement had they seen such a magnificent korerorero as this.

‘So, my friends, let us realise and appreciate straight away that, despite all present differences and difficulties, we have come a long way in a relatively very short time in history towards achieving that ideal we all in our heart of hearts hold so dear—in your language kotahitanga—in ours living peace-peacefully together in mutual trust and understanding. The aims and objectives of this Festival—the encouragement and promotion of Polynesian culture—have already proved to be a very important factor in producing this much-to-be-desired result and I have no doubt the doughty deeds of this weekend will greatly enhance that influence.

‘The word ‘culture’ is often misused and certainly overused—but here it simply stands for those simple and delightful activities of singing and dancing, playing and talking, weaving and carving—the intrinsic values of which are just that amount greater as our world becomes more mercenary, mechanical and over-mobile. In this sense, I am sure few would deny the increasingly important part Maori and Polynesian cultural activities have played in recent years in our national life—a part all the more vital at a time when minority factions are not being particularly helpful in assisting the natural —and inevitable—merging of the two great streams of Polynesian and European thought and tradition into one great river

of racially unified New Zealanders.

‘And as a New Zealander I sincerely trust and fervently believe that in this respect New Zealand may yet in due course give an example to the world—as it has already done in an extraordinary number and variety of aspects of life considering its small size and even smaller population. I note, with warm delight, a very simple evidence of this here today, where most of the Maori groups contain Pakeha members —Pakeha who have earned their places not only by their ability and skill in the arts portrayed, but by their spontaneous enthusiasm for and love of what is being done. So does a modern New Zealand weld together its ancient traditions—from all sources.

‘As the years have gone by, I think I am becoming a little allergic to the word ‘Pakeha’—as this in Maori originally meant ‘stranger’—and this is something I have

never felt on the many maraes and at the many Maori gatherings my wife and I have been privileged to attend. After all, there should be no strangers in the world—only friends we have not met! I came across a few words the other day which seem relevant to this concept. They read—

I sought my soul;
my soul I could not see
I sought my God;
my God eluded me
I sought my brother,
and found all three.

‘This discovery of our brothers should not be all that difficult. After the Captain Cook Bicentenary Celebrations I used to say to school children, “I would advise you, as soon as you can and as much as you can, to go out and do exactly what Captain Cook did—discover New Zealand!” It is high time we went out and discovered New Zealanders! We all live in a country much blessed by nature—a country of incomparable scenery, of equable climate, well-stocked with food and with facilities for leisure and recreation unequalled in the world; a country with enormous developmental potential, an age-old legal system, a first-class health service, great social amenities and a highly comprehensive educational system. It is this last—our educational facilities, which if fully used and appreciated could supply the answer to most of today's problems. The opportunities are all there, but they need acceptance and this applies particularly to you—my Maori friends. You know, as I know, that with a full and proper education there is nothing you cannot achieve. Go to it!

‘But let me revert to this Festival—a Festival of joy and happiness, of sunshine and of pleasure. And there is one matter. (I nearly said ‘little matter’ but that would be utterly wrong.) to which I must refer. The Festival is the brain-child of Reverend Kingi Ihaka—it is he who nursed it from the inception of the idea—it is he with his bubbling enthusiasm, his flair for organisation and his slave-driving tactics, who has been, admittedly with many good friends, advisers, and helpers, responsible for the complex administration that has brought us all together today. We would all wish to thank him most gratefully and to congratulate him. “He amorangi ki mua”—it is good to have a priest in front! I know his greatest reward would be for the success of this Festival to justify it becoming an annual event—spreading its beneficent influence more and more over this our country. So let there be “Aroha, mai, aroha atu”—love coming towards us, love going out from us.

‘I can assure you all, there are few things I have done in this country which have given me greater pleasure, greater pride or a greater sense of privilege than officially to declare open this First National Polynesian Festival. Kia toa, kia kaha, kia ora.’

going to the Chats

by Sh [ unclear: ] ila Natusch

That was what somebody's kind Maori grandmother, said, when we were waiting at the Wellington Airport for our call to board the Bristol Freighter: ‘Going to the Chats?’ She was, too, but just for the weekend. ‘I wouldn't like to live there!—couple of good seas, it would wash away!’ But plenty of kai moana: and the weather, though inclined to be misty and blowy, nothing like as rough as we'd been having over the first weeks of spring about Cook Strait. As a Stewart Islander now living in Wellington, I didn't expect to feel out of place in the Chathams. My husband, like most of his generation, had been overseas, but for me this was the first time—well, I was at least going to get a foot half-out of New Zealand!

What to take? We were allowed 44Ibs luggage. My brother had been over the year before, so I wrote to him. He couldn't think of anything to add to my suggestions—‘but I'm not commodity minded,’ he wrote. ‘If for instance ice cream was banned and I didn't hear the news I wouldn't notice its absence perhaps for several years’—nowadays such things are obtainable at the Chathams anyway. For our own use, he recommended short gumboots: ‘handy in bad weather as they can be kicked off at doorsteps as is custom to stop dragging mud in. Each house has a little row of little gumboots at back door. All the same brand—red tops—obviously sold at Chatham Store. No doubt sometimes the wrong boots go on the right feet. Gumboots without red tops and got in New Zealand would be easily identified.’

We also took tramping gear, a camera, a couple of sketchbooks, and a few things like oranges and bananas to fill the corners: no doubt there would be enough Chatham Island vegetation and rock samples to fill a couple of Bristol Freighters on the way home! I was pleased to note that we could see out: the Chathams plane has a passenger box that slides in and out, and its windows line up with those of the plane. What did we see?—we saw the sea; but the Pacific was terrific: just white-speckled blue from up there, but mighty crashing combers at boat-level. I shouldn't wonder. I'd like to have gone by sea, but the Holmdale is not a Women's Lib. ship.

The freighter flew on, steady as a rock. We were given a tasty and substantial lunch.

‘Can you see anything yet?’ asked my husband; but I couldn't. I began to peel an orange for us, and just as we were dripping juice and bits in all directions, rocks and kelp and land appeared from nowhere and we were there! Dazzling white sand with foaming breakers; salt water clear as emerald (why hadn't we brought our togs?); moorland patterned in purple and brown; vast expanses of water inshore as well as out—and next thing we were charging a bright green runway, while neighbouring sheep and their tail-swinging lambs bustled for cover. Rows of Landrovers were there to meet the plane, and rows of trees, neatly fenced off. had shiny leaves as green as the grass.

Our Chatham host couldn't have been kinder: ‘Had lunch? Well, how about a trip to Kaingaroa—you can see Chatham Island

forgetmenots in their wild state!—only, first, there's something I want to show you in a karaka grove—kopi, they call them here.’ He stopped the Landrover by the roadside. A walk over the paddock, through the trees, past a clearing into more trees—and there stood an old kopi, yellow with lichen, green with moss, and carved with a quaint and attractive figure—human or gnome?—with a tiki-like face set squarely, not over to one side, on a stripy body; the stripes looked a bit like those on a wasp, but they may have meant ribs. I wish we knew more about the Morioris! The last full-blooded one, the popular and jolly Tommy Solomon, died in 1933; there was a picture of him in our history books. His people were Polynesians, a branch of those who settled in New Zealand in far-off times to become the moa hunters. When the later Maoris reached New Zealand, the moa hunters faded away before them; but their Moriori cousins were left in

peace at the Chathams for several hundred years longer. It was only after Pakeha sealers and whalers arrived in the Pacific that the Chatham Islands were drawn to Maori attention: Te Rauparaha was then on the warpath, and ‘a displaced and restless group’ of Taranaki people took over first a trading brig and then the Chatham Islands. The poor Morioris didn't have a chance.

The seal seems to have been important in their way of life. On a limestone wall by Te Whanga Lagoon is carved a great shoal of flickering seal-like figures; but we don't really know what they mean. But sealing was

hard on the Morioris, for they ate seal meat and wore sealskin clothes; and although (as in New Zealand) the introduction of ailments like measles and influenza was quite accidental, it was still devastating to a people who had never met such things. Like the moa hunters, they seem to have been a peaceful, wandering people; that, and their undermined health and spirits, must have made it all the easier for the newcomers to take them over. Enough of them must have been killed and umu'd to show was boss; many became slaves. The women went to the victors. All this was according to the customs of Maori warfare of those times. A few years later, missionaries were persuading their converts to free their slaves, but by then the Morioris had little to live for. History is no longer treated as a matter of ‘goodies and baddies’ so much as a jockeying for position in the matter of land, food and other goods; but it is always sad when a whole race dies out. However, there are still strains of Moriori, as well as Maori. Portuguese, Russian Finn, Scandinavian, French and British stock, among the Chatham Island families; and they add up to a friendly, easy-going and kindly people.

