‘Te Hui Ā Tūhoe’

by Mona Riini

‘Titiro, ki runga o Taiarahia,
He maunga whakarongo ki ngā hau.’
Ko Taiarahia te maunga.
Ko Whakatāne te awa.
Ko Tūhoe te iwi iti ee.

I te Paraire te tuarua o ngā rā o Hūne, ka tīmata te Hui ā Tūhoe i Ruātoki. He tuatoru tēnei mō ēnei huihuinga. Ko ngā hui tuatahi, tuarua, i tū ki Mātaatua, ki Rotorua. Ko te hui tuatoru nei e tika kē ana ki te marae o Te Tira Hou ki Ākarana, ēngari i roto i ngā uauatanga, pēhea rānei, ka kore e taea e rātau te whakatutuki. Nō reira ka whakahokia mai ki Ruātoki E toru wiki i homaitia hei whakatikatika i ngā raruraru, i ngā marae, i ngā mahi e pā ana ki te hui nei. Ahakoa he poto noa tēnei wā, i tino kaha te komiti whakahaere ki te whakatikatika.

Te marae hei whakaeke mō ngā tāngata, me ngā rōpu, ko Rewarewa. Tēnei marae, e rua ngā wharepuni me te hōro nui e mōhiotia nei ko ‘Anzac’. Ko ētahi o ngā marae moenga mō ngā tāngata, ko Ōhutu, ko Tūmātauenga, ko Tōtara, ko Tauarau, me Ngāhina.

Ko Rewarewa te marae mō ngā koroua, kuia mē ngā tāngata whakahaere i te hui. Te tumuaki ko Hoani Rangihau, te hēkeretari ko Piki McGarvey. Ō rāua hoa, ko te komiti whakahaere o te wā kāinga. Te komiti nui o te Hui ā Tūhoe, ko ngā māngai tokorua i whakahuatia ake me, ngā tarikete tokotoru o ia rōpu.

I te ono karaka i te pō o te Paraire ka tae mai ngā rōpu tuatahi, nō Mataatua, nō Kawerau. Ka mutu ngā tangi, ngā mihi katoa, ka whakamahanatia ō rātau puku ki te tī, parāoa parai, parāoa koroua, parāoa rēwena. I te māhanahana tonu hoki ngā parāoa nei.

I muri o te kai, ka tangi te pere mo te karakia. E rua ngā karakia i whakahaeretia. I roto i a Rangimōaho ko ngā Ringatū i te whakahaere, i roto i a Kuramihirangi ko nga Perehipitiriana, Ko Makaiwa rāua ko Tiakina. Kia mutu ngā karakia, ngā mihi anō i roto i te wharepuni, kātahi anō ngā take tuatahi ka haere, arā, ngā taupatupatu. Te kaupapa i whakatakotohia i tērā tau, ko tēnei, ‘E tika kē ana ināianei mā ngā tamariki o Tūhoe e whakahaere ngā mahi ā Tūhoe’. Ngā tāngata e āhei ana ki te whakauru ki roto, kia iti iho ngā tau i te toru tekau mā rima. Tokotoru ngā kaikōrero mo ia karapu, rōpu rānei, ā, mē korero Māori katoa. Te tāima hei kōrero mo ngā kaiārahi kia rima meneti, ā, ko ngā kaikorero o muri atu kia toru meneti. Ngā karapu i tū tuatahi ko Tāwera (whakahē) ko Mātaatua (whakaae). Ka hinga i a Tāwera a Mātaatua. I hinga ai a Mātaatua nā te mea kāhore te kaiārahi i kōrero. Tū mai ana ki te kōrero ka uru pea te ihiihi ki roto i a ia, ā, kore rawa atu i puta mai he kōrero. E. mōhio ana hoki au ki tēnei kōtiro, he tino mātau ia ki te reo Māori. Hei aha, kua pai ia mō tērā tau. I muri iho i ērā ko Ruātoki (whakahē) rāua ko Kawerau (whakaae). Ka rawe hoki ā rātau kōrero, ā rātau whakatakoto kaupapa. I hinga a Kawerau i a Ruātoki. Mutu rawa ake ēnei taupatupatu kua tekau mā tahi karaka. Ka puta mai ki waho i te wharepuni, kua hora kē te hukapapa, ā, kua tae mai hoki te pahi o Tūrangi.

I muri i te waeganui pō ka tae mai a Ruatāhuna. Kia mutu te kapu tī ka haere rātau ki ngā marae, ki te moe. I te ata tonu atu, ka oho ngā karapu o te wā kāinga, arā, a Ruātoki me Tāwera ki te tunu parakuihi. Nō te hāwhe pahi i te whitu, ka pōwhiritia ngā rōpu i tae mai i waenganui pō, i te ata hoki. Nō muri, ka parakuihi.

Ngā whakatikatika mo te tunu kai, whakapai tēpu, horoi i ngā pereti, i meatia i tēnā kāinga he rōpu kē, i tēnā kāinga he rōpu ke. I ētahi wā, e rua ngā rōpu i te mahi tahi. Pēnei haere tonu, ā mutu noa te hui.

Ko te Rā Horoi, hei whakamutu i ngā taupatupatu, ā, i te ahiahi ka tīmata ngā tākaro whutupōro. Ka hui te komiti o runga i te ata. ā, mutu rawa ake te hui, kua poto te taima, ā, haere katoa ngā tāngata ki te mātakitaki whutupōro. Kotahi noa iho te taupatupatu i oti. Ko Tūrangi rāua ko Kawerau, ā, i hinga a Kawerau i a Tūrangi. I roto i ngā rōpu i mutu ā rātau taupatupatu i wini i ngā rōpu e whakahē ana. Tino mīharo au ki tēnei tukunga iho nā te mea i a mātau e whakamātautau ana e kimi kaupapa ana hei whakahē, tino uaua kē. Kāore i nui ā mātau take, ko o mātau hinengaro hoki mō te whakaae katoa. Nō reira ka miharo au.

I ki ake rā au, i poto te wā, ā, kāore i mutu katoa ngā taupatupatu nō reira kāore te kapu i riro i tētahi.

I te pō o te Rā Horoi te kaupapa tino nui o te ā Tūhoe. Ko ngā mahi haka, pao, waiata-ā-ringa, whakangahau, whakataetae. I kaupapa nui ai tēnei, nō te mea e toru ngā mea, he waiata pao, he hīmene, he haka, mē ako me mahi e ngā karapu katoa. Ia tau, he rerekē te pao, te haka me te hīmene.

Tino pai hoki ki a au tēnei tikanga, kia mōhio ai ngā tamariki tino tamariki, mē ngā mea āhua pakeke tonu pēnei mē mātau. Ko tēnei hoki te wawata, kia akohia ngā mahi waiata ā ngā tīpuna koroua o Tūhoe kia whakaohoohotia, kia kore ai e ngaro tonu atu.

Kei konei katoa tōku hinengaro. Ka pai hoki kua haere ki ngā tangi, ki ngā huihui Māori kua waiata ngā koroua mē ngā kuia, ā, kua tū atu hoki mātau hei āwhina.

E ono ngā karapu i uru ki ngā whakataetae. Ko ētahi o ngā rōpu i konei, he tīma tākaro noa iho ā rātau, kāore he tīma haka. Ka pai ngā waiata, ngā haka, ngā ringa ā ngā karapu. Tino ataahua tā rātau tū mai i runga i te pūhara — (teiti), i te papai o ngā pari, ngā kakahu, ngā piupiu mē ngā āhua hoki o ngā kaiwaiata. Te tino ātaahua hoki, ko ngā rau kaponga i whakatūhia, i whakapiripirihia ki ngā taha, ki mua, o te pūhara. Anō he whare kaponga e tū mai ana.

Kei te mahi mai ngā karapu, kei te matakitakitia, ā, kei te tirohia ngā pai, ngā hē e ngā kaiwhakawā. He tangata mō te waiata, he tangata mō te haka, ā. pērā haere ai. I ētahi mahi, e rua ngā kaiwhakawā. Kua tohutohutia rātau ki ā rātau mahi.

Te nuinga o ngā waiata-ā-ringa me ngā poi, nā ngā rōpu ake i mahi ngā kupu mē ngā rangi. Ko tēnei hoki tētahi mea e mānukanukatia ana e ngā rangitira, kaiwhakahaere, kia tipu ake ngā waiata i a Tūhoe ake. Kua hōhatia te mahi, e mahi kupu nei mō tētahi waiata, ēngari ko te rangi nā te Pākehā kē. Rawe ana te whakarongo ki āu ake kupu, rangi hoki. He nui tonu ngā tāngata mōhio kei roto i a Tūhoe nei.

Ki tou a Tāneatua i te tangata, i te motukā i ngā pahi hoki o ngā rōpu. Kore atu hoki e uru ngā tāngata ki te hōro. I pēnei ai, i te homaitanga i te kaute o tēnā rōpu, o tēnā rōpu, e whā rau katoa ngā tāngata. Ā tae rawa ake ki te po nei, he toru tāima kē te nui ake o ngā tāngata i taua kaute. Ka pai a Tūhoe ki te āwhina, ki te hāpai i tana iwi.

I te Rā Tapu, i muri o te karakia, ka whakaoti ngā mahi tākaro, he netipōro, he whutupōro. Te ātaahua o te ata, ēngari haere rawa ake te tāima, kua mātao haere, ā, kua ua. Ahakoa ēnei whakararu, me te marangai, i purei tonu atu ngā tamariki, mutu noa.

I te ahiahi, ka horaina ngā mahi tāniko, kete, me ngā whakairo kia pai ai te tirotiro ā ngā tohunga o ēnei mahi. Kātahi rawa te tau i tino nui ēnei tāonga. Ko ngā tāniko anake i itiiti, nō te mea, he whakataetae hou tēnei. ēngari ngā whakairo, ngā kete, ka pai te mātakitaki.

