Te Ao Hou
THE MAORI MAGAZINE
The Department of Maori and Island Affairs July 1973
Japanese Royal Visit
Mrs Nellie Rata, wife of the Minister of Maori Affairs, explains the words of an action song to Princess Michiko
The royal couple chat to members of the Royal Thai Airforce, and ignore the driving rain as they say farewell to people on the marae, following their visit to Turangawaewae during this year's Coronation hui (see page 4).
Turangawaewae Marae at Ngaruawahia will be ‘closed’ while the new Kimikimi dining hall complex is being erected. A few days after the Coronation hui in May, Akara dining room was to be dismantled, and shop and offices removed from the main old Kimikimi building, before it was moved alongside Pare Hauraki and Pare Waikato for eventual use as a sleeping house, possibly two-storied. Work is already well advanced on part of the new Kimikimi, and it is expected that it will be completed in time for a grand opening early next year.
MAORI EDUCATION FOUNDATION
FINANCIAL ASSISTANCE FOR MAORI PUPILS, 1974
The [ unclear: ] Maori Education Foundation seeks to encourage Maori pupils to make the best use of educational facilities and provides financial assistance to this end. For the purposes of the Foundation the term “Maori” includes any descendent of a New Zealand or Chatham Islands Maori. Assistance granted by the Foundation is based upon the dual criteria of merit and need. Teachers aware of promising Maori pupils in need of financial assistance to further their education are requested to encourage such pupils to apply to the Foundation.
For secondary school pupils, application form M.E.F., 5A should be used. This form has been widely distributed to schools, but more may be obtained from the Foundation at the address below. They are also available from Education Department offices in Auckland and Christchurch; Vocational Guidance Centres in Auckland, Hamilton, Napier, Lower Hutt, Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin; Education Boards; District Offices of the Department of Maori and Island Affairs.
All applications for assistance at secondary school level should be lodged with the Secretary, Maori Education Foundation, Box 8006, Government Buildings, Wellington, C.1 no later than 31 October, 1973
Applications on behalf of those undertaking study at a university, a technical institute, a polytechnic, or other tertiary institution, must be made on form M.E.F. 5B which is obtained from the Secretary, and should be lodged with him no later than 31 January, 1974.
published quarterly by the Department of Maori and Island Affairs, and sponsored by the Maori Purposes Fund Board.
printed by Organ Bros.
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editorial address: Box 2390, Wellington, New Zealand.
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back issues (N.Z. Rates): Issue Nos. 31-32, 34-37, and 39-72 are available at 40c each. A very few copies of issue Nos. 19-22, 27-29, 33 and 38 are still available at 80c each. Other issues are now out of stock. (Overseas rates for back issues are available on request.)
contributions in maori: Ko tetahi o nga whakaaro nui o Te Ao Hou he pupuri kia mau te reo Maori. Otira ko te nuinga o nga korero kei te tukua mai kei te reo Pakeha anake. Mehemea hoki ka nui mai nga korero i tuhia ki te reo Maori ka whakanuia ake te wahanga o ta tatou pukapuka mo nga korero Maori.
Statements in signed articles in Te Ao Hou are the responsibility only of the writers concerned.
editor: Joy Stevenson.
Te Ao Hou
THE MAORI MAGAZINE
|The Best of Dinners, Fiona Kidman||11|
|The Morepork, Arapera Molenaar||15|
|The Tāniko Wall-Hanging, Dora Somerville||17|
|The Trout, Joan Harrison||44|
|When the Canoes Returned, Frederic C. Parmée||3|
|Maungarei: 1972, H. B. Sandall||63|
|‘Ka Mahora Ki te Riu Ki Waikato’, Sam Karetu||4|
|Polynesian Farewell … and Welcome||20|
|If I Only Knew Then What I Know Now, Douglas Ball||22|
|Memories of Waiohau, Elsie E. Little||27|
|He Aha te Matauranga, Ani Bosch||35|
|Second Polynesian Festival||38|
|Kia Riwai Lounge||41|
|Smith Family Reunion, Arapera Molenaar||42|
|Correspondence School Jubilee, Norine Standish||50|
|Moko, Michael King||51|
|Haere Ki O Koutou Tipuna||2|
|People and Places||36|
|Younger Readers' Section||45|
front cover: Two of the kuia moko who came with the Tuhoe group to the centennial celebrations at Te Kuiti.
back cover: Tokanga-nui-a-noho seen through its carved gateway.
HAERE KI O
We are grateful to Mr Turoa Royal for this tribute to our editor of Maori text. Beth Ranapia's whole life was dedicated to Maori language, as she taught evening classes, served on every national committee for the teaching of Maori, and edited or revised textbooks.
Iripeti Bethia Ranapia
Haere ra e kui
Kauria atu ra
Te Moana i hoe ai e
O tipuna e …
Ka ngaro ki te po
E kore na e hoki mai
Ki a tatou nei e
Noho wairangi nei
If I was asked who I would name as one of the greatest leaders and workers in the development of the teaching of Maori language in the last ten years, I would have no hestitation in naming Elizabeth Bethia Ranapia who died at her home in Wellington on Sunday 15 October 1972.
When Beth passed away she was editor, School Publications Branch, Education Department, and as editor she was in charge of all the school publications dealing with Maorí language. At the time of her death she had played a major role in revising Te Rangatahi I, Te Rangatahi II, Williams Maori Dictionary, and was working on the next textbook Te Reo Rangatira. Furthermore she was responsible for the editing of Te Wharekura journals (22 journals have now been printed) and the Te Tautoko journals (three have now been completed). Her writing of some of the Correspondence School assignments is also acknowledged.
These textbooks and journals have made a major impact on the development of Maori language in schools. Indeed these books have supplied a demand by schools, teachers' colleges and universities. In Beth Ranapia we have lost a valuable contributor and leader in the development of Maori language. It was a very sad loss to Maoridom, for she brought to her job a high sense of dedication, sensitivity to a variety of dialects and a depth of knowledge that was astounding, particularly when one considers that she was born in 1909 in Scotland as Elizabeth McGregor, and having migrated to New Zealand received her teacher's certificate in 1940. Beth taught for a number of years in Te Kaha where she not only learnt Maori but also married Pat Ranapia.
On moving to Wellington in 1955 she worked for ten years in the Correspondence
School and in 1966 was appointed as Editor (Maori Language) in School Publications.
Since this time her unfailing efforts to provide Maori language books have been of tremendous value. Her dedication and enthusiasm for the language cannot be ignored or denied. The Maori people have lost a staunch supporter of the language that provides an insight into their rich cultural heritage.
She is survived by her husband and three daughters.
Haere e kui ki o tatou tupuna, haere, haere.
Te Kahu Tihi
No te rua tekau ma wha ō ngā ra a Maehe i mate ai. Whitu tekau ōna tau. He Rangatira no te hapū nei no Ngātirongo i roto o Tuhoe—He uri no ngā Rangatira, Te Rāhikoia ki roto o Tuwharetoa—Rangite ao rere ki roto o Te Arawa—ka puta ki te kōrero nei (Te Tokotoru a Kokāmutu). He mōrehu no te Haahi Mihingare. Haere ki o tatou Mātua—ki ngā poutaketake o te Haahi i roto o Ruātoki.
Kia Paora Rangiaho
Kia Tewhetu Paerata
Kia Teihi Hawiki
Kia Te wharetini Rangi
Kia Te Rāma Haki Rangiaho
Kia Hurihia raua ko Hōri Hohua
Kia Hinerotu raua ko Hime te ariki Numia
Kia Ameria McGarvey—Kia rātau ma,
Haere Ki to Hoa wahine Kia Riripeti.
He oi na to Tamaiti
Na Renata Numia Rangi
When the Canoes Returned
When the canoes returned
the men exulted over pas burned down
and grey battles coming alive
under the exultation of meres
When the canoes returned
the captives mourned for their homes
and rocked themselves to sleep
under the red stars of their agony
When the canoes returned
the women grieved for their sons
and the empty mat in the grey dawn
and put away the bone flute and the dogskin cloak
When the canoes returned
the old men counted the dead in their silence
and watched the children run
laughing into the boiling surf.
Frederick C. Parmée
‘… Ka Mahora Ki te Riu Ki Waikato …’
‘He Powhiri …’
Uea he pou o te whare kia tū tangatanga.
He kapua whakairi nā rātau i Taupiri,
Taku kiri ka tokia e te anu mātāo
Tihei mauri ora, ki te whei ao, ki te ao mārama.
Haere mai, Haere mai, Haere mai.
Haere mai e te Motu
Ka kau tāua i roto o Waikato
Kia mātakitakina tāua
E te tini, e te mano
Miroi e Tane, koakoa e Tane.
Māturuturu haere nei te wai
O te hika o te kuia nei.
Nā raro ana mai
Ko te kōmuri hau,
Nā runga ana mai
Ko Waihihi, ko Waihaha.
Haere mai te toki!
Haumi e! Hui e! Tāiki e!
Piki mai, kake mai, haere mai rā, e te Motu,
Haere mai, e ngā hau e whā,
Haere mai, e ngā Waka
Haere mai e te Motu,
Haere mai e te iwi rangatahi,
Ki te rā koroneihana o te Arikinui, a Te Atairangikaahu
a te 23 o ngā rā o Mei, 1973.
Kei taua rā ka whakatakokotoria ae papa o
te Kimikimi hou e tā koutou Mokopuna.
Nā ngā iwi kua mene i whakahua,
Nā te hunga ora i whakatupu
Nā ngā iwi katoa o te Motu i puāwai ai.
Haere mai! Haere mai! Haere mai!’
‘… Stretched Out in the Waikato Valley …’
‘An Invitation …’
Loosen a post of your house so that it is free.
A cloud hovers above coming from them who rest on Taupiri,
My skin feels the great cold
So let there be life in the world of light, in the world of the living.
Therefore welcome, thrice welcome.
Come all ye tribes of the country
That we might swim together in the waters of Waikato
And that we might be seen by the great multitudes.
Be radiant, o Tane, be joyful o Tane.
The waters flow by (of this old lady)
From the north,
Come the gentle breezes
In the south
Are Waihihi and Waihaha.
So drag it forward.
Let the axe be brought
For [ unclear: ] tis ended! Let us gather together! Let us be one.
Welcome, welcome, welcome all ye tribes of the land.
Welcome, ye four winds.
Welcome, ye descendants of all the canoes,
Welcome all ye people of the land.
Welcome ye of the younger generation
Come to the day of the coronation of Te Arikinui, Te Atairangikaahu
On the 23rd day of May 1973.
On that day the foundation stone of the new Kimikimi will be laid by your granddaughter
It was they, who have departed this world, who expressed the thought
It was the living who nurtured the idea
It was the tribes of the land who saw the idea through to fruition.
Welcome, welcome, welcome.'
Tēnei rā te pōwhiri i tae mai ki a au kia tae atu au ki Tūrangawaewae ki te whakanui i te tau tuawhitu o te ekenga o Te Ariki Tapairu, o Te Atairangikaahu, ki te ahurewa tapu o ōna mātua, tīpuna.
Kāore e kore kei te mōhio katoa koutou
Thus was the invitation worded which I received to attend the seventh annual celebrations of the ascent of Te Ariki Tapairu, Dame Te Atairangikaahu, to the sacred throne of her ancestors.
No doubt you will all know that this is
ko tēnei te marae tino rongonui o te motu, ā, ki a au nei hoki, ko tēnei te marae tino ataahua o te motu katoa. E ai ki ngā kōrero ko te īngoa nei, ko Tūrangawaewae, i heke mai i a Tāwhiao, nāna nei te kōrero,
‘Ko Arekahānara tōku hāona kaha,
Ko Kemureti tōku oko horoi,
Ko Ngāruawahia tōku tūrangawaewae.’
Āroha ana ēnei kupu nā te mea ko te wāhi e tū nei te marae nei i murua e te Kāwanatanga, ā, he mea āta hoko mai ano taua wāhi e te iwi o Waikato kia ea ai tā tō rātou tipuna i kī ai. I te wā hoki e tamariki ana a Tāwhiao koinei ōna wāhi haututū, ā, i tipu ake ia i ngā tahataha o te awa o Waikato. I tua atu i tērā he puna i reira i inu ai a Tāwhiao nā reira i pīrangi ai a Te Puea mā kia tū te marae nei ki Ngāruawāhia. Na te werawera o ngā rae o Te Puea me tōna iwi i tū ai te marae o Tūrangawaewae me ōna whare ataahua, arā, a Tūrongo, a Mahinārangi, a Pare Waikato, a Pare Hauraki, a Kimikimi me ētahi atu o ngā whare kai.
Nā, ko te whare kai e mōhiotia nei ko Kimikimi i hikitia mai i Mangatāwhiri ki Tūrangawaewae, ā, ka whakatūria ano ki reira. No te tau 1921 i hikitia mai ai taua whare rā. I nāianei kua kitea kua tawhito haere te whare nei nā reira ka tipu ake te whakaaro i waenganui i ngā iwi o Waikato kia mahia ano he whare kai hou ēngari me waiho tonu ko Kimikimi tonu hei īngoa mo taua whare hou. Nā, i te tau kua pahemo ake nei ka tahuri ano te iwi o Waikato ki te kohi moni hei whakatū i tō
the most famous marae in the country and, in my opinion, this is the most beautiful marae in the whole country. According to tradition, the name Turangawaewae came from Tawhiao whose famous words were
‘Let Alexandra be my symbol of strength of character,
Let Cambridge be my wash bowl of sorrow,
And let Ngaruawahia be my footstool.’
These words are tinged with sadness, for the place on which the marae now stands was formerly confiscated by the Government and the place had to be bought back by the Waikato people so that what their ancestor said could be realised. At the time that Tawhiao was a child these were the places he played in, and he grew to manhood on the banks of the Waikato. Apart from that, there was a spring at which Tawhiao had drunk and it was for this reason that Te Puea and her people wanted the marae established at Ngaruawahia. It is because of the industry of Te Puea and her people that the marae of Turangawaewae was established along with its beautiful houses Tūrongo, Mahinārangi, Pare Waikato, Pare Hauraki, Kimikimi and the other eating houses.
The dining room known as Kimikimi, was shifted from Mercer to Turangawaewae and rebuilt there. This shift took place in 1921. It is now seen that this house is getting too old and because of this fact the people of Waikato decided to build a new dining room but to retain the name of Kimikimi. In the year just gone by the
rātou whare hou. I te tau kotahi i kohia e te iwi nei ā rātou moni, ā, ko aua moni i neke atu i te kotahi rau mano taara. Ka kite mai ai koutou i te kaha o tēnei iwi ki te whakamahi i a rātou anō kia tū ai tō rātou whare. E tika ana hoki, nā te mea nā tō rātou tipuna, nā Te Puea, i whakatauira mai te āhei o ngā iwi o te riu o Waikato ki te mahi kia rite ai ngā wawata. Nā te kaha hoki o Te Puea mā ki te mahi ka tū tō rātou marae ataahua, a Tūrangawaewae e takoto nei i te taha o tōna awa, o Waikato, e kī nei hoki tōna kōrero; ‘Waikato taniwha rau; he piko, he taniwha; he piko, he taniwha’. Ko ngā āhua mahi katoa i whakahaerea e te iwi nei kia riro mai ai ā rātou moni, ā, ki tāku nei titiro ka ea i a rātou tō rātou wawata kia tū tō rātou whare ā tērā tau tonu. No te 23 o Mei i tahia ai te papa mo te Kimikimi hou, ā, ko ngā kupu o runga i taua papa ko ēnei e whai ake nei;
He kōwhatu whakamaharatanga tēnei mō te tahinga o te papa e te Ariki Nui, e Te Atairangikaahu i te 23 o Mei, 1973
Kua whā tau au e noho ana i roto o Waikato, ā, kua tino mohio au ki tō rātou kaha ki te manaaki i te tangata. Kei te waimarie katoa au i te kaha manaaki mai ā te iwi o Waikato i a au, otirā mātou ko aku akonga o te Whare Wānanga o Waikato e tū nei i te tāone o Hamutana. Ko taku mahi he whakaako i te reo Maori me ngā tikanga ā ō tātou tīpuna kua riro nei ki Paerau. I waimarie ai mātou he nui nō ngā marae o Waikato nei hei hari atu i ngā akonga ki reira kite-ā-kanohi ai i ngā tikanga, ā,
people of the Waikato set about collecting money with which to build their new dining room, and in one year they collected more than $100,000. From this, it can be seen how hard these people will drive themselves in order to see their new building standing. It is not surprising because their ancestor, Te Puea, proved how easy it was for the tribes of the Waikato Basin to realise their ambitions if they were prepared to work hard for them. It was because of the industry of Te Puea and her people that the beautiful marae of Turangawaewae was established on the banks of its river, whose proverb is as follows; ‘Waikato of a hundred monsters; at each bend of the river a monster.’ All types of activities were undertaken by these people to raise the money and, as far as I can see, their ambition to have the house completed next year will be realised. On 23 May the
A stone in memory of the clearing of the site, by Dame Te Ariki Nui, Te Atairangikaahu on the 23rd day of May 1973.
I have now been living in the Waikato for four years and have become very aware of the great hospitality of the people of this area. I lecture in Maori Language and Culture at the University of Waikato in Hamilton, and my students and I have been very fortunate to experience the great generosity of the people of Waikato. We are also fortunate because there are many maraes in the Waikato to which students can be taken so that they can observe at first hand the customs of the Maori and
rongo-ā-taringa ai i te reo e korerotia ana e ngā tāngata e tohunga ana ki tēnei mahi, te tu ki te marae. Kua tae mātou ko aku akonga ki ngā marae o Tūrangawaewae, ki Kai-ā-te-mata, ā, ki Hukanui. Katoa ngā marae i tae ai mātou i tino whakarangatiratia mātou e ngā pākeke ahakoa nāku kē rātou i kī atu i te haere atu mātou! Āpiti atu hoki i kī atu au ki a rātou kia waiho mai mā mātou e kōhuru atu tā rātou waiata tangi, arā, a ‘E Pā Tō Hau’. E kore kē e ea i a au ngā manaakitanga maha mai ā koutou, i a au, e kare mā, otirā mātou katoa ko aku akonga kua tae nei ki runga i ō koutou marae. Nā reira tēnei mōkai ā koutou, o roto mai o Tūhoe, i tuhi ai i ēnei whakaaro ruarua ōna hei whakamōhio atu a koutou i tana kaha whakamihi me tana kaha whahamīharo ki a koutou. Me pēhea kē atu he kōrero ki a koutou? Heoi ano rā, tēnā koutou katoa.
Koīnei anake te marae o te motu tū ai ngā whakataetae haka ki te aroaro tonu o te whare nui. Whakaeke mai ana he kapa haka ki te haka, tū ana ngā kuia o Waikato ki te karanga i taua kapa, arā, ki te whakanui i taua kapa. Ko tēnei tau te mea tuatahi i pēnei rawa ai te nui o ngā rōpu i tae mai ki te whakataetae i ngā mahi, ā, nā tā rātou mahi kātahi ka kitea te āta kore e ngaro o ēnei tāonga ā tātou i te mata o te whenua.