There are hundreds of Moriori carvings on trees and rocks if you know where to look; and in the sandhills you sometimes find middens of various ages. Sand blown aside revealed the place an old-timer had been laid to rest; it was so long ago, and he looked so peaceful, that one could only hope that no wandering stock would disturb his bones. One gets rather used to bones on the Chathams: sheep, cattle, horses, sometimes persons; and along the lagoon shore the teeth of sharks that died not thousands but millions of years ago. One is very much aware of the past, and of the fact that man hath but a short time to live; but at the same time there is every reason to enjoy life while the going's good! People live scattered about, but nowadays it isn't too difficult to hop in the Landrover and join the rest at some gathering: a wedding, a hangi, the pictures maybe.

We saw the giant blue forgetmenots all right: a great shoal of them, as blue as could be, flowerheads the size of A & P Show

cauliflowers massed among enormous glossy leaves. Towards the other end of the island, we also came across patches of the lovely Chatham Island ‘aster’, a daisy-flowered shrub with silvery green, softish leaves and large flowers shading from lilac to deep violet. There are shrubs related to the New Zealand mingimingi, but with leaves like totara; they are crammed with berries just now, waxy white; white with a delicate flush of pink; rose pink; ruby red. Gentians were beginning to flower in the peat bogs, mostly white with delicate lime-green streaks, but I also found a lovely pink one. But the trees are sad. Except in one or two places where someone has fenced them off from stock, they are dead and dying, bleached like the bones, and there are no seedlings coming on. Even the famous blue forgetmenot is rare now, except in people's gardens—and of course even that is better than nothing. There are a few places along the lagoon shore where it's possible to collect seedlings of the interesting trees found only on the Chathams: a tree olearia (ours here are nearly all shrubs), a tree corokia, and so on—often a plant we know in New Zealand as a small shrub has a king-sized relation in the Chathams. But so many of the kings seem to be dying out, like the Morioris.

The old Chatham Islanders, from early European times, have been fishermen and farmers. The crayfish boom of the sixties brought many outsiders to the district. At Waitangi, Government employees run the radio and weather stations, post office, marine department office and police station; there is a hall, a church, a small hospital, a pub, the beginnings of an interesting little museum, and garages. There are boats in the bay. There are other settlements, mostly fishing places with little freezers or factories, on other parts of the coast, Stewart Island is much better off for shelter, though! We had a trip across to the other main island, Pitt, and it was a real taste of the high seas. After all, these islands are away out in the middle of the ocean. But they are a very interesting, if semi-detached corner of New Zealand. I'd like to go back to ‘The Chats’!

Summer School at Whakatane

Tihei Mauri Ora! Tihei Mauri Mate!

He mihi tēnei nā te rōpū whai i ngā tikanga o te tangata. Ko te mihi tuatahi ki ō tātou tīpuna kua tīraha, kua moe i te moengaroa. I runga i tēnei āhua e mihi ana mātou ki a Pita Fairbrother i mate i te marama o Māehe i tenei tau.

Koia Tēnā i tīmata, i hanga, i ārahi mātou i roto i te rohe o Ngātiawa me te rohe o Tūhoe. Ko Pita te pou tokomanawa o mātou te rōpū e whai ana, e whiriwhiri ana, kia rongo mātou i te taonga e mōhiotia ana ko te Māoritanga.

I mamae te manawa, i heke ngā roimata, taumaha ana te ngākau, taka iho te hūpē i te tangi mōhou, e Pita. Ka nui te pōuri i te maharatanga ki ō mahi, ki ō whakaaro mō te katoa.

Mate kino! Mate kino: Maumau tangata ea. I mate taurekareka koe, e Pita. Nō reira, haere e Pita, haere e te hoa, haere ki Hawaiki nui, ki Hawaiki roa, ki Hawaiki pāmamao.

Ka huri ki te korero mō tētahi mahi a Pita i mua tonu o tōna matenga.

Anthropology is the study of man in society and no amount of academic study and theory can wholly replace direct involvement with people. Yet all too often second-hand knowledge from books is all that the student has.

It was in order to gain some understanding of the Maori way of life, both traditional and contemporary, that the Anthropology Society of the University of Auckland organised a summer school at Puawairua Marae near Whakatane. For ten days the group of 15 students and other interested people stayed together there, not only learning about the Maori way of life, but to some extent, living it. For instance, for most of us community living was a new experience, and many of us were surprised to find it a very agreeable one.

At the start of the school our ignorance of Maori custom and etiquette was obvious, but our hosts, the tangata whenua, remained calm and tolerant, helping us over difficult moments with timely suggestions and, later, explanations, so that our embarrassment was soon replaced by a keen desire to know how to behave in accordance with the customs and to understand the deeper meanings behind them. Many and varied were the opportunities for learning in both formal and informal ways. The more formal aspects included ceremonial welcomes onto three maraes and lectures and talks given by local people and by visiting speakers. These were on various topics and all were followed by questions and discussion. The people of the district and town had been invited to attend the lectures and participate in discussion, and the school was greatly enhanced by their interest and contributions.

After the welcome onto Puawairua Marae, introductions, and lunch, the school was officially opened by Mr J. W. Gow, Chairman of the County Council. This was followed by Peter Fairbrother giving a talk on the Role of the Anthropologist which was a fitting beginning to the school.

On Sunday morning we ate a leisurely breakfast while listening to a broadcast of the local weekly Maori programme, Te Reo Irirangi o te Tahi Ripeka Rua, initiated, organised and run by Manu Paul. We then moved into the meeting house where Ching Te Hau Tutua explained the importance of

genealogical knowledge to the Maori in establishing his identity and his right to speak on a marae. Using his own genealogy as an example, he showed how descent could be traced right back into mythological times. Sunday afternoon saw lively dialogue when local members of the Maori Women's Welfare League, under the chairmanship of Mrs M. Kingi, came to answer questions and to tell of their work on both the community and national levels. For many present (especially the men!) it provided an insight into the power of this organisation. A visit in the evening to a Ngati-Awa Maori Executive meeting at Toroa Marae gave the group a rare opportunity to see some aspects of another important Maori organisation.

During the week a great variety of lectures and talks was given. Dr Theo Roy from the University of Waikato spoke on ‘Elite Political Communication in a Multiracial Society’, his thesis being that the ‘people at the top’ tend to understand each other and have more communication and even co-operation (even though they may be in opposing camps) than the leaders and the ordinary members of a given group. Peter Ramsay from Waikato University spoke on some aspects of education, while Ross St George, also from University of Waikato, spoke about ‘Cross cultural studies’ pointing out that in fact there has been little good work done in this field. Professor M. P. K. Sorrenson of University of Auckland spoke on the ‘Historical Viewpoint on Maori Land Tenure’, and Gerhardt Rosenberg of Auckland School of Architecture and Town Planning gave a talk, illustrated with slides, on ‘Maori Housing in Urban Areas’. He showed that much of the housing for Maori families is not really suited to their needs, and that much more useful homes could be built without increasing spending. Peter McClay, headmaster of Whakatane High School, spoke on ‘Education in a Multi-racial High School’, drawing on experience in his school to give vivid impact to his talk.

One of the week's highlights was the evening when John Rangihau came over from Rotorua to speak to a packed meeting house on ‘The Cultural Renaissance’. He traced the history of the Tuhoe people up to the present day, and made this an historical occasion in itself by announcing the successful amalgamation of the Tuhoe lands under the Tuhoe Trust, which had only become finalised two days before. Several high school students were there and if they had ever missed the feeling of belonging and pride then they must have felt it very strongly since that evening.

On Wednesday a visit was made by some of the group to the clothing factory at Opotiki, where they spent a most informative morning talking to the owner and manager, Mr Perry, and the women who work in the factory. Meanwhile, others of the group were driven up the Waimana and Ruatoki Valleys where a number of carved meeting houses were examined, and where the people were very welcoming and helpful. Everyone then met to go onto Tanatana Marae where we had been invited for lunch. We were warmly welcomed and then joined the people for a delicious meal. This was followed by talks and discussion in the meeting house.

Throughout the week free time was used to relax and to become more familiar with the district. Among other things we swam at the nearby beaches, and hot pools, had a barbecue and swim in the Waimana Valley, learned how to weave tipare and rourou, had a wonderful party at the home of Peter and Betty Fairbrother, rode horses and drank in some of the pubs, enjoying all of these activities to the full. Besides these trips out we also had a late-night showing of slides of the Urewera National Park. Peter Fairbrother showed these and his intimate knowledge of the Park and his job as Chief Ranger made this most interesting and full of amusing anecdotes. On Saturday night a social was held and this was very well attended. The school wound up on Sunday morning with a hangi, beautifully cooked under the supervision of Harry Reneti. This was the first time that many of us had seen the preparation of the traditional hangi and eaten food cooked in this way.