Ko te kai o te ahiahi, he hākari. He mea kōrero e ngā tāngata o te kāinga, me hākari, hei whakamoemiti, hei whakamutu i ngā mahi katoa. Nō muri i te kai, he karakia, he pikitia Karaitiana, ā, i muri atu ko te wā tuku i ngā tāonga ki ngā rōpu i waimarie. Ko Hoani Rangihau rāua ko Ira Mānihera ngā kaituku i ēnei tāonga. Ngā kapu katoa he tohu maharatanga mō ētahi

o ngā mema, ngā whaea, mātua, koroua rānei o ngā tamariki o Tūhoe.

Me whakahua ake e au ētahi, nō te mea he tāngata nui tonu ēnei i roto i a Tūhoe. He tāonga whakairo he kapu rānei, mō Moa Pukepuke, Tui Tāwera, Murakareke, Rotu Chase, Ameria McGarvey, Wairama Ōrupe, Tiaka Biddle, me Taumau Tāwera. E hia atu hoki kei te toe. I tēnei hui nei ka homai anō ētahi kapu mō Hōhapata Heremia, Kaiaho Kereama, me Tiaki Paraki. Kua kitea he mahi, he kaupapa whakataetae mō ēnei tāonga.

Ko ētahi o ngā tāonga he whakairo, nā ngā tama tāne o Tūhoe i whakairo, ā, ko ētahi he kapu i hokona mai nō ngā toa kahurangi ā te Pākehā.

Kua oti i ngā tamariki te tuhituhi mō ngā hōnore, ēngari iti nei te wāhi hei tuhi māku. I mea ake au i te tīmatanga, he kapu mō tēnā mahi waiata, haka, poi rānei. Ka huihuia ngā māka, ngā kaute ā ngā rōpu. Mehemea i tuatahi, e ono, mehemea i tuarua, e rima, tae noa ki te mutunga. Ko te rōpu i runga rā anō āna kaute, ko Mataatua, ā, nō reira, i riro i a rātau te kapu. I muri iho ko Tāwera, ā, he tāonga anō mō tēnei wāhi. Kia mutu te tuku i ngā tāonga katoa ka tū mai ngā rōpu ki te waiata, ki te haka, ki te whakahōnore hoki i ā rātau wini.

Ko te Mane te rā whakamutunga. I muri o te parakuihi te hui ā te komiti ō runga. He hui whakatikatika i ngā raruraru o tēnei hui, ā, he whakatikatika hoki mō te hui o tērā tau.

He nui ngā mihi me ngā kōrero i puta i roto i tēnei hui, ā, he roa hoki ngā kōrero e pā ana ki ētahi o ngā kaupapa. Nō te tahi karaka pea i te ahiahi ka mutu te hui. Ko ētahi o ngā rōpu kua hoki noa atu, he kaikā, he tawhiti hoki nō tā rātau haere.

Ka hokihoki katoa ngā tāngata ka mahue ko mātau o te kāinga nei ki te whakamutu i ngā mahi. Te mahi tino uaua ko te wehewehe i ngā pereti, kapu, pune me ētahi atu mea i pāhāotia. I muri iho i tēnei ko te whakapai i ngā hōro me ngā wharepuni, he horoi i ngā wharepaku, ā, he kohi para, pukapuka, pati hikareti, pātara, i waho e takoto ana.

Ā i konei ka mutu anō tētahi o ngā hui ā Tūhoe.

He korero Pitopito ki ngā Karapu.

Tira Hou: Ahakoa kāore ō koutou kapa haka kia kaha mai, kei a koutou e whakamoe ana ētahi reo reka, ētahi tarānata.

Mātaatua: Kia ora koutou mō koutou i kaha, i toa ki ā tātau mahi, ēngari kia tūpato, kei konei ōna toa e kori atu ana. Kia kaha tonu.

Tūrangi: Tēnā rawa atu koutou te rōpu hou mai i tēnei tau. He tamariki ētahi o koutou i haere atu i te kura o Tāwera. Kia ora koutou, mō tō koutou haka, ka whiwhi koutou i te kapu mō te waiata-ā-ringa. Ka pai ngā kupu me ō koutou reo. Kia ora rawa atu.

Kawerau: E rua ō koutou rōpu, ka pai hoki. Kia ora te rōpu i whiwhi ki ngā hōnore mō te waiata koaea, me te pao. Kia kaha ake tētahi. Ko tēnei te mea hei whakakaha i a tātau. Ki te whiwhi katoa i te hōnore tuatahi, kua māngere tātau. Kua kī, ā, he mohio rā hoki au. Nō reira, kaua e rarua. Tātau kei kona.

Ruātoki: Kia ora Ruātoki. Kei a koutou te nuinga ō ā tātou tamariki mōhio pūmau ki ēnei mahi katoa. Nō reira whakakahatia mai. Kia ora ngā kaiārahi, kai whakahaere i tēnei tau, i kaha nei koutou ki te whakaemi i a tātau, kia kotahi. Kia ora, kia kaha.

Tāwera: Kia ora ngā kaiwhakahaere ō tēnei karapu, otirā, ngā toena mai. Nō koutou te kaha ki te ako, i ngā taitamariki kuare ki te reo Māori, kuare ki ēnei mahi. Ahakoa kāore tatau i whai kapu mō ā tatau waiata, kei te pai. Ko te mea nui, i tū koutou ki te haka. Ngā mihi ki a koutou, tamariki mā.

‘He kotahi na Tūhoe e kata te Pō.’

Cicada

by Witi Ihimaera

It was Saturday morning and Kararaina had nothing to do. She'd made her bed, helped do the dishes, gone down to the shop to get Pare a packet of smokes, and was now sitting at the window watching the traffic stream up and down the road.

At the back of the flat, she could hear Pare doing the washing, the washing machine going ‘shuck shuck shuck’ and Pare swearing occasionally because she hated washing clothes. Henare had gone to the T.A.B. It was only Kararaina and Pare who were home.

Pare was Kararaina's eldest sister, and Kararaina had come to stay with her and her husband Henare because Mum and Dad had gone shearing in the South Island. She'd been with them now, over a week. Already, she was feeling homesick.

She'd been excited at first, coming to Wellington on the plane, and the air hostess had given her a lolly to suck. It had still been the holidays, and Pare had taken her to the zoo, into Wellington to look at the shops, and even to the late pictures at the Ascot. But the pictures had been scary — about a man who changed into a wolf, and about another man who bit people in the neck — and Kararaina had cried all the way home. Henare had teased her too, until Pare had told him to stop.

Then school had started and the excitement of being in a big city had worn off. Both Henare and Pare were working now too, and although they tried to make Kararaina feel at home, the flat was too quiet to be a home. Kararaina missed the bickering and shouting of home back at Te Karaka. She also missed her brother, Rangi, who was a year younger than she was. He was seven; she was eight. When she had nothing to do, she could always play with Rangi. She had nothing to do now; but Rangi was a long way away.

She gazed longingly out the window and wished that Rangi was with her. Then from somewhere, she heard children laughing. Eagerly, Kararaina craned her head and saw three little girls race out of the house opposite her onto the pavement. One of them bent on the ground and began making squares with a piece of chalk. Another had a tennis ball, and was bouncing it up and down.

“Hurry up! Hurry up!” the third girl yelled.

Kararaina knew that girl, but not very well. Her name was Denise something-or-other, and she was at Newtown School too. She watched them eagerly and wondered whether they would let her join them if she went down. She didn't think they would, because on her first day at school she'd asked if she could play Four Square with them, but they'd told her to go away.

Still, there were only three of them down there. Maybe they would let her join them this time. Should she go down now? No, she would wait. She didn't want to be hurt again. This time, she'd make sure first.

“Kara! Kara!”

She heard Pare calling to her.

“Yes?” she yelled back.

“Come here a minute, ay?” Pare asked.

“Okay,” she answered.

She leapt down from the window and ran down the corridor to the bathroom where Pare was rinsing out the clothes.

“Be a good mate and help hang the clothes out, ay?” Pare asked.

“All right,” Kararaina answered.

“And this afternoon, you can go to the

2 o'clock pictures,” Pare continued.

“Are you coming too?”

“No. I'm too tired. I'm going to have a little moe. But you'll be okay.”

Kararaina was silent. It wasn't much fun going to the pictures by herself. She'd been once before, but she only felt lonelier sitting in the middle of all those other kids who seemed to know each other. She'd had an ice cream at halftime, and a bag of minties too, but she'd still been lonely, and had wished that Rangi had been with her.

“Grab the other end of the basket,” Pare said. “Jingosh! It's heavy, ay! That blinking Henare, he sure dirties his clothes quick!”

Kararaina giggled, and Pare thought to herself: Poor kid! She tries to be happy, but she can't hide it …

Together, they carried the washing down the stairs from their top storey flat and round the back where the wash-line was.

Kararaina enjoyed doing things with her married sister. Back at home in Te Karaka, before Pare had got married. Kararaina often used to climb in bed with her because Pare was so warm. And Pare used to tell her all about her boyfriends. Then Henare had come along and Pare used to chuck off at him and tell everybody that he was her greatest mistake.

Kararaina had looked forward to staying in Wellington with her sister, but they'd had very few moments together. Pare worked now, at Denhard's Bakery. At seven each morning, she would wake Kararaina up and tell her to get ready for school. Henare would already have gone; he worked for the City Council, so the two sisters would have a quick breakfast together. Pare started work at eight, so Kararaina had to leave the flat when Pare left to catch her bus. Sometimes, Kararaina would wait at the bus stop too. She always felt lonely when Pare had kissed her goodbye, as school didn't start till 9 o'clock and that meant she was by herself for a whole hour. She didn't have any friends.