Nā, i tū ngā mahi whakataetae haka i te 19 me te 20 o ngā rā o Mei, kia āhei ai ngā mea e mahi ana ki te haere mai ki te hui. I tēnei tau i whiriwhiria au hei whakawā i ngā haka, ā, ko taku tau tuawha tēnei e
can also hear the language being spoken by those people who are expert in this field. My students and I have visited the marae of Tūrangawaewae, Kai-ā-te-mata and Hukanui. We have been treated very kindly on every marae we have been to even though it was I who did the inviting! In addition, I have had the nerve to tell them to let us ‘murder’ their well known lament, E pa to hau. My students and I who have been onto your marae will never be able to repay the many kindnesses extended to us. That is why this mokai of yours, of Tuhoe descent, has written down these few thoughts of his to inform you of his gratitude and admiration. What more can one say other than, tēnā koutou katoa.
This is the only marae in the country where cultural competitions take place in front of the meeting house. As each group comes on to perform the old women of Waikato rise to karanga that group and thereby honour it. This year was the first in which so many groups had arrived to compete in the cultural activities bequeathed to us by “they who have gone beyond the veil”. If these groups were seen performing one would be convinced that these treasures of ours will never disappear from the face of the earth.
The cultural competitions took place on the 19th and 20th days of May so that those people who work would be able to attend. This year I was selected to adjudicate in the cultural competitions, and this was the fourth year I have done so at
mahi ana i tēnei mahi i Tūrangawaewae. I tēnei tau i kitea te ihi me te wana o ngā mahi ā te rēhia. Ko te kapa ī toa mo ngā pākeke ko Waioeka o roto mai o Te Whakatōhea. No te ekenga mai o tēnei rōpu ki runga i te marae ka karawhiu te ua. Ahakoa te heke o te ua ka haka tonu te roopu nei, ā, pakipakitia ana rātou e te whakaminenga i noho i roto i te ua ki te mātakitaki i ngā kapa haka. Kaha ake ana te heke o te ua, kaha ake ana te haka ā te rōpu nei, ā, e tika ana kia toa rātou nā te mea i tino kitea tō rātou wana ki te haka.
Ko te kapa i tuarua no roto mai o Te Arawa, ā, ko tōna īngoa ko Ngārara Nui. Ko te kaitakitaki o tēnei rōpu ko Hōri Brennan nāna nei te rōpu a Te Rangiwewehi i tino mōhiotia ai. Ka rite ano tēnei roopu ki tērā o Te Rangiwewehi, ā, ki a au nei, a tōna wā ka puta ano tēnei kapa hei toa mo ngā mahi whakataetae haka nei.
Ko te kapa i tuatoru no Taranaki mai, ā, ko tō rātou kaitakitaki ko Napi Waaka. He ataahua tēnei rōpu ki te matakitaki atu, ā, wana ana tā rātou poi.
Ko te wāhanga mo ngā tamariki kei te haere ki ngā kareti i riro i te rōpu o Rangitikei o Te Hau-ā-uru. Ko te wāhanga mo ngā tamariki pakupaku i riro i te rōpu o Ngārara Nui. Ahakoa te pakupaku o ngā tamariki o tēnei rōpu no te putanga mai o ngā kotiro ki te poi wana kē ana. I a koutou te wana, kōtiro mā, i taua rā. Tēnā koutou katoa.
I ki au i runga ake nei kātahi anō te tau i pēnei rawa ai te nui o ngā kapa haka i tae
Turangawaewae. This year great expertise and enjoyment in the cultural arts were fully exhibited. The winning group in the senior section were Waioeka of Te Whakatohea. When this group came onto the marae to perform the heavens opened, and despite the falling rain the group continued its performance and were given a great ovation by the crowd who had remained in the rain to watch the performances. The more it rained the better the group performed and it was only right that they should win for they displayed in full their ability to perform.
The group which came second was of Te Arawa and called Ngarara Nui. The leader of this group was George Brennan who was responsible for the Te Rangiwewehi group becoming so well known. This group is very similar to that of Te Rangiwewehi and, in my opinion, will soon emerge as a winning team in future competitions.
The team which came third was from Taranaki and their leader was Napi Waaka. This group was very beautiful to watch and their poi was very beautifully performed.
The intermediate section was won by the group called Rangitikei from the west coast. The junior section was won by Ngarara Nui. Although the children in this group were very small, when the girls performed their poi they were very beautiful to look at. Yours was the glory of that day, kōtiro mā. Congratulations.
I mentioned earlier that this was the first year in which so many groups had come to celebrate the anniversary of the
mai ki te whakanui i te rā o Te Ariki Tapairu, o Te Atairangikaahu. Ko ngā kapa i tū i aua ra e rua tekau mā toru.
Ia tau he tuārangi anō ā Waikato, ā, i tēnei tau ko Te Pirīmia, ko Norman Kirk, rāua ko Whetū Tirikātene-Sullivan ngā tuārangi mo te rā. Kei te mōhio hoki koutou he nui tonu ngā rangatira o te ao whānui kua whakamanuhiritia e Waikato ki runga i tō rātou marae ataahua. Ko ētahi o aua manuhiri ko Te Kuīni o Ingarangi me tana tane, ko te tāne ā Te Kuini o Hōrana, ko te tama ā Te Kingi o Tiapani rāua ko tane wahine, tae atu ki Te Tumuaki o Amerika, arā, ki a Richard Nixon. He tokomaha ngā manuhiri rongonui ā ngā iwi o Waikato kua manaakitia, kua whakarangatiratia e rātou i runga i tō rātou tipuna marae.
Kaati ra, ko ēnei kōrero nā tētahi e titiro whakamīharo nei ki te iwi o Waikato me tō rātou rangatira e manaaki nei rātou i te ono ki te tekau mano tāngata ia tau, ia tau, i runga i tō rātou marae, i a Tūrangawaewae. Ko tēnei mea ko te āroha nui ki te tangata ka kitea ki konei no reira, e kare mā, tēnā koutou katoa mo ā koutou manaakitanga maha.
Ko ngā kupu i waiho ai au hei ūpoko mo ngā kōrero nei no roto mai i tētahi manawa wera i titoa e ngā wāhine o Ngāi Tūhoe ki Ruatāhuna. Ko te nuinga o ngā wāhine nei i pouarutia i te haerenga mai o ā rātou tāne ki te āwhina i a Waikato i te wā o te pakanga nui i tū ki Ōrākau. Nō te hokinga atu o ngā tāne i waimarie ki te ora tonu ki Ruatāhuna, ka haka mai ngā wāhine rā i tā rātou haka, ā, koinei ngā kupu tīmatanga,
‘I hoki mai koe e Te Whenua-nui ki te aha? Tē mate atu ai i te unuhanga o te puhi o Mataatua? Ka mahora ki te riu ki Waikato, ki te aroaro o Maniapoto …’
Waiho rā, e rau rangatira mā, mā ngā kupu o tēnei haka ā ōku tīpuna e kawe atu ki a koutou te kaha whakamihi atu ā tēnei tamaiti o Ngāi Tūhoe ki a koutou. Mā ngā kupu o tētahi o ngā whakataukī i whakarērea mai ki a tātou e whakaata ōku whakaaro ki a koutou,
‘He kokonga whare e kitea;
he kokonga ngākau e kore e kitea.’
coronation of Te Ariki Tapairu, Dame Te Atairangikaahu. There were 23 groups which performed over those two days.
Each year the Waikato people also have distinguished visitors and this year they included the Prime Minister, Norman Kirk, and Whetu Tirakatene-Sullivan. You know that distinguished people from all over the world are welcomed by Waikato on their beautiful marae. Some of those distinguished visitors have been Queen Elizabeth II and her Consort Prince Phillip, Prince Bernhardt of Holland, Prince Akihito of Japan and his wife, also the President of the United States, Richard Nixon. Many other famous visitors have been welcomed by the people of Waikato on their ancestral marae, also.
This article was written by someone who looks at the people of Waikato and their paramount chieftainess with great respect, for the very efficient way in which they are able to cater for 6 — 10,000 people each year on their marae. On behalf of the many people who have experienced your great hospitality, I say Tēnā Koutou Katoa.
The words I have used for the title of this article come from a haka composed by the women of Tuhoe who lived at Ruatahuna. The majority of these women were widowed when their men came to the support of Waikato at the time of the great battle which took place at Orakau. When these men, who were fortunate enough to survive the ordeal, returned to Ruatahuna the women performed their haka and these are the opening words,
Why did you, o Te Whenuanui, return? It would have been better had you died when the pride of Mātaatua fell, Stretched out in the Waikato Valley, in the sight of Maniapoto …
Therefore, you people of Waikato, let these words of the manawa were composed by my ancestors convey to you the gratitude of this descendant of Tūhoe. Let also the words of one of the proverbs bequeathed to us reflect my thoughts,
The corners of the House can be seen;
but the corners of the heart can never be seen.
nā Sam Karetu
The Best Of Dinners
The Te Pikis had trouble parking the car. Finally they found room in the long line of vehicles alongside the marae. There were buses taking up room everywhere, but they just had room to squeeze in between a beat-up jalopy with a sagging tray which threatened to collect their rear vision mirror as they edged in, and a hand-painted electric blue Chev. exploding kids in all directions. Just as they were sliding the last inches into position, Piri had to slam his foot down to avoid a tiny leg protruding from behind the Chev's front tyre. The owner of the leg emerged, all of three years old, removed the slice of watermelon from his mouth long enough to smile, and retreated.
Piri cursed thinly through his teeth, and climbed out to make sure that their shiny little Volkswagon hadn't been scratched in the manoeuvre. Sally slid out behind him, laughing.
‘What's so funny?’ he snapped. Without looking at her, he shrugged off her amusement and straightened his tie. Sally could see why he'd insisted on her wearing a hat. She never did as a rule, unless it was to a wedding, and even that wasn't as essential as it had once been. Still she kept one outrageous one in reserve for special occasions, which this, in a sense, definitely was.
As she looked at the women purposefully making their way over to the new hall, shepherding children, and looking for errant husbands who had dallied to talk in the winter sun, she saw that, except for old women in scarves, they were all wearing hats, mostly shiny white straws, cone shaped, or linen, with little rolled back brims, in spite of the season. Still, so white, so all purpose, that there was no mistaking that they were right for the day.
Piri's eyes were starting to light up with interest.
‘Shall I take my hat off?’ Sally said, fingering the huge floppy brim of her coffee coloured felt with the bizarre cut-outs on its enormous crown and the floating scarf.
‘Eh?’ Piri dragged his attention from the crowd. ‘Come on, they're going in.’
‘Shall I take my hat off?’ she persisted.
‘No, of course not, I told you to wear one. You going to wait all day?’
And he started off, without waiting for her to reply. Sally sighed and set off behind him, thinking how lucky men were, because unless they went really all out, they could get away with being smart in a less obvious way than women. Piri looked just right, in his nice brown suit, with a coloured shirt and wide tie. He'd have been right in the city, like every day when he set off to work, and he looked right now. She couldn't complain though, she kept telling herself, about the way either of them looked, or about his sudden enthusiasm. After all, coming there was all her idea.
‘Take me back to where you came from,’ she'd said to him. ‘It's your heritage, you want to separate me from it? You share mine.’
Heritage! The word had grumbled round the house at him for weeks. Why did she keep on about it so, Piri wondered, every time she brought the subject up. He'd had a poke around a few maraes in his time, been to a few huis. He knew what went on. And he remembered. He'd been nearly nine when his parents left the country to come into the city. You don't forget the early days so easily.
But what the heck, the city'd killed off both his parents in one mighty car smash before you could turn round; the welfare had had him brought up in a Pakeha orphanage; he had a job in the city that many a Pakeha would say his prayers twice to
get; he'd got a Pakeha wife, not for any special reason except that she happened to have been the right girl for him, and if her parents hadn't liked it too well and there'd been the odd rough patch there, he could take it. It hadn't stopped them getting a good flat, and no one complained about them as tenants, because the rent was always paid, and Sally had a home science degree, which meant she was just about the smartest housekeeper a landlord ever had.
So what about heritage!
‘It's like this,’ she'd said to him, very serious-like when they had the lights down low and they were becalmed one evening on an ocean of music and warmth, ‘It's like this, every Maori looks for his heritage sooner or later, it doesn't matter how he was brought up.’
‘Rubbish,’ Piri said, nibbling her shoulder.
‘No, it's true,’ she said, rubbing her fingers round the base of his neck. ‘I'm denying you what you want.’
‘What do I want,’ he'd said, mocking, as if she didn't know.
But she'd rolled away in the thick pile of the carpet where they were lying. ‘It's natural for you to go back to your inherent beginnings.’
‘I've looked them over,’ he'd replied. ‘I can take them or leave them. Anyway, who's been talking to you? Some of those guys you work with?’
So she'd told him about this chap who'd come in to talk to the Liberal Studies class, at the school where she taught home science. He'd told them all about Maoritanga, which he knew a lot about, seeing as he was a professor somewhere or other, and how the Maori race had inescapable bonds with their heritage.
That darned word again.
And here she was denying him of it, and expecting him to conform to Pakeha patterns of culture without giving anything in return.
He'd said, ‘We'll think about it,’ because how in the world could a man get a bit of peace if he didn't agree sometimes. ‘What about some inter-cultural relations to be going on with?’ She thought that was pretty funny and they forgot about it for the night.
Well he did. But Sally went off and did some homework. Next attack came on a Saturday morning. They always slept in Saturday mornings, maybe till eleven. He should have known to expect trouble when she got up and made a cup of tea at 8 o'clock.
She sat on the edge of the bed clutching her cup up close to her chin, so that the steam rose and encircled her face, giving her an eerie soft look, with light falling through the upper windows, lighting the smokey face with its smoke-grey eyes and long hair tangled from sleep.
‘Come on, out with it,’ Piri said.
So she told him about the opening of the church meeting hall back up where he used to live. There would be a church service first, then a hangi—the organisers said they'd have enough food for two thousand, and a football match afterwards; it was tomorrow and if they got up really early, it was only about a hundred and fifty miles away, they'd be up there in no time.
‘You might meet some of your relatives,’ she'd said on the way up, next morning.
‘Wouldn't know them from Adam,’ Piri said. ‘They wouldn't know me either. Now don't you go getting sentimental on me. You're the quizzy one, you're the one wants to have a look, not me.’
And yet—and yet, here he was striding into the crowds his head flung back, anticipation in every step. He looked back to her again, and his eyes were shining with pleasure.
‘Come on,’ he called to her, stretching out his hand. ‘Hurry.’
And as she sat with him, she watched his lips move in the remembered strains of hymns set in Maori. He dissolved amongst his people, being one of them, and she, touching close to him, shoulder to shoulder, was yet left to sit alone. After the last ‘amine’, the dedication was over and the people spilled out into the sparkling air, breathing deep the freshness of the hillside morning. The pa was high above the sea, and the waves broke below, a real fortress. Sally shivered, in spite of the light, as history seeped through her, chilling her with a melancholy of things not understood.
The women were taking off their hats, so she did too, the long spotted scarf trailing on the ground. Piri turned to her. She thought he'd forgotten her, and maybe he had for a moment, but he wanted her back now.
‘I want to show you something,’ he said. ‘The women have to set out the food now, and that'll take a while.’ Leading her by the hand, past the crowds, he took her along the hillside to where it gently sloped backwards from the pa, towards level ground. A small cemetery lay amongst trees and bushes gone wild but beautiful, but the graves had been tended recently. He led her straight to a grey, moss encrusted tombstone, with a bent iron railing round it.
‘My gran,’ he said. She held his hand tight.
Behind them, a voice said quietly, ‘Her favourite mokopuna. It is Piri Te Piki?’
The man who'd spoken was ageing, with white hair standing out over his ears. Piri nodded. The man held out his hand. ‘I'm your second cousin. Eru Te Piki.’ Piri hesitated, and put out his hand to clasp the cousin's. Eru held it firmly and placed his other over the top.
‘I followed you here. You were too like my cousin not to be his son.’
Sally saw Piri glance self-consciously at their ultra-smart city outfits. ‘You recognized me. But I was only a little boy when I left.’
‘You're your father's son.’
‘Now I remember you, too,’ said Piri.
‘Why didn't you come back to us?’ Eru asked him.
Piri nodded at the grave. ‘Who to? She'd gone. They tell me it was a bad year here, a lot had gone away—the welfare didn't know who to send me back to …’
Eru nodded. ‘I remember, I was away on a fishing boat that year.’ He shook his head. ‘A pity.’ He looked at Sally. ‘Your wife?’
He watched Piri looking at her, and inside her went cold, and suddenly shy. She wondered for an instant if her husband was ashamed of her. He smiled and took her hand. ‘This is Sally. It was her that made me come back,’ he said proudly.
Eru smiled warmly. ‘She's very pretty, man,’ he said softly. Then with briskness, ‘Now come along, time for kai,’ and together they walked back to the dining hall and the extra tents that had been set up outside. ‘See you later,’ Eru called to them, when they'd found somewhere to sit. ‘You got to meet my wife, but she's busy with the hangi now.’
Grace was said, and soon the food arrived on paper plates. Around them, people were glancing at the young Te Pikis. It looked like word was getting around already, but meanwhile it was time to eat. Talking could come later. Sally's plate was placed on the edge of the trestle table, in front of her.
She looked at the food and her stomach turned over. There was green wet vegetable lying slackly on one side of the plate, a disintegrating potato, and mutton floating in grease. She looked at Piri who was halfway through his food already.
‘Maori bread. Whoa!’ he exclaimed. ‘Here.’ He passed her a plate of it and she took a piece. ‘Hey, what's the matter?’ he mumbled, his mouth half-full.
‘Don't talk with food in your mouth,’ she snapped.
‘I'm sorry, I'm not very hungry, to tell you the truth.’ She bit the bread tentatively. To her it had a sour taste. The meal before her was cooling rapidly, the fat congealing.
‘Eat it,’ said Piri. ‘They'll think you don't like it.’
She picked up a forkful, and her stomach heaved towards her mouth. She put the fork down miserably. ‘Piri, no one'll notice will they? I truly can't eat it—I'm sorry.’
‘Don't then.’ They waited in silence till everyone had finished and was beginning to leave the tables. Piri pushed back the wooden form they'd been sitting on, and sarted walking. She followed him, trailing her smart hat behind her. They got to the car and Piri unlocked it.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘Home.’ He slammed the door shut and crashed into reverse not caring so much this time whether he hit anything or not. They drove back to the city, very fast, in cold silence, broken only once when Piri said to
her, ‘Next time you want to go playing at being a Maori, make sure you know the rules. Just don't expect me to join in the game. I am what I am.’
‘Your father's son,’ she said.
‘Shut up,’ he said, and having no more words to slash her with, would have hit her with his hands if they'd not been clenched on the steering wheel. They got back to town quite early. At home there would be no food, because she'd got nothing in, thinking they'd be late back, and maybe eat somewhere along the road.
‘I suppose you want to go to your mother's for a meal?’ he said.
‘Well, we usually do on a Sunday night. Might as well,’ she answered, trying to sound bright and normal. ‘She'll probably have something in the pot.’