There is no doubt that all who participated in the school benefited from the experience. For the visitors from Auckland it

has led to some understanding of Maori-tanga, an awareness of Maori activities and the efforts of groups and individuals to shape the future of the Maori as a New Zealander with equal opportunities for education, and for political and economic power while still maintaining his pride and integrity as a Maori. It has also led to at least five of the 15 beginning to learn the Maori language. For our hosts and other people of the district it has provided the stimulation of hearing both local and outside speakers. We also hope that it has dispelled any mystery and aura that may have surrounded universities and students, and that it has made higher education seem even more accessible.

Yet the greatest and most obvious benefit for all must be the close friendships formed during this week. It is difficult to describe the warmth and sincerity except to say that it was felt by all. There was a directness, humour and spontaneity in the exchanges both inside and outside the meeting house.

To a very large degree the school was organised and held together by Peter Fair brother and his wife, Betty. Without Peter's deep personal interest and intimate knowledge of local people and affairs the school could not have been the success it was—indeed would probably not have been held at all. The shock of his death only serves to emphasise the enormous contribution he made, not only to the school, but to the lives of us all. If anything positive can be said to come from his death it is that the others of us feel all the more determined that what Peter had so successfully begun must not be lost, but grow. To this end, next year's summer school is already being planned and it is hoped that this will become an annual event dedicated to the growth of friendship and respect between people as individuals and as races. These schools will be known as the Peter Fairbrother Summer Schools.

And So I Go

by Patricia Grace

—Our son, brother, grandchild, you say you are going away from this place you love where you are loved. Don't go. We warm you. We give you strength, we give you love. These people are yours.

These hills, this soil, this wide stretch of sea. This quiet place.

—This land is mine, this sea, these people. Here I give love and am loved but I must go, this is in me. I go to learn new ways and make a way for those who follow because I love.

My elders, brothers and sisters, children of this place, we must go on. This place we love cannot hold us always. The world is large. Not forever can we stay here warm and quiet to turn the soil and reap the sea and live our lives. This I've always known. And so I go ahead for those who come. To stand mid-stream and hold a hand to either side. It is in me. Am I not at once dark and fair, fair and dark. A mingling. Since our blue-eyed father held our dark-eyed mother's hand and let her lead him here.

—But our brother, he came, and now his ways are hers out of choice because of love.

—And I go because of love. For our mother and her kind and for our father. For you and for our children whose mingling will be greater than our own. I make a way. Learn new ways. So I can take up that of our father's race and hold it to the light. Then the people of our mother may come to me and say How is this. And I will hold the new thing to the light for them and point and say See. You see, that is how it is. Then take up that which is our mother's and say to those of our father You see. See there, that is why.

—And brother what of us. Must we do this too. Must we leave this quiet place at the edge of hills at the edge of sea and follow you. For the sake of our mother's people who are our own. And for our father and because we love?

—You must choose but if you do not feel it in you, stay here in warmth. Let me do this and do not weep for my going. I have this power in me. I am full. I ache for this.

Often I have climbed these hills and run about as free as rain. Stood on the highest place and looked down on great long waves looping onto sand. Where we played, grew strong, learned our body skills. And learned the ways of summers, storms and tides. From where we stepped into the spreading sea to bathe or gather food. I have watched and felt this ache in me.

I have watched the people. Seen myself there with them living too. Our mother and our blue-eyed father who came here to this gentle place that gives us life and strength. Watched them work and play, laugh and cry and love.

Seen our uncle sleeping. Brother of our mother. Under a tree bright and heavy with sunned fruit. And there beside our uncle. his newest baby daughter sleeping too. And his body sweat ran down and over her head in a new baptising. I was filled with strength.

And old Granny Roka sits on her step combing her granddaughter's hair, patiently grooming. Plaiting and tying the heavy tangled kelp which is her pride. Or walk together on the mark of tide, old Granny and the child, collecting sun-white sticks for the fire. Tying the sticks into bundles and carrying them on their backs to the little house. Together.

And seen the women walk out over rocks when the tide is low, submerging by a hole of rock with clothes ballooning. Surfacing with wine-red crayfish, snapping tails and clawing air on a still day. And on a special

day the river stones fired for cooking by our father, our cousins and our uncles who laugh and sing. Working all as one.

Our little brother's horse walks home with our little one asleep. Resting a head on his pony's neck, breathing in the warm horse stink knees locked into its sides. Fast asleep on the fired flesh of horse. And I ache. But not forever this. And so I go.

—And when you go our brother as you say you must will you be warm. Will you know love. Will an old woman kiss your face and cry warm tears because of who you are. Will children take your hands and say your name? In your new life our brother will you sing?

—The warmth and love I take from here with me and return for their renewal when I can. It is not a place of loving where I go or not the same as love that we have known. No love-fire there to warm one's self beside.

No love warmth.
Blood warmth.
Wood and tree warmth.
Skin on skin warmth.
Tear warmth.
Rain warmth.
Earth warmth.
Breath warmth.
Child warmth.
Warmth of sunned stones.
Warmth of sunned water.
Sunned sand.
Sand ripple.
Water ripple.
Ripple sky.
Sky Earth.
Earthy Sky.
And our beginning.

—And you ask me shall I sing. I tell you this. The singing will be here within myself. Inside this body. Fluting through these bones. Ringing in the skies of being. Ribboning in the course of blood to soothe swelled limbs and ache-bruised heart.

—You say to us our brother you will sing. But will the songs within be songs of joy? Will they ring. Out in the skies of being as you say. Pipe through bone caress flesh wounding? Or will the songs within be ones of sorrow?

Of warmth dreams.
Love dreams.
Of aching.
And flesh bruising?
If you listen will it be weeping that you hear?
Lament of people.
Earth moan.
Water sigh.
Morepork cry of death?

—My sisters and brothers, loved ones, I cannot tell. But there will be gladness for me in what I do. I ask no more. Some songs will be of joy and others hold the moan and sigh, the owl cry and throb of loneliness.

—What will you do then our brother when the singing dirges through your veins, pressing and swelling in your throat and breast, pricking at your mind with its aching needles of sound?

—What should I do but deny its needling and stealing into mind. Its pressing into throat and breast. I will not put a hand of comfort over body hardenings nor finger blistered veins in soothing. The wail, the lament shall not have my ear. I will pay the lonely body ache no mind. Thus I go.

I stand before my dark-eyed mother, blue-eyed father, brothers and sisters, my aunts and uncles and their children and these old ones. All the dark-eyed light-eyed minglings of this place.

We gather. We sing and dance together for my going. We laugh and cry. We touch. We mingle tears as blood.

I give you my farewell.

Now I stand on a tide-wet rock to farewell you sea. I listen and hear your great heart thud. I hear you cry. Do you too weep for me? Do you reach out with mottled hands to touch my brow and anoint my tear wet face with tears of salt? Do not weep but keep them well. Your great heart beats I know for such as these. Give them sea, your great sea love. Hold them gently. Already they are baptised in your name.

As am I.
And take your renewal where I go.
And take your love.
Take your strength.
And deep heart thud.
Your salt kiss.
Your caring.

Now on a crest of hill in sweeping wind.

Where I have climbed and run. And loved and walked about. With life brimming full in me as though I could die of living.

Guardian hill you do not clutch my hand, you do not weep. You know that I must go and give me blessing. You guard with love this quiet place rocking at the edge of sea.

And now at the highest place I stand.

And feel a power grip me. And a lung-bursting strength. A trembling in my legs and arms. A heavy ache weighting down my groin.

And I lie on soil in all my heaviness and trembling. Stretch out my arms on wide Earth Mother and lay my face on hers. Then call out my love and speak my vow.

And feel release in giving to you earth and to you sea, to these people.

So I go. And behind me the sea-moan and earth-cry, the sweet lament of people. Towards the goddess as she sleeps I go. On with light upon my face.

Polynesians and the Law

It is indeed an honour to be asked to speak to your Annual General Meeting. I thank you for your invitation to last night's official opening. The setting of the Maori Court in the museum was a reminder of a great heritage, those who have gone, and those still with us.

I have for many years admired and respected the activities of the Maori Women's Welfare League, and the way in which the devoted services of your League members all over New Zealand combine together in useful service to the Maori people—but not only to the Maori people, because anything that benefits Maoris, benefits New Zealand as a whole. I regard the Maori Women's Welfare League as one of our most important national service organisations in New Zealand.