On the first mornings, Kararaina used to stay at the bust stop, perched high on a brick wall, watching the people passing by. Every time she saw somebody coming, she would beam a brilliant smile and say—

“Hullo, mister man!” or “Hullo, lady!” — depending on who the people were. But the people she greeted mostly ignored her. Few ever smiled in return. One of them had growled her for being cheeky. Now, she hardly ever sat on the brick wall.

Lately, during the long morning hour, Kararaina had taken to wandering along the road looking at the shops. If Pare had given her some money, she would buy a packet of chewing gum and chew it very slowly so that it would last all the way to school. If it didn't last, she'd eat one of her lunch sandwiches. But she didn't like doing that — one sandwich less made the lunchtime longer.

Then, after school, she'd dawdle on her way home knowing that the door would be locked. Henare wouldn't be home, and Pare didn't get home till after five. And they'd come home to find Kararaina waiting for them on the doorstep. She'd be happy then, but they'd be too tired to be happy with her. But Kararaina didn't mind: as long as they were just there, she was content.

“All finished now,” Pare sighed. She turned the wash basked upside down and sat on it.

“Light me a smoke, Kara,” she said. She put a cigarette in her mouth and gave the matches to her little sister. Kararaina lit one and put it up to the cigarette. Pare closed her eyes and drew on it.

“Aaaah!” she said, and the smoke sighed too as she breathed out.

“What you going to do now?” Kararaina asked.

“Just sit on my bum for a while and take it easy,” Pare answered.

“Are you tired?” Kararaina asked. “Shall I make us a cup of tea?”

Pare shook her head. Then she looked at her little sister, so eager, so happy and yet so lonely.

And she remembered how she'd heard Kararaina crying softly in her bedroom.

“Kara!” she'd called. “Are you all right?”

“Yes …”

“You're not crying are you?”

“No …”

“Stop telling lies! Are you scared of the

dark? Come on, come and sleep with us.”

And Kararaina had come running into the bedroom and nestled softly between her and Henare.

Pare took another draw on her cigarette. She noticed that one of the sheets she'd washed was still a bit dirty. Too bad! Then she motioned to Kararaina to come closer to her.

“Are you all right now?” she whispered, stroking Kararaina's hair. “No more tangi? No more cry?”

Kararaina nodded.

“You like it here? You like it here with me and Henare?”

Kararaina was silent. Then she sighed, and a large tear began to form.

“I miss Rangi …”

“But you fullas are always squabbling all the time!” Pare laughed.

“I miss Rangi …” Kararaina repeated. And she began to cry softly.

“Huh? I thought you'd finished with the cry!” Pare whispered. “Never mind. Never mind …”

And the sisters hugged each other tightly.

“Won't be long now, then you can go home,” Pare soothed. “Mum and Dad couldn't take you down South with them. You had to go to school. Don't you like school here?”

Kararaina shook her head.

“It's a funny school,” she whispered. “The other kids are funny to me.”

“But you've only been there for a few days,” Pare said. “You have to get used to them, and they have to get used to you. After a while, you'll get on with them and then you'll be happy.”

“I miss Rangi …” Kararaina said again.

Pare sighed. For a long moment, the two sisters were silent. Then Pare stood up.

“No rest for the wicked,” she laughed. “I better put some lunch on for us, ay.”

“Can I help?” Kararaina asked.

“I can manage,” Pare answered. Then she reached into her apron pocked and brought out her purse. “Tell you what! You go and buy an ice cream. By the time you get back, the kai will be ready. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kararaina answered. She took the money and wandered out the gate.

And she saw the three girls playing on the pavement. For a while, she watched them. Then one of the girls looked back at her.

“What are you staring at?” she yelled.

Kararaina looked away, embarrassed. She walked away from them toward the shop. There, she bought herself an Eskimo Pie and slowly began licking it. Then she dawdled back along the road to the flat. The girls were still playing, so she sat down on the kerb. After a while, she got up the courage to approach them.

“You're playing Four Square, ay?” she said.

“What does it look like!” one of the girls snapped. He companions giggled.

“There's only three of you playing,” Kararaina said.

“So?”

“Nothing … I just thought …”

But the girls pretended not to notice her.

“Do you want a lick of my ice cream?” Kararaina asked them after a while.

“Oooh!” one of the girls said, screwing up her face. “You might have germs.”

“I have not!” Kararaina answered.

“You do too!” the same girl said, scornfully. “All you Samoans have germs.”

“I'm not a Samoan either!” Kararaina told them. “I'm a Maori.”

“Same thing,” one of the girls sniffed.

Kararaina walked away from them. In her ears she could hear them laughing at her, saying, “Thinks we want to play with her! Thinks we want to lick at her ice cream!”

And she felt tears coming to her eyes. She went through the gate, then turned.

“I didn't want to play with you fullas anyway!” she yelled.

Then she rushed upstairs.

“Is that you, Kara?” Pare yelled.

“Yes,” she answered, trying not to cry too much.

“Lunch won't be long.”

“All right!” Kararaina answered. She ran quickly into her room and shut the door. And there, in the small room, she let her tears fall, while the sounds of the children playing outside reached up to taunt her.

After a while, she quietened. She crept

up to the window and looked out. Those kids, they were having such a good time …

Then she heard a buzzing sound, and saw a cicada alight on the window sill. Its wings blurred and reflected the light like a rainbow. Breathlessly she watched it, afraid that it would fly away. But the wings folded and the cicada began to chirrup.

For a while she listened to it, and she began to remember her home at Te Karaka, Mum and Dad, and Rangi …

And she reached out and enclosed the cicada in her cupped hands, and lifted it to her ear. For a moment it was silent. Then it began to chirrup again.

She listened to it for a long time, and then she opened her hands. But the cicada did not try to fly away.

“You're a long way from home, kihikihi,” she whispered to the cicada, calling it by its Maori name. “You're a long, long way from anywhere …”

She lifted it toward the open window.

“Fly away, kihikihi, fly far away,” she whispered. “Fly home…. This place is too lonely for you …”

And she blew softly on the cicada until its wings unfolded and blurred, and she felt herself lifting away with it as it flew up into the sky.

Beans

by Patricia Grace

Every Saturday morning in the winter term I bike into town to play rugby. Winter's a great time. We live three miles out of town and the way in is mostly uphill, so I need to get a good early start to be in town by nine. On the way in I don't get a chance to look around me or notice things very much because the going is fairly hard. Now and again where it gets a bit steep I have to stand up on the pedals and really tread hard.

But it's great getting off to footy on a Saturday morning with my towel and change on the carrier, and pushing hard to get there by nine. It's great.

By the time I get to the grounds I'm really puffing and I know my face is about the colour of the club house roof. Phew. But I'm ready to go on though. I can't wait to get on the field and get stuck into the game of footy; I really go for it. I watch that ball and chase it all over the place. Where the ball goes I go. I tackle, handle, kick, run, everything. I do everything I can think of and I feel good. Sometimes it's cold and muddy and when I get thrown

down into the mud and come up all mucky I feel great, because all the mud shows that I've really made a game of it. The dirtier I get the better I like it because I don't want to miss out on anything.

Then after the game I strip off and get under the shower in the club room, and sometimes the water is boiling hot and sometimes as cold as frogs. And whatever it is, you're hopping up and down and getting clean, and yelling out to your mates about the game and saying is it hot or cold in your one.

I need a drink then. I get a drink from the dairy across the road and the dairy's always jammed full of us boys getting drinks. You should hear the noise, you should really hear it.

The going home is one of the best parts of all. I hop on my bike and away I go, hardly any pushing at all. Gee it's good. I can look about me and see everything growing. Cabbages and caulis, potatoes and all sorts of vegetables. And some of the paddocks are all ploughed up and have rows of green just showing through. All neat and tidy, and not much different to look at from the coloured squares of knitting my sister does for girl guides. You see all sorts of people out in the gardens working on big machines or walking along the rows weeding and hoeing: that's the sort of place it is around here. Everything grows and big trucks take all the stuff away, then it starts all over again.

But, I must tell you. Past all the gardens about a mile and a half from where I live there's a fairly steep rise. It's about the steepest part on the way home and I really have to puff up that bit. Then I get to the top and there's a long steep slope going down. It's so steep and straight it makes you want to yell and I usually do. That's not all though. Just as you start picking up speed on the down slope you get this great whiff of pigs. Poo. Pigs. It makes you want to laugh and shout it's such a stink. And as I go whizzing down the stretch on my bike I do a big sniff up, a great big sniff, and get a full load of the smell of pigs. It's such a horrible great stink that I don't know how to describe it. We've got a book in our library at school and in it there's a poem about bells and the poem says ‘joyous’. ‘The joyous ringing of bells’, or ‘bells ringing joyously’, something like that. Well ‘joyous’ is the word I think of when I smell the pigs. Joyous. A joyous big stink of pigs, it's really great.

It's not far to my place after I've taken the straight. When I get home I lean on my bike up against the shed and I feel really hot and done for. I don't go straight inside though. Instead I flop myself down on the grass underneath the lemon tree and I pick a lemon and take a huge bite of it. The lemons on our tree are as sour as sour, but I take a big bite because I feel so good. It makes me pull awful faces and roll over and over in the grass, but I keep on taking big bites until the lemon is all gone, skin and everything. Then I pick another lemon and eat that all up too because I don't want to miss a thing in all my life.

We have an old lady living next to us. She's pretty old and she doesn't do much except walk around her garden. One day I heard her say to Mum, “He's full of beans that boy of yours. Full of beans.”

The Three Wives of Philip Tapsell

by Ernest E. Bush

The descendants of a man who first made landfall on the New Zealand coast in 1809, and who died at Maketu in the Bay of Plenty in August 1873, today count more than two hundred, constituting the ‘Whanau-a-Tapihana’, the Children of Tapsell, and a worthy part of the Arawa people.