‘I'll bet she will.’
But dinner was nearly over when they got there. ‘I'll cook you up something,’ said Sally's mother.
‘Don't bother, I'm not hungry,’ said Piri.
‘Neither am I,’ Sally said quickly. Her
TE AUTE TRUST BOARD
TE AUTE COLLEGE, BOYS
A number of Entrance Bursaries are available for each of these Colleges, some on the basis of merit only and some a combination of merit and financial need. One application covers all available bursaries, and applications should be addressed to the Principal, Te Aute College, Pukehou, Hawke's Bay, or the Superintendent, Hukarere, Napier Terrace, Napier.
The following information will be required as to whether the nominee—
is interested in merit only bursaries.
is of Maori descent.
Closing date: Applications must reach above by the end of Term 2, i.e. 17th August, 1973.
mother, who loved whisking up snacks, was disappointed.
‘Well, there's still cheesecake to come, it's delicious, a new recipe, really rose up beautifully,’ she chattered, cutting them slices.
‘It's fab, Mum,’ Sally said, trying it. She was starving.
Piri put his down. ‘Not my thing at all.’ He pushed the plate away and stood up. ‘Finish yours,’ he said to Sally. ‘Then I think we'd better make tracks. It's been a long day.’
Sally glanced at her mother who wouldn't look at her. It was as much as she expected of her son-in-law, sooner or later, but she'd bound herself not to say so. Sally got up too, kissed her mother, and excused herself.
Out in the car again, she said, with the sort of fury there'd never been between them before, ‘You did that on purpose.’
‘What?’ he said evenly.
‘You know very well you didn't eat that cheesecake to pay me back.’
‘Don't you hand me that,’ he said dangerously. ‘Look, I eat your stroganoffs and your pizzas, your shish kebabs and your curries, and your tortillas and vol-au-vents, and I even have an olive in my drink, and I damn’ well like it all. But I don't like cheesecake,’ he shouted. ‘What are you crying for, eh?’ he snarled, as she turned her head away without answering.
‘They said it wouldn't work …’
‘Who said what wouldn't work?’
‘Everyone. You and me.’
‘Oh yes, it'll work all right, in your nice, clean fastidious, hygenic world. That's all I asked from you and that's what I got, and you go trying to muck it up with something different, that's all.’
She stared at her hands in her lap, covering them with falling tears. As she said no more, he felt fear, urgent as pain. She saw him look up and the car slowed down. Thoughtfully frowning to himself, he reversed back up the road, and stopped.
‘You must be hungry,’ he said gently, through spent anger. Beside them stood a piecart. ‘Hop out,’ he said.
At the piecart counter there was an as-
sortment of people; a Maori family, a young mixed couple like themselves, more likely counting than married, a couple of famished looking students, a well-dressed, middle-aged woman who could as easily have been Sally's mum getting ‘easy tea’ for Sunday night.
‘Chips, two pies, lots of tomato sauce, and two thickshakes,’ Piri ordered. When it was all ready, they climbed into the car. He gave the food to Sally to hold. They drove down past the wharves and parked. He took the food from her and after he'd opened it across their knees, they ate.
After a while, he said, ‘Good city Maori kai, good city Pakeha tucker.’
‘Did you like the hangi dinner?’ she asked.
He was close to shy, like she'd been earlier that day. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But sometimes when the hangi's cooked for so many people it's not as good as if it were… just for a family say. I should have remembered that before I blew my stack.’
‘Piri … I …’ she started, but he put his fingers across her mouth holding her lips together, like children do when they make each other say ‘a basketful of vegetables’ and she nearly choked on a chip.
‘When we go back to meet Eru's wife,’ he said … she wiggled her head—but he held onto her mouth … ‘We'll go for Sunday lunch when the bread's sweet and fresh and there's a nice mug of tea to go with it, and she's cooked for twenty and not two thousand.’
He let go of her mouth and kissed it quickly where his fingers had been. ‘And if you don't like that, I'll eat your share and have a big, cold, greasy pie waiting in the car to shove down your Pakeha throat.’ He took her hand. ‘Time to go, wahine.’
They smiled at each other, and, comfortable and replete—at last—drove companionably home.
My cousin was terrified of it, the morepork. When we were younger she would come down to our place for a chat, and we'd sit and talk and laugh mainly about boys—who we thought was nice looking or which film star, male of course, we had a crush on at the moment.
We were happy in our dreams. Our homes were rather unsettled domestically with mums and dads always fighting and we children getting the laying on of hands in the form of the manuka stick. I must admit there were times that we deserved it, but sometimes it was because our parents lacked the communication with one another and became frustrated, taking their feelings out on the children.
So we made our own happiness—cut out pictures of Roy Rogers and Gene Autrey, Greg Peck, and Esther Williams, whom I thought was extremely beautiful. Whenever we went out to the river, she was the one we would imitate, with sommersaults, twists, group flower arrangements … all the beautiful movements we saw her do on the screen, we did.
We sang a lot too, usually while we milked the cows. ‘Little White Cross on the Hill’, ‘Sweethearts or Strangers’, real sad songs about lost ones. Perhaps beneath it all we felt a little lost ourselves, but there was a bond between us children.
Then at the weekend we would go up to the bush to swing on the vines that grew
behind Ramlose's property, making out we were Tarzans and Janes. My sister, who was the oldest, would test the vines by jumping up and down on them like she was a baboon. We called her that whenever she gave us a clout too, but not too loud, otherwise we got another. Then she would swing out over the crevasse and we would all call, AheeeAheee Ahhhhhh as she clung to the supple-jack that separated her from life and death. Beneath her lay a drop of at least 100 feet with rocks protruding from the valley below. But we were happy in our world of entertainment and rather carefree in our actions.
On Sunday we went to Sunday School. Sister May was there to play on the little pump organ. I wished that I could play that instrument—it had such a beautiful sound. One day before Sunday School while all the kids were messing about outside, I climbed through the window and ran my fingers up and down the keys, singing away merrily as I did so. I didn't hear the key turn in the door until I looked up at Sister May's stern but friendly face.
In the summer we would go to the river where the flats were, and swim, then sit around arguing as to which horse could run the fastest. To settle the argument we all trotted over to our horses, lined them up and the race across the flats was on. My big sister's horse Emily would win, as she usually did, all the races. She was a determined horse. When she ran her head was thrust out in such a way that it made her look like a hare streaking for its burrow. She had a few foals, but they couldn't run like she could. Then someone got the bright idea that she should be mated with a thoroughbred rather than the wild horses at Peter Poi Poi's, so she was sent to a show jumper to foal. But Emily preferred her kind to his, and turned to run from his advances, her smoky white mane and body streaking across the hilly terrain, jumping gullies, tree trunks, running to escape the stranger … my friends, I need my friends, those that I love, not this proud arrogant stallion … no, I must escape him.
When it was time to get her, we were told she had run herself over the cliff. So we stood where we saw the slide marks and wept for her.
These are the things we have been talking about, myself, my husband and my brother-in-law, who along with my sister, live on the farm.
My cousin married and went to England with her husband, but I can still hear her say, whenever the morepork cried, ‘Hey Anna, take me home. That thing's outside.’
‘But it's only a bird,’ I would tell her.
‘Yeah, but I'm scared of it.’
‘It lives in those bluegums, silly.’
‘You take me home, I am really frightened of it.’
So I would take her up the hill to their house and tell her spooky stories as we went along. This would make her rush into the house screaming.
Then I would run down the hill to our house tripping over the massive tree trunks that crawled over the path.
The trees must have been as old as the hills, I thought, as I made my way up the path and through the blackberry bushes that morning, living my childhood days over again. I even stood on the hill and called ‘Buddy’, just like my Auntie did.
Buddy had been in New Guinea for seven years and although he had returned I had not seen him. He was in Rotorua holidaying with my big sister, and I was longing to see him.
So we sat that night, my brother-in-law telling us about his childhood in Hokianga and me telling him ours.
Then the morepork cries. I laugh and tell the stories of my cousin. But he is serious.
‘When that bird cries there is death,’ he says.
‘No, that's the fantail.’
‘With our family it's the morepork.’
So we retire to bed, my brother-in-law with the light on, and me listening to the morepork cry.
In the morning the phone rings. My brother-in-law's wife, my big sister, in Napier on holiday with the family, is ringing to say cousin Buddy died. What time … ?
The time the morepork cried.
The Tāniko Wall-Hanging
‘That's what they call tanneeko, Marge,’ said the woman in the orange hat. ‘The natives used to do it with two pegs stuck in the ground.’ Orange hat was a formidable weatherbeaten woman with a loud voice.
Her companion, younger and softer and less didactic or more ignorant, gazed in silence for a moment.
The Papakirango Community Centre was showing an exhibition of crafts of all kinds, Maori, Pakeha and Women's Institute. More people were beginning to drift in now. A few were Maori, or Polynesian anyhow.
‘I wouldn't mind a panel of that, Allie, for a feature wall in my lounge when I re-do it,’ Marge said thoughtfully. ‘But not those coarse colours. Red and yellow and black. I'd have autumn tonings and a teeny touch of green.’
‘You'd do better to choose a nice painting. You'd never get them to do exactly what you wanted. Forget it, Margery,’ said orange hat.
‘You could be right, Allie. When I look into it—mind you, the actual work's quite well done—I see, not exactly mistakes—sort of changes in style—new patterns all the time. No order or system of repeats. I wouldn't want that.’
‘And look at this bit—it's tighter than the rest.’ Allie sounded quite cross. ‘And some of it kind of faded. You'd think they'd appreciate the need for unity and conformity.’
They turned slightly to watch a lithe Maori woman go by. She wore a brown and gold fringed poncho and jeans and the two little girls with her were minor replicas.
‘I see you are interested in our tāniko wall-hanging ladies.’
The women swung round at the sound of a man's voice, deep, well-educated. They saw a good-enough-looking man of perhaps forty, either Maori or deeply sunburnt. He wore a tweed hat, fishing fly tucked in the band, sports coat, hairy turtleneck sweater, and, even more regrettably, plaited leather sandals on bare brown feet. He took off his hat and smiled at them.
The voice and the gesture won out over the turtleneck and the feet and they half smiled back, only half as they were a little afraid he was going to try to sell them the tapestry.
‘You have observed that it doesn't hang together design-wise as you might have expected. I couldn't help hearing your comments.’
Allie bridled and Margery blushed slightly.
‘They were perspicacious, if I may say so.’
Both women looked gratified.
‘Modes employed range on this piece from classical through transitional to modern, with outcrops of free style and a pre-classical finale. It was crafted over a period of years by a Maori princess, Aahua Katau, and indeed may not yet be finished.
‘You may be interested to hear her story.’
It appeared they would, that is if he could spare the time. He wasn't selling, thank goodness. They all settled down on a wooden bench in front of the tapestry.
‘Aahua was the daughter of a chieftain, and not only had received an excellent education in a private school, learning mathematics, home cooking, languages not her own, and how to play piano up to grade six, but had been taught the Maori women's arts of weaving and plaiting by an ancient teacher who was both holy and expert.
‘When at eighteeēn Aahua became engaged to be married to Ati Raukawa, a fine upstanding young schoolteacher of equally good family, and like her of predominantly Maori blood, she began what she thought of as her lifetime masterpiece, a tāniko wall-hanging for her drawingroom.
‘But what with the usual duties of wedded
bliss which included giving birth to four lusty boys early in their marriage, being secretary of the local branch of the Maori Women's Welfare League, and weaving tāniko belts and spectacle cases for church bazaars, the great opus moved but slowly, sometimes untouched for months at a time.
‘It took her fifteen years to reach this point here. You will notice these are aramoana and allied patterns and in the main, classical work and well executed. Then these diamonds are the two-mouth design—they were done after the birth of their second child. Later we see a tiny alphabet when the eldest boy started at his father's school. You can read there the story of their life that it has been good—the days calm, and what sorrows had come coped with by the family, a well-wrought vessel sailing over life's ocean path.
‘But now—what happens? See! on the back in the middle: a knot. Aahua has misjudged the length of yarn needed for a red weft. And here are three warps missed, in this and the next row.’
‘Oh well, everybody has their off days,’ said Margery.
‘But then comes a proliferation of new patterns. An extra colour is brought in as a beautiful ornamental weft.
‘This was the moment when Brendan Lynwood came to Papakirango. Son of a prosperous city manufacturer, his wife of twelve years had left him just before they were due to fly for three weeks to Sydney so she could stock up on clothes and he could take a look at the Snowy River Scheme. Now he felt a backblocks holiday, shooting, fishing and reading, would tide him over. A friend in the Electricity Department arranged for him to live in a cottage belonging to the department and not far from the schoolteacher's home. Both were set apart from the other houses of the township.
‘One sunny afternoon Brendan Lynwood burst out of the bush and ran down the grass slope towards the boundary of his domicile. As his eyes adjusted to the light, they fell upon a wondrous scene: Aahua in a bright cotton sundress, her hair moving in the breeze, her arms full of flax flowers, bullrushes, and sweetscented karetu.
‘Immediately Brendan lost all memory of his pretty though rather waspish defaulting wife.
‘Aahua in her turn marvelled at this tall young god of the forest, his corncoloured hair a lighter gold than the skin of his body where the sun had kissed it. Neither the bloodied hunk of vension sticking out of his pack and covered with his shirt nor the dirty bleeding cut on his shin detracted from her amiable first impression.
‘Aahua spoke first, her voice not quite steady but filled with concern. “You've hurt your leg. I'll fix it up for you. Come with me.”
‘As they went through her gate, she snipped off three long red roses and put them with the grasses she carried, putting the whole collection into a silver ewer when they entered the house.
‘No other soul was present, Ati being on a teacher's course, and the boys at a Scout Camp, but warm hearts wait not on etiquette. Aahua cleaned and bandaged Brendan's wound, and an hour later they were eating fresh grilled venison steaks, followed by strawberries they'd plucked together from her garden.
‘The two found they had much in common and she offered to lend him a book, a cherished volume kept in the front room.
‘It was then he saw the tāniko as it waited for its creator to continue. Brendan was interested in weaving, having built a loom for a friend of his mother's long ago in his schooldays.
‘He returned the book on the morrow, and thus began the golden days that were left to them. They talked or were silent, content in action or in stillness. They sauntered through the bush, lay in the sun, swam in the pool Pungarehu under the waterfall at the edge of hill or settled at their ease in front of a log fire, Aahua working often at the tāniko, Brendan watching her deft movements.
‘What wonder that love should strike root in their hearts and as swiftly burgeon? A love that was quite unlike the soft steady moon of her marriage but flaring and searing as of the sun and as hard to withstand.
‘Look now at the weaving of the tāniko.
Her touch after those first stumbling wefts is surer than ever before, but the technique is servant to the inspiration. Sometimes she uses hukahuka in the form of tiny tassels and rare feathers. Sometimes she lets the pattern alone speak: here are aronui triangles in obvious symbolism, teitei for the peaks they had scaled, and the waves of the ocean are crested with fire.
‘Then the love of Aahua and Brendan came to an end. Not because either fell out of love, but because Ati came home and Brendan found him such an agreeable and sympathetic fellow, noble even—a feeling which was mutual—that he knew he could never bring himself to deal out a hurt to such a man …
‘See kaokao—the pattern of the armpits of the receding lover as he strides into the distance. And niko—the teeth of the pain that tore through her soul and body. Likewise papaka for the canker consuming her heart, and roimata, the tears she shed in secret, half-maddened with her anguish.
‘But she learns acceptance and must have practised philosophy for poutama exemplifies man's span of life in steps. Aahua has learned control and that she carries a child beneath her heart.
‘Brendan Lynwood returned to Auckland and the family business. He divorced his wife and married his secretary, happily enough it is said, though he never forgot Aahua of the nimble fingers. What he never knew was that Aahua's fifth child, a girl, born in October of that year, was much fairer than her brothers and reminded Ati of his English grandmother.
‘A new thread enters the tapestry—a tender metallic gold filament woven in with the flax to form a design of exquisite delicacy and grace. Here is a new life joined.’
‘But it stops pretty soon. She surely never did away with the child?’ said orange hat.
‘Allie, she would never have done that. This woman is good through and through. In spite of her impulsive wild lawless love.’
‘How right you are, Madam. Aahua was a loving mother to little Aho. And to her two younger sisters and to the four older boys. People of the district used the expression “a mother as good as Aahua” when they wished to praise a woman.
‘But when Aho was two years old, she learned to run away. She was always found playing by the pool Pungarehu. What strange fascination drew her there? She always came back to this same place even unto the day when she stretched out a small arm to pick a spray of berries hanging out over the water …
‘See: the full weft length of gold has been cut ready to complete the row, and another hangs knotted in and waiting.
‘Now Aahua has taken a few more lengths of gold and woven a tiny span of the traditional patikitiki-papaki-rango—this is the flax fan used to keep flies off a corpse—and then she sadly concealed the ball of golden yarn in her trinket box. Darkness reigns within her heart and in the twisted threads.
‘Now you will observe that for the first time she has prepared her own dyes as women did in days gone by. So the bright colours are muted but the black is deeper than ever for the yarn has been steeped in a mordant and then submerged in the black mud of the swamp. The last warps, loose and empty, await the weaver's hand.’
Margery wiped her eyes surreptitiously.
‘You must forgive me, ladies.’ His tone had changed. ‘There's my wife signalling madly at me from the door.’ On his feet, he pulled his hat from his pocket, bowed slightly, then turned on his heel and made for the entrance where the woman in the poncho waited with the two little girls.
A large smiling lady bore down on the two women still sitting on the form. ‘Oh, how do you do? You're visitors, I think, and especially welcome.’ She shook them by the hand. ‘I'm Joan Adams, convenor of the Patumuka Crafts Club.
‘I see you're looking at the club's sampler. Everyone who's done the full year's course in tāniko weaving is encouraged to do a section on the sampler. Seven of us have had a hand in it so far. We'll have to start a new one soon. There's only room for a couple more.’
The women were speechless.
‘You're surprised how good we are! That was Mr Tinihanga you were talking to. His wife Aahua is our instructress.’
Governor-General … and Welcome
Mr Ralph Love presents the retiring Governor-General, Sir Arthur Porritt and Lady Porritt with gifts from Wellington Polynesians at the farewell in the Wellington Town Hall last August
On 14 October, the new Governor-General, Sir Denis Blundell and Lady Blundell were welcomed by Polynesian groups at Aroha Ki Te Tangata, Waiwhetu
We are grateful to the editor of ‘Education’ a magazine issued to schools, for permission to reprint his interview with Mr Ball.
If I Only Knew Then
What I Know Now
Douglas Ball began teaching in 1914, and was appointed Inspector of Maori Schools in 1929, becoming Senior Inspector of Maori Schools eight years later. In 1950 he was appointed Assistant Director of Education, a position he held until his retirement in 1955. From 1961 to 1971 he was Chairman of the Maori Education Foundation.
Mr Ball, one of your first tasks as an administrator in the thirties was to make an appraisal of the effectiveness of fifty years of European schooling on Maoris. What were your findings at that time?