I have been asked to speak to you on the subject of ‘Polynesians and the Law’. The subject was not of my own choosing, because I felt that to do justice to it in the time that I had available for preparation would be a difficult, if not an impossible, task. I am, however, glad to be able to attempt to cover the subject but in a some what patchy, not very deeply considered, manner. There is so much that needs to be studied—so much to be done—in this particular field; and, so far as I am concerned, it seems there is so little time to do it.

More Pupils Now Learning Maori

Teacher: Tena koutou tamariki ma (greetings to you all).

Class: Tena koe (greetings to you).

This is how a class in Maori language starts at Mangere Intermediate School and it demonstrates a new feature of learning in Auckland schools in recent years—the considerable increase in the teaching of the Maori language to both Maori and European pupils in our intermediate and secondary schools.

Up to last year there was no Maori taught in intermediate schools and only in a few State secondary

schools, notably Hillary College. However, in private Maori secondary schools, such as Queen Victoria School and St Stephen's School. Maori was taught extensively.

But today the language is taught to thousands of children in a number of intermediate and State secondary schools. A limiting factor is the supply of qualified teachers. Form 11 pupils in nine intermediate schools in the Auckland Education Board's area learn Maori language and customs. At Mangere Intermediate, however, lessons are extended to Form 1 pupils. In primary schools, up to Standard Four, Maori language is taught incidentally as part of the social studies programme.

There are now more than 4,500 secondary school pupils learning Maori compared with 1962 six years ago. A feature is that in the same time the numbers of Europeans taking the subject have risen from 76 to 1381. This is due to the fact that Maori is now a School Certificate subject. There are 21 State secondary schools in the Auckland area offering the language. Many more schools also teach Maoritanga, which includes language, culture and arts and crafts in evening classes.

This is a complete change from the position of many years ago when at the insistence of some Maori elders who believed the future of their children lay in being fluent in English, Maori pupils heard speaking their language at school were punished.

Both Auckland Primary Teachers' College and North Shore Teachers' College plan to introduce courses in Maori studies, including language, next year. At Auckland Secondary Teachers' College, those graduate students who intend to teach the Maori language have courses to help them. All students have a study course designed to give them a background to Maoritanga while there is an elective course available in Maori education and sociological studies.

Impetus to the teaching of Maori language in schools has been given by the National Advisory Committee on Maori Education, an organisation set up by the Government to advise the Minister of Education on matters relating to Maori education. Two years ago it recommended that priority be given to the teaching of Maori language and the pronunciation of common Maori words and phrases, including place names.

This should be part of the primary school syllabus up to Standard Four for all pupils, it said. Another recommendation was that in Forms I and II, Maori language be introduced as an option in a linkage scheme similar to that operating for French. (This means the language would be taught at those intermediate schools who feed secondary schools also offering the language).

The teaching of Maori in secondary schools as an optional subject where there was sufficient community demand was also recommended.

The committee made this recommendation because it was concerned that so many Maori children lacked confidence in themselves. It declared:

“It is clearly important that ways must be

found of helping them to build and maintain a pride in themselves. It is essential to provide a basis of understanding and acceptance and for their contemporaries to be made aware of the cultural values that form an essential part of a Maori child's life. The committee believes that one way of achieving this is to include Maori language in the school curriculum and to teach Maori studies to all pupils.”

A start in intermediate schools was made in 1971 at Baird's and Kaikohe Intermediate which were chosen because pupils would be able to study the subject further at Hillary College and Northland College respectively to which most pupils from these schools proceed in Form III. The colleges offer Maori for School Certificate to those pupils who wish to sit the subject.

About 70 per cent of the teaching time in Maori language at intermediate schools is oral. This covers simple greetings, commands and conversation. The course also contains study of the arts and crafts of the Maori, weaving, action and hand games, stick games, history and customs, procedures at a marae and tangi and myths and legends appropriate to the local district. Some pupils have also been out in the field visiting maraes.

Intermediate pupils follow a scheme of work which has been drawn up by study groups of teachers of Maori. The Department of Education has produced several excellent books, including a comprehensive handbook.

Within the Auckland board area there are about 10 teachers who spend two periods weekly teaching Maori. At Mangere Intermediate, the two teachers spend about half of their time on the subject. All teachers are fluent speakers of Maori and a number hold university qualifications. Courses are held for teachers who also regularly receive newsletters to help them.

An inspector of primary schools, Mr B. F. E. Kelly, says that it is proposed that next year the number of teachers will be increased by placing willing second and third year teachers competent in Maori in selected areas. Soon specialists will be appointed to the staffs of teachers' colleges to implement courses in Maori studies so that all future teachers have a basic knowledge of Maori customs and culture.

Hillary College, which services a multiracial community at Otara, south of Auckland, is a leader in the teaching of Maori language in secondary schools. Since 1967, the year after it opened, the school has offered the subject to all pupils in the third form, with the aim of School Certificate in the fifth form. About half the pupils—265 this year—have accepted the offer. They include Maoris, Samoans, Niueans and Europeans. The principal, Mr J. G. Johnson, says that initially the college decided to teach Maori language to make the Maori pupils feel the college was not just another Pakeha institution but catered for their needs as well. “But since then our view has changed—Maori should be a subject in its own right,” he says.

Maori has the advantage over all other

languages, apart from English, in that it is a living language in the home community. Pupils spend as much time on the subject as any other comparable subject. They spend four periods weekly in the third form, five in the fourth form and six in the fifth form.

Mr Johnson says the teaching of the language has made Maori pupils realise that their culture is valued as much as that of the European, has improved their ability in other subjects, has made a major contribution to the growth of school spirit and has resulted in a greater involvement by parents in college affairs.

“There is no doubt that there is a real deep-seated desire by the Maori people that the language be taught in schools,” says Mr Johnson.

A senior inspector of secondary schools, Mr M. V. Hutchinson, says the Department of Education is encouraging the teaching of Maori language in all secondary schools where the principal favours it and where there is a demand and the teaching to support it. “The availability of teachers is a limiting factor. There is an increasing number of graduates from university with qualifications in Maori language but they are not all taking up teaching. It would help if more of these persons entered teaching.” says Mr Hutchinson.

Mr Hutchinson sees an increasing number of pupils offering Maori as a School Certificate subject in the next year or two. He says a committee has been working on a new type of School Certificate examination which will give emphasis to the listening and speaking skills. This development along audio-lingual lines parallels that taking place in French and German.

Some schools are now teaching Maori as a language or a background study and some are teaching it as both.

Mr Hutchinson believes the growth in the teaching of the Maori language, as far as Maoris are concerned, springs from recognition of the value of the study of one's own language as a means of increasing self-respect and an awareness of racial identity. There is also a realisation of the contribution that Maori language and culture can make to our multi-racial society. For Europeans, the study of another language makes them aware of another mode of thought.

Maori Language Clubs?

A few thoughts about how to retain the Maori language. There are still quite enough people who can fully express themselves in Maori for it to be saved as a living language. The difficulty is how to pass it on to younger generations, to stop the gap getting any wider between the older people who are able to speak Maori and the young people who are not able.

The language of everyday life is English, a language used by millions of people of many races. Small children cannot learn Maori from hearing it spoken at home as in former times, and to wait till they are old enough to study it from books at school makes it almost as hard to learn as a ‘foreign’ language and certainly no easier for a Maori than for anyone else. The language of the marae is a special form of Maori; you could say it was a language within a language, full of reference to history of the tribe, ancestors, old songs and poetry, and proverbs rich in meaning for one whose understanding of Maori is already advanced, but could we expect a young person whose only working language is English to follow this high quality oratory?

Those of us with some knowledge of the Maori language have a duty to pass on what we can to others who have a most natural wish to learn, and who should not be discouraged. A suggestion is for small groups to form ‘Maori Language Clubs’ the object of which would be to encourage a greater general use of the Maori language, to improve the quality

of spoken Maori, to practise your own Maori, and to help others to learn.

Young people ask their elders for help and in many cases the elders are willing to give it, but to find some time, or plan some method, that is the difficulty. If small groups around the districts, of people already fluent and others wishing to learn were persistently to meet for two hours each week, knowing that as far as was practical only Maori would be spoken, then an opportunity, which does not exist at present, would be available to those trying to learn the language. A young person, or hesitant speaker, would not feel silly to make any mistakes with just a group of friends. An older person would not need to be able to ‘teach’ or ‘explain’ Maori to others; a good knowledge of spoken Maori, a patience to repeat, a sympathy to listen is what would be necessary. A learner could test his pronunciation, and his ability to express himself, if he had someone to speak to who could say at once if he was right or wrong, and make suitable replies.