Philip Tapsell was a master mariner. Born in Denmark in 1779 as Hans Homman Felk, he went to sea at the age of 14. He served in the Danish War against the British, and witnessed the Battle of Copenhagen. He saw Napoleon at St Helena. For 35 years he sailed the seven seas; from 1809 he was chasing whales in Southern waters, his ships being largely based in the Bay of Islands. For fourteen years, he learnt to know the Maori. He was in the vicinity of the Bay of Islands when news reached his ship of the massacre of the crew of the Boyd, and some of his crew took part in the punitive expedition. He saw and admired the work of the missionaries in the region.

Hans Felk took his English name in order to ship in British ships. He claimed to be a Manxman, and thus covered his accent. So it is that his gravestone in the little cemetery at Maketu carries the inscription, Hans Homman Felk, known as Philip Tapsell, a native of Denmark who distinguished himself as a Naval Officer. Died at the age of 94 years on 6 August, 1873.

Tapsell was married three times, each bride being of the Maori race, and each marriage was according to the rites of the church, the first two solemnised by missionaries of the Church Missionary Society, while the last, though delayed well past the time of union, was performed by Bishop Pompallier on a visit to Whakatane, where Tapsell was living, and where there was neither priest nor mission. The Bishop first christened the children, then married the parents.

Philip Tapsell's first marriage is of historical significance, in that it was the first performed in New Zealand according to the rites of the church. The register, carrying the record of Certificate No. 1, states that ‘Philip Tapsell, First Officer of the Ship Asp now at Anchor in this Bay and Maria Dinga a (baptised) native female of this Bay were married at this House by Banns with consent of Guardians this twentythird day of June in the year One Thousand eight hundred and twenty three by me, Thomas Kendall, Minister and missionary’. The certificate was duly signed by the bridegroom. Maria made her mark (and, not being able to read was unaware that her name was misspelt; it should have read Ringa) and the signatures

were witnessed by the Commanders of the Asp and the Royal Sovereign supporting the bridegroom, and by Hongi, a native living at the house of Mr Clarke, and Rahi, a native of New Zealand.

So reads the record on page 1 of the register, which at the time was of marriages solemnised in the Mission House at Mata Hui.

But Tapsell's marriage was short-lived. After the celebrations provided by Captain Brind of the Asp, who provided a keg of rum for the toast, and a wedding feast of roast pork and plum-duff, the bridal couple, after dining with Mr Kendall, went among the native people to display Maria's bridal finery. Perhaps the rum, and wine provided at the missionary's table, were too much for Tapsell, but, during the stroll through the bush, the bridegroom sank into blissful slumber. When he awoke, Maria had disappeared. Nor did he ever see her again.

In 1829, Tapsell learned that Maria was dead. He approached the Rev. Samuel Marsden who was visiting New Zealand to discuss the possibility of his marriage to a well-born girl who was known to Marsden. She was in fact the sister of the chief Waikato, who had accompanied Hongi to England, where they had been feted, and introduced to the King. Marsden, who had known her for fourteen years, speaks of her as a very fine woman, clean in her person, well-dressed in European clothes, and of a very amiable disposition, well acquainted with the English language. She had long resided amongst the missionaries who also spoke well of her. Marsden, after discussion with the missionaries (the brothers Williams and Brown), agreed to marry the couple. He performed the ceremony at Keri Keri on 21 April in the Chapel, and he himself gives some details, averring that the young woman (as he refers to her) was neatly dressed in European clothing of her own making. She conducted herself with the greatest propriety, making her responses very correctly in English. She was given away by her brother, Wharepoaka, who, in spite of his name was a very pleasant reliable person. Her brides-maid was her sister.

Tapsell's second wife was a real help-mate; she was both brave and devoted, and served as his interpreter at Maketu, where Tapsell had opened a trading station.

Early in 1833, Tapsell's wife died. Tapsell placed in her coffin a Turkish kreese which he always wore. With the arrival of the trading cutter, Tapsell took the coffin on board, and he himself took charge of the funeral ship for its journey back to the tribal lands of his wife's people. So ‘The White Woman’, as she was known at Maketu for her very fair complexion, was buried on a hill-top at Rangihoua in the Bay of Islands. The funeral service was read by John King, the resident missionary in that place.

Tapsell's third wife was of the Arawa people, and was of the ninth generation in descent from Tutanekai, whose association with Hinemoa has given us the best-known love story in Maoridom.

Hine-i-turama was a handsome woman of high degree, and the union was blessed with a numerous family, which in succeeding generations has brought honour both to the name of Tapsell and to the Arawa people from whom they have sprung. It was this union that was given benefit of Church by Bishop Pompallier in 1841 when he visited Whakatane. Tapsell requested that the ceremony take place out of doors, ‘where all hands can see it’.

The manner of her death has become history, for it was witnessed by Major William Mair, the English officer who parleyed with the Maoris at Orakau, and received the famous reply that they would fight for ever and ever. Hine had been visiting her daughter in the Waikato who had married an English doctor. When the war reached the Waikato. Hine remained with her daughter and with the other inhabitants of the district took refuge in the newly-built

Pa at Orakau. On 2 April 1864, the British entered the pa. Major Mair tried to save the life of Hine, but while he was attending to another woman who had been wounded, Hine was bayoneted. The dead were buried in the trenches where they had been slain; a monument now marks the site of the heroic stand by Ngati Raukawa, assisted as they were by the Tuhoe people of the Urewera.

For the next few years, oppressed by changing fortunes, the captain moved up and down the Bay of Plenty coast, engaging in a number of occupations to do with trading, or with the sea. His fortitude and his courage gave him strength to weather the losses and the hardships he sustained. He lived to see that same strength and character portrayed in his sons and grandsons, many of whom distinguished themselves, not only in peace but in war. Several held important Government positions. In the Maori Wars and in the Great War, Tapsell descendants fought side by side against the enemies of the Sovereign — indeed in the Great War, a Tapsell fought at the side of his son in the Maori Battalion.

Tapsell's last wish was that his people should not cry for him; he wished a gun to be fired as his coffin was lowered into the earth — that ws the only mourning he desired. And had it not been that a daughter was already buried in the cemetery at Maketu, he would have wished to have joined his old comrades by having his body committed to the deep.

Maori Welfare Officers
Meet The Minister

The Maori Welfare Officers' Association held a conference at Parewahawaha Marae, Bulls, at the end of September, to discuss matters important to their future status and duties. The conference was notable for the fact that the officers limited themselves to in-depth discussion on only two remits, and that the opinions expressed were completely frank and down-to-earth. This proved to be most stimulating and successful, and one result is that committee members under their new chairman, Mr Sam Mihaere of Palmerston North, will have further discussions with senior departmental officers on the recommendations made at the conference.

Guest of honour was the Minister of Maori Affairs, the Hon. Matiu Rata, who welcomed the opportunity to meet the officers formally and spoke of the immense importance of the Maori Welfare Division as it had developed from the organisation set up during the Second World War. He stressed that the division's fundamental task was to ensure the means whereby the Maori people were able to do things for themselves, and repeated that this would remain the central concern of Government. He spoke of the social, economic and cultural advancement of the Maori people having reached a stage where impatience, dismay and disenchantment with the progress being

made could cause problems, and assured the conference that the Government would not risk impairing the good and steady progress made to date.

He referred to the changing circumstances of Maori and Island peoples in urban areas with the resultant complex social difficulties and the need to make changes to meet these new situations, and said that the responsibility to build a successful bi-cultural society based on the abundance of goodwill present throughout the community rested on everyone. He considered that it was not impossible for the Maori people to make, in the next 15 years, advancements that had in the past taken almost 200 years, and that New Zealand would benefit greatly from some aspects of Maori life.

The Minister mentioned the excellent work done by the committees and councils, leagues and bodies currently existing, but said that improvements and more effective progress could be made, and that amending legislation to the Maori Welfare Act 1962 would be passed next year, giving greater emphasis to increased opportunities for Maori people to participate in decision-making affecting their general well-being and advancement.

Speaking of the role of Maori Welfare Officers he said, “The role of the Maori Welfare Officer is unique within the framework of Government social agencies in that his activities and powers are not limited to specific tasks on the basis of statutory regulations. As you know, your work encompasses any matter which promotes the welfare and progress of the Maori and Island people either as individuals or groups.

“The work of welfare officers has called for enthusiasm, courage, initiative, energy, patience, tact and an understanding of the Maori people and their aspirations, the capacity to influence leadership and, above all, common sense. I am aware also that your work will continue to be, as in the past, to encourage and assist in matters of housing, education, vocational training, trade training, health and physical welfare, law and order — to name but a few facets. Undoubtedly, this work will continue for some years yet, but the prime role of officers is to work with groups on community development in an effort to prevent casework arising. Let me assure you that your work has not gone unnoticed.

“Since 1 April 1969, the number of welfare officers in the department has increased by 33. Twelve of these have been appointed since the beginning of this year, the increases being principally in the urban areas of Auckland, Wellington and Hamilton. Ten officers are concerned with the Pacific Island communities in Auckland, Rotorua and Wellington and two others have been assigned to ‘J Team’ duties — or, as they are affectionately known — the ‘Tiki Patrol’.

“Apart from urban areas and district office headquarters, welfare officers have recently been posted to the offices in Hawera, Wairoa, Masterton and Invercargill. Two officers were posted to Otara last year and it is proposed to open similar offices in other suburban areas of Auckland and Wellington. There are 11 vacancies which have not been filled yet because of the shortage of suitably qualified personnel. The requirements for the job are, properly, fairly stringent.