Well, when we think back to that time, we've got to think of what State education was like in New Zealand and, even more, we've got to think of the position of the Maori population at the beginning of the century; because, that was the time when the population was declining so fast that there was very little hope felt for the future of the Maori. Then you've got to remember that nearly all the Maori people in New Zealand in those days lived in isolated areas, and very few Europeans knew anything about them.
Another condition in those early times was, of course, the formal nature of education. It was the English type of education and one of the most difficult things in those days was to make sure that you passed from standard to standard. In 1929, when I started inspecting the native schools, I had two years when I had to examine every child in every subject and, as an inspector, pass or fail them. That'll give you some idea of the sort of education it was.
Thinking back now to 1930, would you say that the sort of education that the Maori children had been having was serving their needs?
Partly. Looking back again from this position with the knowledge that we have in social sciences and so on, we're inclined to wonder why Pope* and Mr W. W. Bird insisted on our European and English education for Maori people. And they didn't only insist on it, it was a belief with them—it was a philosophy. Now, they'd acquired it from the Colonial Office; one of our earliest Governors, Governor Fitroy, laid down a policy of assimilation—that the only salvation of the Maori was to become a European—and these men really believed this.
But never under-estimate the great work they did, because with Maori co-operation
* James H. Pope, the first Organising Inspector of Native Schools. It was from this name that Maoris came to refer to all inspectors as ‘Te Popi’. W. W. Bird was Pope's successor.
(Maoris very often had to provide the land for the schools) they set up Maori schools all over the North Island, particularly in those most isolated areas. They staffed them with two teachers, a married couple, whose main function was to try and put hope into the Maori people, to bring health to the Maori children, and to teach them English. These village teachers were also the nurses—and they ran the post office. They became part of the tribe itself; well accepted. They were so isolated that very often they could only get their provisions in twice a year—by boat from Auckland or something like that. The work they did on the health side and the social side was tremendous. Many a time I've seen the children lined up with their heads back and their mouths open like cuckoos, while the teachers went down and poured in a teaspoonful of cod liver oil. The district nurses co-operated tremendously and they and the teachers had to fight all the skin diseases, impetigo and scabies and so on. But these teachers, most were up certificated—they knew nothing about teaching. And of course they tried to meet the requirements of the annual examination So it was all written work. So from the social and the health side the children got a lot; from the academic side they got nothing because the English they got had no meaning.
Although they were Maori schools, did the schools adapt in any way to suit the Maori way of living?
In no way at all. Maori children were not even allowed to speak Maori in the playground. If they did they would probably be punished. The purpose was quick assimilation—forget your Maori side and get our side. This was the recognised philosphy of the western world, because I went to a big Pacific conference in Honolulu in 1936 and there were educationalists working in the native schools in all these areas, from Japan, from the Philippines and other countries round the Pacific, and they all accepted the same thing. You see, social sciences were in their very beginning. We knew nothing of anthropology, we knew nothing of the importance of a culture, of the development of a personality. We imagined that you could drop a culture, pick up another one, just like you can buy a loaf of bead and then throw it away. Well, you just can't do that sort of thing; we know that now but we didn't know it then.
Maori children would come to school, they'd stay there for five or six years trying to pick up a little bit of our English language and way of life. For five hours a day, five days a week, they would try to do that, but all the rest of the time they lived in their tribe in their homes, speaking Maori and living Maori and when they left their school they just undid the cloak of a little bit of English and dropped it on the ground. They were completely out of touch and completely unable to confront the civilisation that was overwhelming them.
In your first year as an inspector, from 1929, what was the type of inspection you carried out?
Well, I would go from Wellington, say to Opotiki the best way I could, and there I'd hire a horse—there might be two of us and we'd set off and we'd ride six or eight miles to the first school, Omarumutu. We'd throw our sleeping bags onto the verandah of the teachers—ninety-nine percent—didn't we'd stay with the teacher. Then we'd go over to the school and hope to get through the main part of the inspection in the morning.
At the school there'd be all the people of the pa—men and women—all of them watching ‘Te Popi’ get on with the job. In those days the children themselves had to do all the cleaning and the school got paid for that. Well, the Chief, who would also be head of the school committee, would take me round the classrooms and look at every desk, and if there was a spot of ink on the desk he'd give those children what oh! I mean it just had to be perfect, and the floors were perfect; on that side the teachers did a marvellous job.
We'd finish the inspection, then out to a hangi. Everybody was there. We'd have a wonderful time and then the speech-making
which would last until 5.00, say; then we'd ride another six or eight miles to the next school, throw our bags on the teacher's verandah and go over the whole process all over again. On our first trip it took six weeks to get from Opotiki round to Ruatoria, and when I got to Ruatoria I wrote to my wife and said ‘never again’. Because not only was it a daily grind but the teachers were hungry for information about what was going on. They knew nothing. They were completely isolated and could sit up till three in the morning talking education. Marvellous, but I can't think of anything more tiring.
Now, two or three years after I started that stopped. It simply stopped because the roads began to be opened. The men were grabbed for the Ministry of Works and so on; the men went away and the interest went away.
One of the things that was done in your time was to try to put more emphasis upon Maori things, to try to restore in the Maori people themselves a pride in their Maoridom—in their own ways of behaving and believing. What steps did you take in the schools to try to do this?
Well, I often think back to those days; because this meant a tremendous change in policy and I was able to persuade the director and the department that some change in policy was desirable. I felt that we should make these schools Maori schools as far as we could. If I only knew then what I know
Getting back to the language aspect, I wonder if you, or the department, gave any thought in the thirties to bilingual schools, or even starting off the teaching in Maori rather than in English?
It's been thought of, right from the very beginning, right from 1879. But in my time there was very little desire for it from the Maoris—that the Maori language should be taught in school. Ngata himself said that Maori children had got to learn English. So there was not a great deal of pressure there. I may say there was exactly the same thing in Samoa when I was inspecting over there. They wanted English because the English language brought everything the Englishman had; all these wonderful things they'd never seen before. Secondly, as far as I was concerned, I didn't speak Maori. Let's admit it—that probably had some influence; how much I don't know. The great majority of the teacher's residence because that night speak Maori. The training colleges were not interested in the Maori in those days at all. I don't think thye knew the Maoris existed. I say this flatly and I mean it, and it wasn't their fault because the Maoris were not in their sight, they were so isolated.
Up till now we've been talking about primary education for Maori children. Would I be right in saying that at this time (1930) very few Maoris went on to secondary school?
Yes, but very few European children went either. Only those who passed Proficiency could go on, and great numbers of children never even passed Standard 4—that's when they left school. It was a real tussle for parents to get children to pass the Proficiency.
But, there's another side to the secondary education and this is the Government's support of the mission schools in the early days, and that support went on to St Stephen's and Te Aute and St Joseph's and all other denominational schools. But they were not post-primary schools in those days—they were primary schools (and of course out of Te Aute came the Young Maori Party and Ngata himself and Pomare). However, these schools slowly developed into secondary schools, and the scholarship system, which had been provided by the Government right from the very beginning, was steadily increased in numbers and in value.
But apart from these private denominational schools, very few Maoris went to state secondary schools. And even later, when Proficiency was abolished in 1936 and Maoris did go to secondary schools, they went with inadequate language and with no background. Don't forget, the secondary schools were staffed by secondary teachers with classical training and at that time they considered these kids just a nuisance.
I wonder if you could tell us just a little bit about the bringing of the Maori district high schools to the East Coast?
Well, this was the effort the department made to fill this gap. Now, maybe we made a mistake there, too, looking back on it. But Dr Beeby and I went right up the East Coast to open the first one—at Te Araroa—and we met the Maoris. Now, again, when I told you earlier that the Maoris didn't want the Maori language taught, but English, [ unclear: ] secondary education they didn't want what we thought they needed. They wanted exams and they wanted their children to progress and perhaps go on to university. We started
How easy was it, Mr Ball, to find out just what the Maoris did want for their children in those days?
As far as I know, there was no way of finding out except by talking to the Maoris themselves. There was no organisation you see, no unity. I can illustrate that. Say we wanted to appoint a Maori junior assistant to the Kaikohe native school; we wouldn't dare send a girl from the Ngati Porou. She was from another tribal area or probably their enemies from the past. That's gone today, thank goodness. But there was really no one voice for the Maori people. They were all so very polite and if you did discuss matters with them they were more than likely to agree with you anyhow, whether they wanted to or not. One of the great weakness in Maori education in New Zea-
land has been that, right from the beginning. Until 1955, when the National Committee on Maori Education was set up, there was no organised way of getting Maori opinion in this country.
What it meant, of course, was that the European, the department, the Pakeha, was giving the Maori what it or they thought the Maori needed and they believed this implicity. They were genuine. It was a real effort made by the Pakeha, but in essence it was patronising. It assumed the old idea that went right back to Bird and Pope and earlier that our way of life was superior and theirs was not worth worrying about. Once you've adopted that attitude you've had it. It's only in recent years that real progress has been made.
How important was the movement of Maoris from the isolated areas to the more populated areas?
Very important. This is what really made the European teachers see there was a problem. You see, until then they just didn't realise. For example, I was an organising teacher in Taranaki in '27 and '28, going into all these back country schools (there were no native schools in Taranaki, the Maoris refused to have them) and the Maoris would be in these one-teacher and two-teacher schools. Where did you find them always? In the back row, nobody taking any notice of them. They were nothing—forget ‘em! And the same attitude was applied to me—the organising teacher.
But weren't there, in the thirties, a large number of Maoris being trained as teachers?
Yes, and I thought with Maori teachers we'd really get Maori spirit into the schools. But again, I forgot the pressure of tradition and ritual and so on. These young Maoris had gone through our schools and they'd been taught our English education. They went to the training college and they were trained as English teachers. They went back to their schools and they taught the English way. Most of them might just as well have been white!
You've had a whole life in this field—where do you think we should be focussing our attention now, and where should we be focussing it in the next ten years?
Our teachers have got to understand what makes the Maori personality, which is totally different from ours, and until teachers do that they won't really be very successful. So the first thing is that the teachers' colleges have got to amend their training programmes.
Now, the second thing also concerns training. Teachers have got to learn that the language that the Maori children speak when they come to school, whether it's Maori or so-called English, is not their English—it's a vernacular type of English. The children don't understand the teachers, the teachers don't understand them. They can't get together and communicate. This impediment in the language and attitudes of the Maori child could partly be overcome by good pre-school education. This means, I think, that we've got to develop, and I hope the Government will develop fully, a pre-school system. Now, whether they do it through the voluntary associations as they are doing now, or do it any other way—I don't care, but, from the Maori point of view, these Maori children want a really good pre-school education. Now I'm further convinced that the play centres have got to increase the time they give to these children—it's got to be more often. Somebody's got to do a bit of solid thinking about pre-school education, and then introduce it into this country for every child who needs it, not only Maoris.
The other thing is (and we've ignored this) adult or parental education for the Maori. A lot was done in the early days through district nurses, who were really educating the parents while they were fixing up the children. But there's been no real attempt to get adult education to the Maori people. You see the result with young Maoris getting into trouble. Many of them are highly intelligent; they've left school and they've nothing to do to really absorb their interests and their energy. We've got to find out the sort of things they want and provide them through adult education. We could do this so easily because we have Maori organisations now to do it. Not tell them what they ought to have—this is the point. And having found it out then provide it, and provide
it is a Maori setting—in a meeting house or other acceptable Maori setting and pay for it out of the free place regulations. It could be done so easily. If I was still running this thing. I'd set up a pilot project in one area. I'd get a very good Maori with a very real understanding of Maori needs and interests and set up these classes, and it wouldn't matter how silly they sounded to us as Europeans—I would back them.
Following our article on Sister Annie Henry in Issue 70, we received a letter from Mrs Elsie Little expressing her enjoyment in reading of her old friend and mentioning that she had had similar experiences in Waiohau. We suggested that she tell us of them, and are delighted to receive these extracts from her diary.
Memories of Waiohau
At the Presbyterian Bible Class Camp at Napier in December 1917, an appeal was made for teachers to open schools in Maori settlements.
At the end of April 1918,* Misses Hariana Te Kauru and Elsie E. Webber said goodbye to friends in Auckland and set off for Waiohau on the edge of the Tuhoe, where we had been appointed to teach. At Frankton we met Miss Grace Johnston from the South Island who was to join us in the school at Waiohau. After saying goodbye to more Bible Class friends at Rotorua, we caught the service car to take us as far as the Rangitaiki River at Te Houhi, 12 miles from our journey's end. The Rev. J. G. Laughton was on board on his way Maungapohatu to open up a school at Rua the prophet's headquarters. He said he would visit us in three months' time, when we had had practice at cooking.
As we neared the end of our 50-mile drive, we spied a buggy and a dray on the
27 April: Our luggage had not yet arrived by Goodson's waggon, so we were invited to stay until it did. That day we rode down on horseback with Miss Grant to spy out the land of our future labours. We were shown
* Miss G. Johnston is now Mrs Gladstone Hughes, Miss Te Kauru is now Mrs J. G. Laughton and Miss E. E. Webber is now Mrs E. E. Little.
the school and our dwelling-house, lent by two of the Maori families. We then made our way to the meeting-house where the rest of the people were grouped. After shaking hands we listened to several speeches of welcome. Soon after this we left in time to order a tin chimney to be sent out from Rotorua for our house.
28 April—2 May: We were obliged to spend a week at Te Houhi, because when our luggage did arrive, the river was too high to take it across.
3 May: At last, the drays were piled with our belongings, and we mounted the horses brought up from Waiohau by Alice and Annie, two young Maori women. We thoroughly enjoyed their company on the way down.
4 May: We had a great day, making order out of chaos, and by night-fall we had the house fairly comfortable. Most of our pieces of furniture were the kerosene boxes which had held our supplies, but a neighbour kindly brought us a table and some chairs.
5 May: While were were wondering how we should approach the people about a Church service we saw that quite a number had gathered at the meeting-house. Thinking that they wanted us to open school that day, we made our way over to tell them that it was Sunday, but to our surprise and delight we found that they wished to have a service. Miss Johnston gave an address on ‘The Sabbath’ while Miss Te Kauru interpreted. In the afternoon we held Sunday School for the children and I suppose they felt as strange as we did. A few understood English, but with Miss Te Kauru's help we were able to make ourselves understood. In the evening we took a lamp over to the school-room, where we sang hymns, as quite a crowd had gathered.
6 May: There was great excitement when a kerosene tin was hit and the children lined up ready for school. Parents were in and out all day giving anyone who did not attend a poke in the back. We had no school furniture but a stool, two small painted blackboards, and only half the slates that should have come. The drill took the fancy of the older folk, one of whom went through the exercises behind my back.
11 May: In the afternoon the election of the school committee took place in the meeting-house, while in the evening a dance was held to celebrate the opening of school.
12 May: A Maori minister came to church so we took the service between us, he giving the address.
13 May: We began night school. Both adults and children came, all sitting on the floor.
15 May: We had just resumed school in the afternoon when someone outside called out “Motor car”! The three men who had come for some shooting drew up at the school and gave the children rides. Then wasn't there a scatter when the driver tooted the horn as the car stopped. No other car came down after that for 10 years as the road was so rough.
3 June: We went to the bush for a picnic with the older children. Such a scramble it was, clinging to anything we could lay hands on, the earth very often slipping from beneath our feet. But the view from the top was magnificent. On the horizon rose the three snow-capped peaks and to our right the peaks of Tarawera and Edgecumbe. Between us and these rose range after range of low hills, while at our feet lay the beautiful Waiohau Valley with the Rangitaiki River wending its way through. As we were returning home the children suddenly surrounded us, covering us with large fern leaves with which, they said, they were crowning us.
27 July was bitterly cold, and snow began to fall. The children remarked “What funny rain!” I couldn't keep my eyes from the
window and in the end we went outside to make snowballs. The younger children were taken to the house while the rest of us tried to get warm around a tin of manuka embers.
16 August: We had a box of lovely daffodils sent from Auckland, and took some to an elderly woman and a man who was ill.
24 August: We took the children to the bush where we had a great scramble over the slippery rocks. We came across a beautiful waterfall, the wind blowing showers of spray over us. After lunch some clambered over the hills while the rest sat in the open playing ‘I Spy’.
2 September: The arrival of a small folding organ given by the Bible Class girls was a great event. Sophie (Hopaia) brought it down on horseback from Kopuriki. She arrived rather late, but as soon as the notes from it were heard, over rushed a number of children. It was the same the next morning. The children didn't want to leave during the interval either but said they wanted to hear the organ.
November: That terrible influenza epidemic struck Waiohau. Nearly everyone was down with it, those not so ill trying to attend to the others. Miss Johnston visited the distant homes on horseback, while we other two cooked or visited the nearer places. One day Miss Webber rode up to Kopuriki with the mail and went on in the gig to Murupara where she visited Sister Annie of Ruatahuna and Miss Jack of Te Whaiti, both down with the ‘flu there. Dr Murray had been sent there by the Government to set up a relief camp for the sufferers. So Miss Webber went along to ask help for the Waiohau sick ones. The doctor kindly rode down with Mr Grant of Te Houhi the next morning, attending to patients on the way down.
A few days later Miss Webber caught the ‘flu, but recovered sufficiently before the holidays to ride slowly up to Kopuriki and thence to Auckland for the Christmas holidays where she gradually recovered her strength; thus being able to return to Waiohau in 1919 to commence another year's work.
Land at Te Houhi had been sold to the Government, so in March 1919 great preparations were made by the Maoris of Waiohau
On 10 March crowds of riders and drivers arrived at the pa. One party of horsemen who carried ‘the bones’ was greeted by the firing of guns, after which the bundles were placed at the left of the meeting-house. The usual Maori welcome was given to each group of visitors who arrived. Later there was a disagreement over the ownership of certain remains, but it was finally settled.
The children were asked to help with the singing at the graveside, when Rev. Paora conducted the burial service. It was much appreciated by those present. There were 23 Pakehas in all at Waiohau marae that day, some from the Whakatane Road Board. When dinner was prepared we were invited to sit beside a tablecloth spread on the grass in the shade of kowhai trees (transplanted there for the day). All manner of good and appetising food was placed before us. At the end of the meal, we were told to take away with us whatever we liked.
In the evening we watched hakas and listened to speeches in the meeting-house, after the usual church service.
Easter 17.4.19: Miss Johnston went to Wellington to meet her brother returning from the front, while Miss Jackson and I set off for Ruatahuna on horseback. We reached the boarding house at Murupara about 10 p.m. All was in darkness, but we managed to find beds for the night.
18.4.19 Good Friday: We set off, but returned to have a shoe fixed on my horse's foot. We reached Te Whaiti at lunch time and met Mrs Gorrie going to the store. After lunch, we set out by waggonette with Miss
Jack and party, who had been waiting for us. What beautiful bush scenery was to be seen, but we had to walk up several of the hills and darkness came upon us before we had reached our destination. Many places were lit up with glow-worms which was quite pleasant, as we had to walk around a dangerous curve. The lights of the boarding-house at Ruatahuna were very welcome and so was the good dinner produced at a moment's notice. Mrs Gorrie and Miss Jackson walked the other four miles to the Mission House, while Miss Jack and I stayed at the boarding-house for the night. It was a rough enough road in the daylight! In one place, Obstacle Gully, we had to squeeze through a fence, descend into a gully and cross a stream on a log. Oh! but what a welcome we received, when we reached Sister Annie's home, ever open to visitors. What an honour did we feel in belonging to such a band of mission workers. Their school and house were made of split palings, which gave them a quaint look. Rev. J. G. Laughton from Maungapohatu joined us and preached one of his usual splendid sermons after which we had a sing-song at the fire side.