Clubs of this sort already exist in New Zealand to give practice in the speaking of certain foreign languages but it does not seem to have been recognized that the same methods would be equally beneficial for the preservation of Maori, which is socially much more important to us.

You may well ask ‘What of the evening classes at schools, and the many Maori culture groups around the country?’

Evening classes and University extension courses are very good indeed and are probably the best way to give a good start to someone with little or no knowledge of Maori, but, apart from usually being directed towards some examination, they are a bit more in line with the Pakeha way of doing things and a big percentage of the people who enrol for these classes are Pakeha. Perhaps Maoris may like to feel that they have learned their language from their elders and kinsmen.

Maori culture groups, when we think of it, do not really stress the Maori language as a means of communication, a means of expressing our thoughts easily and precisely. They do not pretend to do so; they have other objectives very worth while in themselves. Yet strange to say it is possible to learn to sing the waiata, even the real old ones in ‘Nga Moteatea’, and not be able to converse fluently in Maori. It is possible to memorize a song without a knowledge of Maori, but it is not possible to compose one.

Many Maori people feel strongly that their language should be retained. Yet it must be faced that to learn a language at any but a very early age is a very difficult accomplishment, requiring greater single-mindedness than most of us possess. The forming of ‘Maori Language Clubs’ by the keenest, young or old, might partly provide a ‘self-help’ answer to the problem.

John Foster

, Rotorua

Inia's Carving
Unveiled

London, 2 June 1972

Nobody present will ever forget the unveiling by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother of the huge pouihi carved by the late Inia Te Wiata, MBE, in New Zealand House, on 1 June 1972. It was an occasion full of emotion, and even more of significance, since this noble carving, standing by the very door of New Zealand House where every visitor must see it, symbolises both the kotahitanga of the Maori and Pakeha races and the continuity of the Maori past into the Maori present and future.

In the great entrance hall of New Zealand House, there is a clear space running from the ground floor right up to the third. It was so designed by Sir Robert Mathew, the distinguished Scottish architect responsible for the House; and the pouihi was planned from the very outset. Sir Robert and Inia being closely associated from the start, it was fitting that Sir Robert was present at the unveiling. To view the carving aright, it must be inspected from the balcony of each floor, as it was by yesterday's guests: only so can the bold, confident and skilful craftsmanship of the carver, and the symbolism of his thought, be appreciated to the full.

The pouihi, over fifty feet tall, is carved from a single giant totara, which for the purpose of being transported across the world had to be sawn into five pieces. Naturally it tapers like any other tree, and in consequence the top is narrower than the bottom; but the average weight of each of the five sections was two tons. The top three sections are suspended from the roof, the two lower ones supported from the ground, and the whole joined by an invisible metal rod bored through from top to bottom.

But these are mere technical details, and irrelevant to the impressive beauty of this unique work of the carver's art.

At the top, below the tikitiki, is Maui,

hauling up Te Ika. At the foot, facing the main doors, as though to challenge or to welcome all who come, is Kupe, mere in hand, exquisitely carved, with a use of the grain of the wood so perfect as to betray the hand of the real master. On either side of Kupe are Tane (bearded) and Hineahuone, along with Taniwharau, the Waikato River taniwha.

The die-hard traditionalist or purist might be tempted to deplore some of Inia's departures from old custom; but the vast majority, even of real connoisseurs, will applaud and praise them. Just as he bridged two musical cultures, excelling in both, so he sought to introduce new themes and to project traditional carving into this twentieth century, in the same way as the old Latin poet Horace wrote of his own work:

“Long hence shall it be told how he that sings
First tuned Greek measures to Italian strings.”

He has done in wood what Sir Apirana Ngata did in song.

And so he has depicted the fantail, the kiwi and the moa—this last in deference to Ngaitahu and the other South Island tribes. An innovation it may be, but a welcome one, and pioneered by a master.

This massive work was carved by Inia in the basement of New Zealand House over a period of eight years, 1963 up to his lamented death in 1971, throughout the busy time when he was following his other career as a singer. He paid every regard to the hallowed conventions which attend such work; every chip, for instance, was disposed of reverently by him in the accepted manner. Some people are distressed by the fact that, owing to the central heating of New Zealand House, the timbers of the pouihi were badly cracked even before its five constituent pieces were assembled; but most of us are not troubled by this, since it seems to endow the whole with a venerable air of antiquity which one would normally have expected only after many years.

A large crowd was assembled in the hall to await the arrival of Her Majesty. It included such people as Lady Freyberg, Sir Bernard and Lady Fergusson, Sir Alec Douglas-Home, Sir Alexander Downer (the Australian High Commissioner) and his wife, and many well-known British and New Zealand guests. A bouquet was offered by Inia's daughter Rima, and Mrs Te Wiata was presented, among many others.

His Excellency Sir Denis Blundell, High Commissioner and Governor-General designate, spoke, and was followed by the Hon. Duncan Maclntyre, M.P., Minister of Maori Affairs. Mr MacIntyre described the symbolism of the carving, and in the course of his speech read greetings to Her Majesty from Queen Te Atairangikaahu, D.B.E., from Mrs Hine Potaka, representing the Maori Women's Welfare League, and from Dr Pei te H. Jones, Chairman of the Maori Council.

Her Majesty herself then spoke, briefly and movingly, recalling how, a bare year and a half ago, Inia Te Wiata had shown her the almost-completed carvings, still in the basement of New Zealand House. She then drew aside the korowai, which had been Inia's own, revealing the inscription on the plinth which will for all time record the occasion. The Rev. A. E. Prebble, formerly of Napier and now vicar of a parish on the outskirts of London, dedicated the whole with a prayer composed for the occasion by the Bishop of Aotearoa.

The proceedings were preceded, interspersed and ended by a powhiri and waiata from the London Maori Club Group, in which the glorious voice of Hannah Tatana predominated, soaring with the others up to the lofty ceiling. It seemed as though the hall was crowded with the tupuna of both races, with Pine Taiapa among us, as well as Inia himself.

Today, the morning after the unveiling, the hall was full of people, gazing at this marvellous creation, carved by the hand of a remarkable man, embodying the inspiration of generations, and enshrining belief in the future.

E hoa Inia, haere ki te marama o te pa o Runga Rawa.

to tatou Ariki. Haere i te rangimarie o te

Rose Pere—Young Maori Woman of the Year, 1971–72

“Ki nga iwi o te motu, ki nga iwi e pae nei, tena koutou katoa. Tena koutou me o tatou tini mate, ka iri te huihui o Matariki ki te paerenga, e te iwi, a haere nga tini mate, haere, haere. Ko te hunga mate ki te hunga mate, ko te hunga ora ki te hunga ora, no reira kia ora ano koutou.”

Born in Ruatahuna in the middle of of July 35 years ago, and brought up as a child at Waikaremoana, in the Urewera, I was strongly influenced by Maoritanga, my grandparents, and the rest of the elders who lived in our district. Our Maori elders fascinated us their ‘mokopunas’, with stories, speeches, songs, chants, and hakas. These kaumatuas could entertain and control us for hours on end, and were always very popular. There always seemed to be plenty to eat when one visited an old ‘kuia’ or ‘koroua’, but reflecting back, I realise it was probably all that some of these old people had, sometimes.

Many of our families had very few material possessions, and were denied so many of the luxuries we enjoy today, and yet what I remember most vividly was the ring of laughter, song and music, the obvious happiness we shared as a people, because of the abundance of aroha—goodwill. There was a deep appreciation and respect for the human element above all things, the laws of conservation, including the natural environment and resources. Mind you, seeing other people's problems has made me realise all these things. I was one of the young people who took the elders and what they stood for, for granted.

The best traditions and values of the Maori culture including the language (old New Zealand heritage), together with the worthwhile values, traditions, modern technology and skills brought in by other cultural and racial groups (new New Zealand heritage) may help to eradicate some of the human conflict and insecurity facing many of us today. We as New Zealanders in this multi-racial society need an identity that will give us a sense of unity, a sense of national pride, security, achievement and progress, in human, rather than material terms.

The role of ‘Young Maori Woman of the

Year’ has taken me into the midst of young and old people throughout New Zealand, and parts of Australia, meeting and talking with people from all walks of life, different racial and cultural backgrounds, including ‘social misfits’. The experience has been worthwhile and most rewarding, because one always learns from contact with other people. Many of the people I met do not fit into either the ‘Maori’ or ‘European’ groups, but are nevertheless New Zealanders who contribute much for the good of our country, and I feel they should be acknowledged and given more recognition. This is one of the reasons why I am in favour of having both the European and Maori political electorates abolished and replaced by ‘New Zealand’ electorates, because consideration should be given to New Zealanders who do not fit into either the European or Maori groups. For example, why should the Mayor of Petone, Mr Gee, be referred to as an ‘honorary European’ when he is a Chinese New Zealander living in New Zealand, not Europe? I care about all the people who live in our country. As far as I'm concerned there are only two races of people, ‘men’ and ‘women’. Having a superiority complex or an inferiority complex does not help a person to communicate positively with an-other person or people. Manaakitia te tangata ahakoa he pango, he whero, he ma ranei, ki au nei, he tangata.