“Earlier this year I gave approval for a third ‘J Team’ for Auckland, and to ease the pressure on the existing group covering the Otara/Mangere territory, I propose, by at least March of next year, to approve a further team. As you know the composition of the team includes a Maori Welfare Officer, a Youth Aid Officer of the Police and a clergyman. In complimenting those concerned in this work it is particularly heartening to read in the New Zealand Police Report to Parliament for the year ended 31 March 1973: ‘Without attempting to claim any basic connection, or any credit, because many other organisations are working in this field too, it is nevertheless pleasing to be able to report a very large reduction in the number of Maori children dealth with by the Youth Aid Section at Auckland. In 1972 there was a decrease of 482 cases, 19.3 per cent from the 1971 figures of 2482.’

“This preventive role, which is proving

successful, is such that I will be approving the opportunity for District Welfare Officers from other districts to see at first hand the operations of a selected team, and arrangements will be made for them to spend a few days in Auckland to gain some insight into and knowledge of the methods and techniques employed, so they can apply similar principles in their own districts following proper and full consultation with local bodies and community workers concerned.”

Referring to the reorganisation of staff, the Minister continued, “To meet the significant growth of the work of social welfare in the department the new post of ‘Executive Director for Social Services’ has replaced the post of ‘Controller of Maori Welfare’. Further developments under consideration involve regional control, the provision of extra administrative support, and the provision of a specialist staff training officer to meet the needs of Maori Welfare Officers and the proposed training school. For District Welfare Officers who, at the present time, attend departmental conferences about every two years for interchange of views, review of services and so on, I propose to consider making this requirement an annual one.

“It is pleasing to note that at the present time ten officers hold the qualification of Diploma in Social Science and two have B.A. degrees — a desirable trend, particularly in urban work, which increases their opportunities for promotion. In the past, two officers each year on a full pay bursary have attended Victoria University for a two-year course leading to the diploma in social work. This number is to be increased to four officers as from next year and I would hope for a further increase in the future to five or six per annum.

“My colleague the Minister of Social Welfare and I are giving consideration to an interchange of Maori Welfare Officers and Social Workers of the Social Welfare Department for periods of up to 12 months to enable officers to gain personal work experience and a better understanding of each agency's functions.

“Ultimately, the progress made by our people will rest in their own hands and we must resist the temptation to do things for them, but rather we must make it possible for them to do things for themselves. They neither want nor expect charity or privileges and I am confident that, given the opportunity, understanding and patient listening to their point of view, they will respond, to the benefit of themselves and their families. Steps have already been taken in a number of fields to widen the scope to achieve this. I place as a matter of high priority the opportunity for the young Maori to acquire a skill. This includes those from urban areas wishing to take up trade training, as well as adults, particularly in the building industry. Girls, also, must have opportunities provided for them.

“In housing I expect that current proposals will do much to alleviate the substandard conditions which persist for many families.

“There are also to be changes in land policies. Some have already been announced and further major amendments should appear later this year or early next year. I also intend to include the restructuring of the Department of Maori and Island Affairs.

“Other changes will include the functions of the Maori Purposes Fund Board, to emphasise the importance Government places on the traditional and cultural aspects of the Maori people.

“Knowledge of Maori language and studies will be a continuing requirement in the qualifications of welfare officers. I am at the present time considering similar principles for administrative and other staff members of the department.

“Mr Chairman, I trust that what I have said will help you understand what the Government believes is necessary to meet the needs of our people. While expecting loyalty to the department, I further trust that officers will continue to find this important work rewarding and personally satisfying.

“Again, I appreciate this opportunity of speaking to you and I look forward, in due course, to receiving the considerations of your conference.”

Ngati Poneke Appeal

Whaaki

by Arapera Molenaar

I could see him from our driveway striding in and our of his house, shoulders bent forward, with his old straw hat set on his head and thought to myself … I'll go and see old Whaaki—he's always fun to talk to.

So I dashed over the road, climbed the fence and trotted to where he was squatting.

He was fixing a gaff for eeling. His chocolae brown hands roughened with outside work knew just what they were about.

His face was one of those ageless yet time-worn masks that just don't have enough wrinkles to say I'm old and then again not enough softness to say I'm young. His hat sat flat on his head shading those grinning brown eyes. It was made of kiekie and looking old and worn unlike the owner, bits of straw hanging all round his face.

Dangling from his lips was the ever constant companion, a cigarette. Looking down at the cigarette made me wonder if he really did smoke those things or whether he just chewed on them, because he rolled it from side to side biting and chewing as he worked, like it was a piece of straw.

‘Hello Whaaki,’ I greeted. He looked up at me and grinned, his whole face just beaming.

‘Kia Ora, Arapera. How you being? Too good on you coming to see me.’ He began to chuckle and say too good too good, again.

It was a warm chuckle, just like when you placed kindling wood in the fire and then light it and it's cold outside yet the crackling wood seems to say, ‘come closer I’m warm and friendly even if the weather is cold.’

‘Well, I just making now a gaff for the eeling, you sitting down while I just going inside for the knife, e Arapera. Too good

too good alright,’ he muttered to himself as he strode inside, stooping to avoid the door. He was tall and gangly like Gary Cooper, well a Maori Gary Cooper if you get the idea.

‘Yes and last night, Arapera, I throwing my hinaki into the racoon so in the morning you coming for some eels,’ he said, bending over his gaff again.

He grinned at me and rolled his cigarette round in his mouth. His teeth were all stained brown and chewed down like he had grown them back to front.

‘Funny teeth you got Whaaki?’

‘Yes, I’m the only fullah with a teeth like this Arapera,’ he laughed.

Whaaki was tying the string round and round to secure the hooks at the ends. Auntie Wai only used bits of rag, usually white, when we went torching. The eels would bite on the rag and get thrown onto the riverbank where we had to bash their heads in quick because they were slithery like lightning. But Whaaki was an expert, he lived out of the river, so I didn't say anything.

Sometimes we gave him mutton. This was tahu'd over the open fire in his camp oven half full of fat. He did the same with pauas, just threw them into the hot fat to boil. As soon as they were cooked he took the pot off the bars that sat over the fire and let it set with the meat inside it. The eels and fish he caught in the river were split, smoked and hung out to dry.

When he wanted a meal all he had to do was gather a kit of puha, put the pot onto the bars to boil with the tahu'd meat, throw in a spoon of salt and let it boil away for an hour or so. The potatoes and kumara went on top with a nice fat piece of eel added at the last minute. You always had to muku the puha first.

Tea was made in the old billy can, now blackened by the flames that licked the bottom and sides. When the water inside began to boil, a big spoon of tea was tossed into the billy, then it was put onto the hearth to settle the leaves. The tea smelt like the bush, all leaves and damp moss and grass, but Whaaki never used sugar so it tasted like water which was tainted. That was the only thing that spoilt his tea. I never accepted it from him. I loved sugar.

‘How's the kumara, e Arapera?’ he asked.

‘Spreading like the weeds.’ I hated planting kumara.

We had to cart all the water to the patch from the river in kerosene tins and water each individual plant as it was pushed into the ground. It would have been much easier to plant in the rain. Afterwards it was a good splash about in the river to cool off.

‘Only one way to planting the kumara,’ Whaaki was saying. ‘That's with the moon.’

‘Don’t know too much about the moon planting Whaaki,’ I answered.

Then he was telling me how one should plant with the phases of the moon.

‘That's the Chinese way,’ I retorted.

‘No. Is the only way to get a big kumara.’

The next lot of kumara was put in by Whaaki, but I didn't notice any difference myself. We still had a lot of weeding to do by hand.

‘Kaete Kati Kati a Arapiu?’ Arapiu was my father.

‘Yep, shearing at McIntyres.’

I loved the shearing season, but Dad took me only when they were really short of fleecos.

I was a pretty good fleeco too. Mum taught us how to throw a fleece and pick it up from the board, by using a tea towel.

‘Now this is the shearing stand—one, two, three, four shearers flat out. This is the shearer and this is the sheep being shorn. Don’t put your hand under the wool when the handpiece is busy. Just pull the wool like this.’ She would tug gently at the wool, demonstrating how it was done.

‘Now you pick up the wool as soon as it has left the sheep's back, fold it under and over, tuck in the sides, and hold the fleece firmly under your chin while you walk to the table. You can pick up a second fleece in the same way, holding it under the other.

‘If three shearers finish at once, you take the one furthest away, then the next along moving towards the table. By the time you get along to the last fleece the shearer will be coming out of the pen with another sheep, so you’ll only have time to kick it towards the table.’

Man, I thought, this sounds impossible, and so it was for the first two weeks. Then all of a sudden everything fell into place and it was as easy as falling off a log. I used to have them wooled up all over the place.

Two women usually worked the table while another two worked on the floor. Those on the table did the skirting, taking the belly wool off and placing it into a bale. Then while one worked from the belly to bottom the other worked from neck to belly, cleaning the edges of the wool and putting pieces into different bales. The fleece landed on the table dirty side up, so after cleaning one half it was folded over and the other half cleaned in the same manner. Then it was rolled from bottom to neck end over end until it met in the middle. Then the beautiful clean fleece was placed into the cubicles to await pressing.

On the floor one girl worked with a broom, usually of straw. As soon as the other one picked up the fleece she would sweep away the left-over wool into a corner, separating the good wool from the dags and throwing them into the bales provided.

The girl that picked up the wool had only that job to concentrate on, but you had to steer clear of the shearers and their hand pieces. Whenever a shearer called for the tar, whoever was nearest did the tarring, but that was usually the job of the sweeper.

After every break we had to get in amongst the dags with pairs of shears to cut away the good pieces of wool.

Morning smoko we always looked forward to. If Auntie Wai was cook she would bake a batch of scones up and send them down dripping with butter and raspberry jam. She loved baking Maori bread too, the real rewena one made with potato water. She was my favourite aunt and cook.