20.4.19: This was really the day of that Easter gathering. The Rev. J. Laughton conducted a baptismal service for three of Sister Annie's Maori children. The school room was tastefully decorated with ferns, etc. In the afternoon we went to Matatua where Rev. J. Laughton again gave an address in front of the big beautiful meeting-house. Oh! such carving! In the evening he gave us a talk on the significance of the Lord's Supper. Just as surely as the bread and wine was there in tangible form, so was Christ in the spiritual.
21.4.19 Easter Monday: We reluctantly parted from Sister Annie and her other guests, and were driven to Te Whaiti by Miss Monfries who harnessed up at the boarding house after a great chase to catch the horses.
22.4.19: We rode down from Te Whaiti to Kapuriki where we stayed the night. Miss Johnston joined us the next morning so we were able to ride down together. She had been told she was to leave Waiohau and be sent to another school, probably Te Whaiti.
At Ruatahuna we had decided to spend our May holidays together in Rotorua. What a happy time we had all together there! A really lazy holiday on the whole, calling on a few friends. One, Mrs Munro of Ohinemutu, told us of their curate who had just lost his wife and of how in a prayer, he had thanked God, for allowing them to live together for so long.
We had a great day on the round trip. The driver pointed out the mountains where Rua lived, but said there was no white person beyond Murupara. We let him know we were teaching in those very parts. After that he entertained his tourist passengers by telling them of what he and we had said.
6 July: Mr Mainland, one of the farmers who had helped us over the river when we first came had sold his farm and was leaving the district. He was teased by his neighbouring farmer, as arriving with a swag on his back and leaving with a wife, three children and a waggon-load of goods. This time we crossed the river on the cradle which had been swung over the river. Later, this was replaced by a bridge, called by the people ‘the rabbit bridge’, because these animals used to cross it to reach the vegetables and crops on their farms. They remedied this by placing a gate on the bridge.
To go back to Waiohau School. The children soon began to learn the English language and were able to pass from class to class. We had the usual inspectors' visits twice a year; one a surprise visit; one a notified inspection visit. As an inspector rode up one day, he said, “I could have ridden on for miles and miles,” You may be sure the children responded well that day. At the end
I must not forget to say that after we had been three months at Waiohau, the Education Department said that they would take over the school, providing we would put up with existing conditions, which we agreed to do. But in 1923, a new school and dwelling were built by the department on the land given for that purpose by the Maoris.
So the years went by Some of the children
Later she had several bad turns, so Sister Ivy Jones sent a message to her people at Waiohou. Later I received a message to go to the hospital as Minnie could not possibly last the night. My brother, Reg Webber, Sister Ivy, and Mr and Mrs Jack Currie kept me company. The nurses moved Minnie to a larger and quieter room. We were delighted to see Minnie's father and cousin
walk in. They stayed that night with her so I went home to rest. I received another phone call in the morning to go to the hospital where I found Minnie much worse. We lingered at her bedside all that day and night and at 1 a.m. the next day she passed away. My brother whispered, “And her end was peace.”
The authorities gave permission to Mr McCauley to take her body home for burial, provided the casket was not opened on the way. He gave his word and kept it in spite of pressure put on him to open up the lead coffin, as some of the people wanted to see if it were really Minnie. The mourning group went on ahead to Waiohau; several of us went down a few days later for the burial. When I finally reached Keira, Minnie's mother, we put our arms around one another and cried and cried. A great puff of wind nearly took the roof off the shelter where we were.
After lunch in the meeting-house and a walk to the school house, I came back to Minnie. Rev. J. Laughton then conducted a service there and again at the graveside. Again in the evening the service was handed over to ‘Hoani’ (Rev. J. Laughton). In a few days we were told by Minnie's father that that tapu had been taken off the grave and we could go up whenever we wished.
Another Easter Gathering: This time at Waiohau 2.4.20:
Miss Hepetema from Karioi had taken the place of Miss Johnston as assistant in the school. She rode up to Kopuriki for the mail and brought down word that four of the visitors we were expecting for the Easter Holidays were riding down that evening: the rest were driving down the next day. What
I could speak, too, of other gatherings at Te Whaiti, Taupo, Nuhaka, Waimana, Ohope, etc., where friendships were renewed, as we met for business discussions and worship. Our numbers seemed to increase year by year, as our beloved Maori people joined our ranks and entered into our fellowship.
1923: There was great excitement, when building material arrived for the new school buildings. Great credit is due to Mr Eric Hutton of Murupara who travelled many lonely miles with his waggon and team of horses to bring some of the needed supplies. We were pleased when he was able to purchase a motor lorry for his work. At last the day came when we were able to transfer our school equipment from the old school to the new. The people came in and out as before and enjoyed the novelty of it all. We couldn't of course make use of our kerosene boxes and cretonne in the new school residence, so I sold some building shares I had and with money I had saved I bought furniture and floor coverings, which were sent out from Rotorua, for our new home.
1930: A party of surveyors arrived to plan a new road from Murupara to Te Teko,
These visitors had ridden down from Kopuriki in 1919. Miss Grant, wearing a riding skirt, is with Misses Jackson, Johnston and Webber
30.1.31: Again we were returning to Waiohau after the summer vacation. We arranged with Lees' Brothers to motor us right in. Nearing Waiohau, we saw many tents and men working on the new road. One called, ‘Hey! do you know where you are going?’
I said to the driver, ‘We should, seeing we have been living here about 12 years.’
We met many grand men at that camp. One Allan North, Assistant Engineer, later went to Dunedin to train as a doctor. After a period in the islands during war time, he was sent to Te Whaiti as a Welfare Officer. He has been a great helper of the Tuhoe people and can tell of many visits up hill and down dale to help them in their sickness and trouble. I have missed filling in my diary a great number of times, otherwise I might have had a few more interesting items to add.
When I went to Waiohau first I was told I spoke Maori “like a Scotsman”, but when I left, a Maori who called at the door, said “You have a good mouth for speaking Maori”.
Later on, Sir Apirana Ngata's farming scheme took shape at Waiohau. Fences, milking sheds and dwellings were built, those involved paying back one quarter of their cream cheques each month, until final payments were made. What we noticed, when with my brother and his wife (Rev. and Mrs S. W. Webber) I was invited to attend the Golden Jubilee Celebrations of the Waiohau School, was what wonderful progress had been made since those early days when the land was covered with manuka and bracken fern. Now there are comfortable homes surrounded by well-fenced green paddocks. A tar-sealed road runs between Murupara and Te Teko instead of rough tracks. The Matahina dam has been built a few miles away. The meeting-house brought down from Te Houhi in 1909 has been raised, the interior decorated with scroll work and louvre windows placed in the back wall. A dining hall accommodating 250 has been built. But to me the greatest result was the love and kindness which the people bestowed upon their children, who were well cared for, well-dressed and well-behaved. One woman on picking up a babe in arms, murmured “My precious bundle”.
The well-kept schoolground, new school buildings, the football field, formed from a shingle bed with a stream running through, as well as the monuments erected, all speak of hard work on the part of many. The sense of comradeship between the present teachers and their scholars, speaks for itself. Former
At the Golden Jubilee celebrations from left: Mrs Tupe, Rev. Tom Hawea, Hieke Tupe, Mrs Little and Miss Milroy
We were like one happy family on this Saturday 13.4.68 at these Waiohau Jubilee Celebrations. The action songs given by the older people on the marae and later by the children on the schoolground proved a fitting welcome to the visitors present.
As I was the first Head Teacher of the school I was asked to unveil a plaque, given by the South Auckland Education Board, thanking the Waiohau people for their gift of land on which the school was built.
After a number of speeches, I was asked to accept a beautifully woven whariki of kiekie as well as a kit, thus honouring not only those who had worked with me, but the church who had sent us in.
The Jubilee cake, nicely iced, was duly cut and handed round. The Chairman of the school committee placed his taxi at our disposal and took us from marae to school, from school to dining hall, where ample justice was done to the hangi-cooked food, sweets, fruit, soft drinks and tea served by the young people. On account of the rain in the afternoon, the basketball and football matches planned between past and present pupils, could not be held.
On Sunday morning the Jubilee Church Service was conducted in the meeting-house by Rev. Ron Mathews of Auckland who spoke on the different cultures and what these entailed for each one. In the afternoon Miss Milroy, ‘The Rangatira of Waiohau’ as she was called, was asked to hold the communion service in the meeting-house instead of in the mission hall, as it might be the last time some of us would be able to meet here. And so it proved—Miss Milroy herself meeting with an accident from which she died; Huia, the maker of the whariki and kit and Taurua—these last two being the only surviving adults from when the school was opened. What a sense of the presence of God, as Rev. Charlie Maitai, the Moderator of the Maori Synod, spoke to the congregation, after which the bread the wine were dispensed by Miss Milroy and Mr Hieki Tupe, the newly ordained elder.
As I surveyed the gatherings of old and young that day. I felt a deep sense of joy, that God had enabled me to give 16 years of my early life in service for Him, in this place.
Isaiah 55:11 has been much in my thoughts since my return. “So shall My Word be that goeth forth out of my mouth; it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.”
He Aha Te Matauranga
What is Education
Hei timatanga atu i ēnei pito kōrero me huri atu aku whakaaro ki te ahuatanga o te take nei mo te reo Māori i roto i ngā kura. Kei te aha rā tēnei take?
He maha ngā pukapuka kua oti te tuhi hei hoa mo ngā kai-whakaako. He maha nōki ngā rekoata mo te reo Māori. Kō ētahi nei kō wā Roka Paora, kō wā Bruce Biggs, me wā Wiremu Ngata hoki. Nā kō tētahi tikanga ināianei, hei āwhina i ngā māhita ko tēnei e kiia nei ki te reo Pākehā, he Teachers' Refresher Course.
Ī tū tētahi kura pēnei ki Waiwhetu marae i te 11 me te 12 o Aperira i te tau 1972.
Kō ngā mea i tirohia e mātou ā i mahia hoki, kō te reo Māori kō te mahi raranga kono, ko te tangotango i ngā kōrari, ko te ako i ngā waiata-a-ringa a tātou a te iwi Māori. (kō Kēri Kaa te kai-whakaako mo tēnei taha) kō te peita pikitia ā ko te kanikani hoki hei whakaahua i ngā whakaaro o te ngākau me te hinengaro.
Tino pai rawa atu tēnei hui o mātou ngā māhita i Pōneke nei. Huihui katoa mātou ki te whai i te mātauranga o te Māori, hei whakatikatika i a mātou ngā kura māhita.
To begin this short essay I would like to direct my thoughts to the topic of Maori language in schools. What is being done about this?
Many books have been written to help teachers. Many records of the Maori language are available, including Roka Paora's, Bruce Biggs', and those by Wiremu Ngata. A scheme now available to assist teachers is that referred to in English as a Teachers' Refresher Course.
A school of this type was held at Waiwhetu Marae on 11–12 April 1972.
The things we studied and participated in were Maori language, weaving food-baskets, flax handling, learning our Maori action songs, (Keri Kaa was the tutor for this) painting pictures and miming and moving to express ideas and emotions.
This was a very good course arranged by us the Wellington teachers. We all met to study Maoritanga, to improve ourselves as school teachers.
Gold Disc Presentation
Well-Known Teacher Retires
Mr E. Dwyer, a teacher at Te Aute College since 1926 and its deputy principal for his last 10 years, retired last year, after influencing the development of more than 2,000 boys, many of whom now hold prominent positions. His family will retain its links with the school, as his youngest son Jeremy has been appointed assistant master.
Arikinui, Dame Te Atairangikaahu, brought her elders for the ceremony, and here they are about to enter the house as it is named. Cultural competitions held to mark the occasion resulted in almost a clean sweep for Ngati Poneke. Ngati Kahungunu people of the Wairarapa have close ties with the area and were there in force.
The Governor General, Sir Denis Blundell and Lady Blundell link arms for songs with Ngati Poneke following the formal ceremonies marking the signing of the treaty. It was Sir Denis's first Waitangi Day as Governor-General, and also the first time as Prime Minister for the Rt Hon. Norman Kirk. Ngati Ponke was invited to perform at
People came far and near for the 100th anniversary of Tokanga-nui-a-noho, the carved house at Te Kuiti, when centennial celebrations were held there over Labour Weekend last October. Local people had worked for months re-painting the famous house, built by Te Kooti as a mark of his thanks to the people of Maniapoto for their help in sheltering him when he fled from his pursuers.
Second Polynesian Festival
March 24 1973, saw the second Polynesian Festival held once again at Rotorua, and by the time the festival ended on the Sunday morning, the thousands of people gathered at the Rotorua Racecourse to look, listen, praise and criticise, had witnessed yet anther feat of the culture of Polynesia—Maori and Island.
As the winning teams were announced, it was hard to determine the thoughts and moods of the other competitors and their supporters. That there should be moans of disappointment was to be expected, yet when the kui and pakeke of the winning team went forward to receive the award for her club, the very humility of Ma-wai-hakona
The Governor-General, accompanied by the chairman of the festival committee, the Rev. Kingi Ihaka, is challenged as he arrives to open the festival
There were tears, true, tears of joy as well as gratitude, to all those who participated throughout the two days of the festival, in particular the runners-up, who by their own high standards ensured that Ma-wai-hakona will be a worthy representative in Australia. No reira mihi atu nei tatou kia korua Ma-wai-hakona, kia kaha nga waiata kori, me nga mahi mo te iwi Maori.
The Hon. Matiu Rata presents Rev. Napi Waaka, leader of the South Taranaki group with the Tairawhiti trophy for the best traditional item. South Taranaki were also first in costume, third in poi, and second equal in the aggregate
Members of the Ma-wai-hakona Maori Association pose outside the Whakarewarewa Model Pa for photographs to be sent to Australia where they will represent New Zealand later this year when Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth opens the Sydney Opera House. The team won the Ikaroa trophy for the best action song, was first in entrance and exit, second in poi and costume, and was first in the aggregate. They also came first equal in the choral competition
Trevor Maxwell receives the Aotea trophy for the best poi. His Rangiwewehi group came second in both haka and action song, third in costume and fourth in aggregate. Trevor also won the Taitokerau trophy for the outstanding leader
Presentation of the Waipounamu trophy to Auckland Anglican, for the best haka. They came second in the traditional item and second equal in aggregate. They also were first equal in the choral competition
Kemara Tukukino, haka leader of the winning Ma-wai-hakona team receives the MacIntyre trophy, for the best aggregate
below: The Auckland Niue team performs, and Ma-wai-hakona complete their entrance
Kia Riwai Lounge
A new lounge at the Rehua Maori Boys' Hostel in Christchurch was last year dedicated to the memory of Miss Kia Riwai in grateful recognition of her services to this hostel and the Maori people and community' as the commemorative plaque says.
The plaque was unveiled by the Rev. W. E. Falkingham, Superintendent of the Methodist Central Mission, which administers the hostel, and the prayers of dedication were led by the Rev. Rua Rakena, a cousin of Miss Riwai's, and Associate Superintendent of the Methodist Home and Maori Mission Department. Among those present were her sister, Mrs Heni Couch of Rapaki, who with Mr Couch is a member of the Rehua Committee.
At the time of her death in 1967, Miss Riwai was the Department of Maori and Island Affairs' Senior Welfare Officer in the South Island. She was closely associated with Rehua Hostel because of her work with the placing of apprentices, but was loves by many of the boys because of her constant care of them.
A Chatham Islander, Kia Riwai first came to Christchurch as a pupil at Te Waipounamu Maori Girls' College. She served overseas during World War II and was given the B.E.M. in recognition of her work, and later received the M.B.E. for her community service in the South Island, particularly among her Maori people.
At the dedication, the Christchurch Maori Community arranged a traditional welcome and provided a special afternoon tea.
Smith Family Reunion
From Schmidt to Smith to Mete. Nevertheless, as the family proverb goes … ‘Nga Wharerau o Tetahi’ … it all boils down to the same thing. And so it did when 700 members of this family met in Nuhaka over the Easter period to honour their ancestors. From Dunedin to North Auckland they came 120 years later to the burial grounds of their forebears. Oh to know the thoughts of these great people if they were there in the flesh to witness such a scene Sleeping quarters were set up round the Manutai hall, the Nuhaka school, and Tanenui-a-rangi Marae in the valley.
Johann Hacken Schmidt (John Jackson Smith) was born in Koenigsburg, Prussia, on 12 June 1811 and died two days before his 82nd birthday. As a young man he joined the Prussian army, but longed to go to sea, so made his way to England where he worked his passage to New Zealand as a cabin boy. In Nuhaka he married Tauarai Paraparakurekure, and they had 13 children: John, William, Tom Puru, Jimmy, Mary, Peter, Charles, Hera, Henrietta, William (II), Fred, George and Jimmy (II). The second William and Jimmy were named after their older brothers, the first William being captured and taken to Hawaii by the captain of a schooner, and the first Jimmy dying at sea when he became entangled in a rope as it was fed out. The family members became renowned in the Nuhaka area as boatbuilders and whalers.
Along with his partner Peter Bartlett, John Smith built his own boats for whaling. This was the boom business of that period, the oil being used for lighting, and for beauty aids. Playing a whale was a painfully strenuous job, and the boats could be dragged upwards of 50 miles if the wrong spot was hit. This was the secret with whaling. Harpooning in the right area cut the playing time down to an hour.
After a whale was tied to the boats they rowed back to Mahia, where a whaling station was set up. The women could see the boats from the hills, and the minute one was sighted they piled coal and wood onto the fire so the men were able to burn off their calluses as soon as they reached home. This enabled them to return to sea directly another whale was spotted from the lookout.
John's wife Tauarai was descended from a long line of tohungas, one famous ancestor being Pita Koterowai, who owned a walking stick called Kahukura. His incantations would send Kahukura flying out to meet its victim. If it came back covered in blood, Pita knew it had done the evil deed he sent it out to do. However, he was converted to the Christian faith shortly before his death. Another ancestor, Tekauwaha, longed for a son to carry on his tohunga line, but instead he had a strong-willed daughter called Paku, who married against her father's wishes. Nevertheless,
Smith children on Manutai marae with pictures of their ancestors in the background, beneath some of their whaling equipment
The Easter reunion began with the powhiri at 8.30 a.m. on Good Friday, with the karanga given by Zena Maitai and Tuehu Smith, and Maureen Haira, responding, with the host Rev. Charles Matai, formerly of Manutai and now of Auckland. The visitors were welcomed onto the marae by Roger Karangaroa, and members of the Smith family branches replied. Nine branches had been set up to prepare for this occasion; two groups in Wellington, and others in Auckland, Gisborne, Rotorua, Hastings, Napier, Wairoa and Raupunga-Nuhaka.