Proud of my Maoritanga, and enriched by my Maori roots and heritage, I am also aware of and appreciate and accept the challenges and some of the teachings of the Western world. This day and age is exciting and full of challenges; the world is now our stamping ground. Our Maori ancestors were adventurers, and the tendency is still present.

The honour bestowed on me at the beginning of the year has taught me many things, but it has made me realise more than ever, how inadequate I am. The many people who have welcomed me into their homes, organisations, institutions, and onto their maraes, have been completely overwhelming, and I will never be able to thank them enough, or to repay them for their many kindnesses. The common element all these people have shown is aroha—goodwill, and as I have already mentioned, these people were all colours, shapes and sizes.

May I mention Tamati Reedy ‘The Young Maori Man Of The Year’. Tena koe Tamati, ka nui taku miharo ki a koe, ka nui nga mihi ki a korua ko Tilly, me ta korua hunuku hoki. This fine man I am very proud of, and I regard him as a leader because he is always willing to help people in any way he possibly can. These people who yell and scream for their ‘Maoritanga’ could well do with a leaf from his book of good deeds. Many of us pay lip service to the Maori Women's Welfare League motto “tatau, tatau” but how many of us make the effort to practise what we preach? Te me nui ko te aroha, me manaakitia e tatau, tenei tangata, tera tangata, nga tangata katoa.

May I also pay a tribute to the Aotea Regional Maori Council and the Aotea Maori Women's Welfare League for nominating and sending me to the Sir Jack Butland National Contest held for the ‘Young Maori Woman Of The Year’ Award, at Auckland. It was a great honour to represent Aotea. “Tena koutou nga iwi, nga hapu, o Aotea, nga koutou au i manaaki, i atawhai. Ka nui taku whakawhetai kia koutou mo tenei honore nui, tena koutou katoa.

Kua mutu nga korero, me nga mihi e hoa ma. Ma te Atua koutou e tiaki, e manaaki, e arahi, i nga wa katoa.

Rose Rangimaric Pere

South Pacific Festival of Arts

by Bill Kerekere

My wife and I were lucky to go to Suva, Fiji for the Pacific Festival of Arts held from 6 to 20 May and it was an unforgettable experience indeed. We went with our representatives, the Waihirere Maori Club, who were given great support by the various Polynesian groups from Wellington and Auckland. The Aotea and Te Waipounamu Clubs, and groups from other areas, also made donations towards the cost of the club's trip. We all attended a combined farewell function by numerous organisations in Gisborne the night before departure, and this effort by the group's home town and homefolk, also added to the total donations.

We were joined by the Rev, Kingi Ihaka and Manu Ihaka at Auckland, and on arrival at Nausori Airport, were met by our New Zealand High Commissioner, Sir John Here-kiekie Grace and Lady Grace, a gracious gesture considering the late hour of our arrival. We eventually bedded down at our billets at Nasinu Teachers' Training College at 1 a.m. Friday morning, 5 May, in excellent quarters, three storeys high, sleeping two persons per room.

At breakfast, we found there were several other groups billeted with us, the New Caledonians (both native and French Europeans), a small group from Nauru Island, and the contingent from Papua and New Guinea—and later we were joined by the large group from American Samoa, and our own countrymen, the members of the Auckland Symphonia, and an Indian group. It was with all these people from various Pacific Islands that we spent the entire two weeks of the festival, eating, sleeping, and living together as one. The Fijian staff on the college campus were extremely friendly, and it was no trouble for them to do things for us. Meals were excellent, and we New Zealanders in particular, enjoyed the luxury of bananas, oranges and other fruit, being served at meals.

The weather was wet on our arrival, and the ground was heavy and muddy, but group rehearsals began the day after arrival—checking gear and costumes—practising items—changing sequence of items for programmes of variable duration, then travelling to the Civic Centre to record tracks for the Opening Ceremony, and to Albert Park for rehearsals of movement and presentation with the director. The fact that at this stage the vast arena was covered with surface water and muddy underfoot, did not dampen the enthusiasm of the Maori group, and they entered into the spirit of the occasion—as did all the other groups participating.

The Grand Opening Ceremony, in the distinguished presence of His Excellency the Governor-General of Fiji, Sir Robert Foster, the Prime Minister of Fiji, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, and the many distinguished guests and visitors from other countries, was a wonderful spectacle of splendour, colour and excitement—and to see the various groups totalling approximately 3,000 members performing before this big and enthusiastic audience, and giving all they had, one forgot that they were all presenting their items in three to four inches of mud and water—they looked as if they were thoroughly enjoying taking part in such a unique and significant occasion—the first combined display of the cultural arts of so many races of the Pacific Islands, Wonderfull! Fantastic!

The first part of the programme featured the host people of Fiji—the marvellous music of the Royal Fiji Police and Military Forces Bands—the very dignified Fijian ceremonial rituals of welcome by the chiefs and people of Kubuna, and the complementary Fijian spear dance, the women's standing dance, and the club dance—proud, authentic and appropriate—and the beautiful ribbon dance of the Chinese, the haunting Gujerati folk dance of the Indian people, and the rousing Hallelujah Chorus sung by the multi-racial

Festival Choir. Then followed the spectacular dances of the other Pacific countries, Tonga, Samoa, Australia, New Zealand, the Solomon Islands, the Cook Islands, Papua, New Guinea, the Gilbert and Ellice Islands—each group individualistic and different, unusual and authentic—each one motivated by the pride and prestige of their own race—and each group without exception rising to the occasion brilliantly, and earning the applause and praise of the many many thousands assembled on Albert Park. An auspicious opening for the Festival—an outstanding night for the display of the cultural arts, the traditional songs, dances and rituals of the peoples of the Pacific. Unforgettable!

From this point on, the Maori group was involved in the programme itinerary itself, performing for enthusiastic audiences at the various official Festival venues, and also moving out to country areas where they were able to entertain the people of the villages. The Maori group also attended special functions and performed the ceremonial rituals of welcome to distinguished guests escorted by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Sir Keith Holyoake and the New Zealand High Commissioner, Sir John Grace. This was at the University of the South Pacific, when various buildings donated by the New Zealand Government and people to the University, were officially opened. This was the

only time when the traditional ceremonial rituals of welcome—the wero or challenge, the karanga—the call of welcome, the haka powhiri—posture dance of welcome, and the haka—were seen during the festival, in their appropriate and proper context. The group also attended the reception given by Sir John Herekiekie Grace in honour of Sir Keith and Lady Holyoake at the Grand Pacific Hotel, and provided the kinaki or complementary item for Sir Keith's address of welcome. This was also the first time the women in the group wore their evening gowns with the distinctive Maori motif patterns, and these created considerable interest and favourable comment, as did the Maori kiekie kits they all carried. The party was also entertained by Sir John and Lady Grace in their home. Sir Keith and Lady Holyoake and Sir John and Lady Grace were in the official party that attended the Maori party's main concert in the Civic Hall, which was completely booked out before the Festival began.

In between their own performances, the Maoris were able to attend performances by other Pacific races, attend lecture demonstrations, and visit the village of traditional South Pacific houses, where they were able to see and purchase articles made by the people of various Pacific territories—and watch the actual making of tapa cloth, basket and mat weaving, and carvers at work. Watching the various races actually working

on their traditional handcrafts and artifacts, and having them there for display and for sale, we as Maoris did regret that we did not have expert carvers and weavers present to demonstrate our Maori crafts, or even have some examples of these there for display—and our non-participation in this aspect of the Festival was commented on repeatedly by people from other territories.

The group were also given time to see the sights of Suva—the Market Place, Fiji Museum, etc., as well as shopping in the city for souvenirs, and visited night spots like the Tradewinds, the Isa Lei, and were helped and guided by many Kiwis now living in Fiji. Some were invited out and tasted the happy hospitality of the Fijians' homes, and some again were fortunate to be invited to a wedding. There were invitations taken up from several New Zealanders who entertained members of the group during periods when the club was not committed.