Some of the farms were so beautiful … with waterfalls … lakes … bush … and fernery spilling over into the water. After a hard day's work it was a pleasure to swim in the rivers, and lie on one's back just drinking in the surroundings and sounds that echoed round the area … goats and sheep bleating, horses whinnying, tui birds singing in the bush … it was heavenly.

Whaaki was slapping his sides hunting for his tobacco tin. ‘Too good alright,’ he muttered. He found the tin, heaved it out of his back pocket, opened it … lifted out the cigarette papers … leafed one out … poked out a hunk of weed … closed the lid … pushed the tin back and began rolling.

His fingernails were clean for a man who always worked in the dirt, short too like they never ever grew.

‘Kai paipa a koe e Arapera?’ He held out the tobacco.

‘Ummmmmmm, Nope,’ I lied.

Well, I couldn't trust him like I could Te Wai. Now if she asked me … then again she wouldn't … she'd just throw the packet over. ‘Have a smoke, Badu,’ she'd say, and give me some for the road.

Whaaki rolled the weed up slowly, like most bad habits. When there's plenty of what you want, why hurry? There's no need to hurry. He licked the edges slowly, patted them into place. The end result went into his mouth between those back to front teeth. A match was lit, cupped about, placed beneath the cigarette, and he was afire, smoke billowing from his chocolate nostrils and mouth at the same time.

I gulped, moved in closer, just so I could get a whiff of the vapour he let fly.

‘Have to see Karet,’ I said rising.

‘Kai te kainga a Te Wai?’

‘Yep. Saw her hanging out the clothes just before I came over to see you.’ I was dying for a smoke by now.

‘Well Arapera, haere ra. You coming in the morning for the eels?’

I nodded as I turned to go through the field.

When I looked back his tall figure was stooped low as he made to enter his kitchen doorway. The navy cotton shirt and khaki twill pants clung to his lean brown body, while his kiekie hat waved a friendly goodbye as the breeze caught the bits of straw just before he disappered from view.

Whaaki was timeless. His face … movements … speech … and love of people just seemed to let you know that eternity was just round the corner … through another doorway.

Conference at Te Kaha

by Witi Ihimaera

THE SIGNS WERE GOOD: Tanemahuta had sent birds to sing, Tangaroa had sent four whales to appear on the horizon, and Ranginui had shed tears upon the marae at Te Kaha.

With these signs, nothing but success and optimism could attend the first national conference of Maori Artists and Writers, sponsored by the Queen Elizabeth II Arts Council, and held at historic Tukaki marae during Queen's Birthday Weekend.

Convened by poet Hone Tuwhare, the conference attracted over two hundred people either involved or interested in Maori culture. They included writers, poets, artists, sculptors, photographers, actors, dancers, carvers and culture group leaders. Among them were Ralph Hotere, Kura Rewiri, Buck Nin, Selwyn Muru, Rei Hamon, Para Matchitt, Tui Zanetich, Micky Wairoa, Paul Katene, Rowley Habib, Dun Mihaka, Witi Ihimaera, Dinah Rawiri, Rose Denness, Ngahuia Rawiri, Roka Paora, Mana Cracknell, Ivan Wirepa, Donna Awatere, John Taiapa, Tuti Tukaokao, Bub Wehi, Elizabeth Murchie, Val Irwin, Syd and Hana Jackson, Sonny Waru, Haare Williams, Don Soloman, Paul Manu, Mihi Roberts, Bill Tawhai, Malta Sydney and Dr Douglas Sinclair.

Many of these people have appeared in the pages of Te Ao Hou. Together with the other visitors — school and university students — they came to express their concern about the development of Maori creativity and tried to formulate ways in which this could be stimulated.

One felt that the late Dr Maharaia Winiata would have been pleased with the result. Before his death, Dr Winiata had tried to organise a conference such as this one.

Opened by Mr P. B. Reweti, Member for Eastern Maori, the conference began with

discussion groups being formed to talk over the following topics:

The position of the Maori artist in New Zealand society; what directions are needed; are our people sensitive to our presence; is there communication in the development of our art and artists in relation to our people; use of the marae for creativity; and the dilemma of the Maori artist in expressing Maori concepts or feeling within a Pakeha medium.

Reports from each discussion group were then thrown open for debate at the first plenary session. The recommendations made concerning greater encouragement of Maori creativity were passed at the second and final session. Most important among these was that the Government be approached with a view to establishing a Government-endowed Maori Cultural Foundation, and to introducing the Maori language in schools as a recognised subject from infant level.

Maori art as a University Entrance subject, and the stimulation of creative writing by Maori children in schools, were also recommended. As far as art was concerned, it was recommended that two art scholar-

ships be established, and both the Maori Council and Queen Elizabeth II Arts Council were named as possible sponsors. A New Zealand Painters Group was formed with Buck Nin as president.

The possibility of setting up a printing press for Maori writers was one of the main recommendations to result from the writers' session.

An urgent need for more creative writing prompted another recommendation that the Maori Purposes Fund Board, Maori Tribal Committees and the Maori Education Foundation establish grants for Maori writers and poets. Rowley Habib voiced the feelings of many when he said that, at present, the leaves of the tree (the performing arts) were being fed while the roots were being neglected.

The main concern voiced by the carvers was that carving was becoming a commercial tourist industry. It was felt that a design mark should be instituted to identify authentic carving from ‘plastic’ carving.

Tukaki marae became rather like an anvil upon which was hammered out the voice of concern. But it was also a place where the versatility of the Maori as an artist was proven.

An impromptu concert, featuring the talents of the artists, proved this beyond doubt. For instance, to hear Donna Awatere singing was to realise the enormous potential of Maori creativity and artistry.

Even more revealing was the piano recital given by Ivan Wirepa, Auckland pianist, on a grand piano within Tukaki meeting house. Accompanied by Stephen Sheath, cellist, Ivan played work by Bach, Mendelssoh, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin and Bartok. It would have been quite easy for Ivan to present a less demanding and more popular selection for his debut. He had the courage not to compromise his talents, and was rewarded with a tremendous ovation from the audience.

The recital was an astonishing experience, and the grand piano did not seem out of place at all. Certainly, the recital exemplified a remarkable fusion of Maori talent working within a European artistic framework.

Next year's conference is to be held at Wairoa Marae, under the chairmanship of Dr Douglas Sinclair. Head convener is Mihi Rogers, and organising the travel arrangements from specific centres are: Don Soloman (North Auckland), Hone Tuwhare (Auckland), Dr Sinclair (Hamilton), Witi Ihimaera (Wellington), Para Matchitt (East Coast), Elizabeth Murchie and Kura Rewiri-Thorson (South Island).

Maori Women's Welfare League
Conference at Rotorua

This poem won the Miraka Szaszy Trophy for Mrs Heeni Mullen of Miriona Branch, Paekakariki, at this year's Maori Women's Welfare League Conference.

Ngati Poneke Debutante Ball

The 700 guests present at the Ikaroa Maori District Debutante Ball held in the Wellington Town Hall on 16 June applauded their approval as each debutante, her white gown entirely covered by a kaitaka, and escorted by her father or brother, slowly made her way to the foot of the stage steps, to be handed the meremere by her sponsor—signifying the handing over of his mana for this one night. As each girl sank low in a curtsey, and her tribal district was called after her name, the smile of acknowledgment from the Arikinui Dame Te Atairangikaahu took away the nervous tension and in its place left a quiet dignity.

Speaking to the girls when they returned without their kakahu Maori for the mass curtsey, the Arikinui spoke of the honour she felt in being invited to take part. She said, ‘We have witnessed here tonight an event of beauty and tradition; debutantes presented first in our Maori way, and now standing before us in their lovely gowns—surely a true witness of our two cultures linking together in perfect harmony.’ She wished Ngati Poneke continued success in its efforts to create a turangawaewae for those who came to live and work in the city.

KI MAI KOE HE AHA TE MEA NUI
HE TANGATA, HE TANGATA, HE TANGATA

A group of forty enthusiastic first-year student teachers from the Auckland Teachers College spent six days in mid-August as guests of Ngati Hangarau, the people of the Bethlehem Marae in Tauranga. The aim behind the visit was to give potential teachers the opportunity to meet our people at close quarters and to learn more about the Maori way of life.

For most of the students, it was a ‘first’ on a Marae, let alone sleep in one. The students heard invited speakers and held forums to discuss, among other things, Maori education, the influence of the Marae, culture, welfare, and regional ethnography.

The atmosphere of the visit is best summed up in the students own words:

Michelle: One of the highlights of the trip must surely be the trip to the summit of Mt Maunganui or Mauao with Mr Turi Te Kani. Admittedly, the prospect of dragging our weary bodies to the top was a forbidding thought, but after meeting our entertaining guide, the climb was fun. Pride in themselves is reflected in the heart of the Ngai-te-Rangi people in their saying:

“Ko Mauao te maunga
Ko Tauranga te moana
Ko Ngai-te-Rangi te iwi.”

Averill: On Saturday evening, we assembled in the wharenui to listen to three speakers on the subject of ‘The Role of the Maori Parent in New Zealand Society’. By this time we knew the routine and made ourselves comfortable with rugs, pillows and mattresses up against the carved poupous. This gave us the chance to converse with the local people in an informal atmosphere.

Susan: I find it hard to specify what the trip meant to me. Perhaps it is easier to view the whole experience and say that I have new understandings of the Maori people, their culture, and their tremendous hospitality. It reminds me that the most important thing in life is a human being — not a Maori, not a Pakeha, not a woman, not a man, but a human being.

Ki mai koe he aha te mea nui
He tangata, he tangata, he tangata!

Allan: The trip has given me greater confidence as a teacher. Although I realise that I have hardly scratched the surface of all things Maori, the trip has increased my

interest, bolstered my confidence, and hopefully, given the chance, will lead me to a still greater interest in what is part of my heritage as a New Zealander. I hope to be a better teacher because of this visit.