A sports programme was arranged for the afternoon, and in the evening a concert was held in the beautiful Kahungunu hall. The children watched entranced as the Rongomaipapa group of Rotorua, led by Tommy Taurima, put on a varied performance of song and dance and comical numbers. They were particularly delighted by ‘Alamoana Annie’, the overweight horserider.
At 6 a.m. on Saturday whakapapa were given in the Kahungunu hall, with many interesting stories of Smith family members being told. After breakfast, there was a choice of trip either to Morere or Mahia, and after lunch the Smith family representatives beat Nuhaka at football in the pouring rain. At the ball that evening 15 debutantes were presented to Mr Bill Nolan, Wairoa County chairman. It was most enjoyable — even the kuias could not resist a bit of ‘go-go’, led by 80-year-old Mana Walker.
An interdenominational church service was held at Manutai on Sunday morning. The first speaker, Bishop Christie of the Mormon church, praised the fact that the Smith family had obeyed the first commandment given to man, to multiply and replenish the earth. He urged the children to study and to follow the example of one family member who now knew five languages. The Rev. Charles Maitai endorsed these remarks and went on to say that knowing where one came from, the whakapapa of a human being, was of far greater importance than that of a racehorse. He told other stories with a moral, and urged all members of the family to work together as a team. Two Smith family and two Lewis family stones were unveiled later that afternoon. A banquet dinner was served and the evening's talent quest was won by Boydie Campbell, with his daughter Robin second.
Most of the buses left after breakfast on Monday morning. Tents were folded, and only the huge marquee stayed up for the teenage barbecue that evening.
Those who attended would, I am sure, join me in praise of the cooks and kitchen hands who worked behind the scenes on this enormous project; head cook Juno Kemp,
Stan Smith, Dan Smith, Herbie, Glory Haronga, Tody Smith, and the women Myra Smith, Joyce Haronga, Mrs Kemp, Piki Atkins, Tangi Walker and the waitresses. Without these people, many of them visitors, the weekend would not have run smoothly. Our thanks to them.
Old Sam was mean. He lived in a broken down old shack on the edge of our settlement. The only modern appliances he ran to was a fridge which he'd installed in his old wash house at the back door. Now he'd invested in a fridge because his one joy in life, apart from doing people one in the eye, was fishing. And to keep his catch fresh to gloat over he just had to have one.
Down at the local pub he was always skiting about a great old man trout he'd seen and was out to catch. But he wouldn't say where. Not that we cared much, there were plenty of fishing spots in our wilderness. Yet old Sam was sure we were out to nab his old man trout and he'd sneak off furtively to get to his secret pool.
Well blow me if he didn't turn up one evening with his trout, and boy I tell you she was a beauty. We all stood around while it was weighted at the pub and it just tipped 15 lbs. I've never seen old Sam so carried away, why he wsa almost jovial. And what's more he actually bet us $5 that by 9 a.m. next day none of us could outdo his magnificent effort. To say we were stunned is to put it lightly, but most of us decided there and then to give it a go if only for the joy of seeing old Sam relieved of $5. So we all cleared off to make plans and old Sam carefully bore off his prize and tenderly placed it in his fridge.
Now over the track from Sam lived Hori, with his wife and half a dozen kids. Hori was a great joker, liked by one and all. He took great pride in his garden and his wife kept the house and kids real neat—they were a pleasure to see.
But old Sam and Hori were enemies. Sam had cheated Hori once over a deal and although Hori didn't say anything, we knew it wasn't forgotten. So he was the keenest of all to relieve Sam of his money.
We packed our gear and each went off to his favourite pool, some for evening fishing and some for early morning, but by 8 a.m. we were all gathered back at the pub (the local copper didn't notice as he always slept in on Sundays) and what an assortment of fish there were. Some were real good, but when Hori strolled up we saw at once that he had a beauty. I could see old Sam was mighty disturbed and as he placed Hori's catch on the scales I'd swear his hand shook a bit.
What a gasp went up. That beautiful specimen weighted 15 lb 3 oz, just 3 oz more than Sam's treasure!!!
Well we went silly and clouted Hori on the back and yahooed a lot, but you should have seen Sam. His face was like a thundercloud. But he had to pay up, and Hori, he beamed all over his jolly good-natured face.
We made for home then, each to a fish breakfast and to talk about the wonder of it all.
Hori's missus had the frying pan ready, but before Hori cut his beauty into fillets he carefully pulled a 4 oz lead sinker from the fish's throat.
I tell you man, that trout was doubly good eating!!
But as for Sam, when he found his fridge empty, his wrath was awful to see; but he couldn't prove anything.
But we felt things were even at last, don't you?
YOUNGER READERS' SECTION
This article was sent to us by Mrs Anne Grusser who taught Maori pupils at Ngawha several years ago. She is now teaching in Arizona, and following ‘Indian Day’ her pupils combined to write this article for the younger readers of ‘Te Ao Hou’
American Indian Day
On 9 October 1492, Columbus set foot on American Indian land. Beginning then, Indians accepted deals the white man gave them. The white man promised many things but kept only one promise, to take our land, and they took it. We are still waiting for land promised to us almost three centuries ago.
But some things have changed since then. Today, I am grateful to white people for at least having Indian Day, in honour of American Indians.
Indian Day is when we celebrate being Indian and show that we care much about our tribes. On that day we remember how Indians were, show how they are and may not be in the future. Many people need to the Indians helped the white people when they came to this New Land. Our parents come to Indian Day, most all the mothers, to see how well we have communicated with our elders.
Before that day comes we have contests for the best posters and art, essays and poems, about Indians. And the day before, seventh and eighth grade students nominate and vote for a Host and Hostess from the lower grades, and a Brave and Princess from the upper grades.
At ten o'clock on the morning of the main day, we have an assembly. All the contest winners are announced and given their awards. Awards are also given for the best costumes. The Host and Hostess and Brave and Princess are introduced and sit up in front. Different teachers take their pictures. This year there were speeches by our two Principals, a visiting Hopi Principal, and a Navaho Priest.
Many students dress up like their ancestors years ago. The costumes are of different kinds according to tribe and ceremony, and whether you are representing a great war chief, a warrior, or a squaw. They are of brilliant or soft, natural colours and made of pelts, furs, wool cloth or cotton, and feathers and shells.
Different kinds of Indians may come such as Hopi, Navaho, Apache, Comanche, Cheyenne, Arapaho, Yuma, Zuni, Sioux, Mohawk, Pima and members of other tribes. Most of the Indians around Keams Canyon are Hopi and Navaho.
After two or three dances by the small children everyone is hungry and goes as a guest to the dormitory dining room for a meal. We sit wherever we want. Some of our parents bring true Indian food, and the cooks make some. We may have real piki bread made of blue corn flour, ground on rocks, also chili beans, fried bread, and hommy stew. The cooks have to fill in with boughten food like white sandwich bread, chocolate cake and milk.
Then we have a few minutes' walk back to the school for the main events. When the weather is dry there are games and races and other contests outdoors. Just about everybody's favourite contest is the girls' fried
bread contest out on the football field. The fried bread smells so good! Then watermelons are brought out and the boys have a contest to see who can eat the most watermelon. There is a tug-of-war, too, with two teams pulling the ends of a rope. Between the two sides there is a big puddle of mud. Whoever loses ends up in the puddle.
Then come the Indian dances. Some are done like our ancestors used to dance. We're happy to show other people the different
Dollie Kuwanyaimo, Serafino Youvella and Pearline Youvella dressed for dancing. Dollie and Pearline are wearing Haimis Buffalo costume and Serafino wears Apache dance costume
Some of the dancers wear masks, headdresses made of fur and feathers, and have carefully painted designs on their faces and bodies. When the sun is shinging, and the ground is dry, the dancing is outside where mostly everybody can see everything. We can sit around the court or up on the walls outside the gym. We can also sit under the trees by the basketball court while the dancers dance to the beating of drums and the singing of Indian men.
Indian Day is when you have the happiness of being Indian, the most joyful day at school. I think Indians need more of this kind of attention. Civilisation hangs in the balance because of us, the Kings of the United States! Because if Indians hadn't been here when the Pilgrims came, white people would never have made it. Indians taught them how to stay, alive, what to plant and how to do it, how
to hunt and how to fish. Before that, when Indians were all alone and there were no white people in sight, we would dance and sing and stay up all night and have fun. We would swim, and hunt, and go find a lot of food for the winter.
On Indian Day we have a chance to go back a little to our old times and celebrate ourselves for one day, and sometimes into the night. A free day for the Indian! It's like having a day at home, at a dance of our own. We are proud to be Indians and know things which others don't know.
Indians all over the world are brothers and sisters, but sometimes we fight among ourselves for this and that. And we sometimes hate white people, but I think we should all be treated alike. We all live here on this earth. We are all human beings so we should respect each other as brothers and sisters, including the white people. Both Indians and white people should be grateful for the things we have given each other. I am grateful that we have Indian Day, a day when Indians can be Indian.
So if you are an Indian, be what you are, If you are a white, be what you are. Whatever you are, be proud of yourself!
Now more contributions from secondary school pupils
First, a poem written by Richard Ellison when a 15-year-old pupil at Hillary College.
The wind blew swiftly against
The cliff face
The clouds spat insults to the earth,
The sea surged in, thrusting
The life from the creatures clinging
For their worthless life.
The waves hurtled forward—
Crushed then burst against
The rocky shore, exploding
Into a cascade of bright-
Then would slowly creep back
The wind blew on,
The clouds went on.
The waves surged forward
Engulfed all mass
Then sneaked back,
Life was being stirred
By some unknown power
Now one of three stories sent in by Raana Solomon, aged 15, of Spotswood College.
Walking in the Rain
It was just the two of us alone, on the Sunday afternoon. We both had leather coats on and long trousers, except his trousers were much longer than mine because they dragged along the ground as we walked. Our hands were clenched tightly together as we strolled along the park.
Rain began to fall in a fine powdery mist down over the lake and the bridge we were standing on. The rain settled on his hair and clung onto each strand as though it daren't part from it. Some landed on his black eyebrows and seemed to turn them into a greyish colour, and this made me laugh inside. He seemed to notice my thoughts were about him and asked what amused me so. I told him simply, then a big smirk formed across his face and he said that I looked the same too.
We both laughed for a while, but when I kept on about it, he kissed me to stop me saying any more, and next thing I knew we were standing in the pouring rain with our arms about each other. It was a glorious feeling, and how still we stood and stared into each other's eyes. Our hair was drenched and hung down in strands. Rain was running down the whole length of his nose, right to the tip, where it dropped off and spattered down on the lapel of his coat.
The pathway through the park was beginning to get slushy so we took care not to slip. Although it was raining quite heavily,
the sun had just managed to peep out from behind a cloud, and it made the park glitter and sparkle. The scenery was stunning as rain dripped from trees into the water and made little whirlpools which seemed to increase in size. The tiny droplets on the leaves were like imaginary crystals and shimmered like diamonds as they reflected the sun. Arm in arm we casually strolled on, absorbing the absolute rich beauty of that day.
But that is only a memory now, as I'm at home looking through my window at the rain that dribbles down the glass panel outside. My cheeks are wet — not from the rain — but tears because only he could restore the happiness we shared that particular day. Now he is so many hundreds of miles from me, and when he went, part of me went too. He writes often, and every letter has the words ‘the rain, the park, and missing you dearly’.
Only he and I really know what that means, and soon he'll be back, so that again we may renew our memories of the park when we are walking in the rain once more. A poem by another 15-year-old, Jillian Raiha Bennett of Motueka High School.
TaniwhaWith eyes bulging and red he looked at me,
His green scaly body flexed,
His feet as large as an elephant's stamped the dust,
His toes scratched at the dirt and on each toe a claw as sharp as venom,
This was the mighty Taniwha
His eyes grew redder, anger suppressed within,
He opened his mouth and let out a roar,
It shook our village and part of it fell,
The Taniwha was angry.
“Oh Tane you made our earth move,
You built our mountains and our streams,
You punish us when we are bad,
But Oh Tane!
What have we done to get this wrath”
The Taniwha stood and stretched his great body,
The movement made old Tarawera angry — it woke him from his sleep
He and the Taniwha wrecked our village,
Killed our women and children.
Why Tane, oh great Lord!
Why did you do this?
We have more poems from Annlock Kite, also 15 years old, from Te Kuiti.
The BeggarIn his prime
So small, so sad
His clothing is sagged
His eyes are sorrowful
And no longer exist
As he is partly blind
But his handicap
Is but a passing pain
He moves his feet
Beating out the same
Rhythm each day
His voice is proud
With no hint of shame
“Money for a poor beggar”
He looks at me
Three shillings had I only
But without reason
A tear drops unshamefully
Down my face
He smiles and says
“Many times I have
Shed a tear
But it gets so that
My tears will not shed
But one day
My tears I will shed
Not in sorrow
He goes on his way
Feet beating the same
His voice echoing
“Money for a poor beggar”
I run from the scene
To hide the pain and
Outlet of tears
I feel he was my brother
And I could not reach
Out to help him.
Mournful HomeThere's a vision of you
On the window pane
I can hear you calling
Me in the whispering rain
I can see your face
Mystically haunting me
Your long black hair
Is flying so free
Why is it I can't
Don't you remember
Our love will always be true
Why do I still grieve
When you're long dead
Why is it so true
These wasted tears I shed.
CigarettesI light my cigarette
And open the booklet
On the dangers of
I inhale a couple
And read on
I put my fag aside
And read how smoking
Is addictive as a drug
But unknown to me
The cigarette is in my mouth
Reading thru all
I see that smoking
Can make you very ill
So I put it aside again
I see that smoking
So many cigarettes
A day is very bad indeed
Bu without thinking
I have finished two fags
I push the book aside
And get me another book
And a bottle of beer
And I open the booklet
On the dangers of
Becoming an alcholic.
And lastly … a piece of ‘homework’ written by one of the winners of last year's Ngarimu Essay Competition.
Personal Qualities of
Successful Maori People
E mohio ana tatau ki ngā tangata mātau o te iwi Māori, kua tū, arā, kua rongonuitia i ngā mahi ā iwi, kua noho i ngā turanga nunui, kua whiwhi hoki i ngā taitara e whaia nei e te Pākehā.
He nui aua tāngata kua eke ki ēnei taumata hōnore. Tuatahi tonu, ko Tā Apirana Ngata, me Tā Te Rangihiroa Buck, ko te Pihopa tuatahi o Aotearoa, ko Pihopa Pēneti, ko Tā Maui Pōmare. Koi nei ra ngā tāngata, me ki ake e au, o roto i te ao tahito i rongonuitia.
Ko ō rātou kaha ā—tangata, nā te ngākau nui ki te kura, nā te nui roro, ka mau te reo o te Pākehā hei tāpiri ki tōna reo ake. Kāti i konei, ki te ao tahito.
Ka huri aku kōrero ināianei mo te whakareanga tangata o tēnei wā, i rongonuitia ai e Te ao katoa. Tuatahi tonu ko Moananui-a-Kiwi Ngārimu V.C. He uri rā, no ngā rangatira o te iwi nei o Ngati Porou. I kuraina i Te Aute Kareti. I muri mai ka haere ki te pakanga tuarua. He Apiha tōna turanga, arā, tetahi o ngā kai—ārahi, o te iwi Māori i te whawhai. I konei ka kitea te whānui pakihiwi o tēnei tangata, te ihi, te wehi, te kaha, me te tuku i tōna tinana mo tāua mo te iwi Māori e ora nei. Whakawhiwhia ana hoki ki te ripeka o te wikitoria, he honore nui kia ia, ki te iwi Māori. Hei whakamutu ake i aku kōrero, me whakahua ake au ia Kiri Te Kanawa. Kua rongo whānuitia tēnei wahine e te ao, mo tōna reo reka ki te waiata, a kua eke hoki ki ngā taumata mo tēnei mahi, e whaka-manamana ai tāua te iwi Māori. E Kiri, Moana, no kōrua ngā hōnore, ka uwhi mai kia mātou katoa.
Winner, Form V Section, 1972
Correspondence School Jubilee
The Correspondence School covers a wide area. Geographically, numerically, and in study course variety it has no peer. It was the first school to offer the Maori language and culture as a subject, and its student roll for the language tops 500.
The Correspondence School held its Golden Jubilee in Wellington in the last week of May 1972. The only Maori pupils to arrive for the celebrations were the five Northcroft children, who travelled with their parents, Poata and Maraea, from their home on Kawau Island where their father is bar manager in Mansion House. Once the home of Sir George Grey, their home is a part of New Zealand history.
Kawau Island lies at the entrance to the Hauraki Gulf. It is sheltered from the easterly winds by the Great Barrier Island. Yet in a choppy sea, the launch trip to Warkworth can appear to be the longest on record. Then there are forty miles to Auckland to begin the long trip to Wellington.
Winter showed its teeth in its first wintry spell for the arrival. There was so much to see and so much to do that the children had no time to fret. Their parents in Wellington were just across the harbour from the children who stayed in Lower Hutt, just a phone call away.
They were delightful guests. Ngaire and Phylis slept in the spare bed. The boys were happy to sleep on the floor. After the first night some juggling was necessary so that Tamihana should not find himself pushed on the cold floor.
If we had only had time to do all the things we wished to do. The children, eyes feasting upon an endless chain of ices in the Johnsonville factory, had to be urged on their way. We could have spent all day at the Zoo where we searched unsuccessfully for rabbits. Animals snuffled for food from outstretched hands.
There was too little time for the museum, too. The children lingered most at the Captain Cook section, pretending to steer the ship; and before the great canoes in the main hall.
I had not dreamed of the possibility that any New Zealand citizen could be refused access to Parliament Buildings. Shades of the U.S.A. It was a ‘security day’. But with my insistence and the children's innocent charm, who could resist us? They sat in all the important seats in the House of Representatives, and on being asked, “Who would like to be Opposition?”, there was a show of hands and a rush to be first.
We followed the Coast road from Eastbourne, round the harbour, round Watts Peninsula to Rongotai where we were stopped by the aerodrome extensions. No strangers to the sea, the children's enthusiasm for breakers enlivened the return along the same route. We managed to drive through all four tunnels in Wellington, counting lights to determine which was longest.
From the top of Point Howard and from the Wainuiomata hill, the children located points of interest in Wellington and Lower Hutt. They were fascinated by the gaol! If we could get into Parliament on a security day, surely we could get into gaol. At Mt Crawford gaol the superintendent came outside the high wall to greet us. After satisfying himself as to our innocent interest, and the desirability of acceding to our request, we were admitted.
The children were presented to and encouraged to question a warder, the chaplain and the prison psychologist. Their most pressing questions were, “Were the men well fed?” … “Has anyone ever escaped?” A visit to the printing workshop elicited an awed whisper from Ngaire. “Were those men prisoners?” And they were.
The Massey Memorial was very beautiful. The children walked gently, touching the white marble. Again the sense of awe as Ngaire wondered whether ‘Bill’ and Mrs Massey were buried beneath, or lying in state.
The ‘City Lights’ tour was another high spot. Fascinated by the view from the top of Mt Victoria, they were entranced by the motorway.
The children's party left them too weary for speech. They tumbled into sleep almost before they tumbled into bed.