With all the sincere and spontaneous applause of capacity audiences at the various venues of performances, the Waihirere Club created good relationships in many ways apart from public concerts. I can recall the amazement of the staff of the aircraft when club members got up from their seats to help clear away trays—the smiles of gratitude on the faces of the Fijian staff in our dining room when the members got up after meals, cleared away and helped with the dishes, etc., sweeping up around our dormitory rooms and scrubbing out the ablution blocks—all these little things added up to make our stay a happy one.

But it was mainly in meeting and talking to people from other places that mattered most—listening to various languages being spoken, and trying to establish similarities—and finding them—asking about customs, dress, the way of life in different places—all these queries and questions—mixing with other people from other parts of the world, learning about them and vice versa. And as time drew close for heading home, socials and parties were held where everyone joined in, and on the day of parting, presentations were made, speeches given, and gifts exchanged spontaneously—the result of eating, sleeping and living together—the spirit of togetherness.

We have learnt many things about the world around us at this Festival, and much about ourselves. I am sure that the Waihirere Maori Club have left a good impression with other Pacific races, and with our wonderful hosts of fascinating Fiji. Following the success of this First South Pacific Festival of Arts, I am sure that another will follow—and I am certain, that in order to help the Maori party attending the next Festival, that the leaders of the Waihirere Maori Club, Mr and Mrs B. Wehi, will have some recommendations to make which will help the next representatives of the Maori Race, and New Zealand.

On behalf of the Waihirere Maori Club, my wife and I would like to compliment Bill Kerekere on his article, and endorse it. Bill and his wife Mihi, would be the only two people at the South Pacific Festival of Arts to see all the races involved in demonstrating their respective arts and crafts. It was impossible for us, as performers, to see other groups performing, due to being on at the same time or being committed to other venues in Suva. Having Bill and Mihi along solved many problems, such as their appearing as our representatives at performances the group could not attend, and many a group noticed and enjoyed their presence.

Prior to our taking part in the National Competitions at Rotorua on 11 March 1972, the women members held a meeting and decided to make a full new uniform of headband, bodice and cloak, and they were also instrumental in the men making their own headband and tapeka. The amazing part of this venture was that in November 1971 we set a date, that all costumes be ready for a final dress rehearsal one week before Rotorua, and completed they were. This is ‘Lesson Number One’ for the club who may have the good fortune to represent our country at another festival in the future.

My reason for including the making of

costumes in this report is that had we not undertaken this very wise move, we would surely have suffered certain embarrassment during the South Pacific Festival as all other countries were turned out so immaculately. After Rotorua, our members really worked hard, particularly the womenfolk who, besides making a travelling uniform, also made evening gowns of their own choice of style and colour, highlighted by a Maori motif design placed wherever they desired. Consequently we had 18 happy women sporting the design, style, colour and placement of the motif to their personal satisfaction.

To complicate matters further we had three practices a week. The purpose for all this extra work was that we fully realised we were not only representing Waihirere. Takitimu and Tairawhiti, but also New Zealand, and knowing that three practices a week should take care of our stage appearance, we deemed it a ‘must’ that off-stage was just as important.

From the announcement date of our going to Fiji until the day of our arrival, we received one letter from the organising committee in Fiji requesting a recording of a number for the opening ceremony. They did not receive the one we sent, so we had to do another recording in Suva. The point I am trying to stress is that we did not have the slightest idea of the type of bracket or the length of our presentation. Fortunately we had decided to rehearse for a one-hour programme, beginning with glimpses into the past, action songs, punctuated by short vigorous hakas, ancient chants and even demonstrating ‘Waiata Poi’ which was half English and half Maori, much to the delight of our audiences. Imagine the shock when we were told on arrival that they required a two-hour programme and we had only one hour. With two days' notice we were back to work during breaks in shows, practising numbers to bridge the two hours. What an upheaval! What started out to be a holiday ended up a working one. The programme we received had us down for three confirmed performances and one unconfirmed. As it turned out we did nine shows, of which four were open air ones in direct Fijian sun, which sapped up the little energy we had left. ‘Point Number Two’—be prepared to do a two-hour show.

We were described in one New Zealand paper as being ‘puny’—in number I guess—which was very true, compared with the Tongan's number of 260. At the University of the South Pacific, which was an open air presentation, our 34 performers did remarkably well in the hot sun, and we were followed by this large contingent of Tongans who enjoyed the sun so much that they stayed for 1 ½ hours. ‘Point Number Three’—if at all possible, I would suggest 50 performers at least.

Also at the university were displays by all races, of native buildings, carvings and all facets of arts and crafts, which were sold mainly to Americans who priced the ordinary buyer out of the market. We viewed all these displays and were amazed to read in the programme that we were to perform at our Maori village. ‘What Maori village?’ we asked. At this point we experienced an ashamed feeling in not having the surroundings required, knowing full well that back home in New Zealand we had carvers and weavers of the highest calibre. I could not help feeling that we had to go to Fiji to actually experience that one had to leave New Zealand to admire the richness of one's culture. I strongly recommend to the authorities concerned that for future festivals a group of carvers and weavers be included so that other races may have the opportunity to view our fine carvings along with our mat and basket making.

One other factor that was most noticeable was that all the other races conversed in their own native tongue. Is it too much to ask leaders of other clubs to endeavour to make a concentrated effort to include our language as part of our club activities. It would almost be a crime for any club leader to go afield without knowing his or her own language, as the general feeling was that a race which loses its tongue is a cursed race.

Since returning home I have had a lot of time to retrace some of the aspects of the festival and I am convinced that the other races had at least six months to one year's notice of their appearing at the festival. We had six weeks. To substantiate my thoughts,

I quote the Cook Islands group who are known as the ‘Cook Islands National Arts Theatre Company’, the ‘Australian Aboriginal Theatre’, the ‘Old Tote Theatre Company of Australia’, the ‘Fijian Prizewinning Play’, plus many other presentations such as plays, recitals, poetry readings and others which would require many months of work and practice. I have quoted the groups above to give you an idea of the professional names, and professional they were, particularly the Cook Islanders and the Aborigines of Australia who, I was told, had toured Australia together and were in the process of going to America. These performers have been together for two years. Had we known, we could have presented the play not yet seen in the North Island, ‘The Taiaha and the Testament’, the life story of Te Kooti Rikirangi, founder of the Ringatu Church. What I am trying to convey is that if the South Pacific Festival should be staged again at the same time as the recent one, our New Zealand Polynesian Festival should be held in say October, to give the winning club six months to work something out, as they will be demonstrating with the very best in the South Pacific.

I would also like to put in its right perspective the idea most people have of this festival being a competition. It is not a competition. It is far deadlier. It is a demonstration of pride, prestige, dignity and tradition

of the highest quality. If you can achieve these things you will have done your ancestors, race and country proud. I can only say that the Waihirere Maori Club members did these things to the best of their ability, and furthermore, we have created the impact, we have laid a foundation for other teams. We have done what we journeyed out to do—to create good will amongst other races—so much so that there were scenes of tears and open crying between us and many races on our departure from Suva.

During a back stage break I met an Afro-American girl who is studying music at a university in Hawaii. She thoroughly enjoyed the show, especially the traditional numbers and pois. She was amazed at us using European pop tunes without our being faced with a copyright charge. Although we used three European tunes we did this only to show that we were willing to mix our cultures. But this is a point that should be watched. I tried to explain to her and other people my reasons for using pop tunes. I remember saying that in the past Maori tutors said, ‘do this’, and that was that, but today with changing circumstances one cannot continually force cha [ unclear: ] and hakas down young people's throats—otherwise you would have no membership. Young people look forward to doing a pop tune number as a wee break from the chants, etc. I also pointed out that we Maori folk were the only race at Suva to have ven

tured so far into European life, while a lot of other races still lived in environments similar to yesteryears. Some people were astounded at our command of the English language, especially when they spoke to us in short jerky sentences to which we replied with fluent well-spoken English.

We were disappointed at not taking part in the closing ceremony, due to bookings made well before we left for Fiji. The ceremony sarted at 7 p.m. on Saturday, 20 May, and we were booked out on two flights from Suva to Nandi. The first 20 members left the hostel at 5.30 p.m. and the remainder at 9 p.m. so we found ourselves lying about on the floor in the Nandi terminal or sleeping (if we could) on forms, until the ungodly hour of 2 a.m. when we were filed through customs to enjoy softer chairs. We arrived in Auckland at 7 a.m. Sunday, but once again we did not leave Auckland until 8.50 p.m. and arrived home somewhat fagged out at 10 p.m. So in fact we travelled from 5.30 p.m. Saturday until 10 p.m. Sunday with no sleep. Perhaps connecting flights could be looked into.