Ngati Hangarau — tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou.

Jenny: Somehow, leaning against the poupou at 1 a.m. watching a film about Maori carvings had much more meaning and inspiration than the setting of Room 13 back at College. Yes, there are differences between Pakehas and Maoris in similar situations such as the Marae.

Different priorities, a different approach to activities. What matters, the clothes we wear? That you have come is more important. Cost doesn't matter; if it is needed, get it. And why shouldn't children help too?

Glenn:

It
Succeeded and we
The visitors
Gave, but kept a rite
To return and yet to leave
To stay and go
To know we can return.

Williams Family
Commemorations

In May about 700 descendants of the pioneer missionaries Henry and William Williams gathered at Paihia to commemorate 150 years since Henry, the first ordained Anglican missionary, landed at the Bay of Islands. Also present were many of the Maori clergy, particularly of the Waiapu Diocese, to whom an open invitation had been extended. The four days of celebrations culminated on the Sunday when the Williams family were welcomed onto the Tiritio-Waitangi Marae.

In the morning a commemorative service of thanksgiving was held outside the stone church of St Paul, built in 1926 as a memorial to the missionary brothers. Here nearly 1,000 people assembled at a communion service celebrated by the Bishop of Auckland, assisted by the Bishops of Waiapu and Aotearoa and the Rt Rev. A. K. Warren, a former Bishop of Christchurch and a great-grandson of Henry Williams. Clergy from the Williams family and Maori clergy assisted with the serving of communion to this vast congregation. Pupils from the Bay of Islands College formed the choir and the sermon was preached by the Rt Rev. Manu Bennett, Bishop of Aotearoa.

Following the service the Williams family descendants gathered outside the marae and entered in a procession led by Canon Sam Rangiihu, Canon Nigel Williams, a great-grandson of William, and Dr Henry Williams, who as the eldest son of Henry Williams' eldest grandson is the senior member of the family. In a speech of welcome, Col. J. C. Henare recalled that the land at the marae had been given to the Maori people by the missionary Henry Williams. Canon Williams spoke of his regret that he could not speak Maori as his tupuna could, and recalled hearing his father, Bishop Herbert, speaking fluently with the great Maori men of his day, and that Bishop Leonard and his brothers and sisters spoke Maori as their own language, while William had made the first dictionary.

Among the items performed by the hosts was a powhiri especially composed for the Williams family reunion by Tupi Puriri and Selwyn Wilson, with actions by Mrs Emma Kawiti.

Haere mai te manuhiri tuarangi ki Waitangi
Haere mai ki te whakanui i te Kaupapa o te hui
Haere mai, haere mai, haere mai.
Haere haere mai ra ki tenei marae,
Ki te mihi ki o tatou hoa,
Kua hui mai, i te ra nei,
Mo o ratou Tupuna.
Hoki hoki mai ra, ki Waitangi e,
E nga uri o nga Wiremu.
Hui mai ra, tangi mai ra
Homai ra te Aroha.
E tangi ana ‘Te Wiremu’ e
He tangi tohu whakamahara
Ki a koutou, ki a matou
Puta noa te Ao katoa.

Dr Henry Williams then spoke, greeting the elders and referring to the recent death of Pohara Ramaka, an elder of the marae.

‘At this time when our family celebrates the beginnings of our ancestors’ missionary work in the bay, it gives us the greatest pleasure that the Maori people should wish to be joining with us; and I thank most sincerely, on behalf of us all, the tribal elders, for inviting us to the Ti Tii Marae.

‘When one reads of those difficult early days, one can’t help being impressed by the

great friendliness, indeed loving affection, of those chiefs who gave protection to the missionaries against the belligerent acts of the other tribesmen. I refer particularly to Te Rarawa, Te Aupori, Ngati Raukawa, Ngati Kahungunu, Ngati Porou, Ngati Maru, and of course Ngapuhi.

‘One must be struck by the splendid memorial to my great-great-grandfather that they placed in front of the Paihia church, on which they described him as the father of the tribes, surely a wonderful compliment, showing the affectionate regard they had for him.

‘So today on this historic spot, we join in honouring two great New Zealanders; William—scholar, teacher, and Maori linguist, who with Mrs Colenso and others translated the Bible and prayer books, that were so readily sought after as quickly as they could be printed, by Maori people from far and near; and Henry—peacemaker, disciplinarian, man of action, of far-reaching influence in Maori-Pakeha relations, such that the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi became possible after 26 difficult, often heart-breaking, and perilous years of labour by the followers of Samuel Marsden in their efforts to bring peace and Christianity to New Zealand. He gave this piece of land to Ngapuhi for a camping site, since when it has been shared by all tribes who are honoured and welcomed by Ngapuhi, and today is regarded by many as a national marae. It was here that the chiefs of the time met, deliberated, and debated at length whether or not to sign the Treaty, and so it is almost as important as the Treaty House itself.

‘Now, as one family, descendants of William and Henry Williams, we present to you this bell—we return to you the bell that those two brave men rang each Sunday morning, to remind the residents of the district that it was the sacred day. Since then its ringing has echoed round the country, wherever Maoris have answered the call, and taken their families to worship.

‘We wish, by making this presentation, to show with what high esteem we regard the Maori people, and by coming to this marae to meet you, we wish to shake you by the hand in friendship, forget any shyness we may have for each other, and for our various age-groups to enjoy one another's company. Thus we can show to the rest of New Zealand that after 150 years our family and the Maori people will always respect each other, and are proud to be fellow New Zealanders.

‘Good luck to you all, and may God go with you. Kia ora koutou.’

After the speeches, Dr Williams presented the bell, to be called ‘Te Wiremu’, which is housed in a belfry carved at John Taiapa's school of carving at Rotorua. The bell was dedicated by Bishop Bennett and rung by Bishop Reeves.

This Is The Song
I Sing

“Hundreds of rugby enthusiasts wave for the photographer as they waited in Cricket Avenue, outside Eden Park at 10.15 this morning. More than 60,000 people crammed into the ground to see the first test between New Zealand and France. (Wirephoto.)”

This is the song I sing.
This is the song of my people.
The song of my country.
This photo in a newspaper of a crowd at a rugby match.
Hundreds of faces en masse. Brown and white interspersed.
Unconcerned, unrestrained, natural.
A smiling, joyous, lusty, vigorous crowd.
Crammed in upon one another. Touching shoulders, linking arms.
Arms thrown about each other's shoulders.
The fusion unnoticed, accepted without query.
This is the song I sing.
Two peoples in close proximity.
Brought together by their love of one thing.
Their paths heading in the same direction.
Something there is rich in this photograph.
Something rich and beautiful.
Something that would be lacking without one or the other race.
Without the dependency of each upon the other.

Rowley Habib

Aorangi

A small band of enthusiastic workers is striving hard to preserve a piece of living Maori heritage in Feilding — a heritage that will have a real place in the community of tomorrow, particularly for the Maori people.

This heritage lies at Aorangi, a small settlement about two miles from Feilding, for here is the Aorangi marae. The Aorangi Marae Committee needs funds for renovations on the marae, and staged a mammoth Polynesian festival in Feilding on August 17 as part of a drive for finance.

The Aorangi marae has played an important part in local Maori culture, and can continue to give impetus to the direction of Maori and Pakeha culture in the future. Some measure of its value to the community is found in its history.

Having travelled down from Waikato around 1830, the Ngati Kauwhata people eventually settled in the Awahuri area, close to the Oroua river. Here they established a settlement and took an interest in clearing land for agriculture.

In the late 1880s Te Rama Apakura and his wife Hurihia (also known in Pakeha circles as Mr and Mrs Robert Durie) moved from from Awahuri to Aorangi and began farming family land there.

With them went other members of Ngati Tahuriwakanui, a sub-tribe of Kauwhata, and they built houses as land was cleared. They also moved their meeting house, Maniaihu, which had previously stood on the Awahuri side of the Oroua River. How the house was transported is not known nor is its exact age on record. It was, however, in good repair when it was re-erected on its present site around 1890.

A small settlement of Ngati Tahuriwakanui grew up around the meeting house, which served as a much-used cultural centre for the various families living there. Today only one of the original homes still stands but even in the 1940s four or five other homes were located adjacent to the marae.

The marae boasted its own bakery and blacksmith and a Maori-owned store was in operation by the turn of the century. Other signs of permanence including a burial ground appeared a few hundred yards away.

In later years as the Maori population moved towards Feilding, the marae saw many alterations. The bakery was no longer needed and the store had been replaced.

By the 1920s much of the responsibility for the marae had been assumed by the late Mr Mason Durie and his wife Kahu, who were farming the surrounding land. They were to spend a lifetime continuing to develop the marae and were largely responsible for the national prestige which became associated with Aorangi.

From its beginning the marae was closely involved with the Anglican church and it became the centre of the Maori mission in the Manawatu-Rangitikei pastorate. The meeting house itself was used as a regular place of worship for many years and frequent large church gatherings were a distinguishing feature of the marae.

Later, after World War II, another building was added — St Luke's Chapel. This had been constructed by voluntary labour when the Rev. M. Bennett (now Bishop of Aotearoa) was pastor in the area. Each month services in Maori are still conducted in the chapel.

Other improvements included a new dining room and the establishment of many native trees.

The links between Ngati Tahuriwakanui of Aorangi and the other sub-tribes of Ngati Kauwhata have always been strong and there has been close co-operation between the three Kauwhata maraes.

At Awahuri a large meeting house, Te

Iwa, was built and was used extensively until the last 1930s. At Kai Iwi a large marae had developed with its elaborately-carved meeting house, Kauwhata. This marae has remained a focal point for Ngati Kauwhata as a whole and its links with Aorangi are strong. The meeting house is a particularly fine example of Maori carving and decoration.