Their decision that ‘Wellington is much the best city!’, fell upon my ears as dew moistens the parched earth. Robert changed his mind later. He wrote that it was much too cold in the mornings.
Tamihana told his parents that I and the fairies are ‘neat’, for between us we produced a shiny silver 10 cent piece to replace a lost tooth.
Peter, individualist, tease, and oh, so soft hearted. Phylis, the littlest, and Ngaire motherly, sweet and reliable.
My five little friends, haere ra. God go with you. Keep safely the large slice of my heart which you hold. My house is yours.
This article was written by Michael King, who has just had a book published about moko in the twentieth century. The book was the result of four years of research throughout the North Island and involved interviewing over 70 kuias with moko and other people with first hand knowledge of the custom.
Life, thank goodness, is full of surprises.
When the Maraeroa Marae Association held a fund-raising day at Khandallah in Wellington this year, somebody asked me if there would be any kuias with moko there.
I laughed. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Khandallah's full of moko.’ It was a good joke. I didn't even know any Maoris who lived in Khandallah. And, as everybody knows, the kuia with moko is rarely seen these days, even in rural communities.
Well, the joke was on me. A group of manuhiri from Te Puke was called onto the Cashmere School playing fields and it was led by a kuia i mokotia, Ramariki Rangawhenua Kerei.
It was exciting to see her come down the
driveway and hear her answer the karanga. The incongruity of the surroundings was symbolic of the efforts that groups like Maraeroa are making to fuse previously disconnected elements of New Zealand culture.
But in spite of our experience at Khandallah, the scarcity of the moko is no illusion.
In four years of searching for information throughout the North Island on how the practice of moko adapted in the twentieth century to meet new needs, I found 72 women with the chin tattoo. Fewer than half of them are alive today.
I was encouraged to attempt this project because I was aware of the custom's imminent extinction, and because I discovered that nothing had been written about it in any detail since the nineteenth century.
The high point of my quest was the 50th anniversary of the establishment of Turangawaewae Marae at Ngaruawahia when a large group of kuia i mokotia came together for perhaps the last time.
Before I moved from Waikato to Wellington that year, I left my list of names and addresses of tattooed women with Queen Te Atairangikaahu and spoke to her of a personal dream. The dream was that once again we should see a group of old ladies with moko clustered around a meeting-house porch as they did in former times. In recent years, I had seen them only as individuals, usually the last in their districts and often not going out much any more.
Such an occasion, I suggested, would also be an opportunity for the country as a whole to pay a tribute to these old people who had carried on the values and rituals of Maoritanga from the days when people believed the race and culture would die out. The moko was an emblem of those values.
The Arikinui agreed. The kuias were invited and many of them came. The anniversary activities were both a tribute to the moko and a requiem for its passing. I shall never forget the proud manner in which they carried themselves when they were called onto the marae, the special function in their honour in Mahinarangi, and the sight of them on the meeting-house porch through-out the weekend.
They came from the last districts to retain the custom as a symbol of the strength of their Moritanga and as a diploma for accomplishment in the arts and crafts of their culture.
They came from Waikato, Auckland, Bay of Plenty, the Ureweras, and Taranaki. They displayed the work of the last of the tohungata-moko: Anaru Makiwhara, Kuhukuhu and Ngakau of Waikato; Te Tuhi of the King Country; Hikapuhi of Owhata; Raro Aterea of Tauranga and Ruatoki; Hokotahi and Taiwera of Tuhoe; and Tame Poata of Ngati Porou.
We may never see another function like it again. After another generation has passed, we may never see the moko again.
But I count it a privilege that I had some association with the custom before its dis-appearance, that I was able to record something of its beauty and significance, and that I was able to know some of the women who wore it.
Haere ra e kui ma. Haere, haere, haere.
CAPTAIN JOHN NIVEN:
A NEW ZEALAND ADVENTURE
When the barque England's Glory, failing to pay off, struck the rocks at Lookout Point near Bluff in 1881, she had a pilot aboard; Bluff (then called Campbelltown) had been a borough with a mayor since 1878, and a port of entry for Invercargill since the '50s. Wohlers, the Ruapuke missionary, was near the end of his ministry; his community, mainly half-caste by then, had moved to the more sheltered fishing havens of Stewart Island, leaving a few hard-up nobles in ‘a state of proud poverty’. Southland was now sheep country—and unfortunately rabbit country. Government schools, churches, the post office, the Bluff train were all under way. ‘Our Maoris,’ wrote Wohlers, who had been painfully teaching them English for their own good, ‘could now step into the ranks of civilised people.’ But there were few Maoris proper left; the half-castes were the hale and hearty ones … ‘When they grew up they married; sometimes among their own people, sometimes Maoris, sometimes Europeans. They were far more fruitful than the Maoris proper’ … Surrounded by the even more prolific European settlers, and ‘changed into civilised Christians, who in no respect are inferior to ordinary Christians in old Christendom’, they considerably surpased ‘the converted natives of the North Island’, at least in the view of their pastor.
Such was the society into which the real Captain Bollons, then a lad on board the England's Glory, was tossed by the sea. He elected to stay on with Foveaux Strait Maoris with whom he had made friends; then, five years later, he signed on as a seaman aboard the Government Steamer Stella. In 1892, when Bernard Fergusson's grandfather was Governor, Bollons was second mate on board the smart new Government vessel Hinemoa. Then, in the twenties, Captain Bollons commanded the Tutanekai, and young Bernard Fergusson, whose father was now Governor-General, spent an impressionable month on board, ‘storing up memories to last him all his days’. When I was three, the Tutanekai lay at anchor off Leasks Bay, and the deck of the Hinemoa, retired in Little Glory, was a wonderful playground for visiting children for many years. The names of Barney Buller and Captain Bollons had the same ring to me as Robinson Crusoe's.
Lord Ballantrae's Captain John Niven may well join the ranks of real and fictional seagoing heroes. He is based on Captain Bollons. ‘I have also,’ writes the author, ‘taken many liberties with time and place’. Yes indeed. But it doesn't matter, because he tells a rattling good story, and much genuine feeling for the real man comes through.
If, as some well-meaning people will keep saying, Maori-Pakeha integration is a joke and a bad joke at that, it is not the fault of the southern Maori, nor of people like Robert Murray, sealer, Captains Kent and Edwardson J. F. H. Wohlers, Captain Bollons, and the Fergusson family whose warm interest in the Maori people spans several generations and pervades this book. That there is an affinity between the Maori and the Gael is shown in the sympathetic and moving account of “Captain John Niven” 's going out on the ebb after the irirangi warning, and the episode of the house built on tapu land.
But the main thing about any book, however grave or gay its message, is readability. Who could resist a book beginning ‘It was blowing great guns from the North-west’, and going on ‘A ship! A ship! Driving in on our beach!’? Nor does the action let up: adventure follows adventure, some fact, some fiction, some a bit of both. I would like to have seen the southerners using Southern Maori and eating non-sweet potatoes, but that won't worry young Geordie and his friends in Ballantrae. Nor will respectable Stewart Islanders be too fussy about having their forebears mixed up with claim-jumping at Pegasus, or rum-running on the Mainland.
Pinching land is a very ancient New Zealand tradition, from moa hunting times on. Pinching people's sense of humour, so that they take themselves over-solemnly, is the greater crime. Long live Maori humour, and the twinkle in Lord Ballantrae's monocle!
SHORT STORIES BY
NEW ZEALANDERS TWO
This book contains a selection of short stories by ten well-known New Zealand authors, authors who not only have a unique and distinctive style of story telling but also because of their wide and varying backgrounds, introduce a flavour which is altogether human and humane.
So where does one begin in reviewing a book like this? The author has taken everything into consideration. A preface, background notes on the authors, on some of the stories and some skilfully directed questions and activities aimed at encouraging the reader to understand more fully the concepts hidden in the stories. The author directs the reader through her choice of stories to doing what all readers must do—
Read for enjoyment and read to gain a deeper understanding of the people who live around us and next to us—to foster and learn something which is outside our own experience, and thereby help us to understand ourselves a lot more.
One story I will always return to is Amelia Batistich's—‘A place called Sarajevo’, where to summarise the whole story in a sentence or so, I would say … ‘Ketty gave a day and a night out of her life to Mrs Zelich, and only succeeded in heightening Mrs Zelich's loneliness—because loneliness in itself breeds utter despair through which even a ray of sunshine is dissolved.’
As a reader, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and I would recommend it as one which covers our multicultural life here in New Zealand.
RATANA; the man, the Church, the political movement
Within recent years there has been a growth of interest in the Maori prophetic movements. It is as if the Maori prophet is at last becoming more widely regarded as an important figure in New Zealand history. In view of the topicality of the question the second edition of Henderson's Ratana is welcomed, the first edition having been unavailable for some time. However, the expectations which one has of a second edition of this type have not been fulfilled. It is unfortunate that Henderson's approach contains several flaws which have, for the reviewer at least, important implications for the study of Maori institutions as elements in New Zealand social history.
One such implication is that since New Zealand is a multi-racial society there is both the need and the scope for greater co-operation between the anthropologist and the historian. Both are confronted with the problem of translating the meaning of either another place or another time into contemporary, universalistic terms. The anthropologist is painfully aware of the problems in confronting a culture other than his own. He realises that even after a prolonged stay in another culture he will still know less of the culture than the average child growing up within it. The European historian looking at an earlier period in his own society is almost as alien to it as an anthopologist in the field situation. However, even though the one culture appears very differently through time, the historian remaining within his own culture at least shares the heritage of that culture. One he steps into another culture for the first time he confronts the problem which the anthropologist calls ‘culture shock’.
It certainly would not be valid to criticise a researcher on grounds other than those which he has explicitly taken into account
but I believe that Henderson's approach to the Ratana movement is lacking in the over-all perspective which anthropology could have provided. He clearly is aware of the anthropological research carried out on prophetic movements and mentions some of the more notable writers in the preface to the second edition. I searched in vain for his use of these sources throughout the text only to find them added on to the end of his original bibliography. One new source actually used in the text, however, is that of Smelser (p.10) and this rather fortuitously points to another flaw in Henderson's approach.
With the benefit of hindsight it might apēpar a simple matter to see ‘most of the determinants of collective action’ (p. 10), but I question to what extent social action is ever determined. Why, for example, did the Ratana movement begin as a religious movement when earlier Maori responses to ‘structural strain’ had been so varied? Apart from religious responses there had been isolationism, warfare, other forms of political action, or various combinations of these. Those who later became followers of Tahupotiki Ratana were first confronted with a conscious choice. In return for the promise of a better life they had to restructure certain of their traditional ways. That so many did is of more importance than any statistics show. Why did they do it for Ratana? When so many of their problems were of the here and now, why did they in fact seek the religious solution? Such questions are as valid to the historian as to the anthropologist. The very anthrological sources which Henderson cited but never used provide some of the answers.
Henderson quotes Bishop Selwyn who suggests that the Maori felt the missionary to be part of the government plot to subjugate him and goes on to say: ‘The shock to the Maori faith had caused the people to turn to the Maori messianic leaders’ (p.9). This is, at least, evidence of ethnocentricism. Is Henderson suggesting that had the missionary not failed the Maori the latter would not have turned to his own messianic leaders? The Maori messianic movements were more than a negative response toward the missionaries whom they felt had failed them. The Maori was responding to the whole Pakeha culture of which the missionaries were themselves part. Is it logically possible for the missionary as a partial cause of the problems perceived by the Maori to provide a solution to these same problems? We must look for explanations of Maori messianic movements from a positive, Maori point of view. Ad hoc explanations of the type which Henderson offers are just not defensible.
The Ratana movement, like those which preceded it, was a natural response on the part of a highly religious people toward their problems. By this I mean that, traditionally, religion has pervaded all aspects of Maori life and Henderson points to this (p.9). From Papahurihia in the 1830s onward the Maori has embraced Christianity, but he could only have done this in his own terms. Here the institution of the marae already presented a model much closer to that of Biblical Christianity than that of Pakeha society. Furthermore the Pakeha preached of one God but were themselves divided into many denominations. Maori Christianity thus became a synthesis of two worlds, the world of the Maori and his view of the world of Biblical Christianity. There is an arrogance on the part of the Pakeha that, despite his own denominationalism, he implies there is but one form of Christianity. For example, Henderson says ‘… it is true that the prime influence has been Wesleyan in so far as the Ratana Church can claim to be still Christian’ (p.50). This is to deny again the nature of a distinctly Maori Christianity and the part it still plays in New Zealand society.
The major criticism to be made is that the data which Henderson provides lack a general framework. No attempt has been made to link the Maori prophetic movements in terms of tradition and historical interconnections. Henderson has failed to show the systematic relationships between the sectarian and the non-sectarian aspects of the rise, course, and consequences of the Ratana movement. In the early years of this century two streams were emerging
in Maori political life. There were those who advocated a wider adoption of the European life-style and others, such as in Mana Maori Motuhake, who maintained a more separatist approach. In the two phases of the Ratana movement, Ture Wairua and Ture Tangata, there seems to have been an attempt to synthesize the division occurring in the political front. The Maori identity was realised for Ratana in religious terms and his wider appeal to Maori society was made initially in the well-established prophetic tradition. It seems as if the modern meaning of Maoritanga, although the term was not originated by Ratana, has almost taken on the spiritual expression of Maori identity used by him. The reviewer suggests that the genius of Ratana lies in his recognition of the need to transcend the problems created by divisions in the political sphere and he did this by establishing a new identity in the religious sphere. Furthermore, I suggest that Ratana was not, after the establishment of his Church, merely ‘… free to attend to the demands of the Morehu concerning their lands’ (p.55-6). The Church and the political movement can be shown in Ratana's view to be inseparable. This is a consequence of the traditional Maori world view. In all of this, Maori history is more than a negative response to Pakeha history.
KAPITI — Collected Poems
A poet's own selection of his work is bound to be interesting for it is also his personal assessment of his poetic achievement — such is the case with Alistair Campbell's volume Kapiti, a selection of poems from earlier collections and literary magazines.
With nearly a quarter of a century separating the first poem from the last, one can trace the development of Campbell's art. The earlier poems are lyrical, many very slight, with constant nature imagery, particularly driftwood and bones, but conveying an air of contentment and interest in the world around.
Some of the poems have a more intense impact — the effect of the hard heat of The Cromwell Gorge comes across vividly, as does the hardness and harshness of nature in the seven poems which comprise Elegy for a friend killed mountaineering.
Looking at Kapiti is the first poem where the island is mentioned. The ghosts of the island's past visit Campbell, to be developed more fully in the major poem — or series of poems — Sanctuary of Spirits.
The Maori of old creep from the island and numbers of them speak—an old woman briefly; an old man in shame; a chief defeated; Nga Roimata, strangled by her father to avoid slavery, with grief; Tamihana Te Rauparaha, proudly.
Te Rauparaha himself makes only one appearance in person. Otherwise, he is the subject of the Others' speech, the leaders of the Spirits.
The poet tries, with grim humour, to belittle Te Rauparaha's present power, but the old chief persists. Both subject matter and language make this definitely a poem of New Zealand.
In the later poems, the tone changes. Colours, not nature, are dominant in the imagery. Few of these poems are as happy as those of the earlier years.
The subjects become more personal and several deal with broken relationships. Reflections On Some Great Chiefs is a wryly amusing look at some of the characters who figure earlier — Te Rauparaha, Tamaiharanui, along with Te Wherowhero.
The last poem, Walk The Black Path, is surrealist in effect and a very bleak vision of city life. Perhaps it is a taste of the Campbell to come.
It is good to have such a wide selection from one of New Zealand's leading poets so widely available. The variety makes for interesting reading and the presentation is good — both in hard and soft cover.
In its soft cover form, it is ideal as a school set for secondary schools — and New Zealand students would obviously find more to relate to in Campbell's poetry than
in much overseas poetry taught them.
The poems are well set out and not jammed together as sometimes regrettably happens with some collections, and the cover, with Kapiti brooding greyly over it, complements the contents.
THREE BOOKS FOR SCHOOLS
THE MAORI—An action text for Social Studies
Barry Mitcalfe, lecturer in Polynesian Studies at the Wellington Teachers' College has written The Maori to help schools develop Social Studies incorporating anthropological skills and insights. The ‘new’ Social Studies syllabus (currently being developed) for Forms I-IV specifically requires the study of social and cultural interaction and New Zealand's bi-racial society offers relevant material at first hand.
In Chapter 10 page 93 it says, ‘the attitude of others helped to shape the child's attitude to himself.’ This I feel is a true summation of this book and all other books written about the Maori for the Maori by an author who is not ‘Maori’, and the following review is based on my own experiences, attitudes and prejudices.
Content-wise, this book is overloaded. There is far too much information for a student to wade through to find what he needs for a specific study. In fact, I doubt if an average student in Form V, or Form VI could present a ‘balanced’ study of any phase of the Maori life after using this text book, let alone fully understand one of the many paths that the author has opened up. Barry tried to take a scientific or anthropological slant in this textbook and backed by such ‘respected authorities’ as Kenneth B. Cumberland, Dr Roger Duff, Sir Peter Buck to mention three of his resource references, I would say he succeeded.
Reference materials scattered liberally throughout the book were plucked from a very wide field beginning on the archaeological sites through filed and categorised records, journals, letters and publications to history books. As I commented before, the content is loaded. As an average teacher, I would need many hours to sift through and find a single workable ‘unit of work’ and even then probably end up taking one of the other references mentioned in this text book.
The illustrations, especially where they depict people, I simply do not like. They are too stilted and are perhaps even romanticised portraits of people engaged in physical labour, yet frozen by the artist's pen. The drawing on page 34 of a woman cleverly draped in a revealing ‘gown’ and the young man on page 88, framed by the fruits of the land and the storehouse are two I find particularly distasteful and everything Maori in me screams out against it.
I am surprised that these as well as others were accepted by both the author and the publishers as worthy complements to such a textbook as ‘The Maori’. Finally, perhaps only an anthropology student could benefit from this book and I would be most interested to see how this gets on when it is freely available for use in the schools, but then remember, I too am guilty of being prejudiced.
WHERE DID THEY COME FROM?
This book, “is written for 11 to 12 year olds (a range of about pupils S.4 to Form II) and it deals with questions of how people migrated, how culture changed and gives many practical exercises in the kind of deductive and scientific reasoning that underlies the whole ‘new’ Social Studies syllabus”—(which is currently being developed.) In this I would say Barry has succeeded in fulfilling the above aims. It introduces other authors naturally and in such a way that a student could progress from one idea through to another. That is, Percy Smith, Peter Buck, Thor Heyerdahl and on to Andrew Sharp, and yet it doesn't end there, does it?
The layout is pleasing and informative allowing the teacher to insist on mapwork and many other allied activities to complement the class work and study. Alan Howie's drawings do much to illustrate the feeling that the Maori and Polynesian were and are from a moving ever-changing yet basic cultural group that came from over the seas and are going to a point in time wherever that is.
I feel this book would be valuable as a resource and work book in our classrooms and a steady prop for some of our teachers who aren't confident in their knowledge of things Maori and Polynesian.