I lay no fault at anyone's feet, for the points I have raised. It did, I feel, appear that up to the National Polynesian Festival date there was some uncertainty as to New Zealand being represented in Fiji. Even if this was so, we are grateful, honoured and more ‘aware’ for the experience of mixing with and seeing other races. Please bear in mind these are not grizzles. The good parts far exceed the small problems. Nevertheless being the first group representing New Zealand, we only experienced these things due to short notice and I merely brought these problems forth so that the group that goes to the next festival can capitalise on some of our experiences.

We, the members of the Waihirere Maori Club, had a memorable trip, so much so that we would be available again under the same circumstances, because this is the most unforgettable experience of a lifetime! Thank you New Zealand for the opportunity of going abroad and making our contribution to the arts and crafts of the South Pacific.

Finally let me pay tribute to the people of Te Arawa Tribe, who hosted and staged the first New Zealand Polynesian Festival. Without them it would not have been possible. Also the members responsible on the New Zealand Polynesian Festival Committee for their foresight; the judges who were responsible for us going to Fiji; and the Minister of Maori Affairs, the Hon. Duncan MacIntyre, for the generous donation on behalf of the New Zealand Government; the Patea Methodist Maori Club; the South Taranaki Maori Club; the Waikawa Cultural Party, Picton; Turanga Pastorate Junior Cultural Group; Parihimanihi Marae Committee; Tatou Tatou o Tairawhiti Club; Miss L. M. von Siedler, Terence and Lesley Barker; the Ormond School; the Ormond Tavern; Mate Waimotu Maori Cultural Group; the Delamere family; the Ngawari Sunday School Junior Group; the Women's Welfare League; the Tuhura and Reedy families; the Mangatu Haka Group; the Maori Central Competition Committee; the Mangatu blocks; the Arai Matawai blocks; the Turanga Lions Club; the Gisborne Lions Club; Mr H. K. Ngata; the Poho-O-Rawiri Marae; G.M.C. Rugby Football Club; Te Tairawhiti Women's Welfare League; Bryan's Pharmacy and a group who prefers to remain anonymous; plus all the good people who sent telegrams of congratulations and bon voyage and also telegrams which were sent to us on our arrival home. Last but not least I would like to thank the Maori groups of Wellington and also the Island groups who assisted in a huge benefit concert towards our trip, and also in Auckland, the Maori groups and Island groups who assisted in a benefit farewell concert there. Thank you very much all these people who gathered to make it possible for us to go to Fiji.

He korero taku, he korero whakaiti. Na o koutou manaaki i ora ai matou i rawahi. Kia kaha, kia toa. kia manawanui. A nei te korero whakamutunga he whakatauaki na o tatou tupuna

Ma to rourou
Ma toku rourou
Ka ora te iwi.

No reira e nga iwi o nga hau e wha, tena koutou, tena koutou, me te Atua koutou katoa e manaaki.

na Ngapo (Bub) Wehi

People
and
Places

Under the Skin

by M. White

The summer Old Tupeka died was one of those that only seem to crop up occasionally; long, hot, dry days that go on week after week. We were living close to the beach at the time. I was going to college and after school I'd spend the afternoon with the other kids in and out of the water until the last of the sun had gone. Even then we were reluctant to leave the beach and usually only our stomachs or the threat of unfinished homework drove us home.

I remember I'd come in early that night. I can't recall why exactly; perhaps the tide was out. Anyhow there weren't many of the kids about. I kicked around on my own for a bit but it wasn't much fun so I headed out of it. When I got home Dad was dressing to go out.

‘Ben Tupeka was killed at work yesterday.’ my mother told me as I opened the frig. ‘Your father is going out to see them.’

I loaded my plate, remembering Old Tupeka. I don't think I'd given him more than a passing thought these last few years. I really never knew him very well. The family used to live next door to us in a house that was due for demolition; in the meantime the landlord was milking it for every penny before it was pulled down. Tupeka, with his large family, hadn't much choice and he paid through the nose for the old dump. He worked all hours God made to try to keep ahead of it so we didn't see much of him; but we were very conscious of his presence all the same and the kids treated him with the greatest of respect and made sure he didn't find out what they knew he'd disapprove of. He ruled everyone with a rod of iron, and that included his wife.

Mum and Mrs Tupeka became friends and the kids were in and out of our place as if it were their own. They called Mum ‘Auntie’ and seemed to think they had a

right to my things. I wasn't used to sharing. All the same I don't think I'd have minded too much if only they'd put them back. It was no use complaining to Mum. She'd just say, ‘Never mind, you have plenty, and anyhow you can get it again.’ But it didn't always work out that way. so I took to hiding my stuff; which was a nuisance because I wasn't all that tidy and it meant I was always putting my things away. So I didn't have many regrets when they got a Maori Affairs house and moved away.

It wasn't long after that we moved to the beach.

‘I'll go with Dad, if you like,’ I said. I wasn't so hungry after all.

I sat next to Dad on the way out. Once we were on the motorway the run was fast and easy and we chatted quietly. That was one thing I liked about him, you could sit and talk or just be quiet. It was a comfortable relationship that put no strain on either of us.

It was dark by the time we reached the house. I'd never been to a Maori house where there had been a death. I'd heard that relatives came from miles around and there certainly seemed to be a lot of cars. There was a bus parked alongside the kerb, North-landers. I thought, and cars kept arriving as we walked up the path. All the same, I wasn't prepared for the solid mass of people who spilled out of the house, cramming the front porch and standing in little knots round the outside.

Dad and I hesitated but a way was made for us and we moved on into the front room. We were the only Pakehas.

It was like a state house, and the living room had been designed for a good-sized family. Still, it didn't seem possible to squeeze another one in, but somehow a space was made for me. I lost Dad in the

crowd. I guessed he was behind me somewhere. I only knew it was hot.

The coffin was on the floor in the middle of the room, a photograph at the head, a candle at the foot. A coffin in a church is a pretty familiar sight to me-I'd been marched into class rosaries all my school days-but I've never seen one that looked so right before. It's hard to explain, but somehow it seemed as though the old man was at home with his family. Maori relatives sat round the room, backs to the wall, feet straight out in front of them while a priest said prayers. I knelt, not understanding a word.

Opposite me sat Joe Tupeka. I don't think I ever particularly liked Joe. He'd been much bigger than I was when we were kids, though we were the same age; he was tough and could throw his weight around if he liked and it seemed to me that he often liked. He didn't look at me. I wondered if he knew what the priest was saying. I knew he couldn't speak Maori, but his parents did and he must have caught something now and again. I glanced at the other faces nearest me. They were shut tight, grieving for their own and resenting the Pakehas who intruded on their sorrow. I could feel it hanging between us like a heavy curtain. I wondered if Dad felt it too. I was sorry I'd come.

It was stiflingly hot. I shifted my position and pushed my bare arms out in front of me, resting them on my brown knees.

Idly I thought, ‘I'm the same colour as the rest of them.’ Through the droning of Maori I heard my name.

The priest said, ‘Now I will say in English what I have just said in Maori. Tonight we have Pakeha friends with us. Peter and Brian White from Titirangi. Pakehas often join with us in rejoicing but they seldom come to share our sorrow. We make you welcome.’

It's difficult to describe feelings, to explain how everything changed. Without another

word spoken the whole atmosphere cleared and I was drawn into that group of mourning people. I could see the masks come off and I was one with them.

The prayers were over,
Joe nodded his head to me.

‘It's good to see you after so long.’ he said, and led me to his mother.

Mrs Tupeka, her face bruised with grief. sat in a chair at the head of her husband. I remembered her as nearly always sitting in a chair. I think she must have been the big-best woman I've ever seen and movement was difficult for her. She left the running of the family to her eldest daughter and what Mary said the rest accepted. I suppose they were used to it, but I'd just like to see my sister try to boss me around like that!

Whenever I saw Mrs Tupeka she had kids round her, her own, her grandchildren and some whose relationship I never worked out. Whatever was happening gravitated to her. She was like a queen whose bulk filled every inch of her shabby throne. She never read a book or did knitting or anything like that; she always seemed to be free to talk to anyone who wanted her. her brown eyes ready to dance with laughter at the least excuse. Everyone adored her, including me.

If I'd had a battle with Mum, I'd squeeze through the hedge into the place next door, sidle up to her and she'd put her great arm round me. After a while I'd feel a lot better.

I looked at her in the flickering candlelight and I was glad when she put her arms round me again, big fellow that I was.

‘Poor dear, poor dear,’ she murmured, and I never knew whether she meant me or herself.

It's been years since I last saw the Tupekas. I may never see them again; yet I know I lost nothing through having known them. I remember Dad and I drove home that night, the Maori speeches still ringing in our ears. We didn't speak; each of us was shut in his own little box of silent thought.

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