Apart from its connection with Ngati Kauwhata, Aorangi has other close bonds with neighbouring maraes. Through marriage, strong affinities have developed with Te Hiri (Kakariki), Te Rangimarie (Rangiotu), and other Ngati Raukawa maraes. Such bonds are evident whenever functions are held at one or other of these maraes.

The meeting house at Aorangi, Maniaihu, takes its name from an ancestor of the Ngati Kauwhata people. It is about 65 ft long and 25 ft wide. In contrast to the house at Kai Iwi, Maniaihu is not carved and lacks the ornate lines seen in many houses. The only decorations are the rafter patterns painted on the ceiling. These kowhaiwhai patterns were originally simple and repeated throughout the house. Recently some fresh patterns have been added and some of the old ones repainted.

While the meeting house may not conform to the popular image of a Maori meeting house, its beauty lies in its quiet dignity and simple lines. The present committee has no plans to alter the basic character of Maniaihu and many feel that the addition of elaborate carvings would be inappropriate. Maintenance work has often been carried out over the years, but the house itself has been in constant use. Even during the recent renovations it has been available for various tribal functions.

Immediate plans for the whole marae include landscaping and the planting of more native trees. A driveway and car park are to be constructed and a store room is being built. The store room is a scaled-down version of the meeting house and may include a den for the Aorangi Rovers Scout crew.

A major project will be the erection of a new kitchen and ultimately a larger dining room. The old corrugated iron cook-house was demolished earlier this year and a new kitchen has become a matter of some urgency. The final cost of this block could be more than $15,000.

Over the past two years more than $4,000 has been spent on the marae and many hours of voluntary labour have been given by friends. An ablution block was opened last year and fence lines cleared.

A number of fund-raising efforts have been held, including golf tournaments, a film premiere, an open day on the marae, charity football matches and numerous raffles. As in the past the marae has received much help from Maori and Pakeha supporters. The last major fund-raising effort was the Polynesian festival, and money raised from this should be used to get the kitchen at least under way.

The future of the Aorangi marae seems secure if the enthusiasm of the present committee is any guide. They feel the survival of Maori culture depends essentially on the preservation of the marae system since it is through the marae that a sense of continuity with the past is achieved.

Priority use of the Aorangi marae will always be for times of bereavement when, as in the past, families will gather to farewell their loved ones.

There will be other uses too, occasions when Maori and Pakeha can mingle together and learn from each other. For Ngati Kauwhata however, Maniaihu, along with its companion house Kauwhata, will continue to be the cultural and family centres and the sources of strength for the future uncertain years.

S. A. Stewart.

People and
Places

YOUNGER READERS' SECTION

We are pleased to publish these accounts of the Tuhoe Festival, sent in by pupils of Tawera School.

Ta Matou Haerenga ki Ruatoki

I tetahi Paraire ka wehe matou i Taupo ki Ruatoki noho ai ra. Ka haere matou ki ko ra kia ako i nga tikanga o te iwi Maori. E rua haora e haere atu ana i Taupo ka tae matou ki Rotorua. Ka tu te pahi ki te marae o Mataatua, ka kai matou i a matou tina, ara i waiata ai. Ka mutu nga waiata ka haere ano te pahi. I te wha karaka i te ahiahi ka tae matou ki te marae o Waikirikiri ki Ruatoki.

I haere matou ki runga i te marae, ka karanga mai nga kuia. Ka powhiritia matou e te kaumatua. Katahi ka tu a Mr Hill ki te whakahoki. Ka mutu tana whaikorero ka waiata matou. He waiata tangi tenei. I muri o te waiata ka hariru matou i nga tangata whenua.

I te po, i muri o te kai, ka haere matou ki roto i te whare nui ki te karakia ki te waiata, ki te mihi hoki. Ka tangi te pere, ka tu tetahi a nga tangata ki te karakia. Ka koropikotia nga mahunga o nga tangata. Ka mutu te karakia ka whaikorero mai te kaumatua. Katahi ka tu nga tangata whenua ki te waiata. Tino pai a ratou waiata. Ka tu a Mr Hill ki te whakahoki. Ka mutu, ka waiata matou. Ko ‘Taku Patu’ te ingoa o te waiata.

I te tekau karaka, ka timata matou ki te haere moe ai. He tino ngenge ahau, engari i te pakupaku o taku wahi moe kaore taku moe e ora.

I te ao ake, i muri o te parakuihi ka whakamarama etahi o nga kaumatua ki a

matou i nga pakiwaitara o Ruatoki — te take mo te ingoa o Ruatoki, nga turehu e noho ana kei roto i nga puke, te taniwha o te awa, te aha te aha. I tera ra ka haere etahi o matou ma runga hoiho, ka haere etahi ma raro kia kite i nga mea o tenei wahi.

I te po na ka whakahaerea tetahi kanikani. Tokomaha nga tangata i haere mai ki tenei kanikani. He tino pai te pēne ahakoa he kaha rawa te tangi. I te kaha o te kanikani akuanei ka matemoe ahau. I te tekau ma rua karaka i te po ka mutu te kanikani. Ka haere tika matou ki te moe.

I te tekau ma tahi karaka i te ata ka whakareri matou ki te wehe. Ka poroporoaki nga tangata whenua i roto i te whare nui ki a matou. Tino pouri matou ki te wehe. I muri o te whaikorero ka haere matou ki waho ki te pahi. Katahi ka haere atu matou. Kore rawa ahau e wareware i te hui nei.

Christopher Mathews,

Form V, Tauponui-a-tia College.

During mid-July, along with 39 other College students from 5th form Maori classes, I was able to spend three days on the Ruatoki Marae. As an exchange student, I feel so privileged to have had this opportunity to experience life on a marae and consider it as being one of my greatest experiences in your country.

For the past six months I have been able to study the Maori language. I feel that for us students to have been able to associate for a length of time, in an area where Maori is predominantly spoken, is an ideal way to further the study of the Maori language.

I received exceptional honours, through the traditional privileges associated with the ceremonies exercised during my stay. I noticed especially the high standard of hospitality expressed to me along with other visitors present at the Rautoki Marae.

I took deep interest in the Maori attitude toward their community way of life, e.g., the respect shown to the elders, the fascinating closeness exercised, the general atmosphere, expressing a calm, relaxing and casual feeling; all these things made me realize the value of Maori community life. I felt that their way of community living on the marae was excellent in the way that there is always someone to turn to for help, how the problem of meals took care of themselves through joint effort and how the people made entertainment very highly spirited.

I was very impressed with the natural Maori musical talent. I have especially learned to appreciate this through attending Maori Club classes at which are taught the Maori way of life and culture, action songs, craft and so forth. It was unique being able to experience items studied in class, such as preparation for a hangi, greeting the Maori people in their native tongue and seeing for oneself what had once been knowledge only through books.

I came as an exchange student to help promote international goodwill and understanding. Already I have learned a lot about the New Zealand way of life and especially so through the eagerness of the people to teach me all they know about New Zealand.

Sue Durham,

South African Exchange Student,

Tauponui-a-tia College.

This poem was written by a Samoan pupil at Hillary College

The morning's blistering breeze
Battering against me, piercing within rigid pores,
My warm and damp mouth moist with saliva.
Dribbling awkwardly into the cold winter weather.
Explosions of spasmic shivery
Dicatate my every action
Blundering
Back hitched up, hands in pockets
I continue to school
Drugged illusions before me
Makes me stagger and shake

A smoke protruding from within
the tomb of warmth and security
Smoke trailing past my nostrils
Excretion of smoke and steam
Combine to escape from me.
How cruel and cold this
Morning air — thought I.
But still, the rebellious act
Clings to the atmosphere
Until all at once
The trikling rays of sunlight
Sprung
Lightened and triumphed
It strikes me
Influential warmth once again
is in action
Surging through my
Now supple pores
To my comfort and delight.

Harry Westerlund.

Another group of poems by Annlock Kite of Te Kuiti

Will Money Buy Happiness

A small boy hungry
And dirty
Will money buy his food?
Will money buy him happiness?
An old senile man
Trembles with pain
He has cancer
Will money bring him comfort?
Will money buy him happiness?
Young teenagers
Suffering the effects
Of home breakups
Will money buy them drugs?
Will money buy them happiness?
A baby cries in the darkness
Her parents are wealthy
Who will protect her
Will money buy her protection?
Will money buy her happiness?
A rich widow
Lonely in her palace
Addicted to power
Will money buy her friends?
Will money buy her happiness?

The Power Builder

Love is the web
A spider spins
The victims of the
Spider are stored
As his wealth
Until he is the victim
Love is a nest
A bird builds
With a family to feed
The need to survive
Is very strong
And he is trapped
Love is a house
A man builds
But with taxes and bills
With fear in mind
He runs to escape
But it follows him
Why is money the power
Of hate and unhappiness
The once happiness and love
Is destroyed by
The power builder.

Miracle of Life

A cry awakens the dawn
Reaching, touching
Feeling and knowing
Then nothing:
Elsewhere another
Cry awakens the dawn
Then are cast out to sea
As unshed tears
Lost and unwanted
Alone and unloved
If you want to know
The truth
Stop! Look at yourself
Ashamed and low
Where do all the unwanted
Babies go

To their homes and parents!
No their mother does
Not want them
Their home is in
An orphanage
They are love
And they grow on love
When there is no love
They die
They are creation of life
The beautiful miracle
Of love.

Little Susie

Susie is a little girl
Going to see the
Animals in the zoo
She sees a big grizzly
And she is afraid
Frightened of the bear
Afraid of everyone
Of everything
She knows only fear
To reach Susie
Would to be patient
To care and show
You love her
To help to understand
Her want, to help to
Make her feel safe
And secure
But Susie is only one
Of the intellectually
Handicapped children
So pray for her.

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