MAORI & PAKEHA, 1900 until today
Once again Barry recognises the value of other people's views and pays tribute by using these views liberally to form a platform from which to operate.
The text then is succinct, precise, concise and an accurate summary of the historical context within which the Maori has lived and interacted from 1900 up to today. Barry does take the reader through the important phases of the Maori people, which today holds true: the young Maori party, Ratana, the depression and so on.
Use and choice of photographs are such that they complement the text rather than compete with it, yet I feel that the choice of these could tend to limit the interest which a book of this kind could stimulate especially as it is a resource book.
Perhaps the author if anything has not allowed for any individual thought on the part of the teacher or his pupils by directing their thinking and methods of study. Be that as it may this is a resource book and as such will fulfill a need in our classrooms.
The N.Z. National Band is to take a Maori group of one man and seven girls on its three-month American tour between July and November 1974. Applications close on 31 August with the Secretary, N.Z.B.B.A., Box 13211, Armagh, Christchurch.
Kiwi Stereo/Mono SLD-15 33⅓ rpm 12in LP
‘Maui's Farewell’ features Inia Te Wiata in a ‘dramatic verse monologue’ by the Wellington writer, Dora Somerville. Mrs Somerville is coyly reticent about her curriculum vitae because she feels that biographical details are ‘irrelevant to an understanding of her work’—which similarly appears to be a somewhat irrelevant reason for not including such details on the record cover! ‘Maui's Farewell’ was first published as a hand-set limited edition of 150 copies in 1966. Reviewing the publication in the New Zealand Listener, James K. Baxter, the late reigning guru of local writers, said, somewhat obscurely, that ‘The effect is not one of pastiche or macaronics but something like a rendering from an unknown Maori text. It is always her wit that saves her: a wit close to that of the Maori spirit itself, robust, ironic, and in the final origin, metaphysical.’ This is good stuff in the great tradition of New Zealand literary criticism which holds that it is less important to consider the work per se than to dazzle the reader with the critic's own wit and brilliance and to impress with his own erudition. Baxter was correct, however, when he likened a portion of the work to a Maori text. The story is told with typically Maori humour and Maui's exploits are embroidered by Dora Somerville's imagination in a wholly convincing way so that it is difficult to know where the Maui of traditional legend stops and the Maui of Dora Somerville begins. Maui as a true Maori hero is thus brought to life much more vividly than has been the case in published accounts to date of the Maui myth.
‘Maui's Farewell’ gains much more as a dramatic production than as a mere text to be read. However, there are also disadvant-
ages inherent in being able to savour the work only with the ears. Mrs Somerville has made many allusions to Maori legend and mythology and there is much use of Maori terminology which will be unfamiliar to the majority of listeners. Without the text it is therefore difficult to carry out the study and research necessary for a full understanding and appreciation of this remarkable reconstruction of the Maui myth. It is a pity that an annotated copy of the text could not have been included with the record.
As a dramatic production, the record is good. It was produced by William Austin of NZBC fame. According to the cover, Mr Austin is ‘a firm advocate of the premise that radio drama is a unique art form, and that a maze of complex devices is less likely to arouse the imagination of the listener than “placement” of the solo actor and employment of a variety of voice textures ….’ Translated this means that Austin has dispensed with frills and let the soloist do the work. He has succeeded well and he is ideally served by his soloist, Inia te Wiata. Te Wiata is superb. The rich and varied cadences of his voice sustain the drama from start to finish and make the conception of the hero Maui reciting his own exploits entirely credible. He is a master at evoking the atmosphere appropriate to the varying moods of the drama.
So much for dramatic production. As pure drama, however, ‘Maui's Farewell’ is less successful. Rightly or wrongly most listeners will have a mental illusion of how the speech of a pre-European Maori would translate into English. We expect rolling phrases and a certain majesty, perhaps even pedantry, of expression. Thus such phrases as ‘elbow grease’, ‘This was something big’, and ‘Now I am going to opt out’ are grating to the ear. They offend our sense of convention and jolt one from the world of the ancient Maori into the 20th Century of IBM etc., where people talk of opting out and ‘getting the message’ and ‘Let's get the facts straight’ (more of Mrs Somerville's phrases). Again some of the imagery almost verges on the incongruous. Maui speaks of putting ‘a spoke in the wheel of the sun god’. The wheel was of course unknown to the ancient Maori and this evokes a sense of the ridiculous. So much of the language is rich and appropriate that it is a pity that the odd apparently careless turn of phrase mars the total effect. It may be that Mrs Somerville has made a deliberate attempt by the use of modern colloquialisms to bridge the gap of time and to link her tale of days gone by with the world of modern technology. However, if such is her intention, it does not come off. Although we willingly suspend belief to hear ‘Maui's’ words on the modern all-electric talking-type gramophone (as Spike Milligan would say), most listeners will baulk when ‘Maui’ comes out with some of the phrases quoted above.
Nevertheless, the overall effect of Maui's Farewell as recited by Inia Te Wiata is rich, satisfying and full of interest. Inia Te Wiata and Dora Somerville together have brought Maui and his legendary world of long ago to life.
WEST INDIAN SPIRITUALS AND
Kiwi SLC-70 Stereo-Mono 12in LP 33⅓ rpm
This is the last record made by Inia Te Wiata before his death. It is a selection of West Indian spirituals and folk tunes from the collection of the famous West Indian singer Edric Connor, Inia's friend for many years. Inia learned the songs from Connor and featured them in many of his concerts and broadcasts during which he came to understand them intimately. With their mixture of tripping gaiety and crushing sadness the songs give tremendous scope for the range of Inia Te Wiata's voice and his talent for acting and the dramatic. He is also admirably served in his accompanist, Maurice Till.
‘Ogoun Belele’, a chant with religious connotations, allows Inia to demonstrate the richness and power of his voice at the lower end of its range. ‘Murder in de Market’ is a song from Barbados. It shows a strong Elizabethan influence in its melody which seems strange when one considers the origin of the song. ‘Death, O me Lawd!’ is a West Indian Negro spiritual. It is sombre and powerful to
begin with and is then transformed into tripping vivacity as dark thoughts of death give way to exultation at the idea of resurrection. In this it reflects the mercurial character of the community from which it comes.
‘Lord's Prayer’ is yet another setting of this most universal of prayers. It is full of the pathos and tenderness of a people who really live their religion. Worth special mention on Side Two is a West Indian carol ‘The Virgin Mary had a Baby Boy’. It is a beautiful hymn of faith to which Inia Te Wiata does full justice. The record concludes with four American negro spirituals: ‘Didn't it Rain’, ‘Swing Low Sweet Chariot’, ‘I Got a Robe’, and ‘Deep River’. These are in contrast to the West Indian songs which reflect their African origins and retain strong themes of gaiety and insousiance. Such ideas are almost totally absent from the American spirituals which are adaptations of European tunes heard during the dark days of slavery and are generally redolent of their sufferings.
The final spiritual ‘Deep River’ is a poignant epitaph to Inia Te Wiata himself in its expression of the longing of a man who seeks entry to a promised land ‘where all is peace’.
Ode Stereo SODE 017 12in LP 33⅓ rpm
HE TOA TAKATINI
Ode Stereo SODE 007 12in LP 33⅓ rpm
These are the first Maori records from a new label on the local record scene. ODE records are produced by the Ode Record Company of Wellington. This company is run by Mr Terence P. O'Neill-Joyce as, according to him, ‘a one-man band’. Mr Joyce is undoubtedly an enthusiast and when one talks to him one cannot help but be impressed at his desire for technical excellence in the records he produces and his interest in producing even better Maori records in the future. Mr O'Neill-Joyce does not feel that the market for Maori records is saturated. ‘There will always be room for good records’, he says.
Sound-wise both these records are very good indeed—clear as a bell and with excellent stereo effect which enables the listener to really feel in the same room with the groups concerned. The record covers are somewhat scanty in detail about the items but they are most artistic and striking. The photographs are also Mr O'Neill-Joyce's work.
‘Toia’ features the Patea Methodist Club under the Rev. Napi Waaka, one of the young giants of the Maori cultural scene. The record has its faults. The first is a slightly obtrusive guitar accompaniment for many of the items. The second is a woeful over-reliance on European pop tunes. I know those who read my record reviews regularly must think that I have something of a ‘thing’ about this business of using Pakeha tunes for Maori songs and perhaps I have. The use of Pakeha tunes is a long established convention and it has its place. However, I deplore their use on records because a record buyer, particularly if he is an overseas visitor, who buys a record under the impression it features Maori music, feels really cheated when he finishes up with a collection from Tin Pan Alley to unfamiliar words. My second objection is because it is largely unnecessary. There is an increasing body of original music by Maori composers which should be used by groups who want to find tunes for their words. Doubtless in a live performance a current pop favourite to Maori words is appreciated and even welcomed by audiences and performers alike but even at public concerts it should not be overdone and it is certainly overdone on this record.
On the other hand perhaps one should not ‘fight the problem’ too much but instead sit back and get as much enjoyment from listening as the Patea Methodist Club obviously gets from performing. There is no doubt that much of the record is really foot-tapping stuff. However I cannot help but wag a finger at Patea because they can obviously do so much better. The highlight of Side Two—indeed of the whole record—is Kingi Tahiwi's little chant ‘E Te Iwi E’. There is no guitar,
the harmony is lovely and the singing crisp and disciplined.
A second record please from the Patea Methodist Club but scrap the Pakeha tunes and tone down the guitar!
He Toa Takatini should not be confused with a Kiwi record of the same name, and presumably by the same Waikato group, as both are led by the Rev. Canon W. T. T. Huata. This is a pleasant enough record even if it is largely a case of a rather average group being enhanced by the excellent quality of the recorded sound. However this high quality also tends to point up that there is the odd passenger in the group who pauses for a rest along the way. In particular the beginnings of some of the items are faltering and the group seems to need a couple of bars to get up steam. The whole effect is rather mundane and even the hakas sound a little bit dispirited. Side Two is better than Side One. It features some Paraire Tomoana classics such as ‘Te Ope Tuatahi’ and ‘I Runga Nga Puke’ and the cover pays a graceful tribute to this ‘gifted Maori composer’. There are several lovely solos but the chorus work in contrast is harsh. There is plenty of variety in the numbers which the group has chosen but unfortunately there is a certain sameness about the presentation.
HIGHLIGHTS FROM THE FIRST
NEW ZEALAND POLYNESIAN
Kiwi SLC-115 Stereo Mono 12in LP 33⅓ rpm
Springing from a proposal put to the National Development Conference, the New Zealand Polynesian Festival was organised by a committee of representatives from interested Maori and other organisations under th [ unclear: ] chairmanship of the Rev. Kingi Ihaka and the patronage of the Governor-General. The festival was held at Rotorua in March 1972 and hosted by the Arawa people. Seventeen Maori groups, which had been selected from their districts in prior competition, and six other Polynesian groups took part.
Digressing for a few paragraphs before getting onto the record and speaking as one of the large and appreciative crowd who attended the festival, I must say that the domestic organisation reflected great credit on the Arawa people. It can have been no small task to feed and accommodate such a large number of groups and their supporters. What was particularly impressive was the smoothness of the change of venue when the weather made it impossible to stage the festival out of doors. There were bad patches of course—an Arawa powhiri group dragged from preparing a hangi to welcome the Governor-General and appearing on TV in singlets and football shorts (this must never be repeated); the inexcusable bad manners of certain judges keeping thousands of people waiting for the start of the night performance whilst they finished a leisurely evening meal (whilst the then Minister of Maori Affairs, the Hon. Duncan MacIntyre, conducted an impromptu sing-song to keep the audience entertained). However, these pale into insignificance in retrospect when one considers the success of the whole affair. In some ways it was a blessing that the weather kept everything indoors because the hall contained and projected the sound in a way which would not have been possible outside.
It is perhaps appropriate to question whether it is a good idea to hold the festival annually. One fears that it might thereby become ordinary and routine. Also it is an event which requires tremendous effort and organisation and there are few areas which have sufficient maraes to cater for the numbers involved, therefore the choice of venue is very limited. I personally feel it would be best to make the festival a once in two or three years ‘spectacular’. Another point might be to consider whether districts should not be represented in proportion to the numbers of teams which they are able to field in the preliminary selections. Some districts had only a few groups in their preliminaries; Wellington by contrast had thirteen. Yet each district sent two teams regardless (Arawa three because of a tie for second place) to Rotorua. The result was a very uneven standard. The groups which came third and fourth in the Wellington preliminaries (and therefore could not go to Rotorua) would have soundly trounced the second, if not the first, place-getters from other districts. Fif-
teen or sixteen groups in total is the maximum of course but some smaller districts might in future only qualify to send one team whilst larger districts might be permitted to send three. It is a point worth considering.
Two other features are worthy of note. Not only was it wonderful to see the groups from the Pacific Islands performing with their New Zealand first cousins but the Island items were a welcome interlude to the long succession of Maori items. Secondly one must remark on the youth of the performers in almost all the teams. Very few ‘oldies’ took part and this is a wonderful pointer to the interest of our young people in their own culture and an effective counter to anyone to says that Maoritanga is on the wane.
The major activity of the festival was the Maori Cultural Competitions in which each team was required to perform a group of items consisting of entrance, traditional item, action song, poi, haka and exit. There was also a separate choral competition in which each group presented one song. The record will enable many who were not fortunate enough to attend the festival to savour some of the award winning performances selected by arrangement with the NZBC. Although the stereo effect is not pronounced, the sound is good and the usual coughs and snuffles which detract from recordings of live performances, are mercifully absent.
The Waihirere Club of Gisborne leads off Side One with a bracket of traditional items which includes an inspired performance of the great classical haka taparahi, ‘Kura Tiwaka Taua’. Waihirere certainly shows the form which won them the haka and traditional section of the competition as well as the Maori cultural aggregate. Fittingly they are followed by Ngati Poneke who were beaten by Waihirere by a whisker for the aggregate. Poneke's offering is their winning action song which although rather pedestrian when heard rather than seen, is sung with great feeling. The words are beautifully clear. Ngati Poneke's second item is a long poi ‘Poi Porotiti’ which, like their action song, was specially composed for the club by some of its young members. It is good to see young Maoris turning their hands to original composition rather than relying on tired old pops as vehicles for their words.
The Waioeka Maori Club of Opotiki which was third in the cultural aggregate, features an original and interesting action song ‘Ko te Ro’ which has a very traditional ring to it and which represents a turning back to older themes—very worthwhile stuff. In complete contrast, the fourth place getters, South Taranaki Maori Club, churn out a poi item which is described on the cover as ‘composed’ by a member of the club. This is as may be as far as the words and actions are concerned but the tune is ‘Pretty Girl’—pure Pakeha pop—which is a pity. Nevertheless it is spirited and tuneful and obviously enjoyed immensely by the audience to judge from the applause on the record.
Side Two features for the most part a sampling of the choral side of the Festival and contains some of the best Maori and Polynesian choir singing on record for a long time. The first place getters, Te Kauri Maori Club of Auckland, sing Evan Stephens' ‘Kia Kotahi Tatou’. This is a splendidly disciplined performance with well rounded singing and delicate degrees of light and shade. Recalling the irritating noise in the hall on the actual night which bedevilled all the choir singing, we must be grateful that the extraneous noise seems to have been filtered out of the recording to a large extent. Ngati Poneke's ‘E Te Matou Matua’ (The Lord's Prayer) is an interesting contrast. They were second place getters in the choral. The item is less vivacious than Te Kauri's but there is good opportunity for solid rich harmony and fine graduations of volume.
The Auckland Samoan Group—third equal in choral competition—provides a beautifully sung traditional item ‘Mua O’. The style of singing is somewhat different to that of the Maori groups but no less effective. It is rich in its texture, and there are some delightfully contrasting passages between male and female voices. The final choral number and the one I enjoyed best was from South Taranaki with a sprightly version of ‘Te Ariki’. There is some excellent canon singing and the voices are well controlled with some lovely harmonies except for a rather sour final ‘amine’.
The final item is Waihirere's action song ‘Te Arawa, Nahau Ra te Karanga’, an origin-
al item by the club's outstanding young leader Ngapo Wehi. Waihirere is a superb group to watch but ever since reviewing their first record years ago I have never felt that records do them justice. This item is marred by some very strident female singing—there is one particularly dominant voice—although this could be due to microphone placement.
The only cavil I have about an otherwise excellent record is that there was not space for at least one of the excellent cultural items by one of the Pacific Island groups. Perhaps Kiwi is planning another record featuring this material? There would be great interest I am sure in hearing the contrasting styles of the various island groups on the one record.
We walked up the new road
Up Maungarei (Mt Wellington to you)
Against the traffic
All the way
Orderly and tamed
Is the ancient fortress now
And the tar-sealed road
Beside the kumara pits
Of long ago.
But some old magic still holds the hill
For, suddenly bright in the sunlight
His hair wind-tossed
A young man ran up the green slopes
“Has he really got a guitar?” you said
Then we heard the plaintive strings, played to a goat
That gambolled upwards,
Springing over the tussocks.
Here on a sealed road
On a tidied-up hill fort
Of ancient Maori occupation
We saw six children
Laughing, perched on a steep bank
“Having fun kids?”
“We came here to sing,” they said.
Rounding the shoulder of Maungarei
We heard Po Kare Kare Ana
In childish treble voices.
And the goat-man called
(Could he be a Maori Pan?)
The goat, answering, sprang …
Strongly from rock to tussock.
H. B. Sandall
CROSSWORD No. 70
|7.||A fish—caught with a spinner (7)|
|13.||Although; in spite of (6)|
|15.||It were better (3)|
|17.||But, however (5)|
|19.||Path, way (3)|
|20.||Deep swamp; deep valley (4)|
|22.||Disturbance; shaking (2)|
|23.||The evening star (probably Venus) (10)|
|26.||Strike, crack (3)|
|28.||Obstacle; block (4)|
|30.||Here near me (3)|
|32.||Retaliate, kill in revenge (7)|
|36.||Roam abroad; vagabond (10)|
|41.||They, them (5)|
|42.||Small grub; cramp, stiffness; benumbed (3)|
|43.||Woman's brother-in-law (6)|
|45.||So that, in order that (3)|
|46.||See, find (4)|
|47.||Bite, chew (4)|
|51.||Year; alight, settle (3)|
|52.||Digging stick (2)|
|53.||Lo! Behold! (5)|
|57.||Avenged, paid for (2)|
|58.||Dear me! Alas!: cry (3)|
|59.||Smudge; spread out (7)|
|2.||Give a sudden start (7)|
|4.||Prick, stab; butcher knife (3)|
|17.||Finished, completed (3)|
|18.||There is; beget (2)|
|24.||Interjection, usually in poetry (2)|
|27.||Side boards of a canoe (2)|
|31.||Company of travelling people (4)|
|32.||Like, equal (4)|
|34.||The; sweat (2)|
|35.||Sinews, muscle; difficult (4)|
|39.||Serves you right (6)|
|40.||Toss, writhe (4)|
|44.||Which one? (5)|
|46.||Armpit; cake (4)|
|48.||Appear; escape (4)|
|51.||Warrior; champion (3)|
|55.||I, me (2)|
|56.||Stand; wound (2)|
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